#which is concerning bc this morning i could smell it and i could taste my sour patch kids

[lovelyunholyc]

starving, darling

!!nsfw, minors and blank/ageless blogs dni - will be blocked :)!!

fem!reader, names (sweetheart, baby, darling, my love, reader calls him good boy). praise, spitting, oral (f! receiving), cum eating, creampie, unprotected sex. gratuitous descriptions of making out...bc who doesn't want to eat choso whole.... ',:|

you have no measure of the power you hold.

to bring a strong, towering curse to its knees, to make him feel something he had never felt before, had been missing for a millenia, an eternity, it seems, sometimes. choso himself cannot fathom the power you hold over him, cannot seem to comprehend why he so willingly lays himself at your feet - you, a delightful little beauty, a simple little human.

choso likes to be held like this, you had learned quickly. in quiet moments, in the safety of your bed, he buries his face in your bosom, arms secure around your waist, and you brush through the tangles of his hair with your fingers, soothing his scalp; just that morning you'd helped him brush them into those unruly buns he likes, that endear him to you so much. his weight across your bottom half is comforting, his warmth seeping into you.

he's still a little shy to ask for what he wants, but already you've learned him and can glean from the tired droop of his eyes (though they shine just a bit when he sees you), the pout pulling at his lips, and you open your arms and pull him into you.

he'd known he loved you when he watched you dress his brother's wounds that first time. your touches were tender, yet firm and sure, unwavering.

and then you had turned to him, that adorable pinch of concern to your brow, giving him a once over to ensure he was unharmed, before wrapping him in a bone crushing embrace. he'd laughed at the contrast of your gentleness with yuuji to the strength you displayed when you squeezed him.

you're full of contradictions: soft yet hard, tender yet tough, loving yet - when necessary, ruthless. he wants to unravel every single one of them until he has you figured out completely, and then memorize every aspect of you until he can think of nothing else.

he still hasn't had the courage to tell you.

when you hold him like this, so soft and warm and adoring, soothing the aches in his muscles, the cloudiness in his mind, he thinks he doesn't have to.

choso looks up just to be able to admire your beauty, cheek to your chest, ear pressed to the steady thrum of your heartbeat, and you pause stroking his hair to smile softly down at him. "hi, handsome," you purr.

heat rises to his face; he'll never get used to your praise, would rather sing yours instead. still, it makes his heart flutter every time, makes a giddy feeling take over his chest.

he hides his face back in the fabric of your shirt, suddenly shy. it was bad enough for his heart that he'd found you lounging in bed in nothing but one of his undershirts and your underwear, warm and smelling fresh and faintly like your favorite perfume.

you giggle, a sound so lovely that he swears he could listen to it forever, and revels in how it vibrates through your chest and seeps into him. "choso," you call so sweetly, he has no choice but to turn to you once more, cheeks burning. "can i kiss you, sweetheart?"

the nickname makes him blush even harder, though a zip of pleasure buzzes through his body at the confident way you address him, knowing he wouldn't ever refuse.

choso just nods, raises himself up gently to meet your lips.

though you're below him, you dominate the kiss. with a soft nibble to his bottom lip, he parts them easily, lets you slip your tongue into his mouth to coax his out for you to suck on. you lick at his lips, slow and purposeful with your movements, intent on getting him to moan sweetly against you (which he does quickly), on making the back of his neck prickle with pleasure, his fingers to twitch at your sides.

he loves the way you taste, how quickly you can make him fall apart on your tongue. the way you tug lightly at his hair to maneuver his head the way you like, to delve even deeper and take over his mouth. he loves letting you take control of him, his pleasure; you take such good care of him, let his thoughts and worries fade away and allow him to just (feel).

when you pull back, you leave him breathless, panting lightly but smiling because you continue to trail your lips up the line of his jaw, across his cheek and over the bridge of his nose to follow the inky black line bisecting his face. he closes his eyes and revels in your careful attention, your soothing touch. he hums in satisfaction, like a cat purring low and lovely, and the sound makes you giggle softly against his skin.

you touch your noses together and grin, kissing him once more before beckoning him to lie next to you. you sling your arm around his neck and lean over him, your faces still barely a breath apart, basking in the closeness, the comfort.

"how are you today, baby?" your words are simple, soft against his skin as they brush along the strong line of his jaw, but they make his chest warm.

before you, who else outside of his brothers had cared enough about him to know?

choso takes comfort in the warm weight of you settling across his chest, soft hands cradling his face, the pads of your thumbs smoothing absently over his cheeks, and the intensity of the day that had worn away at him so forcefully, instantly dulls and melts away beneath your touch. he relaxes completely in your hold, a bliss he'd never known and from now on would never let go to the best of his ability.

"fine," is all he says, though watching his expression change, knowing all his tells, you know he means much more. "i missed you." and that, you know he means tenfold by the emotion in his voice, the tender hold of his hands on your hips, long fingers drifting up along your lower back beneath the hem of your top, chasing the warmth of your skin.

for someone so skilled in blood manipulation, he never seemed to be warm enough without touching you.

the constant little reminders he gives you that in his overabundance of time on earth, you're something completely new to him, entirely different and extraordinary, somehow - it never fails to make your heart race.

"mm, missed you, too, my love."

you grin almost sheepishly when you say it, though he knows that doesn't take any sincerity away from the sentiment, especially when it brings heat to your cheeks, makes your smile so lovely.

my love. your love. his love.

choso can't help but smile with you, tilting up almost imperceptibly in search of your pretty lips again, yet you indulge him so easily, as if on instinct, as if you can read his mind as naturally as breathing.

you kiss him soft and slow, savoring the taste of him, the feel of him, as if you were memorizing his mouth all over again. the quiet moan he lets out, that you swallow up without hesitation, coaxing out more, more, more, makes you shiver inexplicably. you only let him go for mere fractions of a second to breathe, and neither of you could be happier to drown in each other, in the deep, passionate movements of your lips, your tongues, sharing breaths until you're lightheaded.

it's dizzying, how much he wants you. now, more than ever, but always. now, most, because it's the present - later he knows he'll want you even more than he ever has.

when you pull away a final time you're grinning devilishly, cheeks full with it and a shade darker with the rush of blood, lips wet and bitten an irresistible red that makes his mouth water even more. you've somehow migrated into his lap, legs on either side of him, fingers woven into his soft hair, his own hands caressing your back beneath your shirt and squeezing appreciatively at the thick of your thighs.

you see the lovesick look in his pretty eyes, clouded with desire and syrupy sweet, and can't help but chuckle quietly to yourself, though you must know you're not much better off.

"what do you want, darling?" you ask from mere centimeters away, tracing his plump bottom lip with your thumb, leaning in to kitten lick at it and swipe your combined spit away from the smooth skin.

choso nearly whimpers, his tongue darting out on instinct to follow the trace of where yours had been, his eyes glazing over even further. you know, of course you know.

you pull back a bit further, sitting up on his hips, hands propping you up on his chest. you had felt his cock stir a long, breathless moment before, and it ached now, hard and heavy against the heat of your center, confined beneath both your layers of clothing, twitching and throbbing for attention.

"you look like you want something, sweetheart," you purr, teasing, and the difference in your tone presently from when you'd first spoken, the dangerous gleam in your eyes now, is enough to make his head spin.

choso wets his lips again, desperation coating every syllable. "i want you."

you smile wide, satisfied, reward him with a slow roll of your hips that makes his jaw drop just a little. "yeah?"

"yes, i-" he cuts himself off with a gasp when you do it again, "-i want to make you feel good."

the sincerity, the wholeheartedness that floods his voice and the look in his eyes, how eager he always is to please you, always makes your heart melt. you pause, leaning back down to kiss him again, short and sweet, a small reminder of your overwhelming affection.

"you will, choso," you murmur against his lips, feel his whole body tremor with excitement and anticipation beneath you. "as long as it's you."

when you pull away again, he follows you, holds you close to his chest with big arms winding across your back, fingertips traversing over the smooth expanse of your skin. you smile when you capture his lips again, reluctant to part until he finally asks, "may i pleasure you?"

you can't help but giggle quietly at his politeness, charmed as you always are by how earnest he is in everything he does, a sort of genuine innocence in his actions and the way he carries himself that opposes his physicality and age. it never fails to send you reeling, heat blooming in your gut.

you nod easily, kiss him as if in answer. you nip at his perfectly petal-soft lips, sucking his bottom lip into your mouth before releasing it with a satisfied hum, grazing your teeth along the skin just to make him shiver. your fingers drift back up to his jaw, caress at the edges of it as you shift carefully up his body, straddling his stomach instead so you can stare down at him from a higher angle with a wanton smile.

"can i give you something first, darling?"

the hazy lust gleaming in his eyes intensifies as he blinks slowly, eyelids heavy under your own hungry gaze. he's breathing heavy from your kisses and the anticipation, chest heaving beneath one of your palms.

"please," choso breathes, ever so polite, the movement of his lips tickling the pad of your thumb when you trace over them again, hand gliding down to pinch his chin gently between your thumb and forefinger. there is no pressure behind your touch, merely a guide - support, because his body knows instinctively what to do, poised and ready.

your grin is nothing short of wicked. you can't help but lean down for a moment to peck at his lips again, before rising back up and pursing your own.

choso clutches at your waist with lightly trembling fingers, pretty lips parting so nicely as he opens up for you, tongue resting dutifully on his bottom lip. you splay your fingers out across his throat in a loose grip as he bares it just for you, thumb tracing over the edge of his jaw. the hand on his chest moves to tangle through his soft, soft hair, like silk between your fingers, and he looks up at you expectantly, eagerly, eyes shining with the thrill of it, the silent plea for you to take care of him.

it doesn't take you long to gather enough saliva. you watch him carefully, releasing it slowly to drip like syrup down onto his waiting tongue, stroking lovingly at his jaw with your thumb.

"good boy," you whisper sweetly when he swallows you down like it's nectar, and you feel his adam's apple bob beneath your palm. he shivers at the praise, tilts his chin up in that way again, hearts in his eyes and all across those pretty lips, slick with your spit and his own, searching for more of you, so you giggle softly and shift again to kiss him deeply.

when you render him breathless again, he speaks through soft pants. "i want you to-" -there's that hesitation, the pause before he can say what he truly wants, encouraged to continue when you peck lovingly at his pretty face- "-can you cum on my face?"

and who are you to deny him?

you nudge your nose against his fondly, already shoving at the flimsy waistband of your panties, giddy at his promise. "of course, darling," you breathe against his lips, swallow down his low groan as he helps you wriggle out of your underwear and slides his fingers up between your folds.

you're soaked - his long, elegant fingers glide easily along your slit, his thumb practically slipping over your clit and making you jolt.

choso doesn't bother much more after the initial touch - he's impatient, and feeling your sweetness on his hand isn't nearly enough to satiate him and only further delays what he really wants. you huff a little when he grabs at your thighs and hoists you up to nudge your pussy closer to his face, laughing softly at his eagerness and petting at his hair before positioning yourself properly, his head below you and between your knees.

before you can ask if he's even ready, choso pulls you down, kissing at the crease between your inner thigh before diving into your sweet, dripping cunt.

he groans appreciatively, deep and guttural, after giving your slit one long, slow lick, from your hole to your clit, punctuating it with a swirl of the tip of his tongue at the swollen bud, wrapping his lips around it to flick at it until you're whining and trying to squirm out of his hold from the intensity. choso holds you firm with those strong fingers dug into the flesh of your thighs, a smile playing at his lips when he finally releases your clit to lap up your sweet nectar instead.

he takes his time, savoring you, sliding his tongue smoothly along your folds and relishing how you mewl for him, at each gush of arousal he coaxes out only to lick up and moan with satisfaction. the vibrations of his deep voice against where you're most sensitive leaves you reeling, clutching at the headboard and his soft hair below you, back arching when he delves his tongue deeper, dipping into your entrance as far as he can go, his nose nudging at your clit in tandem.

"oh, fuck, baby," you whimper when he thrusts his tongue into you, shameless in his open enjoyment, whining along with you as you spout random praise, and bucking his hips into the air inadvertently.

he snakes one hand down to relieve some of the ache, squeezing desperately at his straining cock, your breathy cries of his name and the obscene, wet sound of him lapping up your slick like music to his ears. he could swear he sees heaven when you tug at his hair, when he withdraws his hand from himself in favor of urging you to start grinding on his face, two of his fingers slipping easily into your entrance.

your hips stutter first in uncertainty, concerned about him, like always, but choso doesn't loosen his hold, one hand clutching at your bottom and pushing you forward onto his flattened tongue. soon enough, with his fingers pumping in rhythm, it feels too good for you to resist, and you lose yourself on his hunger to taste you, to take from you until he's satisfied. your hips are moving wildly, chasing the sweet friction of his smooth tongue, the tip of his nose, the tremor his voice elicits when he moans so deeply, pleased at what he can do for you, how much pure pleasure only he can give you.

he knows your body so well, he can tell instantly when you're close - the choked up gasps, your muscles beginning to tense - he sucks ruefully on your clit once more, curling his fingers in just the right way to press into that sensitive spot inside you. he doesn't relent even when you throw your head back with a sharp cry of his name, hips shoving down on him and undoubtedly complicating his ability to breathe - no, instead, he doubles down, pulls his fingers back and forces his tongue as deep into your fluttering hole as he's able, just so he can feel your walls spasm around his tongue and greedily swallow down everything you gush out as you orgasm, completely lost in his brand of euphoria.

choso loses himself too, forgets about his own aching cock begging for release still confined in his pants - he could care less about breathing properly either - he licks into you with vigor, mesmerized by your sweet, pretty little pussy, until you're wriggling away from sensitivity, thighs quivering, weakly pushing at his fingers still gripping tightly at your cheeks (where he's surely left bruises in the shape of his fingertips, and the thought makes him shiver in delight).

when he finally lets you go, you collapse into bed beside him, rolling on your side to sling a shaking leg possessively over his waist, grinning gleefully up at him; the sight of his face, reddened with exertion, tainted all across with a mix of your arousal and his spit, hair mussed and sticking to his dampened forehead - gives you a whole new rush of giddiness. you're both breathing heavy, but despite that, you bring him closer with a hand on the nape of his neck. you run your tongue along the seam of his wet, red lips, shades darker and swollen with use, moaning softly at the taste of yourself, before licking into his mouth, sucking that capable, lovely tongue into your own mouth.

"oh, you're so sweet to me, aren't you?" you coo when you pull back, laughing breathlessly and swiping at the mess on his face with your fingers. "so lovely." you pepper kisses across his cheeks and nose as you go, nosing at his heated skin and delighting at his soft smile and the gooey look shining in his eyes, clearly lovestruck.

choso preens under your attention and praise, fingers twitching on the small of your back when you trail yours down the solid plane of his abdomen. "my love," you continue quietly with your nose pressed to his cheek, your tone so gentle yet palpable, your breath tickling his skin, making him shiver, "you're so good to me, so handsome too." he closes his eyes and can't help but whine helplessly when your hand slides under his waistband and fists his cock.

you thumb at the glistening head before pulling it out fully, glancing down just to catch a glimpse of how pretty you know it to be, thick and heavy in your hand, throbbing with need and already so wet with his excitement. you squeeze tighter at the base then, cooing at him once more when his whole body jolts at the sweet pressure. "oh, my poor baby." you kiss him again, pumping his cock simultaneously, eager to swallow up all the pleased little sounds he makes. "i'll take care of you, too, okay?"

choso just nods vigorously, eyebrows scrunching up adorably as you swirl your thumb over the tip of his cock again, flicking at the frenulum and toying with his sensitivity. he gasps out your name when you twist your hand on your downstroke, and you nip at his jaw playfully, so charmed by his reactions.

"you wanna cum inside me, baby?" you're back at his lips, biting lightly at them as you wait for him to compose himself enough to answer between heavy breaths, his fingers kneading restlessly at your waist. "i want you, choso, want you to fill me up nice and deep, like only you can."

he bucks up into your hand at that involuntarily, and it takes all his strength not to keep going lest he spill into your fist before he can even get between your legs again. "y-yes, please," he nearly whimpers, spurred on by another passionate kiss you grace him with, to switch positions and hover above you, on his knees between yours.

you pull at his top until he tugs it off and tosses it away carelessly, your fingers immediately tracing over the ridges of muscle along his chest, his abdomen, nearly purring with satisfaction when they flex and jump beneath your touch as he moves. you trace along his scars, too, etched into his otherwise smooth skin, cruel imperfections that you've already memorized, continuing your trail even when he bends to get closer to you, capturing your lips again like he can't bear to be even that far from you.

he moans so deliciously into your mouth when you find his dick again, wasting no time and pressing him against your pussy to coat him in your slick. he ruts against your folds, he can't help it, you're so warm and wet and heavenly, and he didn't know he could be so impatient.

"inside, baby," you murmur against his lips, breaking him out of his trance only to put him in another spell when you guide him to your entrance.

your back arches as he pushes into you, agonizingly slow despite how wet and wanting you already are, your muscles barely offering any sort of resistance. choso splits you open in every way, you think, his forehead pressed to yours, breathing you in just as deeply as he feeds into you, stretching you wide on the swollen crown of his dick and pinning you in place, hands fisting the sheets beside your head, his elbows locked behind your knees. you're taking him so nicely it's like your cunt is sucking him in, walls clutching so sweetly at his cock, as if you're made perfectly for him.

you sigh happily when he pulls back just a bit to thrust back in to the hilt, when he finally fills you so completely you think you can feel him lodged in your throat, throbbing with desire for you and hot, hot, hot. your eyelids droop with pleasure, watery with your blissful little smile as he pauses right there where you can feel the most of him, just to hold you even closer until you're sure there's not any possible space between you.

and there's nowhere else you'd rather be.

"feels good, love?" your words are heavy, thick with emotion and the overwhelming pleasure you're feeling, nearly slurred together with your adoration for him.

choso nods again, kisses at your cheeks and nose, nips at your pretty lips. when he looks at you again, you think his eyes hold stars in them for you, sparkling in his irises and falling across his cheeks. "s'good, darling, so good." he sounds just as intoxicated as you, raw and vulnerable, and you giggle softly and bring him back to your lips then, swiping tenderly at the skin just below those pretty eyes, at the tiny droplets of diamonds that escape them, at the stark black mark across his face.

"you're so beautiful, choso," you whisper, and his cheeks burn so furiously you wonder how your palms haven't been scorched by them, laughing quietly to yourself at the thought. it seems silly, but you can't be bothered to believe it is, not when he feels so good inside you, so snug and warm and lovely, and he's enveloping you so wholly in his embrace, and his heart beating erratically against your own feels all too much like you're home. safe, blissful.

choso wants to hold you forever. he wants to mold you to himself so that he never has to let you go, doesn't care in the least how irrational it may be, he loves how you feel, how you make him feel, just by being this close. he wants to tell you you're the most beautiful thing he's ever seen, he'll ever see all his life, and if he were to live another millennia, that your eyes may just hold all the answers in the universe - but he chokes on his words when your walls flutter around him, when you claw at his back and wordlessly urge him to start moving.

instead, he whispers, too, a broken, breathless confession, dripping with emotion, "i- i love you."

you gasp, whether from his revelation or the slow roll of his hips he isn't sure, but he is sure you heard him and know how sincere he is, breathing out a stuttered response just as ardently.

choso thinks he loses himself again, in the sweet clasp of your pussy, in your low moans and how your body moves for him, only pulling him closer, until he all but drowns in you, happily.

his pace is unhurried but undeniably deep, balls squishing up against your ass, savoring the tight heat of your walls around him, the sharp, fleeting pain of your nails raking across his back - he loves the sting, is too lost to wonder whether it seems wrong to. the wet sound as he pounds into you, so deep it takes your breath every time, nearly drives him into a frenzy, makes him want to make a bigger mess of the both of you.

he doesn't stray too long from your face, he loves your sultry, blissed out expressions just as much, loves every little reaction you give when he nips and pinches lightly at where he knows you're most sensitive, when the head of his cock hits undeniably deeper, teasing at that spot that drives you wild. he doesn't even pull back far enough to remove the shirt you're still wearing, instead rucking the hem up with rough fingers just so he can lick and suck at your nipples and make your back arch off the mattress.

"so pretty," he murmurs into your skin, almost to himself, but the deep cadence of his voice against you gives him away, makes you shiver. "my love, my love." he repeats it like he can't help himself, carves into you like he's trying to shape your perfect cunt to his dick, like he wants to forget how it feels so he can keep doing it for the first time again and again and again. you all but squeak when his pelvis grinds up against your swollen clit on every downstroke, breath caught in your throat when he licks at your pulse, squeezes at your thighs. he's everywhere, devouring every part of you, it seems, and you couldn't be happier to let him, to trust him so thoroughly with the softest, most vulnerable parts of you.

choso groans so deeply, it vibrates through your entire body, makes you shudder pleasantly. he finds your lips again, swivels his hips a little quicker, and you're panting lightly into his mouth, that little smirk shining through.

"close, baby?" you lick at his lips, fingers tugging at his hair. his pupils are blown charmingly wide, eyelids heavy as he only grunts in response, hips stuttering, cock twitching inside you - you laugh lightly, nibble at his bottom lip. "cum for me, handsome, i wanna feel you."

his next moan is so resonant, it shakes through him - and you by extension. he pulls out until only the flared head of his cock stays inside you, shifts a little higher on the bed, gravity stretching your legs even wider, hips lifting up along with his. when he plunges back in all the way in one smooth thrust, you nearly scream. the angle somehow makes him hit even deeper, the tip of his cock nudging at your cervix. you're mewling, grasping desperately at his shoulders, his biceps flexing with you trapped between them as he drives his cock deep into the sweet clutch of your cunt.

you're rendered speechless by the force of his thrusts, your whole body jostled by it, your insides undoubtedly battered.

the reminder of his silent strength makes you whine a little higher, like wordless praise spilling from your lips.

choso whispers out your name like it pains him, over and over as he chases his high, his dick spasming inside you within just a few more heavy, gut-wrenching thrusts. you reach up to weave your fingers into the roots of his soft hair and tug, back arching, and he gasps, pretty eyes rolling back in his head. in one startlingly deep stroke he's spilling inside you, pumping you full just as he'd promised, wave after wave pulsing into you, the feel of it making your walls clench and squeeze in turn. you whine along with him, hold him as close to you as you can, choso clutching onto you just as desperately, almost as if he's melting into you, until you're molded into one.

he ruts into you lazily until it's too much for him, until he feels raw with oversensitivity. he comes down panting heavily into your sweat-dampened skin, just as you start to languidly chase the sweet grind of the base of his cock against your swollen clit.

you're still stroking his hair, praising him softly, "good boy, so sweet to me," trailing gentle fingers across the planes of his back, almost as if in apology for where your nails had dug bright red lines into.

choso shivers blissfully with the aftershocks of pleasure, with the soft tickle of your fingers on his skin, and he feels insatiable. he presses wet lips onto wherever he can reach, up the line of your neck, your jaw, your pretty lips, and pulls back just for a moment to look at you. just as dazed as he feels, warm and rosy with love, eyes droopy and shiny with it, fluttering along your lashes and in the playful little smile on your lips.

oh, how he adores you.

he kisses you again, licking at your lips and sucking on your pretty pink tongue before drifting back down the way he came, dropping kisses all along your body with reverence. he spends precious time at your chest, finally sliding your shirt off and kneading at your breasts and sucking and nipping at each pert nipple until he's satisfied, until your voice catches in your throat from moaning.

when he has to pull out to continue down further where he truly wants to be, he bites his lip in displeasure at the loss of your warmth. but he's immediately appeased by the view before him, by the lewdness of his seed spilling forth from your hole, the way it leaks out and catches on your folds, the inside of your thighs.

choso almost instinctively slides his fingers through your pussy, scooping up what he can and pushing it back into you, plunging his fingers into your entrance in a futile attempt to keep it in. your fingers tighten almost painfully where they're woven in his hair, and wordlessly, he continues his trail of kisses down your stomach. he's handsome even in the mess of you, in the wreck you've both left of each other, and especially when he's down between your legs.

he presses his lips against your hip, nips at the supple flesh of your thighs.

"darling?" you question breathlessly, but he's so thoroughly lost in you he barely registers it as he suddenly laps at your swollen clit, his fingers still plugged up in the sweet clutch of your cunt.

your reaction is immediate, back arching and voice breaking on his name as he kisses and licks at your sweet pussy. his tongue flicks at your sensitive bud, teeth grazing at the hood of it before his lips wrap around it and he sucks, and you nearly scream his name. your hips start to buck up against his face, and he holds you down with a strong hand splayed across your hip, the other still occupied, fingers now pumping into you.

choso takes his time. his lips are laden with worship, his tongue reverent, gratuitous. he eats you out like he'd rather be doing nothing else for the rest of his life (he thinks that's true), like nothing makes him happier than feeling your walls hug at him, sucking him in so sweetly, your sweet nectar leaking out just for him to swallow up and savor. he licks his release clean from you just to mess you up again, just to make you whine and cry from pure pleasure, tears dripping from your eyes because your body can barely comprehend so much of it.

he hardly realizes it when he's rutting against the bed, hard once more just from eating you out again, his fingers now replaced with his tongue because he wants to taste from you directly, wants to feel it on his tongue when you clench up and cum just because of him.

and he hardly realizes when he cums too, almost instantly after you do, until his vision goes white and he whines against your pussy just as your velvet walls pulse and squeeze around his tongue, your release spilling into his greedy mouth, lips smacking lewdly as he laps it all up through both of your orgasms, filling him just as he'd filled you with his seed.

he loves giving to you, receiving from you. he's so tired of taking, weary of seeing destruction at his own hands.

when he sees the wreck he's made of you, your entire body trembling with the force of what only he can give you, he thinks he's found the measure of his own power.

and when you still reach out for him, kissing him like nothing else matters to you, he knows you have much more of it than he.

#choso #choso x reader #choso smut #choso x reader smut #kamo choso x reader #kamo choso #kamo choso x reader smut #kamo choso smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jjk choso #jjk choso x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader smut #jjk x reader smut #ten.writes #nsfw. #insp by me just wanting to eat him whole ig #this took over a year to write so. enjoy and pls don't let her flop :') #1k

[rubberbandballqueen]

if i ever had a question for the mcelroys it would be “if there’s a disease with a major symptom being diarrhea, would a person with chronic constipation be looking for diarrhea or regular stool if they suspected they had caught it”

#it came to me on the shitter and i was like 'too bad yahoo answers is gonna die soon this feels like a mbmbam q' #but then halfway through writing this i was like 'wait a second. sawbones and *dr.* sidnee mcelroy' #in other news i have been coughing ever since i got back from my parents' trip so i've been monitoring my sense of smell #and taste and it's been pretty good but i checked the shampoo after washing my hands and lads i could not smell it #which is concerning bc this morning i could smell it and i could taste my sour patch kids #but it's somehow vanished over the course of the day so. worrying. no fever that i'm aware of #not even really sure whom i could have caught it from if it's the plague? #but i'm really glad i wrote a MASK ALL THE TIME even when we were HIKING OUTDOORS #bc the first minor hacks were coming on the last day on the road so it probably would have been incubating the entire trip if plague #idk my dad's been vaccinated for a while now and he says he's been kinda having a dry cough in the morning too #and it's not like a huge phlegmy phlegm cough either it's mostly a dry cough which is frustrating but it reminds me to hydrate #and my mom who has also recently received her second dose hasn't been coughing either so. we'll see #i had my dad cancel my eye doctor appt today but he made me come along to best buy for the phone repairs #he was like 'eh you're not coughing that much as long as you don't cough they won't know' #which like. hello???? bc i told him i didn't wanna go bc even if it's just a cold i don't wanna just go into public COUGHING that's so RUDE #the worm speaks

[yesimwriting]

The Promise of Rain, Blurb 3

Technically the third in a blurb-ish series (though this is kinda long for a blurb lol) but can technically be read as a stand alone, but i think the other parts make this seem more significant lol

A/n kinda angsty, not sure if i loveeee this but i haven’t posted a fic in such a long time bc of graduation chaos but now it’s summer and i’m working on a lot of requests/stories :))

Summary: jealousy is out of place when there’s no real warrant for it, and sometimes it’s okay to be content--to not need the rain to make you promises. 

Pairing: Kaz Brekker x sunshine-y! reader

--

Tiredness dulls the part of me that craves the rambunctious, but I’m still positive. I smile when someone does something only the truly inebriated find comical. I laugh when something somewhat actually funny happens, and I let the world around me drink. Twenty minutes--in twenty minutes I will claim a headache and go upstairs. 

“You okay, y/n?” Jesper’s concern would border on genuinely considerate if it wasn’t for the slightest hint of slur in his words. Nights in which he consols himself after losing game after game are when he’s the friendliest. “You’re strangely quiet--you’re never quiet.” 

I press my lips together oddly, smiling in a way that finally reaches my eyes. Jesper’s nice in an oddly particular way when he’s tipsy. Overly observant and careful. “Just a little tired,” I shift in my seat, leaning back against the plush seat in Kaz’s office, “I wish Kaz would just get here and dismiss us so I can go to bed.” 

Jesper smiles, lifting his arm slightly and causing his glass to sway. Kaz is not going to take it well when he realizes that Jesper was extremely involved in the downstairs celebration. He turns ungracefully, moving to sit next to me with no warning. I half-heartedly glare as he takes up most of the small couch. 

“You’re grumpy when you’re tired,” Jesper hums, stretching his casually. 

I sigh once, but it lacks any bite. “I do not.” 

He smiles easily, tilting his head so far to the side that it falls against the back of the seat, “No...but I know the real reason you’re grumpy.” 

Rolling my eyes, I suppress my instinctual reaction. That would only expose his words as true. “I am not grumpy, there is no reason--” 

“You know he hated it.” 

I exhale, tired and slowly losing my fragine hold on fake tranquility. “Yeah.” That should make it  better. “I know.” It doesn’t--it doesn’t make anything better. 

So the contact we so desperately needed on our side took to flirting with Kaz. It was an uncomfortable situation because of its precariousness and I was worried because I know about his issues with touch. But it’s not like I care about the flirting part. No. It was unprofessional and so easily turned messy--that’s what my problem was.

Jesper sighs, stretching even more. I let him stretch his legs over me, too tired to push him off. I sigh, setting my chin on his bent knees. “What’s with the face, l/n?” 

I roll my eyes again. Sometimes having someone care about you is annoying. I take back all of my positive thoughts about him--Jesper Fahey is an annoying drunk. 

“There’s no face,” despite my words, I feel my expression sour even further. Jesper’s expression shifts from that of gentle worry to teasing pride. “And if there was one, it wouldn’t be because of Kaz Brekker.”

Jesper’s lips twitch upwards, something strange tainting his tipsy grin. “I never said a name.” 

“One more condescending comment, and I’m shoving you off this damn couch.” 

He laughs flatly, shifting closer and making himself more comfortable. Drunk and touchy--anyone else would have been slapped by now. “You’re nicer after some of this.” 

He holds his glass out towards me casually, amber liquid sloshing slightly. I blink at the liquid with slight disinterest. I’m not exactly in the drinking mood...but I’m not exactly in the mood for any of this. The sound of the door opening doesn’t phase me--it’s not Inej, because she never lets herself be heard. Kaz doesn’t say anything, taking one dull step and then another, footsteps leaching the room of any warmth. The coldness he exudes so easily as a mask is strong tonight, I haven’t even looked at him and I can feel it. 

Maybe I do need a drink. 

I take the glass from Jesper, taking a quick and shallow sip of the liquid. It’s offensive in smell, taste, and the way it spills down my throat. The taste is much more intense than expected, some of the liquid slips past the corner of my mouth. Somehow more bitter than this moment, the liquid leaves me ready to splutter like a child. I exhale, pushing through the burning. Jesper moves his hand forward absentmindedly, wiping a single drop of liquid from my chin carelessly. The gesture would be sweet if my throat burned less. 

“Jesper,” the warmth of the alcohol takes root in my chest, “That’s--” He laughs at my reaction, coaxing a smile from me. “Like literally the worst--why do you even have this?” If this is served in the Crow Club, I’ve never heard of it, this is the kind of under the counter alcohol that isn’t mass produced. 

He laughs a little more freely. “Won it off of someone passing through--I don’t always lose.” 

I wrinkle my nose, “An outlier shouldn’t be--” 

“Oh, shut up.” Jesper laughs again. 

“Both of you ‘shut up’,” Kaz sighs, stepping further into the room, “If you need to drink, at least wait until after my meeting.” I frown, ignoring Kaz’s lingering and sharp gaze, “You should all follow Inej’s example.” 

“We can’t even see Inej.” 

Kaz raises an eyebrow, but he regards me with nothing but voidness. He’s never exactly emotive, but normally in moments like this something I can never interpret touches his expression, coloring it human. “Exactly.” 

“You’re funnier than people give you credit for.” The comment isn’t exactly sarcastic, but it’s something lighter than I should be offering. It’s an attempt at peace, the slight stiffness between us is starting to bother me. Our usual dynamic isn’t exactly friendly, but it’s more than this. Kaz glares. “But not tonight.” 

His expression hardens. “Business is business. It’s not humor, it’s not whatever you try to make it.” Right. Just like it was business when that girl spent more time hitting on him than actually revealing real information. The thought leaves my expression tight as I swallow back my instinctual words. “It’s not whatever you’re currently doing.” 

It takes me longer than it should to realize he’s referring to the position Jesper and I are in. Can he relax? It’s not my fault Jesper is tipsy and touchy. 

“Kaz,” Inej’s voice is soft yet determined as she emerges from the shadows. It’s a miracle the way she’s nothing more than a shadow until she chooses not to be. “What’s our next job?” 

Prompting Kaz in order to prevent a fight--Inej, always the closest thing to a mom available. I give her a partial smile, glad that she’s wedging herself between us and the tension, preventing conflict I’m too tired to follow through on.

“A merchant’s house,” he begins slowly, “We’ll be searching a merchant’s house but I’m seeking evidence more than property.” Jesper swings his legs off the couch with no warning. My head falls. I glare at Jesper who offers me a slightly apologetic tsk before dropping his head on my shoulder. Kaz must note the exchange because something in his expression tightens. He’s extra irritable today. “I’ll disclose more tomorrow,” he sighs once, already turning away, “Most of you are beyond listening tonight anyways.” 

He’s at the door before I can tell him that I’m not drunk. The door opens and closes, but Kaz’s heaviness lingers like led. I frown, letting my head fall to the side, resting on Jesper’s.

“He’s weird today,” I mumble, unsure if I want a reply. 

“He’s always like that,” Jesper breathes, “You’re losing your novelty, y/n--he always learns to harden himself against anything bright.” 

The words leave me even more tired. “I don’t think I’m particularly bright.” 

“Kaz does,” Inej replies, “And it has nothing to do with ‘novelty’, Jesper’s just cynical when he drinks.” I don’t know if I believe her, but I like knowing that Inej thinks that. “And Kaz can’t harden himself against you, and he hates that.” 

I press my lips together, straightening my spine. “I’m not that great, and whatever Kaz does or doesn’t harden himself against doesn’t affect me at all.” My nails press into the plush seat. “I don’t even know why we’re talking about this because whatever he does or doesn’t feel doesn’t matter to me.” I force myself up, doing all I can to seem perfectly calm. “All I care about is going to bed.”

Turning my head, I start to approach the door. Kaz has been strangely cold all night, and while I’m used to his moods, he hasn’t exactly directed them at me so fully since the day he caught me waiting for him to wake up after he almost died. If he wants to go back to how it used to be, then it can. Maybe I’ll care in the morning, when the growing weight of my eyelids is no longer a distraction.

“Sometimes the two of you confuse me,” Inej begins, “And sometimes I see you try to deal with emotion and I see the common ground.” 

The words leave me cold. I don’t think being compared to Kaz is an insult, not when there’s so much it could mean. He’s much more complex than he wants to be. There is goodness within him, gilding the parts of him that are more shards than anything else.  

I exhale, refusing to turn. Inej is too observant for her own good. “There is no emotion.” 

“I’m not going to waste my time arguing over that because I know it’s a waste of time.” She pauses and I consider turning around in hopes of reading something less honest from her expression. “I’m just telling you as a friend that one of you needs to be mature and talk to the other tonight before the tension gets worse and that it’s not going to be him.” 

She’s right. I exhale, “Do you think I should let him go?” Even just saying that leaves my heart aching. I know instantly that that’s not what I want, but it might be what he wants--it might be the best option. I might have the strength to let him go if I work at it. “I don’t--that’s not what I want and I’m not sure I could, but maybe that’s selfish of me.” 

“Y/n.” I turn slowly, but I purposefully avoid her gaze, keeping my head down. “I know that I’ve known Kaz longer than you, and I know that when he’s getting along with you he’s,” she trails off, uncertain, “More him, in a good way.” 

My heart swells, and with that comes feelings of panic. I never wanted to change him--to make him better or worse or anything; all I’ve ever wanted is to know him and to maybe help him with his burden. And to hear that maybe I’ve done that from someone so close to him--someone so observant and aware. That’s everything. And that terrifies me. Nothing good can last; nothing that seems to be all you could ever want actually is. I know that from life before the Crows, before I ran away from the castle I called home.

“I think he does the same for you.” I’ve never really thought about Kaz’s effect on me outside of the fact that he makes me feel warm in small moments and painfully seen in large ones. 

I smile because she’s trying and she’s given me something. “I’d say I’d tell you when I make my decision, but something tells me you’ll know.” 

She nods, expression shifting to something kind. “Goodnight, y/n.” 

Jesper stretches out on the couch, settling himself comfortably, “Night, y/n.”

“Goodnight, guys.” I disappear past the door easily, heading towards my room.

I haven’t decided whether or not I’m going to look for Kaz tonight. How much damage could be done in one night? Maybe he needs space. Maybe seeking him out now will make things worse. I exhale, opening the door to my room easily. I’ll decide before going to sleep.

When I step into the room, everything is in place. Everything is fine--but something about it feels off. The light is on. I didn’t leave the light on. Nothing else raises any red flags, so I continue into the room calmly, examining everything carefully. Nothing feels out of place as I further enter the room. I take in my bed, my dresser, and lastly my nightstand. 

My heart swells all over again, but this time it feels even heavier than before. On the center of my nightstand, in perfect condition, is a copy of Pride and Prejudice. The same book I told Kaz about, the one thing besides clothing I took from the palace. I told him it was my mother’s favorite and then he asked me to read it to him. 

I can’t picture him seeing this and thinking of me. I can’t picture him thinking of me--but no one else knew about my attachment to the book. I need to find him. I need to--to see him, to speak to him. To look him in the eye and see something I only ever see when we’re alone. Maybe he won’t have that look this time, but that’s okay. 

I can’t expect to always understand him, but that does not mean I don’t know him. 

The thought leaves me feeling a little more settled within the boundaries of my skin, but I don’t ease entirely. The good is more frightening than the bad. My fear of happiness is a benign secret I haven’t had to worry about in years. I don’t know enough about it to know how to deal with it let alone mention it to Kaz. Not that it’s his problem. 

I squeeze the book to my stomach. Swallowing pride is a difficult thing, but I’m used to it with him. It’s usually worth it with Kaz because sometimes when I try he tries in his own way. I should find him. He’s not awfully creative about where he goes when he wants to be alone because people know better than to bother him. Kaz is probably in his attic or getting air outside or…

The lights were on when I came in. I’m an idiot. I didn’t feel weird when I walked into the room because of the book. Someone’s in here. He’s in here. 

Setting the book down like I should have never touched it, I let out a sigh. “Lurking is unbecoming.” 

“It’s also unbecoming to work for me and be so easily distracted by a book.” His voice reveals nothing as he emerges from the shadows. “I could have killed you with how long it took for you to notice my presence.” He pauses, eyebrows drawing together. “The light was on.” 

Normally I’d have some kind of comment, some kind of joke that offers a more peaceful situation. “I know.” It’s a flat response. “I think on some subconscious level I knew,” I drop my gaze away from him, “I knew I was okay.” That sounds dumb. “I mean...I think I knew it was you so I knew I was okay.” Yeah, that wasn’t anymore eloquent. “That doesn’t make sense, but if you get to be confusing, I do too.”

“Confusing? There’s nothing to understand.” Curt. Simple. Dismissive. 

I frown. ‘Nothing to understand’. Right, because there’s nothing confusing about how quickly he decided to dismiss me just to bring me some obscenely sentimental gift. “If you’re mad at me, you should at least tell me why.” I press my lips together. “At least that way I’ll know if I need to apologize or kick your ass.” 

At that, he presses his lips together, corner of his mouth threatening to tilt upwards. “You would kick my ass?”

Great, even when he’s easing he has to be annoying. “I could.” There is no universe in which I could take him in a physical fight. “On a good day.” I let out a breath, doing all I can to not focus on his expression. Awkwardness settles in my chest as my eyes land on my bed. I sit down, trying not to let my shoulders slump tiredly as I stretch my legs across my bed. “You’re not having a good day.” 

“My day is fine, I’m just not naively cheerful like you,” his words turn sharp, “Or Jesper.” 

Weird addition. “Jesper’s not cheerful, he’s just drunk.” I let go of the ‘naive’ part, deciding to focus on the bigger picture. “And I’m not as naive or joyful as you think I am.” I’m not sure if I mean that as a rebuttal or just a fact. “I have bad days too.” This isn’t the kind of conversation I should have while this tired. “I could be less cheerful if you’d like.” 

He’s so silent I momentarily wonder if he’s left. “No.” It’s not much, but I take it. Straightening my back, I pull my legs beneath me, intentionally creating space. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

Ah, blatant rejection. It would sting if I was less in the right. “Maybe you’ll be less weird then.” 

“I am not being weird.” At least I’m getting some kind of reaction from him. “You’re the one who--” 

“Who what?” Finally--progress. 

Kaz sighs, turning slightly. “You’re the one who decided to ignore me after we met with the contact.” I part my lips, ready to retort, but no words come. He did pick up on my slight annoyance, and he reciprocated it in a much larger way. 

He can never know that this all came from some ridiculous, territorial--partial jealousy. “I didn’t mean to ignore you,” partial lie, “I’m just kind of in a weird place today, I’m tired.” 

“Not too tired for Jesper, it seems.” 

What? Is that what this is about? “What? All I did was sit there--he’s a touchy drunk and I just happened to be next to him.” 

“You laugh with him,” he says this blankly, “You can touch him.” 

The edge of unsafe territory cuts into me at an odd angle. Is this about him? Is he really tormenting himself over something so asinine to me when it comes to him? I’d rather have him than all the physical touch in the world. The book on the nightstand feels closer to me, growing by the prospect of its significance alone. That gesture, that’s more intimate than anything Jesper and I did downstairs. 

“So?” I straighten my back slightly. “It doesn’t mean anything.” 

He presses his lips together. “That’s the problem--anyone can manage meaningless contact…” The silence is louder than the words that came before it. Oh. I guess I’m not the only one who gets just a little jealous in an unwarranted way. “What if you were hurt? What if you were hurt and we were alone and you needed someone to help you and I couldn’t?” He lets out a sigh, a sound too tired for me to associate with him. “You say you don’t care now, but you’ll grow tired of it--the only life I can offer.” 

Inej’s words about the similarities between Kaz and I echo in my mind. “Sometimes I don’t like when things are going well because I don’t know how to be truly content, fully happy.” Saying this twists my stomach. “I don’t know how to trust good things, so whenever there are good things I think about all the ways I could ruin something and then I do.” I take a breath. “I’m not saying that things are particularly good for you or that you’re happy, but I am saying that maybe you shouldn’t think three steps ahead when there’s nothing to think ahead about.” I regard his expression carefully, but nothing has changed. “I told you the only thing I want is to know you, and that’s not going to change.”

“Y/n,” his voice is low, “I am not rain--I can’t promise you anything.” 

I scratch my knee, dropping my gaze. “For once I don’t want rain.” 

Kaz sighs. “Get some sleep.” Something about the way he’s speaking is authoritative but it lacks any weight. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

I frown freely, “Kaz--” 

“You look tired,” he mumbles, “You need rest.” He’s using this as an excuse to escape his feelings, but he’s already given me more than I expected. Greed ruins things, but then again, so does selflessness. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

“For the job?”

Something strange crosses his features as his expression teeters on shifting. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he repeats, a little more certain.

The response doesn’t satiate me. “Kaz--” 

“I may not be the rain, but I’m capable of making promises as well.” There’s something final about the way he says this, but it doesn’t feel cruel. 

Maybe I’d protest if my eyelids were less weighted. “Goodnight, Kaz.” 

My head falls against the pillow. I’m not sure if he replies, too lost in the drawl of sleep before he can even close the door. 

--

General taglist: @theincredibledeadlyviper, @grishaverse7 @benbarnes-supremacy  @tranquilitymoon @kaitlyn2907 @lunamyangel @christinawxxx @deceivedeer @real-mbappe @tonks33

#kaz brekker #kaz brekker x reader #kaz brekker x you #six of crows #six of crows imagine #shadow and bone #shadow and bone fic #shadow and bone show #my works #shadow and bone netflix #six of crows fic #soc imagine #soc fic #sab fic #kaz brekker imagine #grishaverse #grishaverse imagine #grishaverse x reader

[tenkoscumslut]

bakugou x reader (angst + fluff +angst)

so um this is based of off Heather bc im in my feels 

I also don’t ship Uraraka and Bakugou, but in this they are together

enoy~

You had the biggest crush on your classmate Bakugou Katsuki, he was perfect in your eyes, his hair, his eyes, his personality, and that possessiveness he carries around.

That night, the 3rd of december, he had pushed you into a pond drenching your newly bought sweater, “BAKKKAAAA!!!”, you whined and sat up in the pond.  He just kept laughing, if it weren’t for his mother, he probably would’ve let you walk home completely soaked, but the aggressively kind woman forced him to give you some spare clothes.

He had given you his sweater, it was to big on you, but it fit perfectly in your eyes.  It smelled of carmel and a hint of ash, you flopped onto his bed and grinned pulling out your phone, ready to start playing among us.

“You can keep the sweater”, he said around 3 in the morning, empty monster cans from your bag laid upon the nightstand next to his bed, “Really?”, I asked with a slight hopefulness.

“Yeah, it looks better on you anyways”, he replied, that sent a huge blush to your cheeks, and you chose not to respond and just accept the sweater.

+++

Now you were leaning across your desk to talk to Bakugou.  “Mhh but So-”, you were about to finish your sentence when a girl with brown hair came running down the aisle, out of the corner of your eye, you could see Bakugou.

You could hear your heart shatter when you turned your head completely.  It was like your entire world stopped, and all you could see was his expression, a small blush had creeped to his cheeks, his eyes were wide, like he was witnessing a true goddess.

But to be honest, you couldn’t blame him, what a sight for sore eyes, huh?.  She ran up to the kid named Izuku and started to rant on about something both of us couldn’t hear.

He looked over to continue your conversation but was startled to see you walking out of the class.  You didn’t want him to see you crying, he liked it when you put on a mask, but this time you couldn’t hold it up for him.

+++

You sat in the bathroom, the razor in your pocket was so tempting, nobody would know, right?....right.

+++

The next week you were at the mall, your usual place to hang out with Bakugou, you remember when you were kids he would work to get you a boba, and claim when he was old enough, he’d marry you.  A sad smile appeared to your face, know he wasn’t going to, you knew that, though you hopped he might.

Know you saw him, she was wearing a tank top and shorts while he wore a t-shirt and long pants, he hand was wrapped around his waist, and his arm was wrapped around her shoulder, a wide grin on her face, and boba was in her hand.

How stupid you were.

You thought he cared about you.

“Hey, Y/N”, his voice snapped you back to the moment, you raised your eyes to see him in front of you with Ochaco, “U-Um yeah?”, you greeted him, like he was asking you for something.  “Can I have my sweater back?”, his voice was so cool about this.

“Oh...”, you mumbled, looking down to still see it on you, “...sure”, you replied and took it off, you wore a t-shirt he gave you for your birthday, a small skull was on the back of the shirt.  He grinned and handed Ochaco the sweatshirt, you could feel your chest tightening.  Your ticks were coming back indicating an anxiety attack was going to overcome your body.

You needed to get out.

+++

Months had passed, you had learned how to get over the fact you wouldn’t be with your soulmate, for he didn’t share the same feelings with you.

Though that didn’t stop your old habits from re appearing.

“Yeah, Ochaco and I are going through some problems”, Bakugou groaned running his fingers through his hair.  You couldn’t stand that girl anymore, she was constantly bossing him around, you wanted Katsuki happy, and he wouldn’t be happy with you or her, he needed to move on.

Though you still wished he loved you.

“Y/N!”, your mother screeched from downstairs.  You jumped by the sudden loud noise, “Yeah mama?”, you called back softly, “Get your ass down here now”, she shouted.  You looked at Bakugou before leaving the room and walking down to your mom.

There was a paper, along with a box, she was standing there, a mix of concern and rage burned in her eyes, “What the fuck is this?!”, she hissed and motioned to the box and paper.  You stared at her confused, you opened the box, showing the newly stained razors, “You told me you stopped”, she snapped.

“I-I did!”, you exclaimed a lie, “Show me your wrist”, she hissed, I hesitated before reaching my arm out, new scars were barley healed on her wrist, she covered her mouth with her hand, her other hand was on the counter supporting her.

“I-”, she spoke softly tears brimming in her eyes, “Did....is that the only place?”, she asked, I shook my head in shame, “Where?”, she croaked out.  I lifted my shirt to show the scars running along my stomach and my inner thighs.

You could tell she was on the verge of fainting.  “M-Mama, sit down”, you exclaimed and quickly pushed her into the chair.  She ran fingers through her hair, “You were so happy”, she croaked, “what am I doing wrong?”.

“nothing mama”, you mumbled.

+++

You had gotten rid of all the razors, and actually tried in a love life.  You were going on a date this evening, you had fully gotten past Bakugou, who recently broken up with Ochaco.

In fact, you had actually managed to completely shut him out of your life, he was abusive, and an aggressive kid who needed to sort his priorities out.  Maybe you would reconsider your friendship with him after he learns how to control himself.

You glanced over at Shoto who was scribbling on a paper, you tilted your head in confusion, right now you wore his hoodie, which was so comfortable and warm,a nd it smelled just like him.

Little did you know your ex best friend was glaring red eyes into the back of your head, god how was he so fucking selfish.

He loved you, so much, and not in a friend or sibling type of way.  He loved you, and when you cut him off, it felt like you were actually cutting him.  Both him and Ochaco agreed that they didn’t love each other, and during the process of the break up he pushed you away.

Shoto handed you the small piece of paper which wrote, “Do you think Mr. Aizawa would turn into a cocoon if he stayed in his sleeping bag for to long?”.  Y/N giggled lightly, Shoto was amazing, he was so nice, you grabbed a pen from your bag and wrote, “You wanna test that theory?”.

You handed the note back to him with a smile, the same smile you gave him, he thought that smile was reserved for him and him only.  But he guessed wrong.  All those things that you thought were for you, weren’t, and though you didn’t intend to hurt him at all, he finally received a taste of his own medicine.

+++

You wore an oversized t-shirt with nothing underneath, you had just gotten out of the shower, and you were currently blowing drying your hair.  You looked so pretty, and as soon as you were finished you started to put on a little bit of make up.

The doorbell to your home rang, you dashed downstairs, it was a bit early for Shoto to be hair, but you weren’t complaining.  You opened the door eagerly, but the energy was removed from you when you saw Katsuki.

“T-tsuki?”, you asked softly.  “Look Y/N I-....god I shouldn’t have-....are you busy tonight?”, he was trying to figure out how to put his emotions into words to no use.

“Oh um, i’m actually going out with Sho tonight”, you mumbled and smiled softly, “Maybe next week”...

He knew he would never have you

You were slipping out of his hands 

You could do so much more without the weight of him on your shoulders

And he respected that

He just wants you to know

No matter what you do

Or who you end up becoming

He will always love you

And support you

Your his soulmate after all

. . .

#bakguou #bnha angst #angst #bnha #bnha bakugo katsuki #bnha x reader #bnha bakugou

[snickiebear]

If this inspires anything in you, and if you have the time to write it, I hope we can see how you respond to the following prompt:

Kakashi is the god Sakura has to eat and kill.

Lordt help us!

HAHAHAHA MITTENS!! this is literally one of the best prompts ever. thank you SO MUCH!!

i literally had to sit down and outline this so make sure i gave it justice LMAO also, did a little research on japanese kami! which is so interesting btw :))

side note! this is also on ao3 bc i really, really loved it

xiv.

It begins with a girl (doesn’t it always?). A girl made woman who is nothing but smiles and laughter, unfiltered sunshine and the smell of flowers on the warm breeze.

She is good, she is brave, she is kind.

And she grows, that girl made woman, she grows and her eyes open to the world around her. To the hatred of the mortal, to the disease of the gods.

She holds her mother close as she dies in her arms, her father off to war.

They never find his body.

She is the only survivor of her village, war and wreckage in her wake.

This woman made once of sweet sighs and feather light touches learns to survive, learns to harden herself against the world, to bare her teeth and not her throat, to love the scars and hard muscle of her once too soft body.

She meets a woman with too ancient eyes for a face so young and the woman smiles at her, it is a horrible, wretched look. It is a beautiful, timeless look. “Oh, you.” She murmurs, voice old and young, standing slowly. “You’ll do just fine.”

And the girl made woman bares her teeth in a smile, a warning, tilting her head to the side, “Oh? And what shall I do just fine?”

The woman assesses her, amber eyes shining with something cruel, “You will be my avenger, girl.”

And the girl made woman, well, she rather likes the sound of that.

xxiii.

She sees him for the first time at the market, it’s a cloudy day, the streets full of people and the carts slowly selling out of the limited goods available.

The very land has been dying for years now. The mortals do not know it, but Sakura does. Less and less crops, dying plants, brain soil.

The thought itself brings a slight smile of fondness to her face.

But Sakura sees him for the first time at the market, and she knows who he is, what he is. She was under Tsunade’s tutelage for years. Sakura knows a god, a kami, when she sees one, feels one.

So, she walks, shoulders back, spine straight, loose and fluidly until her boot purposely catches on a crack in the cobblestoned road and she’s airborne with a sharp gasp—

Until two strong hands wrap around her forearms, steadying her gently. Sakura looks up, face flushed and eyes wide as she makes eye contact with the Shinigami, who looks at her in concern.

The god takes the form of a tall, broadly shouldered man with a mess of gray hair. Onyx eyes stare at her and they are so black she can see her reflection. Sakura fights the full body shudder that threatens to overtake her.

She has stared into the eyes of a dying god before. Staring into a living one’s should be no different.

“Are you okay?” He asks and his voice rumbles through her, her heart pounding without her consent.

“Yes,” She breathes and offers a shy but sweet smile, slowly taking a step back. He lets his hands drop, fingers grazing her bare skin. She ignores the goosebumps that erupt in his wake. “Thank you very much…”

“Hatake Kakashi,” The liar says, eyes crinkling from over his mask. “And you are?”

“Haruno Sakura,” She replies easily, tucking her hair behind her ear. The Shinigami holds out her basket of goods and she takes it, brushing her fingers against his deliberately, calculatingly.

The wretched kami gives her another eye crinkle, taking a step back himself, “Aa, a pleasure then, Haruno-san.”

Forcing a blush, Sakura waves off the honorific, “Please, just Sakura.”

“Then I am simply Kakashi,” And with a duck of his head, the fraud turns and ambles away.

Sakura turns also, disappearing into the crowd of much too skinny humans, too poor, too stupid. She allows herself to grin, wide and unfiltered, and with teeth. And that scaled, clawed, fanged thing inside her peeks its eye open and purrs.

xvi.

Tsunade— or at least that is what she wants Sakura to call her — takes a long swig from her jug and cackles to herself. “I was right when I picked you, you know.”

Sakura glances up from her scroll of poisons, “You still have yet to tell me why it took only one look to think I can do whatever avenging you want done.”

Swirling the liquid in the jug once more, Tsunade chuckles, “Call it intuition, yeah?”

She huffs, snapping the scroll shut and stealing the jug from her master, taking a long drink herself. It is horribly bitter and disgustingly tart, and Tsunade laughs herself hoarse at the look on Sakura’s face.

“You’re going to do great, mighty, quiet things.” Tsunade says after a long silence. Sakura looks at her curiously. “You will bring war upon earth, disrupt the very heavens. Sweet child, you only know a taste of the power you could hold.”

And Sakura, well, she’s been alone since she was eight years old and surrounded by disease ridden corpses, she’s stolen and cheated and bartered her way through survival. She knows her way around a knife, a piece of glass, a sharp rock.

She has spilt blood just to eat for the night.

“You’ll teach me,” It is not a question.

That cruel, beautiful smile unfurls on her master’s face, “Of course, Avenger. Tell me what you want to know.”

“Everything.” Sakura breathes, demands, pleads.

A soft, aching laugh. “Very well, come here and listen closely.”

And Sakura is a clever girl made woman, she listens to everything Tsunade says, and everything she does not.

So, when Tsunade leaves her alone for the night, Sakura stares at the ceiling of the cheap Inn they are staying in and allows herself to smirk.

xxiii.

She sees him every time she goes to the market after that. He crinkles his eyes at her with a, “Good morning, Sakura-san.”

And in response Sakura blushes and murmurs a sweet, “Hello Kakashi-san.”

It goes like this for weeks until he changes their routine, leaning against one of the carts, tossing an apple into the air. There is only one farmer who can now produce apples, and even then the fruit is weak, no longer crispy and juicy.

The very land, the very life of this village is being drained away. Just as the other villages Sakura has traveled through. There will always be consequences to her actions, she supposes.

Kakashi tosses her the apple and Sakura makes sure to fumble with it before clutching it close to her chest, a teasing smile on her lips, “Kakashi-san, this is new.”

“Mah,” He hums, shrugging, “Just didn’t want you to miss out on your usual, is all.”

Sakura smiles, tucking the apple into her basket, the usual contents dwindled down to a simple jar of jam, a measly loaf of bread, and now the apple. She would need to make this quick and move towns soon.

“Say, would you like to come to lunch with me?” It’s a shot in the dark but she’s hoping that Tsunade was right when she said Sakura was infuriatingly charming. “I understand if you would not like—"

Kakashi cuts her off with a wave of his hand and a friendly look in his eye. Sakura wonders, idly, what he would taste like freshly baked and seasoned. “I am not one to turn down free food, of course.”

She laughs, a light and tittering thing and bares her throat the slightest bit before looping arms with him, “I shall lead the way then.”

Luckily, she has some dried meat and left over vegetables to make something decent and she smiles as him as she sits.

“You’re a healer.” Is what he says, eyeing the herbs and the bandages she had left out.

Sakura shrugs, “I try to lessen pain,” It is one of the many things Tsunade had left her.

He looks at her as if she is something new and so very interesting and she knows what he sees. A thing of life, a thing of preservation, has invited a creature of death, a creature of destruction into its domain, and allows that dark creature to live there.

It is what she wants him to see. Sakura smiles with teeth and she knows he does not see the wolf that sits in front of him.

xvi.

“Dodge!” Tsunade barks harshly and Sakura just barely avoids a direct hit, her skin still burning from the way the air sizzles from her master’s blow.

Sakura twists and flips backwards to gain some space between them, thighs quaking and sweat pouring as she pants, chest heaving. “I fucking am!” She bites back.

“Do it faster.” And then Tsunade is in her space, uppercutting and a blow to her stomach, sending Sakura flying into the corpse of trees behind them.

But Sakura is used being beaten down and she snarls loudly, landing on all fours, fingers digging deep into the ground before she lunges upwards, narrowing avoiding Tsunade’s next hit before spinning horizontally and lashing out with her foot.

And for the first time, Sakura lands a hit on Tsunade; sending her stumbling back, golden blood bleeding down her face.

She lands, gasping for breath, knees collapsing out from under her as she stares wide eyed as her master wipes blood and sweat from her face with the back of her hand. Her amber eyes sharpen to knife points as she grins, feral and oh so wild, “Very good, Sakura. Now we’re making progress.”

Despite her exhaustion, Sakura smirks, tasting blood and salt and victory. “Think you can handle more, old lady?”

“Don’t push your luck, brat.” Tsunade smirks, stalking towards Sakura to pull her up, “Now let me see that jaw of yours. And the stomach, the hell did I tell you about the sto-“

“I know,” She snaps, rolling her eyes as her body throbs something fierce. She allows herself the weakness of leaning into Tsunade’s as they trudge back to their small cottage. “I’ll do better.”

“Good.” They leave it at that. Then, “That was a good hit, my pupil.”

And Sakura, well, she’s feeling indulgent, so she smiles, a slight twitch of the lips as she murmurs, “Thank you, shishou.”

xxiv.

She finds him at the usual spot, draped over a branch like a limp curtain, book in hand. Sakura is still not quite over the fact that the death god reads awfully written porn, but at this point in her life, nothing can truly shock her.

Sakura is well past expectations.

Hiking up her pants, she climbs up the tree and to the branch he’s lounging on, straddling it so her back is to the trunk. Kakashi makes a curious noise when she pulls out her book from the waistline of her pants, “I never took you as an Icha Icha reader, Sakura-chan.”

Peering over the top of her book, Sakura quirks a brow, “If you can read porn, so can I.” A pause as she turns the page, “Plus you’re reading Paradise, I’m reading Violence. Two very different pieces of literature.”

What she will not tell him is that Tsunade taught her how to read with these books, she’s memorized every page, paragraph, and line written.

“You wound me so,” He sighs, going back to his book.

Comfortable silence descends upon them and the only sounds are of nature and the rustle of paper. Time passes and she cannot help the slight twitch of her lips whenever Kakashi giggles at a certain part. It is nice, this quiet.

But she knows it will not last. She will not allow it.

And like an omen, low rumbling of thunder rolls through their quiet, small droplets landing on her hand before the rain steadily picks up. Sakura snaps the book shut and shimmies down the tree, Kakashi landing soundly next to her.

“My place?” She asks, though she knows the answer.

Kakashi intertwines their hands, gently and slowly, his hand encompassing her own as he looks at her, dark eyes reflecting the sky as lightning strikes. Something hot pools deep in her belly when she makes eye contact with him.

And she knows. She knows that she has him.

They stand in her small cottage, dripping and studying each other before they move as one, ripping at each other’s clothes, all lips, teeth, and tongue.

She claws at his back when he thrusts into her, rough and unyielding. The rain pounds outside as her back arches and he groans deep and rasping.

He falls asleep, his face pressed into the crook of her neck and Sakura allows herself to smirk, the taste of glory on her tongue once more.

xiv.

Sakura glowers and bares her teeth at the woman, “You still haven’t fuckin’ told me what we’re supposed to be doing.”

Truly, the only reason why Sakura is even here is because of the free food and shelter. She is well aware that nothing is free in this world, Sakura has learned that the hard way.

The woman tilts her head, studying keenly and Sakura rears her head in a snarl. But the woman’s lips pick up at the corner, “What’s your name girl?”

“Sakura.” She bites out, fingers curling into fists. Glancing around the tavern, she notes the exits, the windows, the people who could be an issue. Then again, she’s sitting across the biggest threat in the room. “And yours?”

The woman hums, “Call me Tsunade.”

“And what am I supposed to be doing here?” She grounds out. Sakura nearly bites the woman when two strong hands clamp down on her shoulders, the woman’s face inches from her own.

“You are the catalyst, girl. The commination that will teach the world the very meaning of power.” Sakura’s eyes sharpen at the last word and Tsunade nods. “You like that, hm? I will teach you then, Sakura. And you will enact my vengeance on the heavens itself.”

Sakura stares, tension slowly melting from her body as she stares at this woman, at this savior. And she thinks, she remembers how cold her mother’s body was, the look of grief her father wore when he left.

She remembers tripping over the bodies of friends, of neighbors, half coherent and sickly.

Looking at Tsunade, Sakura licks her lips, “And what will you teach me?”

“How to turn that rage into a dagger and slit gods’ throats with it.” The woman purrs and Sakura smiles.

xxiv.

She wakes to a freezing cold chest to her back and puffs of air on her neck, just as she has since that night.

It is exactly as Tsunade said it would be; fishing. Lure, hook, and reel.

Sakura lets herself smile with teeth, a smug and sharp thing before she slowly extracts herself from the tangle of limbs they had become. The Shinigami slumbers in her bed, wrapped in her blankets.

Leaning against the doorframe with crossed arms, she looks at the god who she has fallen in love with. He loves her with just as much ferocity, she knows. And despite it all, she finds herself not quite hesitating when she goes to dig through her cabinets, finding the small nine pedaled flower. It once had ten and after this morning it will only have eight.

It is as if sinking into a familiar skin as she picks one of the petals, tucking the flower back where it was. Humming under her breath, Sakura grounds the petal in a small bowl before brewing some tea, sprinkling the powder into it.

The Shinigami’s arms snake around her waist, kissing her temple as he rumbles, “Good morning.”

Sakura turns her head to smile at him, offering the tea.

The scaled, clawed, fanged thing within her has its ugly maw open, head throw back as it cackles and howls.

xviii.

“Listen brat,” Tsunade says, snapping open a scroll.

“I’ve already read that,” Sakura interjects, her brows raising. “You know that.”

Tsunade slaps the back of her head, “When I say listen, I mean it.” She shoves the scroll into Sakura’s lap before striding towards a chest that had not been there before. “Come here.”

Slowly, Sakura makes her way towards the opened chest and peeks inside. She drops the scroll, “Is-is that-”

“Weapons to kill the divine,” Tsunade finishes for her, nodding. “Find one you like.”

Sakura swallows harshly as she kneels down and digs through the weapons, careful of every sharp point, as she palms a knife, a curved dagger with a golden blade. “This one.” She whispers, looking up to her master.

Tsunade nods in approval. “There are few ways to kill a kami.” She holds out one finger, “One, with an ichor dipped weapon.” A second finger. “Two, a very particular poison.”

Picking up the scroll, Sakura glances down the list before landing on one flower, “Kami koroshi.”

“That’s right.” Tsunade nods, “And do you know what to do with it?”

Sakura stands, flipping the dagger in her hand. It feels like coming home, having a blade at her side, bathing in the intimately dangerous knowledge of how to bring about the destruction of the heavens.

“Crush it for indigestion.”

xxiii.

Her stomach aches with laughter, clutching at her sides as she cramps and chokes on her tears. “An-and then wha-what happened?” She manages to get out as Kakashi laughs himself, leaning against the wall, a jug of liquor in hand.

He passes it to her and Sakura takes a long drink, reminiscing of a time similar to this.

“Then I told him, fuck off you little shit—" Kakashi wheezes and Sakura shouts with laughter, curling over as she gasps for breath. “And go blow som-someone else!”

They both dissolve into giggles and howls, Kakashi joining her on the floor. Sakura’s panting by the time she catches her breath, wiping tears from her face, and when she looks over Kakashi is not much better.

Brushing hair from his face, she points skyward, the stars winking down at him. “Hey Kakashi,” She asks, drunk off her ass and still giggly. “Where do you think we go when we die?”

Silence meets her question, and she sluggishly looks to the side to find him watching her, eyes soft and so full of— of—

“You’ll go somewhere safe,” He says softly. “Somewhere beautiful.”

“Yeah?” She mumbles, eyes dropping closed.

“I’ll make sure of it.” Is the last thing she hears before the dark overtakes her.

xix.

Tsunade sits across from her, laughing as she takes another long drink from her jug and sets it down heavily.

Sakura simply watches, leaning back in her chair, eyes cold and head tilted as her master coughs once, twice, three times.

Her arms begin to lose its color, being paler and paler and Tsunade watches with detached interest before laughing. She looks to Sakura, “Took you long enough, you fuckin’ brat.”

Snorting, Sakura stands, dagger in hand as Tsunade’s body begins to writhe, her breathes coming quick and uneven.

She yanks her master’s hair back, exposing her throat and slitting it in a single slide, so deep that she knicks bone, golden blood spraying.

The body drops forward, ichor pooling on the table and dripping onto the floor. Sakura sighs, rubbing the back of her neck as she kneels down to look into Tsunade’s lifeless eyes, “I will take it from here, Shishou.”

The promise rings out into the silence and Sakura revels in it.

xxiv.

Kakashi takes a sip of the tea as they both sit down, Sakura across from him. She takes a bite from the rest of their bread, watching him keenly.

He jerks suddenly, choking and hacking as he looks to her in horror and alarm. “You—"

“Me.” She confirms easily, getting up, dagger in hand.

The Shinigami roars and pushes the table away from himself and into the wall, Sakura ducks, the wood barely grazing her head before she lunges.

His already pale skin grays some more as he attempts to fight her off. She laughs at him, holding him down with one hand, knees on either side of his hips. And in the morning light, her dagger glints like a heaven sent prayer.

She plunges the blade into his head and drags it down his breast, carving him open as the kami screams and screams and screams.

Sakura feels his life bleed out from him under her hand. It is quiet once more.

And the girl made woman smiles, all bloodied teeth and gold stained hands. "And here we are." she whispers, caressing the corpse's cheek, reveling in her quiet victory. "Divinity dies at my wretched hands once again."

xvii.

“Shishou,” She begins, treading carefully. Her teacher looks at her in question, quirking up a brow. “Why were you outcasted from the other Kami?”

Tsunade— or more commonly known as Inari, Goddess of Everything Important, of the very Life— laughs and it is a hollow sound. “Oh, darling girl,” She says, a bland smile on her face. “Even gods hunger for power."

xiv.

Sakura sits, a feast laid out in front of her, a goblet of wine in her hand as she smiles, eyes flashing with something predatory.

Picking up her fork, Sakura spears into the first bit of meat, taking a bite and moaning at the way it melts in her mouth, the way the spices and flavors all blend.

She sips at her wine, running her tongue over her teeth before she laughs, throwing her head back and cackles at it all, with it all. Oh, she is a god killer, she is god taught and god fucked and she will be the one to rule them all.

Sakura sits, a feast laid in front of her, and eats the Shinigami’s flesh, one bite at a time until she can feel the power in her roar.

xix.

The corpse still sits at the table as Sakura rummages through the shit Tsunade had left behind, finding a thick envelope sealed in wax. Prying it open, Sakura laughs.

If you’ve found this, it means you’ve finally grown a pair and done what you were supposed to do. Well done, my pupil. You know your mission. I have trained you well. Do not disappoint me.

And behind the scrawled letter is a recipe.

She looks to the corpse and back down to the paper before she stands, going to gather the ingredients needed.

Sakura stands, flipping through the rest of the contents of the envelope until she pauses at another paper; a list of names and common dwellings.

The Shinigami’s is underlined three times in red.

xxv.

It ends with a girl (doesn't it always?), a girl made of nothing but destruction and anger, all slit throats and bleeding teeth.

She is horrid, she is wretched, she is powerful.

And she has grown, that girl made woman, she has grown and her eyes are wide open and she is intimately aware of the hated and evil of the world, of the weaknesses of the divine.

She finds them laying under a tree, peacefully existing and smiling at each other. The blonde one laughs, clutching his stomach while the raven simply watches on in adoration.

Sakura takes out the list, and under the Shinigami’s name crosses off two more, Raijin and Fujin.

Smiling, she makes her way towards them making sure to look a little lost and a bit scared.

And that thing inside her, the scaled, clawed, fanged thing, it smiles wide and hungry.

#silly things from silly friends #kakasaku #that one ninja anime #200 follower event :) #a shared pen

[tteokggukk]

coffee rings → kth

✳ pairing: kim taehyung x deceased reader

✳ genre: angst, triggering themes, post-split au

✳ warnings: taehyung is grieving, major character death, mentions of a car accident and someone passing away

✳ summary: it’s been a year since you and taehyung went your separate ways, but today’s your birthday and he misses you more than ever. though he never really liked coffee, he drinks them now because it reminds him of you. to pass the time, he heads over to your favorite coffee shop at one in the morning. what he did not expect, however, was to see you walking in, smiling at him.

✳ words: 1.7k

✳ a/n: it’s sad but this idea just popped up in my head so i wanted to write about it because!! i miss writing HAHAHA pls enjoy (or don’t, bc it’s supposed to be sad so it’s okay not to enjoy it). 

It’s one in the morning and Taehyung couldn’t sleep. Ironically, he was supposed to be in bed trying to doze off but he now found himself sitting inside an empty 24-hour coffee shop—your favorite coffee shop, sipping on an Iced Americano he was forcing himself to drink. He never really liked coffee, but nowadays it brought him a feeling of comfort and nostalgia that he began relying on it to keep him sane.

It’s been a year since you two went your separate ways, yet here he was, staring at the entrance of the shop and hoping you’d walk in and talk to him.

You were always the type of person to leave the apartment at any given time of the night to grab a quick snack from this café. When you and Taehyung were living together, you’d often go out and buy pastries while Taehyung waited outside because he used to hate the smell of coffee. Though he never acquired a taste for it, he learned to love the scent because it reminded him so much of you.

Maybe, just maybe, you’d walk in right now at this time like you used to.

Even if he knew it was impossible for you to walk in right now, he waited. He held onto the small chance of seeing you once again. He wanted so badly to talk to you, to feel safe through your touch, and to find a peace of mind. You were his happy pill, the only person capable of making him feel better, and right now not having you around gave him the worst withdrawal from you. He hasn’t been the same since you separated.

All he wanted was to see you.

Imagine his surprise when the café’s entrance opened and you walked in.

Your eyes immediately met and all he could think of was how you looked exactly the same as the last time he saw you. You were just as beautiful and just as glowing. Your eyes looked so bright and alive even at one in the morning, and your lips, god, how he missed the feeling of your soft lips on his. His eyes scanned your whole body before he landed on your hands—the hands that always made him feel at ease.

He watched as you walked over to his table and sat in front of him, a warm smile on your face. He wanted to wrap himself around you right now, but he was too shocked to move from his seat.

“Can’t sleep?” You asked. Taehyung only shakes his head.

“Don’t you think it’s a bad idea to hang out in a coffee shop, then?” You laughed. His chest began to hurt at how much he missed your laugh. It was like hearing an old favorite song he hadn’t heard in so long because it brought back too much memories.

“I guess,” Taehyung had to choke out his words just to start talking, “But the place is oddly comforting.”

A small, sympathetic smile forms on your face. Taehyung looked… different. His eyes that were once enchanting and welcoming now looked tired and puffy, the brightness in them gone. His mouth, which always used to be upturned into a friendly smile were now straight and expressionless. He looked worn-out, but despite everything he still looked beautiful in your eyes.

“Since when did you start drinking Iced Americanos?” You asked.

“Since you left,” He admits.

“You don’t have to drink it if you don’t like it, Tae...”

“I do, because it reminds me of you.”

“Isn’t it best to start moving on?” You asked.

“If you were in my place, do you think you could move on that easily?” He asks, turning his hands into fists to prevent the tears from falling on his face. You watched as he held himself back.

“I’m sorry,” You apologized. There was a brief silence between you two before Taehyung continued. He turns his head down, immediately recognizing this habit of his that he always did before he started crying.

“I miss you, ___. Not a day goes by where I don’t think of you,” The hurt was evident in his voice now. You didn’t say anything, you thought it best to let him clear his head.

“I don’t even like coffee, but you always smelled like coffee so now I’m used to drinking it just to remind myself of when you were with me,” He continued, “I wanted to live my life with you… I imagined my future with you…”

Tears began dripping on your face, but your expression remained calm. Taehyung’s breathing gradually turned heavy, it was long before his eyes turned red as his tears soaked his face. He wished you would wipe them dry, but he knew you couldn’t do that.

“It’s been a year, ___,” He sniffed, “It’s been a year since the car accident, and I thought I was beginning to forget you.”

“But earlier today, I was with your parents,” He continued, “I still keep in contact with them every month, just to see how they’re doing. They asked me to celebrate your birthday with them.”

“How are they?” You asked.

“They’re healthy and they’re doing fine, but I don’t think they’re feeling any better than I am,” He sobbed, “And I told them everything.”

“Told them what?”

“I told them about what my plans were with you, how I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you…” Taehyung was sobbing uncontrollably now. The cashier stared at him in concern.

“I miss you, ___. I miss you so much, I don’t know if I’ll ever get over you. Sometimes I see you in the apartment, sitting on the couch. Other times I see you at the library you used to visit often, and you’re just there reading all your favorite books. Sometimes, you’re in the faces of strangers I see every day, always just a few inches away but I can never bring myself to get close. And I know you’re not really there, but I can’t stop picturing you everywhere.”

“Taehyung,” he watched as you leaned forward to place your hand on his, “You have to let me go.”

“How can I let you go when I still love you?” He wanted to grip your hand tight. He wanted to keep you here with him, but he couldn’t.

“And I’m always going to love you, but you need to accept that I’m not here anymore. I love you too much to see you suffering like this, you have to let me go,” you pleaded.

“___…”

“You can start by taking that out of your pocket,” Your eyes glide over the inner pocket of his jacket, and Taehyung’s breath hitches for a moment. You smile at him, letting him know that you’re aware of what he’s been carrying with him all this time. An item he’s always kept so close to his chest— to his heart.

He takes out the box, the box he’s been preparing for more than over a year now, the box that he waited for so long to kneel down on one knee with to present to you. Now all he could do was take it out without doing all those things and saying all those words he imagined he’d do when he proposed to you. His heart aches as he opens the box, the diamonds on the engagement ring shining right before him. There’s a weight that leaves his chest the moment he sets the ring on the table.

“Carrying that forever will only make it impossible to move on,” You told him.

You were right, he thought. Though it pained him to know he had to let you go for real now, he also couldn’t help but think of how this was what you wanted for him.

Memories of you and him together began playing in his head. The first time you met, all the ups and downs you two shared, him picking out an engagement ring and realizing the ring on the table in front of him was “the one”—to the night he got a call about your accident.

“I’ll never stop loving you, ___,” He whispered.

“I’ll always be watching over you. I want you to be happy, Taehyung, and if that means finding someone new, then it’s all right with me,” You smiled at him. His eyes were still full of tears, but he felt much calmer. Taehyung looks down and nods, wiping the tears off his face.

The ice in the Iced Americano has melted, diluting the drink. One of the café’s staff member approaches Taehyung and hands him water, courtesy of the cashier who noticed Taehyung crying. Taehyung thanks the staff and sips on the water before asking them to dispose of the iced Americano he could no longer drink.

“You never liked Iced Americanos anyway,” You breathed a laugh, and Taehyung just smiles.

“Namjoon will be here any minute,” You tell him, making Taehyung look back at you. How did you know?

“I just figured,” You grinned.

Sure enough, you were right. A few minutes later, Taehyung noticed Namjoon walking outside the café, trying to find where he was seated inside. When Taehyung meets his eyes, Namjoon starts making his way inside with a concerned look on his face.

“I’d better go,” You told Taehyung.

“What?” Taehyung’s eyes shifted from Namjoon to you.

“Take care, Taehyung. Please be healthy, and be happy,” you smiled at him one last time.

“Taehyung!” Namjoon called, catching Taehyung’s attention. When he looked back at where you were seated, you already disappeared. You were really gone.

“Who were you talking to?” Namjoon asks.

“I… no one,” Taehyung mutters, “How’d you know I was here?”

Namjoon gives him an understanding look, “It was her birthday.”

“Oh,” Taehyung nods and looks down.

“Come on, let’s get you home, alright?” Namjoon takes Taehyung’s arm and helps him up. He offers to drive Taehyung and already asked the others to come over to help him feel better. Taehyung just smiles, feeling thankful to have his friends with him.

Once they exit the café, Taehyung looks back one last time to see if you would be right there watching him leave. All he saw was an empty café.

“Goodbye, ___, and thank you,” He whispers.

He was going to be okay, he thought, everything was going to be okay. He might not be okay soon, but in time he’ll allow himself to heal. The previous heaviness he used to feel was no longer there and was replaced by a lighter feeling of relief and acceptance. Namjoon and Taehyung both drive away in silence, and Taehyung doesn’t look back once.

The engagement ring sits left behind on the café’s table, finally freeing Taehyung.

all rights reserved © tteokggukk. please do not repost. translations/modifications are not allowed.

check out my other works here!

#bts #taehyung #kim taehyung #kth #bts v #taehyung x reader #bts oneshot #bts fanfic #bts scenarios #bts fluff #taehyung oneshot #bts imagines #bts edits #bts icons #jeon jungkook #park jimin #min yoongi #jung hoseok #kim seokjin #kim namjon #bangtan #bts au #bts writing #bts angst #purplearmynet #taehyung imagine #taehyung fluff #bts texts #taehyung angst #taehyung au

[clumsyclifford]

mayhaps,,,backseat serenade for a prompt?? (don’t ask me to pick a specific part bc i am Indecisive) also for any pairing but i am partial to malum

OKAY hear me out. i know you said malum and i will happily write this with malum if you want but this song is a muke song to me. and since ive never written muke (!! it is a night for debuts eh) i figured. may as well give it a go. in this low stakes tumblr prompt fic environment. SO here we have it. the closest ill probably ever get to writing smut without writing smut <3

-

Luke’s on his third drink when he sees Michael across the room, and Michael catches his eye. Luke lifts a hand, gesturing for him to come over, which is a bad idea, because he’s drunk, and Michael’s definitely drunk — he’s been drinking whiskey all night; weird choice but there’s no explaining Michael — and Luke and Michael are notoriously lacking in self-control when drunk, but now Michael’s already coming over and it’s too late to take it back.

“Hey hey hey,” Michael slurs as he leans against the bar, crowding already into Luke’s space. His breath smells of whiskey, and Luke wishes that were enough to turn him off it, but it’s very much not. 

“Hey back,” Luke says. “Having fun?”

Michael barks a laugh. “Fuck no. Are you?”

Of course Luke’s not having fun — it’s why he’s sitting at the bar. “No,” he says, trying and failing to refrain from saying what he wants to say next. “But I could be, now.”

Michael smiles. “Worst chat-up line I’ve ever heard in my life,” he says, coming around Luke and using his shoulders to spin him around on the barstool. “Try again.”

“Who said anything about chat-up lines?” Luke blinks up at Michael, wide-eyed and innocent. It’s gotten him before and it’ll work again. Luke wishes he didn’t know that so well, but Michael licks his lips and they’re here again like they’ve been too many times before. 

“Got me there,” Michael breathes, leaning in. Luke leans away instinctively and his back presses into the bar.

“Maybe I just needed a friend,” he says weakly.

“I bet you did,” Michael says, watching him carefully.

It’s no use. They’re caught in the web already. Struggling against it will be in vain, so all that’s left to do is sink deeper and hope that it’ll dissolve by morning.

Luke pushes himself off the seat so swiftly that Michael stumbles backwards. Good, Luke thinks with relish, because Michael loves to push him around and sometimes it’s Luke’s turn. “Your place or mine?”

Michael chews on his lower lip. Luke suddenly finds it hard to breathe. “Yours.”

Luke orders an Uber and they leave the bar to wait for it. The summery nighttime air is warm with just a hint of a breeze, and Michael hangs off him the whole time they wait, pressing butterfly kisses to his jaw with deceptive gentleness.

(Michael’s never gentle with him. It’s why Luke keeps coming back — or at least one of the reasons. Maybe he needs to be reminded that he can take it. If Michael can’t break him, nobody can. And Michael’s awfully good at pushing his limits.)

Luke feels badly for the Uber driver; Michael kisses Luke the moment they slide into the backseat of the car. The radio is on, something loud and angry playing through the speakers. Distantly Luke thinks he’ll definitely leave a generous tip, although presently all he can think about is Michael’s mouth on his, and wishing Michael’s mouth were doing other things, although those things should definitely wait until they’re no longer in the backseat of a car.

“Michael,” he manages, trying for scolding though he’s sure it comes out desperate. Michael pulls back, at least for a moment, hooded eyes gazing into Luke’s own. “Slow down.”

“Slow down?” Michael repeats, sounding deeply unimpressed. “That doesn’t sound like you.”

“We’re in an Uber,” Luke hisses. “We’ll be back at mine in five minutes.”

“Mm,” Michael says. “That’s five too many, if you ask me.”

He presses back into Luke, pushes him into a messy kiss, and Luke tries, really tries to stop the way he melts into it, but it’s fucking impossible. Kissing Michael is his main source of relief, the antidote to all of his pain, and every time they kiss Luke hurts a little less all over. The world is bitter and frequently out to get him, but Michael is a welcome reprieve, someone hungry and immediate to deal with, enough to take Luke’s mind off all the shit he’s trying to ignore about his life and focus just on this.

Five minutes does turn out to feel like an eternity, and Luke doesn’t even wish the driver a goodnight because he’s almost too embarrassed to even acknowledge the ride happened. That concern quickly flies from his mind when Michael essentially manhandles him to the door, and Luke fumbles with the lock just enough to remember that he is, in fact, rather drunk, and so is Michael.

(But what is life for if not making stupid decisions about sleeping with your bandmates slash best friends when you’re wasted?)

Michael all but pushes Luke through the door once it’s open, at which point Luke decides he’s had enough of that, and spins on his heel to pin Michael to the back of the door. Breathing hard, trying not to become completely incoherent from Michael’s disheveled state, he says, “Be fucking patient.”

Michael juts his chin out, so casually defiant that Luke’s heart stutters in his chest. 

(Which is wrong. This isn’t supposed to be a matter of the heart — Luke’s heart should have checked out by now, but it’s still here, watching and waiting for Michael, hungry in a different way. This should be a physical affair, the way it’s been every time before, but Luke can’t help the leaps and bounds in his ribcage, only do his level best to ignore them.)

“Make me,” Michael says, around a delicious smirk.

They’re in Luke’s house, though, and the time for patience is past, and anyway, Luke is probably stronger than Michael but he’d much rather be on the other side of this hold, and they both know it.

The song from the radio still on repeat in Luke’s head, he leans in, and Michael meets him halfway, a battle they fight over and over with no clear victor.

-

Luke wakes up in bed, Michael snoring lightly across his bare chest, sunlight streaming in through the windows, a furious headache behind his eyes. This, at least, is familiar. The unfamiliar piece is the dull thud of Luke’s heartbeat picking up speed as he registers Michael in bed with him.

It’s not as if they haven’t woken up like this before. It’s not like they’ve never shared a fucking bed, notwithstanding whether or not they’d just fucked. Luke feels vulnerable, laid bare; even though it’s impossible for Michael to know what he’s thinking, Luke is nervous that Michael will know.

As if summoned by Luke’s thoughts (an idea that doesn’t put Luke’s nerves at ease), Michael’s eyes flutter open, and he yawns.

“Hi,” he says, looking up through tired eyes at Luke. 

(Luke has learned to reconcile the Michael from last night with the Michael from this morning. They’re not the same person, but then again, neither is Luke.)

“Hi,” Luke says. He closes his eyes. The light is doing absolutely nothing for his hangover. “We should try and remember to close the blinds.”

“Fucking amen,” Michael grumbles. “I’m blaming you. It’s your house.”

Luke would have remembered if he hadn’t been so distracted by a certain someone, but he’s pretty sure they have an agreement not to really talk about it, so he doesn’t say that. Instead, he says, “I’ll make breakfast if you ask really nicely.”

“Make breakfast or I’ll TP your house,” Michael says, burying his face in Luke’s side. “I know where you live.”

Luke smiles and huffs a laugh. “Try again.”

“Don’t make breakfast,” Michael says. He tilts his head and looks at Luke. “Don’t get up yet. Come on. Go back to sleep. We don’t need to get up.”

Luke stares. This is uncharted territory. Michael’s not supposed to ask him to stay. Michael’s not supposed to ask to stay.

“I have to, um,” Luke starts, still staring at Michael as Michael stares back. There’s a challenge in his expression but also something pleading about it, something vulnerable and on the whole very unlike any version of Michael that Luke knows.

“Close the blinds?” Michael finishes for him, offering him a soft smile.

Luke catches his breath. “Yeah. And then we can go back to sleep.”

Michael flops onto his back, releasing his hold on Luke. Luke feels cold, and quickly slides out of bed and crosses to the windows. Shutting the blinds throws the room into a much dimmer light, and he takes a second to adjust his eyes before ambling back over to his bed and crawling under the sheet.

Michael immediately tucks himself against Luke’s side, fitting so comfortably that Luke can’t believe he’s been sleeping all this time alone. It makes sense, and it feels right, and Luke’s chest feels full to bursting with the fact that Michael hasn’t left. Michael is still here, breaking every rule they’ve written for themselves.

So Luke ducks his head and presses a kiss to Michael’s hair. (Because what’s one more?)

“Mm,” Michael hums contentedly, looking up at Luke. “I’d kiss you if I cared enough to reach you, honest.”

“Could just ask,” Luke says lightly. “I’m very accommodating.”

“Oh, I know.” Michael grins. The rulebook is in tatters; Luke thinks, fuck it, and shuffles down in bed to kiss Michael. Somehow this one, more than all of the other ones they’ve ever had, makes Luke’s stomach churn. Michael tastes of stale whiskey and salt and morning breath, a mixture that should be atrocious but for some reason isn’t.

Michael smiles again when he pulls away, sleepy through half-lidded eyes. “I’m sleeping ‘til this hangover goes away on its own. Hope you didn’t have plans.”

Luke can’t find it in him to come up with any kind of witty retort. “Okay,” he says softly. “Goodnight.”

“‘Night,” Michael answers with a yawn, and within moments he’s back to sleep. 

Luke falls asleep soon after. It’s much easier to fall asleep, he finds, with someone else curled up in bed with him, especially when that someone is Michael. Luke thinks about potential energy and drifts off with a smile.  

#THIS IS WILD MY VERY FIRST MUKE #somewhere in the world helen is mourning #michael clifford #luke hemmings #muke #muke fic #5sos #5sos fic #fic #my fic #THIS IS SO EXCITING #anonymous #ask #answered

[mulletcal]

oooh could u pretty please do 13 with cal!!!! like maybe u werent expecting to get pregnant, like at all! u two had been together for almost a year now but talks of the future were few n far between, especially w the band n ur own career taking off, u both preferred to live in the present! but u knew u were pregnant n mayb u came over the night before to tell cal but u couldnt find the words n then the morning sickness outs u ???? IDK i love ur writing so pls take it away xoxo

i’m gonna make this obv separate from the twin universe bc they’re married in that one also anon ur so cute xox thank you for sending this in

---

Being with Calum brought out a side of you that you never realized existed - before meeting him, you never felt inspired in your career, or your personal life.  You always just went through the motions, but he was like a tidal wave that crashed into you. 

Now, you had gotten a promotion into your dream role, you’d expanded outside of your social circle and made more friends, and overall you had become a better you - and you had him to thank for it.  In the back of your mind, you had a lingering feeling that he was the one that you would spend the rest of your life with, but you could never bring yourself to say the words aloud to him, out of fear he’d reject you... Not that he ever made you feel less than incredible.

The subject of kids had come up once or twice, Calum stating that he wanted kids for sure, and you agreed with the sentiment - beyond that, you both were going with whatever life threw at you, and you kind of loved it.  Your sweet, sentimental boyfriend brought you comfort so that you didn’t have to wonder if he wanted you, you just knew.

Just after the 10 month mark of your relationship, you started to feel ill - having recently had a scare with newly discovered allergies, you thought that you had more things you’d discovered you were allergic to.  The smell of bananas made your stomach lurch, the taste of coffee made your throat feel constricted, and it was all so strange because you hadn’t changed much of your diet other than your new found sensitivities.

The last thing on your mind had been pregnancy - but you looked at your period tracker app just to be safe, as you couldn’t remember the last time that you’d had it.  You nearly dropped your phone into the sink when you read the words: ‘Period: 4 weeks late’. How could you have missed the fact that you hadn’t had your period in a whole month? 

Your throat burned as you felt the bile rise once again, rushing to the bathroom as you tried to figure out if this time it was from the shock of realization, or the potential baby growing inside of you.

The suspicion of you being with child was confirmed when three positive pregnancy tests were laid out in front of you, your skin paled with worry.  How would you tell Calum about this? Could you tell Calum about this? Well, you had to of course, but how?

You were supposed to spend the weekend at his place, which usually made you over the moon excited, but now you had this massive thing weighing on your chest and making it difficult to breathe.  Nevertheless, you decided you would tell him that night, even if it came out as word vomit - or actual vomit - you needed to tell someone.

Arriving at Calum’s house, the heavy pressure in your chest increased when you saw that he had laid out a romantic movie night for the two of you, and you decided that the news could wait until the next day.

***

The next day came sooner than you wanted it to, your body waking you with a start, the newly familiar burn in your throat as you made a bee line for the bathroom.  Calum must have heard you, because a moment later he was there holding your hair with one hand, his other rubbing your back.

“Stomach bug, baby?” He asked, his brows furrowing with concern.

“No,” You paused, exhaling softly before meeting his eyes, “Morning sickness.”

Calum seemed to go through so many expressions then - confusion, shock, happiness?, back to confusion.

“Wait what?”

“I’m not... I don’t want to force this, Cal.  I love you, I do.  But I’m not going to pressure you into something you’re not ready for,” You spoke, chewing on your lower lip while tears threatened to spill.

“Baby, hey, no...” He trailed off, slipping onto the floor to bring you between his arms.  “We’re in this together.  I love you so much, and you’re not pressuring me.  If you want to keep this baby, I’m over the moon.  But I’m not going to pressure you to keep it if you don’t want to, love.”

The tears really began pouring then, burying your face into Calum’s chest as you sobbed.  He let you cry it out, waiting for you to pull back and say what was going through your mind.

“I want this baby.  I want all of this with you - kids, marriage, I’ve just been too scared to say that other part.”

Calum smiled brightly then, about to lean in to kiss your lips before he thought better of it and kissed your forehead instead, bringing a laugh out of you.

“You’re my future doll, and I’m gonna be a dad!”

tag list: @cals-wildflower @talkfastromance4 @softbabiestan @roseycal @calum-uncrowned @boyfriend-cal @wildflowerirwin @irwindoll @gosh-im-short @atlcalm @thesubtweeter @heavenisapeach @ridingcthood @loveroflrh @wokeupinjapanisabop @baldcalum

#calum hood blurb #calum hood fluff #5sos fanfic #5 seconds of summer fanfiction #dad!cal

[astralastrid]

USUK/UKUS survey by @americapersonified

Tagged by @hariible so here we go!

In what decade did they officially become involved?

¯\_(ツ)_/¯.

The fics have ruined me. So I'd probably say during or after WWII. Plus that's when the "Special Relationship" was coined.

Who tops? (USUK or UKUS?)

*Looks at the UKUS server I made* idk you tell me

Honestly though Arthur probably has more relationship experience, so he's more confident and willing to take the lead. Alfred is actually secretly shy and modest about this stuff! (I mean, I do think we Americans are more conservative and modest when it comes to romance?) Plus like, Alfred finally feels like he can trust someone and let them take care of him, that he's loved when the whole world mocks him... Whoops got a little angsty there

Was either of them a virgin before their first hookup?

It's time for me to unveil my demi!America headcanon that's just me projecting aw yeah

Alfred is. He actually thought he was ace before he met Arthur because he was never interested in that kind of stuff, preferring to cuddle instead. But once he met Arthur he trusted that he'd take care of him and stuff and wanted to try it.

If not, to whom did each lose his virginity?

Alfred to Arthur.

Arthur to? Idk Francis probably? I do see FrUk as like, a past thing. Along with SpUk and PortEng. So one of them probably.

(Read more bc LONG post)

Are they more patient with each other in private, or do they bicker/tease each other all the time?

Haha projection time 2.0

Bro, like, a good relationship should have teasing anyway (unless your partner isn't ok with it!) so definitely. But Alfred actually gets self-conscious about the things that Arthur teases him about so he has to stop and tell him how much he loves him and stuff. But in general they're more patient because they've come to understand each other and love the other's quirks.

Will they ever get married?

Yeah but after a while. Alfred wants to do it right away but Arthur rejects him, saying that the don't need rings to prove that they love each other. He promises he will eventually. I like to think after gay marriage legalized in the States they celebrated by getting married.

If so, where will the wedding be held? (Add other details if you wish.)

Hopeless romantic Ame time!

Can you have more than one ceremony? No? Oh well. Summer wedding in America, Fall Wedding in England. I don't know much about wedding planning but I read a headcanon that was like "their vows were so beautiful it made everyone cry" and I support that. Both of them cry during the other's too. Lots of tears shed on both sides during everything. Lots of white and silver and gold because yeah. None of this stupid "one of them wears a dress" business. Like, it's ok for a relationship to be masc/masc and fem/fem like don't heteronormalize it. So two tuxes. Probably no "walking down the aisle?" Maybe they both come in from the sides idk. A cheer when they kiss. "Can't Help Falling in Love" by Elvis is their first dance. Arthur probably sings "I Wanna Hold Your Hand" after their first dance. Wedding cupcakes is galaxy brain so wedding cupcakes. Multiple flavors.

At whose house do they most often stay together?

Alfred's. It's larger anyway.

Do they refer to each other by their nation names or human names?

Human names. Nation only for business.

What pet names do they have for each other?

Arthur: Love, (The most common one) Darling, Dearest, Dear, Poppet (2nd most common) Alfie (extremely rare, or when drunk. Alfred adores when he calls him this though.)

Alfred: Babe, Baby, Artie, Art, Honey, Sweetie, Sweetiepie, Sweetheart, Sweetcheeks.

Who drives?

Both, Alfred loves to drive! But Arthur gets nervous because Alfred can drive like a New Yorker, (that is, aggressively, quickly, a bit dangerously, lots of honking from him and others) especially when he's in a rush or late, and god help everyone when he has road rage.

So Arthur judges the mood and insits if he knows Alfred is probably gonna drive like that.

Is Alfred good at making Arthur’s tea?

Dude of course. It's never quite perfect of course, but you don't date someone for decades without learning how to make their lifeline. In this vein Arthur also knows how to make Alfred's coffee. (And since this isn't a question, Alfred likes it blacker than black in the mornings, and all sugared and creamered up after work and in the evenings.)

It’s universally accepted that Arthur sucks at cooking. Does Alfred enjoy cooking? Is he good at it? Or does he usually stick to McDonald’s and fast food?

Ok yeah but I headcanon Arthur can bake, like really well. Ok yeah I know about his scones but maybe he's just bad at making those specifically.

Alfred loves to cook. He loves to grill even more. But he likes to experiment and try new stuff and he's damn good at it (because cooking is just another science!) So his meals are like comfort food. Almost restaurant quality. Boy could be a chef. But he also loves his fast food and instants. (Kraft's Mac and Cheese is so good.) And yeah he loves Mickey D's but have y'all ever been to like, Noodles and Company or Sonic? Like, there are some GOOD fast food joints and I'm sure he loves them all. Arthur probably doesn't like burger joints but does like places like Panera.

Do they shower together? (Often; not specifically for sex.)

Sometimes? Idk man it's hard as shit to wash your back so yeah? Also the tenderness of giving your lover a bath? I'm🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

Who smells better? (In your opinion.)

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

People just smell like, people, and to the other they each smell like home.

How vocal are they in bed?

Alfred’s so LOUD lmao. But Arthur loves it. If he was more of a memelord he'd record and make a remix of his sounds.

Who has the more active libido?

Definitely Arthur.

Is spending time together easy, or are they forced apart for long periods at a time?

¯\_(ツ)_/¯ I don't know how politics work? Do important government officials have to be there in person for meetings?

Let's have two senarios here:

Let's say they do, and they have to be apart for periods of time. Both the boys have separation anxiety and HATE being apart, so there's always the fear and the paronia and concern when they are apart, and they have almost daily video chats. It's really hard on both of them. They text and call often too. They miss the other dearly. When they reunite they kiss and cuddle like they need it to survive. They're much more affectionate with each other and spend every moment they can together to "recharge" before the "hyper-affectioness" goes down. Leaving is super difficult. Lots of tears and hugs, promises to be back asap, longful stares and apologies. Cursing their job and such. Desire to quit or face the consequences and just stay. (Which is completely blocked by the other.)

Let's say somehow they work something out and they can spend long amounts of time together with minimal travel. Sometimes they get into fights or just get on each other's nerves or just need some alone time. Alfred will go run or excercise while Arthur goes to a café until they're ready to make up/miss and want to see the other. Business trips help keep tensions low, but they're still painful.

Are they wealthy? Or do they live modestly?

I’d say like average people. Arthur probably likes it a bit more tasteful and stylish though, so little hints of wealth. Also, Arthur basically has a library for his book collection that acts as his study and Alfred has his own study and a gaming room. They have the prettiest garden you ever did see though. And a really nice patio. With a nice backyard and grill.

For Alfred specifically: Glasses on or glasses off?

On! Except in the bedroom.

How often do they break up?

Rarely if at all. They probably did once and missed the other so badly that they promised never to do it again, and always talk it out. Sure they get into fights and one of them will storm off, but they both understand that that usually means the other needs to cool down before they can talk.

Open relationship?

No.

Did Arthur actually care for Alfred before the American Revolution?

I really want to say yes, because of how it was portrayed, but honestly? I don't think the U.S. was any different from England's other colonies. He'd occasionally check up on all of them, but he was super surprised at how fast America grew.

Of course once the war happens he's riddled with regret. Maybe if he treated him better this wouldn't have happened. War with a colony for their independence is ugly anyway. Even after the war, I don't think England was as heartbroken as it was portrayed. I think he was depressed about it for a while, but eventually got over it. It still took him, like any colonizer, a while to see him as an equal though, which infuriated America. However they are both completely over it and don't talk much about it anymore. It's all in the past for them.

@milopottz (I know we don't interact but 👀)

Tag people if you want, so

Also @alifeasvivid and @anyone who wants to

#whew! long post over #long post #tagged #usuk #ukus #this was fun though

[sumeshi-t]

the idea of making hc’s of children is sosososo cute. i’ll follow ur steps chloe @akaashit-baeji lolol this is gonna be really self-indulgent buuut my excuse is that it’s my birthday so here it goes... i'm writing the last half of this with a hangover and a bad case of dysmenorrhea... sucks 2 be me

Oikawa Teru (及川 輝)

his name “輝“ means “bright”, and this boi lives up to it because, let’s face it, he’s gonna be like his dad. he embodies this “brightness”, in a way that he’s smart, and he makes sure he and his team’s (or whichever team he’s going to be in) will shine on the court

wavy/curly hair and a victim of my and his dad’s astigmatism. always has this cheeky smile, and he gets my brimming energy so he’s really approachable and charming

very good with words; it’s like he always knows what to say

when he plays he also wears contact lenses

but don’t be fooled. in their generation, it’s him who has to put iwaizumi’s son in check. he knows everything about his teammates too, he knows more than what he lets on (which sometimes, they find creepy, but they all know he means well)

anyway, unlike his dad, he doesn’t really mind having geniuses around. instead, he watches them very closely; something like “mutualism”. he knows what he lacks and he knows he can learn from them too, vice versa.

is into horror games. in his free time, he and his sister take turns playing. and they decide it by seeing who can last the longest without flinching/screaming. he’s annoyed because his sister’s better at it 

has fans, ngl. i mean look at him. however, the female fans especially, are pretty on guard. he’s approachable, but anytime they see him with his sister... they back out. he doesn’t mind, he loves his sister and it actually amuses him. he’s the same when it comes to the boys who hang around her too!

basically protective siblings who are always there for eo

is very neat. can’t concentrate when something is out of place. he keeps his nails short, has a somewhat flowery scent. yes, he uses female perfumes because he despises strong smells.

bug-catching was his childhood hobby just like mine’s was. used to sneak beetles in iwaizumi’s son’s backpack back then

he will never admit it but he actually asks his sister for fashion tips because his taste sucks ass so bad

basically his major problem or issue in life is getting compared to his father (he’s also a setter). he hates that so much, being hidden in the shadow of his dad, and when people just recognize him for being oikawa tooru’s son.

something he and ushijima’s child relate to so strongly. they’re friendly rivals; might end up being teammates in their career hmm

so when he’s the one stressed, he skips practice for a day just so he could recollect his thoughts. usually stays in the library to read books he picked up based on the titles; might either open up to iwa or his sister later on, it depends. then when he’s okay, he doubles the amount of training

Oikawa Rie (及川 麗恵) it’s /ri-ye/ oki

so the kanjis are: "麗" meaning, beautiful and "恵" is blessed. tooru thought of this name obviously

also has curly hair like mine. has that tiny mole below her eye just like i do. actually has lots of moles over her body; one time she fell asleep on the couch her brother drew connecting lines between the moles on her arm and called them constellations. it was nice she thought but still, the next day, teru had to wear a band-aid over his nose bridge.

she’s just a year younger. is less “vibrant” than her brother, a bit more serious. has a resting bitch face and she’s not even sorry about it and i love her for that

she’s actually relieved she looks like that, or else she knows the girls in her class would flock to her just to get in her brother’s pants. usually brushes them off with “ask him, not me” or “do you think that’s any of my concern?” 

her tongue her words damn never get to this baby girl’s bad side she’s gonna burn you alive. like fr when she’s angry, oh she’s gonna show you that she’s angry. but tbh she's very sweet, leaves little notes or little gifts to her friends every now and then

she just doesn’t want her brother’s heart to be broken (she’s heard stories from her mom about her dad’s many hs exes), and she knows teru’s struggles

therefore

doesn’t really like volleyball that much. it’s because she didn’t get to grow up with her dad around, she felt like it separated her from him. she’s not mad at him though. she’s very supportive of him and her brother.

used to play vb though when they were kids. but that’s all it was for her

she’s the team’s honorary manager lol the occasional “i brought you guys sumn” or “something-kun, a girl from my class says she likes you so do your best” etc

the team’s lil sister how bout that

despite being tolerant of horror games, this girl is vvvv squeamish. she cries at the sight of internal organs or blood. biology lab was the worst time of her life 

when she dug up my hs videos she was shook to discover i once did theater. and thus begins her interest in theater too

and??? baby girl is actually???? really really good???? 

the girls she used to shut down nicknamed her “prima”, short for “prima donna” she hates it. hates it more when her closest theater buddy was the one who spread that around

immediately went to the gym to spike some balls from her brother. baby girl was crying because she was just so pissed.

she was given ice cream and sweets afterwards. ugh it’s so cute idk she’s baby to the team skksksk they protecc

in that upcoming play, her first ever performance, the whole team got front row seats and howled when she came on during curtain call; it was vvv sweet and memorable even if the guys were kinda reprimanded afterwards lmao

which is why, in return, boiis also have a hard time approaching her because damn??? the vb team as your knights???? excuse me??? 

oh have i mentioned she has a sweet tooth? mygod. she has a stash of sweets in her room. teru has had to sneak some away because she might get tooth aches or diabetes

her pastel nail polish is arranged by shade, her body clock is fucked up lmao she hates the mornings; has succulents by her window which she names after various characters from books/plays etc she’s for sure gonna be a theater actress tho

asks help from iwa’s son for math. even her brother’s 0% help. teru is smart but a terrible teacher. she’s an above-average student and that’s all that matters for her. she can leave the spotlight to her brother because she only craves one type of spotlight

Miya Seiichi (宮 聖一) and Miya Seiji (宮 聖二)

their names literally mean “聖” sacred then “一” is one, and “二” is two

atsumu thought it was funny. when they were kids, seiichi’s nickname was “juan” and seiji’s was “tutu” (i gave them the nicknames)

when the twins discovered the meaning behind the nicknames, they hated it. especially seiji, he despises it vvv much

so when they were hs, seiichi = chi, seiji = ji for the people they're close with

as we can see here, the twins unfortunately got my curls. seiichi likes his hair as is. he doesn’t like the thought of dyeing his hair just to be differentiated from his twin. in fact he enjoys twin jokes, enjoys tripping people up about it. seiji on the other hand, grew tired of his brother’s jokes and by the time hs started, he sacrifices his soft hair. 

between the two, seiji is the one who has my ugly eyesight. add to the fact that he reads a lot (once he starts he can’t put it down. so he reads in the dark, in a moving car etc)

the piercings was a thing that happened between them, and their cousins (which were also twins wtf)–it was a 2v2 vb thing and they lost

surprisingly, the cousins weren't pleased bc atsumu didn't scold them for getting piercings (but for playing half-heartedly). seiichi wanted the piercings tho tbh it was the perfect excuse. ngl, seiji also wanted them.

first let's talk abt seiichi, aside from the fact he also got my mole (he feels it makes him look cuter tho)

seiichi's into vb, but not a setter. he's the ace. may or may not push through with it as a career. he hasn't decided yet. is actually a bit sad that seiji didn't join the vb club in hs, he wanted them to be like his dad and uncle.

seiichi doesn't have any uh, quirks like shutting the whole cheer squad up like his dad does. but he usually dribbles the ball five times before any serve (this is something i did before) and he likes the 'ooooh hey' thing the crowd does when he goes for a serve

his side of the room doesn't have much stuff going on except workout equipment. he follows what exercise plan i give him as da PT mom that i am, and he is very strict with his diet and with what he eats–he's close to not needing a calorie counter anymore; but not a picky eater. he loves his uncle's cooking very much and he is jealous he can't cook even if he tries

he can do beatboxing, he learned it through youtube lmao his spotify playlists are da bombest; he learns a lot in youtube tho in his free time. his current interest is magic tricks and french (he thinks he can use it to woo that girl from class 4)

he hates insects, and hates mess. he has had to scold his twin about it that it escalated to them having this imaginary line in the middle of the room

anyway, he's straightforward. but not rude. he just doesn't like any pretenses so he says what he thinks or feels is right. may or may not have led to some misunderstandings, but he owns up to his mistakes if he crossed a line

next, seiji

even if he looks like a nerd with his glasses tbh he is not he actually hates studying. you can love reading without having to love studying right? he's that dude

the only time that he regrets dyeing his hair was when he realizes couldn't change identities so his brother could take his exam for him

his side of the room is littered with his sketches, notes from books, pencils everywhere – he drew a bunch of ants one time on a paper and made it look like they're real ass ants and placed it on seiichi's pillow

to solve this problem, atsumu has planned to give him a tablet for his next birthday

quits vb in hs because he kinda lost interest? he still finds it fun but he doesn't wanna be put under the pressure that his dad and uncle left for them lmao

he's in art clubs tho

he designs banners/posters for the team anyway. they use his strategic mind from the shit he's read for any plays and stuff so when he's not drawing, he's thinking

he might look like he has no emotions, but tbh he is more emotional and empathetic than his brother. he cries easily over the simplest things, like those grandparents vids, or rescuing animals and stuff

and thats why he doesn't let people in too much bc he knows he'll be hurt (dw seiichi knows this vvv well, and even if they do have arguments, he loves his lil bro and helps him about this)

has once begged to have a cat at home–seiichi didn't want bc he knows his twin is gonna leave him for clean up lmao

he can cook period.

he's gonna either be an architect or an animator, still hasn't decided.

his music taste sucks lmao. his youtube recents are filled with cooking stuff; in constant conversation with his uncle abt cooking lol it be cute sometimes atsumu is jealous bc he feels his son is closer to his brother than with him

he is forgetful that's why his stuff is messy lol he keeps misplacing stuff, sometimes it's literally in front of him and he's just 'where????'

but remembers dates well, remembers plays well. he's good at nitpicking tiny nearly insignificant details. just anything outside studying? he's good. dw he passes his classes but he hates giving effort for that shit lololol

#haikyuu #haikyuu headcanons #saleeta

[tarithenurse]

Agent of Hope - 19

Your world falls into ruin together with the Strategic Homeland Intervention Enforcements Logistics Division when you find out that your boyfriend isn’t one of the good guys. Pairing: Brock Rumlow x fem!reader, Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader Contents: Hmmm...weapons, fluff, dealing with trauma, mention of rape, masturbation, violent reaction, difficult choices, more fluff, and kissing. A/N: Thanks to all of you who like and especially reblog <3 On a second note: been looking for houses (need to move out of my parents’ place with my husband bc omfc).  Also that GIF just is epic.

19 - An offer you can’t refuse

…   Romanoff   …

The tinny jingle from the Goldfish commercials doesn’t cause hesitation to the hands moving rapidly to find and connect the right parts needed in the task of assembling three different guns. Only when the last weapon is locked (and loaded) does Natasha spin the cell phone on the table with a frown. Unknown caller, but the small dots in the corner indicate that Jarvis is tracking down the number already and will have an answer in three…two…one…ugh! Langley.

“Afternoon.” The tone is flat enough to show the lack of enthusiasm without being downright rude. “What more does Langley want post-hearings?”

She can almost hear the crooked smile. “Hrph…I guess I shouldn’t be surprised, miss Romanova.” The twist to the last name sends shivers down the former Russian’s spine but the familiar voice continues. “I’m agent Ross…we met during the hearings…?”

The silence is allowed to reign in an attempt to get the man to talk, maybe say too much. Meanwhile, Natasha brings the Glock 26 behind the back and starts to dismantle it, counting the seconds it takes before every piece of metal is spread out on the couch cushion behind her, careful not to lose the pins or the little spring for the trigger.

“Miss uhm…miss Romanova? You there?”

Nervous. Not enough. “…yeah.”

“Good! Good. Yes…” Some paper rustles through the line. “Right…I know the hearings’ve been long and prob’ly bothersome,” agent Ross hesitates to allow for some comment but gets none, “s’I can completely understand and respect if y’aren’t interested, however…I believe that you may ‘ave information that could be of benefit to u- to the Agency, I mean, in terms of filling some gaps. Erm I think…what I’m trying to say’s would it be possible for you to – off record – have a look at our older intel?”

Wait…waaiit…one more second. An intake of breath is Natasha’s cue. “You want me to shed light on old cases that’ve gone sideways?”

“Well –“

“You think either SHIELD, Hydra, or maybe my former handlers could’ve botched it for you guys?” By now the short agent’s sputtering in embarrassment, maybe hoping for the weak protests to soothe any slights the insinuation could have caused. “Send me a top ten and I’ll see what I can do.”

“Really?!”

Yeah, why would I? Simply put, Natasha hates being out of the loop, and the spy in her is aching for the chance of (legally) getting hold of CIA intel. More than that, though, she’s learned the hard way how precious the currency known as “favours” are. Owe someone something? They’ll have a hook in you forever. Someone owes you? It can be the difference between life and death. An IOU from a CIA agent…that could be handy.

“No promises I can actually tell you more than y’know already.”

Movement behind her makes the Avenger turn her head, a smile already curving her lips at the presence of [Y/N] who eyes the weapons (and parts) cautiously.

“Oh, no! That’s okay, no worries!” An idiot might refuse the tentative offer and Ross is far from that. “I’ll compile the files and get them to…you…uhm…”

“I’ll text you an address.” A slightly oil-greased finger hovers over the phone already. “Bye, agent Everett Ross.”

…   Rumlow   …

The fly circles the room a few times before finally settling on the person in the corner, climbing across brown-stained jeans in short sprints before reaching the lax hand and taking off again. Next time the insect lands it’s by the dried spatter on the wall where the bullet had made a small crater when it exited the skull of…who was that? A glance at the pens and the old-fashioned glasses makes Brock guess at some dusty field of expertise like history or literature. Whatever it had been, the man had decided it was better to risk it all and go looking for Hydra on nothing but a rumour.

“Don’t mind zat,” Strucker dismisses the sight easily, “ze interesting zing is zis.” Careful not to touch, he points at the darkened veins and (with the help of a metal rod) the unnaturally blue eyes. “Ze experiment was quite a success, my friend. We are able to channel ze power of ze weapon into humans.”

“They all end up like this so far?” The eyelid hasn’t lowered again, so the endless glow of space is staring blindly at Brock no matter where he moves. “A bullet in the brain? Why did he get that?”

Chuckling softly, Strucker wipes the little stick in a handkerchief which he folds before depositing both in a pocket. “Zis man gained immense strengz but lacked control.” Oh. “Perhaps zere is a stronger connection between the state of mind and ze results zan we anticipated. We are now looking for actual volunteers.”

…

Fuck. However Loki did it remains a mystery still, but Brock won’t give up the hope that it will be possible to figure out how to control another person with the staff. Damnit, he’d seen the bit of salvaged footage and read the debriefs portraying the events when the Asgardian came to Earth and brainwashed top agents in no time.

The results of Strucker’s and his team’s work is vital both for the promotion of Hydra’s scheme…and to get anything useful from [Y/N] when she will get back again. I’ll be damned if it kills her. Brock’s all too aware that his craving for the ex-girlfriend wouldn’t be condoned if anyone knew – to be fair, he doesn’t quite like it himself because it makes him feel like he isn’t in control of his own damn mind. Every dream is either about missions and kills, sending adrenalin pumping through his veins, or they feature every detail of [Y/N].

The little smile when she was lost in thought. Her spine curving to jut the breasts upwards, skin subtle under Brock’s hands. Remembering the teasing hitches in her breath on a sunny morning, light filtering through the windows to catch in her hair as they made their bed creak together a lifetime ago.

“Godfuckingdamnit!”

Already, an erection is pressing painfully hard against tac-pants and Brock shoves a fist down to reposition the stubborn cock only for a new memory to appear the moment his fingers close around the shaft. Shea-butter mixed with sweat on pebbled nipples…perfect taste. There’s not much room to move the hand, but at least the pants are easily opened allowing for longer strokes.

The speed accelerates with each recollection, fist tightening and twisting while the echoes of [Y/N]’s moans are replaced by cries tearing from her throat when he took her with force. Fuck, it was so good, the man admits to himself, the struggle…oh yeah…the…the control. Breathing laboured, Brock has to lean against the wall, unable to stagger the last few steps over to his cot. She’d begged and pleaded, and he had been the one to grant her peace…or not.

He grunts as he comes. White stickiness spurting between his fingers, adding to the blurry haze from the inability to focus on anything else than the rush thrumming through the veins. It’ll be a short reprieve before the need returns like an endless hunger that nothing can sate. One thing can. But [Y/N] isn’t here, she’s tugged away somewhere with the fucking Avengers and that makes it all a million times worse because to think that Romanoff or maybe even Steve get to be close to her. Get to touch her, smell her.

It stings pleasantly when the hand connects with the drywalling and the structure behind it, thin strings of cum hanging from the torn plaster. At least that clears Brock’s mind a bit.

…   Reader   …

Lying awake all night, it’s almost a relief to sense the grey dimness take over the room and allow the outlines of furniture to stand out – not even Natasha’s steady breathing has been able to calm your mind after the hours of training spent to tire out your body at least. Why this time?! You’ve spent more than enough nights trying to escape nightmarish memories and negative thoughts but this…this issue is different and you’re happy with the decision you’ve made. I should just tell her.

It’s almost possible to make out the contours of Tasha against the white pillow, darker hair spreading like a halo of smoke. You know she sleeps lightly. Brushing your lips featherlight across her cheek, and she already turns to find your mouth with her own. Sweet and lazy kisses, a single tug to your bottom lip. Morning breath is a non-issue when she invites you into a bubble of gentle safety. Home.

“Morning, babe.” Her fingers tease the shortest hairs in your neck. “You’ve managed to sleep at all?”

There’s no reason to answer, just plant a peck on her nose. “I’ve made up my mind,” you offer as consolation, “and I hope you’ll understand why it’s important to me.”

The love never disappears from the touch while she sits up against the headboard. If it was light enough, you think you might see cautious interest mingled with concern in her eyes because Tasha isn’t as good as hiding it as she thinks she is. That’s a secret though.

“Okay…” She drags you onto her lap, straddling her so the strong arms can wrap around your waist. “Is it about the call from Ross?”

The scent of shampoo still clings to her hair as you bury your face in it, happy to talk into the red mess. “Yes, but mainly it’s about wanting to do what I can.”

Of course your reasoning isn’t perfect, but Natasha doesn’t interrupt even once as you explain how you want to do your part to support the hearings and the new request from the CIA by giving a testimony. Gifted or not, at least there’s information about Brock that can be of use and it seems someone else than just the Avengers are trying to clean things up…hopefully that includes tracking down the people that can be identified to Hydra through the data dumped on the net the day SHIELD fell. You promise to keep the ability secret to anyone outside of Natasha and her friends...admitting that you’ll have to be careful although you’ve got the most convincing cover to any strange phrasing “thanks” to what Brock and his people have put you through while in their hands.

The colours have returned to the world by the time you finish explaining. Dusty lavender heightens the rosy cheeks of the woman looking at you with a serious expression that makes your stomach knot. I have to do this. It’ll be hard as fuck, but it feels right. Feels important.

“I’ll let him know,” Tasha whispers, pulling you in for a tight embrace, “and I’ll be with you all the time.”

#Agent of hope mcu fanfiction #natasha romanoff #Natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #Natalia romanova #natalia romanova x you #natalia romanova x reader #Black Widow #Black widow x reader #Black widow x you #Avengers #Brock Rumlow #Crossbones #Hydra #Shield #everett ross #CIA mcu #mcu #mcu fanfiction #mcu fanfic series #agent of hope #fanfiction #fanfic #angst #fluff #smutt #lemon #trauma #dealing with emotions #hurt/comfort

[advernia]

fic: a bite of fairy floss

— she’s no magic spell or elaborate trap, but he’s been captured all the same. - post pt.20: the king of hearts, alice the second, and the morning before a long-awaited war.

1: spoiler warning for those who haven’t gone through lancelot’s route! tread lightly folks (°∀°)b

The dark skies were beginning to crack open with the faint rays of the first light when his eyes flutter open, his bedroom ceiling coming into view as a mural of hazy reds. Encased under the comfort of his duvet with his limbs still unmoving, he blinks the sleep from his eyes once, twice, thrice; until finally the ceiling comes into a proper focus.

A few more seconds later when a languid fog had also cleared itself from his mind, the first thing he muses about is why the bed - his bed - felt warmer than usual. (The question of why he decided to sleep naked last night also came through in passing, but that wasn’t really much of a problem.)

So he wills his body to shift position, to lay not flat on his back but to lie on his right side. He closes his eyes as he does so, a low grunt escaping his lips as the movement causes a slow flare of exhaustion to spread through his body. Stranger and stranger, he frowns. What on earth happened last night that he would be so -

Ah.

His eyes flicker open the same time his thoughts click themselves together, the answers to his questions suddenly rushing through his mind; jigsaw pieces pulled apart but then syncing to form a clear picture of events.

And now, the sheer proximity between him and his companion has his breath catching in his throat and his senses bursting with sudden activity.

A disheveled mass of caramel and honey - blooming, curling, weaving - going around and about all directions it could extend, captures his vision and begs for his attention. But in the midst of the glossy sea that flowed down her neck and shoulders like a makeshift shawl, despite the strands that shield parts of her face from his eyes and the long locks with their tips that seem to reach out to him; his gaze is drawn to the spots of bare skin that her hair and duvet could not conceal: a peek of soft knuckles curled into loose fists under her narrow chin, unblemished cheeks dusted a faint pink, slightly parted lips softly swollen.

(He briefly wonders if he successfully broke those lips.  or her.)

His gaze lingers on Alice perhaps far too long - slumber seemed to soften her features and made her appear demure, far from the determined woman who would pester him to no end with her curiosity and concern. There’s a wash of relief that spreads in his ears as he is spared from her incessant prattling, but strange jitters within him when he doesn’t hear the vibrant melody of her voice and when he is unable to see the bright sparkle ever present in her open eyes.

He chuckles wryly, the air stuck in his throat released with ease. 

When he breathes in, the air carries the smell of her - perhaps she had been a confectioner for so long that in the process of mastering her craft, her countless days of toiling in the kitchen eventually bore fruit to her undeniable skill and her delicate scent: she always smelled sweet; as if the aromas of baked goods and butter, sugar and honey, then chocolate and cream had stirred themselves together to weave a heady mist - light as a passing breeze yet surprisingly distinct, lingering about her very being and branding itself onto her skin as if it was her special perfume: subtly drawing others in with wafts of delectable sweetness, but never meaning to cloy those who would draw closer.

Her scent did not betray her taste as well.

She was definitely not cloying, and last night he had learned that far too well for his liking: his lips, mouth and tongue had trailed over the expanse of her bare skin repeatedly, almost desperately through every inch of her he could expose until they had fell to exhaustion - yet the taste of her would only linger, cruelly so: it was only a sliver of taste that remained on the surface, not enough to satiate his hunger for her nor was it enough to brand her flavor on his tongue.

Perhaps this was punishment: he had kept her at an arm’s length as long as he could but now that she had finally reached out to him, now that he succumbed to his desire of her warmth, of her very being and company… time had decided that it has seen enough.

The hourglass in his desk felt the same as well, its top end finally empty.

Her name - her real name - passes through his lips like a whisper of a spell before he moves forward to claim her lips for the last time: the kiss is feather light and as brief as he can muster, his lips barely touching the skin and warmth of her very own; and when he pulls away something resembling a sigh escapes him.  

She doesn’t hear it, for she’s too deep in sleep to feel that a hand of his drew over her closed eyes; pads of rough fingers applying a light pressure on her skin.

For seconds, he hears the steady sound of her breathing. He feels her warmth creeping into his own skin, enticing like the sight of her parted lips. He breathes in again; and all he can breathe in is the sweet mist of a woman who begged him not to go, not to die, but to live and stay by her side; like she had done for him in a span of thirty days.

                                Alas, if only he could.

                                        If only thirty days could dissolve five hundred years of duty.

                                (He starts casting.)

                                        He leaves his bed as soon as the light of his magic had faded completely - he proceeds to dress himself and then gather Alice’s clothing, setting her dress by the foot of the bed and her shoes on the floor directly under it. Lastly, he takes his cape and his sword from where he had hung it last night: as he attached the former to his uniform and strapped the latter to his belt to hang at his side, he was now completing his ensemble as the King of Hearts, the man all of Cradle knew as a beautiful beast. 

All, save for one. His eyes drift back to the bed behind him once more, to the one person who ever wanted to be with him.

He had cast his spell on her and it could not be reversed.

When dawn’s rays would fully break through the sky and would stream through the windows, she would wake and forget.

Then when the sky turns dark once more, the moon would rise over the gardens and she would return - she would go back to the land where she truly lived, a land far away and a mystery to him like how she saw his own, but that was the land where she would surely find true happiness. 

Because that was where she belonged: a land where she would be out his reach - permanently.

With quiet strides, he makes his way to his door - it opens without a single creak and when he steps outside and closes the door behind him, he begins to walk down the empty corridor, his cape fluttering behind him.

                                The taste of sugar tingles the surface of his tongue and a fleeting warmth still dances teasingly on his lips, but he doesn’t look back.

        2: fairy floss is another name for cotton candy in the UK. 3: this was supposed to be posted in this blog the same time i uploaded this in my a03 which was like… a year ago??? hmmm??? what went wrong??? so i decided to post it here anyway for activity’s sake lol + red army content - don’t get me wrong folks, i love the black army but *points to the red army* pls love these dorks too 4: personally, i think lancelot’s route focused more on the conflict rather than the romance which was actually refreshing??? plus points since despite the conflict™, their relationship flowed pretty well. that, or i probably need to replay his route again, it’s been a year already folks (for educational purposes). 5: canon states in multiple parts + bonus stories that mc smells good, but that’s it. i shoved in my hc that she smells of sweets / baked goods, bc i’m actually really fond of the fact that she’s a confectioner. 6: realistically speaking tho it’s a pretty unconventional job, moreso for a young woman - mc canonically lives in 19th century london, where it’s more common to see women working for textiles / clothing factories. lucky girl - i’d like to think mc really worked hard for her job.

#ikemen revolution #ikemen kakumei #ikerev fanfic #lancelot kingsley #ikerev alice

[unicyclehippo]

ok bc i have no self control Whatsoever - patterson & jane

//

she’s the smartest one in the room, pretty much always. it’s not something she likes to bring attention to for a number of reasons—everyone in the team is brilliant at something, everyone brings their own skills to the table, it’s not polite—but it’s something she knows like she knows that two is the prime element in the Z/6Z quotient ring. a fact. 

so when she has no idea what to do, it’s a new and frightening situation for her. 

‘patterson?’

jane—taylor, maybe—touches her elbow very gently and patterson looks up at the bird tattooed across her neck, at the choppy haircut, and then, finally, knowing that she must, at the concern in jane��s eyes. 

‘hi, hey, are you headed out? too? because i certainly am, yup.’ patterson clicks again at the button to the elevator, realising that this is the sixth one that she’s called. she hears the faint click of moisture in jane’s—taylor’s?—mouth when she opens her mouth to speak and she thought she could deal with it, she really did, but the relief that crashes through her at the sound of the elevator doors opening is...really something. ‘oh wow that was quick! i should, uh, time these elevators at some point.’

‘you don’t already know?’ jane asks, stepping in with her. patterson chances another look and jane has her head tilted away, shoulders hunched a bit uncomfortably. 

‘it differs in a lot of elevators, actually,’ patterson tells her, and she lets the facts filter out. ‘gearless traction elevators move, eh, about twenty metres per second.’ jane makes a small sound of surprise and patterson grins. ‘which is cool, right? that’s only a climbing speed, though, and it doesn’t factor in acceleration and deceleration time but, you know what I mean. but yes, that’s climbing. safety regulations mean that descent is restricted to ten metres per second.’ the elevator dings politely and patterson lights up, gesturing to the opening doors. ‘fortuitous timing.’

‘yeah, that’s cool.’ jane looks a little baffled but she’s nice enough not to mention it. 

she walks out with patterson, through the lobby and toward the street. patterson picks up her pace a little; with every second that goes by, it’s another second that jane might try to talk to her about it.

‘i heard the call this morning,’ jane bites out before they make it to the door.

patterson sighs and slows. ‘oh.’

‘yeah. sorry.’ jane looks as awkward and uncomfortable as patterson feels but the difference is that she presses on. ‘i think you should go.’

‘excuse me?’

‘i know, i’m sorry, it’s none of my business,’ she hurries to say, ‘but i think—pattereson, i don’t know anything about my life or the people i lost or, or, hell i don’t even know what my favourite colour is and when i get flashes of anything, it’s...’

‘good?’

‘terrifying, actually.’

‘oh.’ 

‘yeah.’ jane shoves her hands into her pockets, casts a look over the street. it’s not a look that civilians have; it’s one patterson recognises from weller, from zapata and reed. mayfair less so but patterson thinks that’s just because she’s better than all of them. patterson adds it to her growing number of mental notes on jane. ‘anyway, i know it’s not the same but, you said to me that you feel empty.’ she lowers her voice, which patterson is grateful for. ‘maybe if you go to this dinner and, and surround yourself with all the things you and d-david,’ she stumbles a little over his name. likely because patterson feels herself flinch. ‘sorry.’

‘it’s fine.’

‘right. it was just a thought.’ jane shrugs. ‘uh—good night, patterson.’

‘good night.’

they part at the door, jane toward the train, patterson toward the taxi rank. 

//

‘i’m not brave like you.’

jane looks very much surprised to see her there, which...shouldn’t surprise patterson. but it does because she tends not to think about what other people are thinking; she gets so wrapped up in her own plans and train of thought that she forgets that other people aren’t following. or can’t. 

‘patterson, what,’

‘i’m sorry,’ she says, steps back from the door. ‘i’m sorry, i totally just barged into your life and,’

‘hey, whoa, calm down.’

jane’s hands settle around hers; they’re cold, and patterson hisses, wraps her own always-warm fingers around hers. 

‘your hands are freezing.’

‘yeah, i,’ jane looks embarrassed. ‘i can’t get the heater to work.’

‘what?’

‘i—can remember how to take out a guy in two seconds flat,’ she grumbles, ‘but i can’t remember how to turn on a radiator.’

‘oh. oh no.’ patterson doesn’t mean to sound amused but...she is. 

jane rolls her eyes. ‘yeah, yeah. hey, you’re smart.’

‘i...i am, yes.’

‘come on in then,’ jane offers, and she opens up the door to her safe house and guides her in. ‘it’s over there.’ she points and patterson nods. 

'oh sure, you just need to turn the valve.’

‘the...valve.’ jane lifts a hand to her forehead. ‘of course.’

patterson tries not to smile, pressing her lips tight, but she can’t really help it. until she remembers why she had come, and then her smile drops away. ‘i, actually, came to ask you for a favour.’

jane leans back against the counter, crosses her arms over her chest. ‘sure.’

‘really?’

‘yeah.’ when patterson doesn’t say anything, twisting her fingers together until it starts to hurt a little, jane says, ‘you said you’re not brave.’

‘huh?’

‘when i opened the door. that’s what you said. is that about the restaurant booking?’

‘the—no, pfft, no, it’s about something completely different and—yes. yeah, it is,’ she sighs, when jane just looks at her, eyebrows raised. ‘it is. i want to go—actually, funny story, doctor borden said something really similar to what you did, which means it’s probably a good idea and,’

‘patterson?’

‘huh?’

‘breathe.’

‘right.’ patterson sucks in a breath. ‘i don’t want to go alone.’

jane blinks. she straightens, a look of surprise mixed pity—no, not pity, something that grates less at patterson. understanding, maybe? the look is there for a second and then it’s gone. 

‘i’ll get my jacket.’

//

they look ridiculous.

the restaurant is nice, something david always insisted dressing up for. ‘anything to treat my lady,’ he would say with that goofy smile of his,that made all those crinkles curl around his lips and his eyes, and patterson feels warm and then so, so cold thinking about his smile. 

‘steady,’ jane murmurs next to her, and patterson lets go of jane’s wrist where she’s clutching so tight jane’s skin has gone blister white.

‘sorry.’

‘it’s fine,’ she says, and she sounds honest, she sounds like she really wasn’t hurt, and patterson lets herself wonder as they’re lead to the reserved table what exactly jane might have gone through. what kind of pain she might have felt. true, patterson isn’t the strongest person but having someone grab at your arm so tight hurts a little, she’s sure of it. does she just have a high pain threshold? stupid, she chides herself, we already know that she does. yes to a high pain threshold, and to experience, judging from the scars. 

‘patterson,’ jane murmurs, and she touches a hand to patterson’s elbow to pull her back into the moment. ‘we can leave, if,’

‘no. no. i’m here.’ she forces herself to look at jane, smile. ‘i’m okay.’

‘okay.’

jane nods to their server, a young asian man wearing a very neat apron tied around his waist, and he sets the water and their glasses on the table.

‘may i get you something to drink?’

‘bourbon,’ patterson says, almost a rasp.

‘i—uh,’

‘two bourbons,’ patterson corrects herself, and the man nods and leaves with a brisk step. ‘if you don’t like it, i’ll drink it.’

jane, instead of looking worried by the comment, grins. ‘good to know.’

she’s wearing a leather jacket over a thin hoodie and her best non-stained shirt. and patterson, she couldn’t change out of her work clothes for this—couldn’t think about it being anything like a date with her now-d—her now dead boyfriend, so she’s in the same clothes she’s been wearing all day and smells a bit of sweat and chemicals. super attractive. she hopes david is happy. the thought sends a pang through her chest and she takes the bourbon when it arrives, wraps her fingers around the glass, and sips at it. 

jane tastes the bourbon too. ‘not bad.’

‘you might like whiskey. i wouldn’t be surprised, actually, you have a bit of a,’ patterson wiggles her fingers toward...jane. just all of her. ‘whiskey vibe.’

‘what’s a,’ jane mimics her, grin growing, ‘whiskey vibe?’

‘i don’t know. just, zapata plays this game where she looks at someone and figures out what their favourite drink is. she’s pretty good at it.’

‘what did she say about me?’

patterson sucks her bottom lip into her mouth, tries to smile. it comes out as a bit of a grimace. ‘she didn’t know.’

jane turns her head away, laughs. there’s a harsh edge to it, but just the edge. the rest is a little sad. ‘figures.’

‘sorry.’ patterson looks over at her for a minute longer, the line of her neck, the lines of her tattoos, before she takes up the menu and scans it. ‘do you know what you want to eat?’ her neck and cheeks burn when the silence stretches on and she clears her throat. ‘right. memory.’

‘yup.’

‘well, how about we get another bourbon each and pick some random meals and we see what you like? it’s all really good here,’ she adds.

looking up to see how jane feels about that, the other woman just shrugs, nods. ‘it’s fine, patterson. this isn’t about me anyway.’

‘no. it’s about my dead boyfriend having made a reservation for me and me needing a f-friend to come with me so that i can face it. and i’m not doing too well,’ she says, as lightly as she can, fingers fluttering at the sides of the menu, ‘so let me do something nice for you so i don’t have to think about it. okay?’

jane’s eyes flash again. ‘yes ma’am.’

‘thank you.’ she downs the rest of her bourbon when she sees the waiter making his way over. the burn of it makes her voice tight and high—or maybe the whole situation, who could tell? ‘two more bourbons, please, and we’ll take the tasting course.’

‘of course. excellent choice.’

//

the wait for their meal is excruciating until patterson remembers the crossword she shoved into her bag. she pulls it out and jane instantly moves to clear a space on the table between them, an interested frown creasing her brow. 

‘you like crosswords?’

‘i don’t know.’

‘but you remember what they are?’

‘sure. borden said that i have my... my procedural memory is fine but my declarative memory is,’ she makes a sound like a miniature explosion, opens her fingers out from her right temple. ‘so i know what a crossword is but i can’t remember ever having done one before.’

‘right.’ patterson drums her fingers on the newspaper. ‘this is the times crossword, it’s kind of a big deal. lots of readers, lots of followers. they’re pretty difficult.’

‘okay.’

‘and i have a way i like to do it,’

‘patterson.’ she looks up a little nervously to find that jane is outright grinning at her. ‘we can do it your way.’

‘okay great, it’s just that i have a way that i like to do things and,’

‘and i don’t remember having a specific method so i don’t mind using yours. we’re a perfect fit,’ jane drawls. ‘go ahead.’

patterson wants to laugh, almost, at the comment but she isn’t sure if that would be in poor taste. instead, she quirks a little smile at jane—relieved to see it returned—and pulls the crossword toward herself. 

‘i like to start by using the gimme’s.’

‘gimme’s?’

‘oh, those are, like, the easiest ones. the ones you can fill out without even trying. once i have those, it’s like having landmarks that you can pin into a word and work backwards from there.’

‘got it.’

‘okay, so, drones, seven letters—‘

‘like airforce drones?’

‘not necessarily. the crosswords are a bit of wordplay sometimes so it might mean a surveillance system of some kind or it could mean,’

‘you already know what it is.’

‘it’s menials, i’m sorry,’ she apologises, writing the word into its place. 

jane laughs. ‘next one. maybe by the end i’ll actually get one before you.’

patterson sucks in a breath through her teeth. ‘is that a challenge?’

‘i think it is, yeah.’

‘you should know that i am incredibly bright.’

jane shrugs. ‘i might be too. let’s find out.’

//

‘five down, six letters, response to don’t panic.’

‘panic,’ jane says promptly, making patterson grin. 

‘that’s five letters and it doesn’t fit with the letter l that we have.’

jane cranes her neck over her plate, purses her lips. ‘something that ends in calm?’

patterson taps her nose with her pen, nods. ‘very good.’

‘you already guessed that.’

she smiles at jane, ignores the way her vision blurs to put david’s face sitting across from her. tugging her attention back to the page, she murmurs a quiet, slightly smug, 'maybe.’

//

‘navigation abbreviation. three letters.’

‘ene.’

‘huh?’

‘ene,’ jane repeats. ‘east nor east.’

patterson points to her, competition and success shining from her eyes. ‘good one.’

‘wow, that sounded painful.’

‘it wasn’t. i’m thrilled you got one.’

‘keep trying, patterson, i nearly believed you that time.’

//

‘got. one. patterson.’

‘what?’

‘that’s what it says,’ jane tells her. ‘got one, patterson. do you think...’

‘david,’ she whispers, snatching the paper back. she traces the letters, fingers shaking. ‘what—‘

‘you said he booked the restaurant a month ago, right?’

‘yeah.’

‘and you said that you do crosswords on your romantic nights out?’

‘yeah.’

‘so,’

‘he got a clue in a crossword for me, for us to solve together? why would he do that?’

jane purses her lips. ‘he solved one of my tattoos with you, right?’

‘well, yeah, but,’

‘miss? something sweet?’

patterson looks up, smiles a tremulous smile at their server who sets the slice in front of her and makes a quick getaway. she isn’t sure if it’s a heavily tattooed woman in leather, or a plain, sweet looking woman perpetually on the verge of tears, but he hasn’t lingered at all tonight. 

‘there’s a sheep on my dessert.’

‘is that common?’

‘i,’

‘i’ll find out.’ jane stands swiftly, sets a hand on her shoulder when she passes by headed for the kitchen. only moments later, she’s back. ‘it’s not common. david came by weeks ago with it and directions to put it on your cake.’

patterson glances over at the david in jane’s abandoned chair. ‘why? david, what is this?’

he smiles. ‘a clue.’

‘a clue.’ she turns the sheep over between her fingers. ‘got one patterson. you solved another tattoo. he solved another tattoo,’ she says, bursting from her chair. ‘we have to go!’

‘patterson!’ jane tears after her, following her out of the restaurant. ‘patterson, wait!’

‘we can’t wait—i’m not crazy, jane, david left this for us—me—to follow and,’

jane catches her hands, one a fist around the little sheep. ‘i don’t think you’re crazy. i just don’t have any money and we have to pay the bill.’

‘oh. oh.’ patterson looks back to the restaurant, the server waiting, nervous, on the stairs. ‘yes, yes, of course, i’m so sorry.’

//

‘do you really think it’s a good idea to break into this apartment?’

‘we showed him our badges,’

‘your badge,’

‘my badge,’ patterson nods, a grumpy little frown making her nose crinkle. ‘i can’t believe he didn’t let us in!’

‘not everyone loves the FBI.’

‘yeah, well, this is really important and—what are you doing?’

‘huh?’

‘why are you climbing—jane, get down.’

‘you said we need to get in there,’ jane points out very reasonably. ‘that is a ladder.’

‘that is illegal.’

‘do you want to find out what your boyfriend left for us or not?’

‘left for me,’ patterson reminds her, sharply, and jane steps back. the metal taps under her boots and then there’s a dull sound as she jumps down from the air conditioning unit. ‘i’m sorry.’

‘don’t be, it’s fine. it’s your information to follow. however you want to do it.’

‘it’s yours too,’ patterson reminds her. ‘i mean, it’s literally yours.’ she waves a hand to jane, her body, and turns back to the ladder. ‘i don’t think i can make that jump.’

‘you can. i’ll go first, kick it down for you. you climb up after me. if that’s what you want to do.’

her eyes are totally calm fixed on her, though they’re the colour of a churning green sea, and patterson’s breath hitches at the thought of directing jane—a super secret memory-wiped top agent—to do something that’s super illegal like breaking into an apartment block. it’s wrong. very wrong.

it’s also pretty cool, and she’s had three drinks, and she wants to. 

‘do it.’

jane nods. she swings back up onto the air-conditioning unit. while patterson does the math—force, distance, mass, time—jane simply looks and then leaps. her hands catch around rusted bars and she heaves herself up like a chin-up, pulling the ladder further down with an ugly squeal of metal. 

‘better hurry,’ she advises. ‘we don’t know who heard that.’

‘right. right. because it’s super illegal.’

‘last chance to back out.’

‘no.’ she clambers up the ladder until she’s on the fire escape next to her. ‘this could save lives. it’s important.’

and, she doesn’t tell jane, she can see david waving down at her cheerily from a few levels above. 

she pushes ahead of jane, climbs the steps quickly. there’s a single heart-stopping moment three floors up where one of the railings gives way and she topples through it, falls. and then jane is right there and she grabs the back of patterson’s jacket and swings her into the ladder. there’s another horrid squeal crunch of metal and patterson is shaking but she’s alive and clutching onto the ladder.

‘you okay? come on,’ jane guides her, voice soothing. ‘climb back over. i’ll go first and make sure it’s all safe.’

‘o-okay,’ patterson nods, and jane’s cool hands ease her tight grip on the rungs and grab her thigh behind the knee and haul her over the railing. ‘you’re bleeding,’ patterson pants.

‘huh?’ jane pokes at a red spot on her shirt, wipes it away on dark jeans. ‘no, it’s nothing. rust.’

‘i am a scientist, i know what blood looks like.’

‘fine, it’s blood,’ jane allows, but doesn’t tell her where it’s from or if she’s okay, instead walking ahead to test the railings and the steps. 

the landlord from before starts to yell at them, slamming his window shut. they hear his feet on the inside stairwell and exchange a look, running up to beat him.

//

‘alright, we’re inside. now what?’

the landlord screams at them from the other side of the door. jane drags a chair across the apartment and tucks it underneath the jiggling handle. 

‘that’ll stop him for now,’ she says. ‘but not for long. and i feel like i probably shouldn’t kill him.’

‘probably not,’ patterson huffily agrees, though adrenaline and alcohol are mixing to make her feel like, hell, maybe jane should take him out. she wheels around to point to david, who leans cockily against the window like an asshole. ‘and you! all your shit is gone! why didn’t you tell me that before we wasted all this time getting here?’

‘how would i know that? i only know what you know,’ he points out, and patterson makes a disgusted sound, turns away from him, throwing her hands up into the air. remembering her company, she spins around to find that jane is examining the walls and floorboards, testing for suspicious creaks and knocks. 

‘i’m not crazy.’

‘i didn’t say anything.’

‘i know.’ patterson does know that, and she would leave it. except for the fact that if jane mentioned it to mayfair, or borden, or weller then...then she wouldn’t have her job anymore. no one wants to work with or hire someone who talks to ghosts. ‘i know he’s not real,’ she continues. ‘i just...it makes me feel,’

‘better?’

‘yes.’ 

the landlord batters again at the door. screams his head off to be let in. 

like hell, patterson thinks, and tunes him out.

jane nods, walks the perimeter of the apartment slowly. ‘i can’t see any normal hidey-holes,’ she says. ‘it’s your boyfriend, your clue. where would he hide it?’

‘well. everything is gone. but,’ she glances over to the still-grinning david, looking the same as he had in life, lovely brown eyes, glasses slightly smudged. hope that this might not be an entire waste of time, she starts to talk out loud, hoping that will help her pick up on something she’s missed. ‘he gave me the crossword clue. and the sheep—of course. the sheep.’

‘of course!’ jane agrees.

patterson looks eagerly over to her, only to stop and laugh when she realises that jane is joking. ‘it’s—it’s from one of your favourite boardgames,’ she explains, fishing the sheep out from the zip up pocket in her bag. ‘you have the sheep and you cook it in the fireplace.’

jane’s eyes flash to the fireplace. she strides over, hand disappearing into the dark space up to the shoulder. after a moment, she takes her hand back and stands. 

‘well?’

‘it’s your find,’ jane tells her, waving her forward. ‘i just wanted to make sure it was safe.’

‘oh. i—okay.’ patterson kneels. sets her bag to the side. she slips her hand up the inside of the fireplace, fingertips brushing against rough brick and the smooth band of metal and then—‘i feel it. a bag?’

‘that’s what it felt like to me.’

it crinkles under her questing fingers and she sticks her tongue out, reaches a little further. grabbing it, patterson pulls it out and stands, bringing it over to jane to examine. 

‘a key?’

‘carson’s clockworks. i know this, it’s a speakeasy on willabe street.’

‘well then.’ jane grins, orange from the streetlight throwing her face into a puzzle of shadow and light that patterson finds fascinating, beautiful. she moves before patterson can memorise it, though. ‘what are we waiting for?’ she asks, voice tight with anticipation, and her cold fingers wrap around patterson’s wrist and she tugs her to the window. 

//

the speakeasy has an automaton— ‘is that not the coolest thing ever?’ she asks jane, who agrees but in a placating kind of way, which makes patterson roll her eyes— that stabs a constellation into the placemat. 

‘lets get this back to the lab. i’m about nine hundred per cent sure that it’s andromeda but i want to be certain.’

‘nine hundred per cent isn’t certain?’

‘not in my line of work,’ patterson grins. the alcohol has mostly burned off by now so she’s running on fumes and maybe a little desperation. that this whole thing isn’t a waste of time, that david really did solve another clue. that somehow, just for this one night, she can keep him right here next to her a minute longer. 

it’s funny, being back in the exact same place only a few hours later, and jane grins at her when she leans back against the wall of the elevator, watching the numbers click over in the screen of the elevator. 

‘thank you,’ patterson blurts out after a few seconds that draws out to feel like an age. ‘for coming with me tonight and doing...all of this. without question.’ jane nods, shrugs, but patterson continues on. she wants more than that, she thinks. some acknowledgement that jane knows that this is above and beyond. ‘people don’t, they don’t really do things like this.’

‘what? help people out?’

‘you barely know me,’ patterson says quietly, steps to halfway across the elevator. jane’s arms come up to fold over her chest, so patterson stops. ‘i just, i just mean that i’m thankful. and you didn’t have to do any of this so the fact that you did, it...it means a lot.’

‘you’re welcome,’ jane says in that low, crackled rasp of hers. it gets stronger when she’s tired or worked up or maybe uncomfortable, patterson has noticed, so she steps back and bobs a nod, smiles. 

david, in the corner, smiles too. 

‘so, to your lab?’

‘yes! to the lab.’

//

‘it’s the bull,’ patterson whispers. ‘but we’ve figured that one out already.’ she sags, lifts shaking hands to press against suddenly hot eyes. ‘weeks ago.’

‘patterson,’

she jerks away from the cold touch to her shoulder and there’s a moment when she thinks jane is going to leave but then she’s holding her again and turning her into her chest, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. 

‘it’s okay,’ 

‘it’s not, it’s not okay! i dragged you all across the city because i thought we would solve another,’

‘patterson.’

she pulls back, swipes under her eyes. jane shakes her head. 

‘i didn’t go with you because i thought we would solve a tattoo. i went with you because you asked me to.’

patterson blinks up at her. ‘oh.’

jane’s lips flatten into an uncomfortable grimace. ‘yeah. besides, maybe it’s one of the tattoos that has a second meaning,’ she suggests, like it isn’t the most brilliant thing anyone has ever said before, and when patterson gapes at her, she says, ‘is that stupid?’

‘stup—no. no that’s amazing,’ patterson tells her with a surprised laugh. the slip of emotions is dizzying but so is the possibility of another clue and so patterson grabs onto that and whirls back to her monitor. ‘what are we missing!’

//

‘it would make sense if it was taurus, it would connect to the constellations,’ she suggests, chewing on her lip.

‘right.’ jane squints at the screen, clearly out of her depth. she smiles grimly at patterson. ‘i’m sorry, i’m not much of a partner for this bit.’

‘that’s okay. we just need to find someone to chase down or shoot and we’ll be right up your alley again. that was a joke.’

‘you’re not wrong,’ jane shrugs. ‘you think it’s constellation aligned. taurus is a bull.’

‘yeah, but that’s too general. what about this,’ she points to the eye, blank where the rest of the bull is totally filled. ‘this...could be a star.’ she lines up the taurus constellation with it, barks a satisfied laugh when the star and line of the constellation fits perfectly with it. ‘ah! we solved it! that’s great!’

‘and what is the name of that star?’ david asks, and for a moment his face moves through jane’s to smile at her. 

she blinks quickly, looks away from that back to the screen. ‘alderbaran. what...is aldebaran?’

//

‘this is the only place within three hundred miles with the word alderbaran in the name.’

‘can’t imagine why, it just rolls off the tongue,’ david snarks from her left. 

‘super catchy,’ jane drawls from her right.

‘tattoo must point to something in here,’ patterson tells...them...and she makes her way to the shop door, talks her way inside. it isn’t long before the owner offers them tea, and breakfast, and patterson is already telling him about david, and the scavenger hunt, before she notices jane’s frantic signals not to say anything. 

he leaves to bring out some pieces from his astrological section and jane strides over. 

‘what was that about?’ patterson asks her. 

‘you just told him everything.’

‘not everything.’

‘enough, then.’

‘he seemed nice. and he gave me tea.’

jane squeezes her eyes shut. ‘patterson, everyone seems nice. it doesn’t mean they’re not...’

‘what? russian spies?’ 

‘honestly? yes.’

‘that’s enough, mark is nice.’

jane sighs. ‘i’m going to look out back for more bulls or something. just be careful.’

//

she doesn’t see the rag. 

//

‘—blood sacrifice under taurus—they sent another message! —lovely veins,‘

‘i’m so stupid.’

‘opposite, opposite,’ david says, and patterson sobs because it’s just one more fucking sign that he’s just a figment of her own mind.

//

the ropes rasp against her skin, burning red lines around her wrists. 

the snow is freezing on her bare feet.

‘jane,’ she whispers to the trees, stretching out forever into the distance. ‘god, jane,’ she says again—if he did this to her, what did they do to jane? 

//

‘hey, hey don’t do that. don’t you give up. we’re gonna stay here, stay quiet, stay low.’

//

‘patterson,’

‘that’s jane,’ david says. ‘go to her. pick yourself up and go to her.’

‘she’s not real.’

‘she is, she’s real,’

‘right. real in the same way you’re real.’

david’s face falls. ‘patterson, trust me. she’s real. go to her.’

//

she has a log in her hands and he’s there, nice mark with the bleeding scratch she gave him, and jane is in his crosshairs and it hurts so much to hold onto the log that it’s almost a relief when she loses her hold of it, smacking it up into his arms and making his shot go wide.

blood spatters bright red over the white snow—it’s not poetic, or holy, blood spilled under the taurus stars. it’s just red. 

and patterson hurts all over. 

jane’s hands feel warm, which isn’t a good sign. ‘—hear me? can you hear me, patterson?’

‘i - i can hear you.’

‘we need to get you warm,’ she says, and her words are brisk but so, so gentle, and she strips off her own jacket and helps her into it and then, telling her exactly what she’s going to do, she crouches down and pulls patterson up and over her shoulder and carries her out of the forest and back to their truck.

the cold and the air still stings her feet and hands and face, but jane’s jacket is burningly warm around her and she just keeps talking to her, ‘you’re gonna be okay, patterson, you did so good, i’m so proud of you, you did so good’ and patterson relaxes. 

//

the hospital releases her once her core temperature is normal again. her toes are still tingling but she buys three pairs of socks from the giftshop - all of them ugly - and checks out AMA. the ride to david’s old apartment is inadvisable by any stretch of the imagination but she stops a few buildings down and leans against the railing, looks up at the window of his old apartment and remembers the plants that used to hang there and how they could see the new years fireworks from the firestairs. 

‘thank you.’

‘for what?’

‘everything. today. and the scavenger hunt.’

‘have you forgotten that i almost got you killed?’

patterson smiles. shakes her head. it’s harsh to hear that from him because it’s her own stupid mind saying it, and it’s hypocritical because she is the one that got him killed. she looks down at her hands and can’t make them move, too stiff in her mittens. when she cries, she can’t stop that from happening either. 

‘i’m so sorry,’ she tells him. ‘i - i don’t know how i’m ever going to forgive myself,’

‘you can’t blame yourself.’ the words don’t sound real, not really. because she still feels guilty and so fake-david doesn’t really believe what he’s saying either? or because she doesn’t want to hear it?

‘i do. if i hadn’t’ve,’

‘it’s not your fault. you loved me. i know that. and i loved you. you know that. i won’t go away. i know you think you’re never gonna find someone like me again and,’ he shrugs, with a cocky little tilt of his head. ‘well, you’re right. it’ll be impossible to find someone of my specific intellectual and,’ he grins, ‘sexual gifts. i know it seems impossible but one day you’re gonna be ready for someone else. and they’re gonna be incredible.’ patterson shakes her head. david presses on. ‘know who i’ve always liked? that jane chick.’

‘what?’ patterson’s head snaps around. ‘you’ve never even met her.’

‘oh wow, you’re right. it’s almost like i’m a manifestation of your subconscious or something.’ he laughs when she huffs, looks away. like a pang in the chest, she knows what he’s going to say next before he says it. upside of creating company yourself—you always know what they’re gonna say. that would make everything so much easier. or not, because when he does say it, her heart still breaks a little. ‘i’m gonna go.’

‘i don’t want you to,’ she says, almost a wail. she’s glad there’s no one around to see her.

‘i know. but i’m already gone.’

patterson lingers a minute longer, then as carefully as she can with numbed fingers, she sets the little sheep on the rail. 

‘goodbye, david.’

there’s a figure all in black at the end of the street, dark hair chopped to just below her ears. patterson stops when she’s on the corner across from jane, noticing that she didn’t bother to hide herself. 

‘see everything you wanted to see?’ she calls over, knowing it’s not fair to be harsh to her but unable to help it. ‘crazy patterson who gets herself kidnapped talks to her dead boyfriend. more on the six o’clock news!’

jane stares over at her, eyes so dark in her bone-white face. ‘you shouldn’t have left the hospital.’

‘i was cold. it’s not like i’d been shot or something.’

‘you were freezing,’ jane hisses, nearly unheard from across the street. she looks both ways before jogging over. patterson thinks about leaving but doesn’t; she really is very cold and she can’t make her legs move. whatever jane wants to say—probably how foolish it was to talk to mark, or go into the backroom without her, or anything else like that—what she does say is, ‘do you need help?’

‘no.’

jane waits. 

patterson’s shoulders slump. ‘yes,’ she whispers. ‘i can’t feel my legs super well.’

‘okay.’ 

//

jane flags down a car, takes her home. she must have found a wallet somewhere because she pays with some tattered twenties over the picked vinyl taxi seat and helps patterson out, and up into her apartment. 

‘exposed brick. nice.’

‘you like that?’

‘apparently,’ jane tells her, turning her head slightly to grin at patterson. their faces are very close together and jane looks quickly away. ‘keys?’

‘here.’

she hands them over, well aware that she can’t use them when her fingers are like icicles. 

jane leads her to the bathroom, runs the water warm and leaves her with instructions to slowly heat up the water so she doesn’t scald herself. 

patterson doesn’t know why but she assumed that jane would leave but fifty minutes later when she stumbles out of her bedroom, pink-skinned and dressed in her thickest flannel pyjamas, two blankets in her arms, there she is. staring at the wall.

‘oh. that’s, those are,’

‘my tattoos. i thought you were told to stop bringing them home,’ jane says, but she doesn’t sound mad.

‘i was. i did.’ patterson dumps the blankets onto the kitchen counter. ‘but. i’m sorry—is it weird for you to see?’

‘they’re on my body,’ jane tells her. ‘it’s not any weirder. besides, i’ve got a wall of my own. i’m really not allowed to bring things out of headquarters, though, so all of mine are hand-drawn.’

‘really? you’re an artist, then?’

‘i’m pretty sure i was a soldier,’ jane tells her, exhaustion written into every line of her body and in the flatness of her voice. she turns away from the wall, casts a careful look over the apartment, over patterson. ‘you look warmer.’

patterson becomes very aware of the beanie on her head, bright pink with little round tufts of fur. ‘ah. yes. i am.’

‘good.’ she looks toward the door. ‘can i sleep here tonight? on the couch, i mean?’

‘yes.’

‘i won’t get in the way and i’ll clean up after—oh. okay. great.’

‘you saved my life, jane. you can sleep here.’

‘it was a, a team effort,’ jane points out, and she scratches a little uncomfortably at the tattoos on her left wrist, the beehive on her hand. 

‘and if they wanted to stay over, they could,’ patterson lies without a flicker of hesitation. ‘d-david used to get cold so there are a lot of blankets. you’re welcome to take some.’

‘thanks.’

‘you’re welcome.’ patterson looks to the kitchen, to the tea she was going to make for herself and the file she was going to look over, but maybe it’s the long shower, maybe it’s knowing that jane would watch her the whole time—or even help—or maybe it’s the fact that she is keenly aware that there is very little in this world, blood-sacrificers included, that can get through jane, but she feels the lure and tug of sleep at her eyelids. ‘goodnight,’ she yawns, and to her surprise jane strides across the room and pulls her into an incredibly gently hug. 

‘i’m glad you’re safe,’ jane tells her, and patterson curls her fingers into the shirt jane is wearing, still blood-stained, and breathes in the smell of gun-smoke and sweat and pine and biting cold. 

she blinks. an arm curls beneath her knees. 

she blinks. the light in her room flickers on. 

she blinks. a cool hand brushes against her chin as it tugs warm blankets up. ‘sorry,’ a familiar voice rasps. ‘cold hands, i know.’

‘s’okay,’ patterson slurs. 

she blinks. the room is dark, but the door is cracked open an inch. there’s a faint hint of light and the flutter of papers. jane, she remembers, and sinks into her pillow, sighs. she is warm, and safe, and for now that’s kind of the most she can hope for. 

#patterson x jane #blindspot #i dont know where this came from i just had to write it #i mean i do know #i just fnished that episode #i had to write it its clawing at me i love them

[covid19updater]

COVID19 Updates: 03/24/2021

UK:  Whitty warns UK will 'definitely' be hit by Covid surge - Still 'bumps and twists' ahead LINK

Brazil:  BREAKING: Brazil reports 3,251 new coronavirus deaths, by far the biggest one-day increase on record

India:  NEW: India reports 47,239 new coronavirus cases, the biggest one-day increase since November

Poland: COVID update: Number in hospital rising rapidly, up nearly 6% in one day - New cases: 16,741 - Positivity rate: 23.1% (-6.6) - In hospital: 26,075 (+1,438) - In ICU: 2,512 (+91) - New deaths: 396

Czech Republic:  Czech Republic reports nearly 3,000 suspected cases of COVID-19 reinfection

UK:  Non-essential travel will be banned in England from next Monday, under new covid laws which may last until end of June.Britons trying to travel abroad w/o a reasonable excuse, face fines of up to £5K under the bill, which will come into force next week if approved by MPs;

Netherlands:  The Dutch government is to extend its lockdown measures by three weeks until 20 April due to rising numbers of Covid-19 infections and hospital admissions, PM Mark Rutte said. Curfew to be relaxed one hour though;

Poland:  Poland is to announce new restrictions for the next two weeks by Thursday at the latest, prime minister Mateusz Morawiecki said, as the country braces for what could be a second Easter spent under a strict lockdown;

Norway:  Norway is introducing new national measures to contain the pandemic, including a ban on the public serving of alcohol, and would postpone the introduction of a plan to reopen society, Health Minister Bent Høie has said;

RUMINT (China):  Sounds like the enthusiasm for getting the vax isn't that high in China's population...The Chinese government are offering shopping coupons up to $5 per person (30 yuan) if they go and take the shots.

Ukraine:  Ukraine registered a record daily high of 342 coronavirus-related deaths over the past 24 hrs.

Bulgaria:  Bulgaria reported 4,851 new cases of COVID over the past 24 hrs, its highest daily tally on record.

India:  India reported 275 new COVID deaths, the most this year.

Brazil:  60% of all ICU patients in São Paulo, Brazil  are now between the ages of 30-50 years old, reports @MattRiversCNN.

India:  NEW: India's health ministry says new coronavirus variant found in Maharashtra, where cases are surging. It says the variant could result in "immune escape and increased infectivity"

RUMINT (India):  RED ALERT .... RED ALERT ... RED ALERT. Ok, People THIS IS SERIOUS. The Indian mutation with E484Q is TERRIFYING.  I noted this because in my observations, changes TO an N or a Q are the most dangerous from prion-perspective, and this one change is a doozy! It also happens to be at the position ~500 in the string, which is the place where the original prion-genesis site was (Tetz) Now this: BNODesk: NEW: India's health ministry says new coronavirus variant found in Maharashtra, where cases are surging. It says the variant could result in "immune escape and increased infectivity"  YOU GUESSED IT, IT'S THE E484Q MUTATION! LINK

India:  After son Aaditya, Maharashtra Chief Minister's wife also tests positive for coronavirus LINK

Germany:  Chancellor Angela Merkel has called an unexpected meeting with state premiers today to discuss the coronavirus pandemic, according to government sources. This comes on the heels of their decision early Tuesday to extend and tighten lockdown measures.

Germany:  Germany's Transport Minister warns of supply shortages during Easter LINK

Germany:  *MERKEL: THIS MISTAKE WAS MINE AND MINE ALONE *MERKEL: EASTER SHUTDOWN PLAN WASN'T IMPLENTABLE  MERKEL SAYS I ASK FORGIVENESS OF CITIZENS (???)

Sweden:  Sweden reports 7,649 new coronavirus cases, the biggest one-day increase since December

France:  Inquiry into death of Nantes student, 24, who had Astra Zeneca Covid jab  A source close to the investigation said that, following an autopsy, his death was found to be caused by an “internal haemorrhage caused by a blood clot”.

World:  British Medical Journal Raises Concerns Over Integrity Of mRNA Molecules Used In COVID-19 Vaccines After Leaked Documents Raises Questions LINK

France:  Roselyne Bachelot, French culture minister has been hospitalized this morning due to Covid.

Turkey:  Turkey... has lost control, to put it mildly. Last week this time, new cases were at 18,000. Today 30,000.

UK:  Leaked plans revealed UK Gov wants to start jabbing millions of under-18s from August LINK

UK:  UK'S PRIME MINISTER JOHNSON: THERE IS AN ISSUE ABOUT WHETHER WE SHOULD APPLY MORE STRINGENT MEASURES TO LORRY DRIVERS BRINGING GOODS INTO THE UK.  In December it was the French who wanted to stop vehicles entering from the UK for fears of the UK variant spreading in France. Today it's the Brits who are concerned about vehicles coming from France because of the South Africa variant...

NYC:  Nail Salon Workers and the COVID Pandemic: One Year Later LINK

Syria:  Syria is sending oxygen to Lebanon, where 1,000 patients are on respirators in the country’s hospitals and emergency supplies are close to running out, Reuters reports ministers from both countries as saying

Jordan:  Jordan’s biggest cemetery struggling, as  suffers surge in Covid-19 deaths over last 2 months. 50 people buried Tuesday at cemetery on outskirts of Amman, a day after record 109 deaths reported. Surge attributed to more transmissible UK covid variants;

India:  BREAKING—due to surging #COVID19 cases, India  has frozen all major exports of AstraZeneca #COVIDVaccine made by Serum Institute of India, world’s biggest vaccine-maker, to meet domestic demand as infections rise. This will also delay supplies to COVAX.

World:  They Had Mild Covid. Then Their Serious Symptoms Kicked In.A new study illuminates the complex array of neurological issues experienced by people months after their coronavirus infections. LINK

Brazil:  Brazil Is Looking Like The Worst Place On Earth For COVID-19 LINK

France:  FRANCE REPORTS 65,373 NEW CORONAVIRUS CASES IN 24 HOURS

Canada:  Brazil #P1 variant surging in British Columbia . How much? 92% (140/152) of all #P1 in Canada  are in BC. BC  has over 2x the number of #P1 than entire USA  combined (61). BC  found more new #P1 (+30) yesterday **in 1 day than Florida has entire pandemic**. #COVID19

Brazil:  ‘Brazil is suffocating’: COVID surge creates severe oxygen crisis LINK

RUMINT (California):  The "it's almost over and life will be normal again" narrative seems to be bought in to by a lot folks around the Inland Empire. Simply anecdotal but at Kaiser yesterday in Riverside. Wow, first at 10:00 a.m. crowded like before C19, parking a real challenge at this time. For awhile it was nice but not now. Next going into the one building the outside 6 ft spacing stickers were gone. The security guard was checking why people were there and asking any covid symptoms (like someone isn't going to lie haha). Then everyone and there mother was crowding into elevators, distance not so much. Fun times waiting to see the ophthalmologist. Wait room and hall packed. One guy had his mask below his nose, made me want to pull it up, but I didn't. Then as the wait room thinned out went in and sat 6 ft from a guy waiting to see the same doctor and a little ole lady comes out of the dr office and says oh I can sit here, right next to me. So I said sure you can and got up and went to stand in the hall. GMAB. People were talking about covid. A women said she and her daughter had Covid in December, she lost taste and smell and had most back but not all (in March). Then she and others agreed IT'S GOTTA BE ALMOST OVER because of the vaccines (which she is planning on getting and another guy in the room) and because swimming pools and schools are opening up here so it must mean it's about over. (People just don’t get it...)

Germany:  Germany COVID update: Daily caseload at highest level since January, up 27% vs. last Wednesday - New cases: 20,773 - Positivity rate: 8.3% - In hospital: 12,709 (+306) - In ICU: 3,205 (+48) - New deaths: 204

[jihoonslattee]

Manga Character! Jihoon [2]

if you haven’t read part one please take a moment to go to that post to read it! (for a backstory sort of? HKLDHF) 

Manga Jihoon Pt 1

listen these are about to be super long so if you guys don’t like long bullet fics then I understand! 

so the next morning you wake up with your loud alarm (yknow like the song seungkwan sang as a morning alarm? that one)

you get up dead on the inside half asleep walking towards the kitchen

you smell food and you just sit down at the table bc your brain right now is thinking 

“wow my parents must be back already”

you have completely forgotten that jihoon is a living thing for a second because as soon as he steps out of the kitchen with food you make a huge gasp 

“what’s wrong?!” 

he kind of like hurries towards you and suddenly memories of last night are rushing back and now you’re at the point of just trying to grasp it all yourself since you were busy making him comfortable last night. 

“o-oh nothing, I just was half asleep so seeing you made me think I was in a dream for a second” 

he just laughs (which you find adorable but right now your starving stomach is demanding food) and places a plate of eggs and toast in front of you 

“really this is all you could cook for me?” 

“don’t complain you just cooked me ramen last night as dinner” 

“touche”

you dig into your breakfast and just appreciate that it’s the first time you’ve had a decent breakfast other then a piece of toast and it tastes pretty good 

“hey I’m gonna wash the dishes so you can get ready first.” 

you picked up both of our plates and walked over to the sink 

“thanks i’ll get ready quick”

so I guess he did end up going with you anyways because before you know it you both are standing outside your cafe job at 6 in the morning, an hour before opening time. 

“i forgot to ask why were you up so early?”

jihoon takes a side glance at you while keeping some of his attention to the cafe sign 

“i couldn’t sleep last night.”

you shrug and start walking in 

“sorry I know I’m a loud snorer” 

“you didn’t snore though, you were sleep talking.”

you immediately stop and turn towards him 

“what did I say?!”

he just starts giving a mischievous grin and shrugs again and walks ahead of you 

“you tell me.” 

he fully walks into the cafe and you’re just shocked 

“okay one, why are you walking in when you don’t even work there? and two, if I knew why would I be asking you?!” 

you two enter the cafe and everyone is hanging in the employee room so you bring Jihoon to one of the tables close to the room.

“you can hang in the employee room if you want, lemme explain to my boss and she should understand.”��

jihoon gives you a look that says “are you rlly gonna tell them I’m a manga character, will they really believe that?”

so ofc you correct yourself because apparently jihoon does not understand what you mean by making her boss understand 

“and by understand i mean make a tragic backstory for you, hey maybe you’ll have to work today too”

and with that jihoon does end up becoming a new worker at your cafe which you don’t mind because you liked looking at his cute face while working the whole day. (and imagining barista jihoon AHEM when Wanna One did that one day cafe omg im dying)

and the only reason your boss was okay with hiring him on the spot was because 

“you guys are on summer and about to start school in a week so he will probably need a job to make some money for himself!” 

you were pretty sure it was because of his looks though, your cafe had a bunch of good looking people (not counting you because there were people who you were working with that looked like literal models.) 

you were also pretty sure you were hired because during your interview you started going on about how you like talking to people and while you were leaving you tripped on the chair you were sitting on and just laughed it off while the manager looked at you in clear concern.

so while working you manage to sneak glances at Jihoon who looks like he’s doing the job perfectly (awkwardly but perfectly) and you’re just in awe because wow he’s so handsome 

and it looks like its attracting more customers! 

okay so after both of your shift’s are over (3pm) you both start walking home. 

“so when we get back to my place we can work on filling out your application for school!”

you whip out the application for new students out of your bag and hand it to him. 

“how am i gonna fill it out if I don’t have half of this?” 

well somehow you both figure it out (i didn’t want to write it would make this so much longer) 

You did change his last name though because you knew people at your school that were avid fans of the manga and DIE HARD fans of Jihoon as a manga character. 

so now you both are just lounging around and you suddenly are hungry but you don’t want ramen again so you stand up from the couch and jihoon just gives you another weird look. 

“Look jihoon i am starving and i don’t want eggs, toast, or ramen tonight. i don’t know how we’re gonna survive without my parents but for tonight lets go out to eat.” 

jihoon instantly agrees and you both get ready to go out and leave at 5pm

you also take this as a chance to buy him (and yourself) new clothes bc your getting your paycheck in two days why not splurge a little. 

so before you guys eat you buy clothes at the mall together. 

jihoon insists for you to buy clothes for yourself first so you do. but while you’re looking at clothes jihoon comes up to you with a couple of outfits that he thinks would look good on you.

“um no jihoon thats super girly.”

“come on you gotta expand out of your comfort zone, just try it.”

so you do and the first one you try on is a combination of a shirt and top that you and jihoon picked out. it was a white tennis skirt with a off the shoulder top and when you walk out jihoon just kind of stares for a while. 

“jihoon why are you staring, i know you’ve only seen me in sweats but you shouldn’t be this surprised. plus we’ve only known each other for one day.”

jihoon suddenly snaps out of whatever he was thinking of and he just kind of laughs it off again. 

“you look cute.” 

so now you’re a blushing mess and you literally sprint back into the dressing room (i mean it’s literally two feet behind you but still you aren’t thinking because your heart is doing backflips in your chest) 

you just kind of sink down after getting into the safety of the room processing what just happened. 

you were sure he was just being nice but it made your heart race and your stomach feel weird 

“calm down y/n, you’ve only really known him for two days you must be acting like this because he’s your favorite manga character.”

you quickly finish changing and trying out the other clothes without showing jihoon and you come out. 

“what about the other clothes?” 

“I tried it on really quick my stomach is starting to growl a little.”

he smiles and just gets up, heading towards the cashier, 

“h-hold up,”

you grab his wrist and you can feel him stiffen a little, which you get confused about but like he turns back too fast for you to think about it. 

“what?”

“you need to try on your clothes bro” 

you start kind of dragging him to the dressing room and push him in there with his large stack of clothes. 

“don’t worry about the pri- wait actually make sure it isn’t over $15 because i don’t wanna run out of money for food!”

he chuckles and closes the door. 

he comes out relatively quickly picking some clothes to buy and you both go eat at a nearby burger place. 

arriving home you both slowly trudge your way to your room, your room was close and as you were about to enter jihono stops you 

“y/n thanks for the clothes and trying to make me feel comfortable, i’ve even forgotten that im actually in a different universe right now.” 

“no problem, i would feel bad if you were in a state of like not knowing what do to, I’ve been through that before.”

“really?”

“yeah my friends had a fight before and I was kind of forced to choose a side, it wasn’t fun.” 

“oh yeah.”

(imagine this as like a oh yeah when someone remembers something)

“oh yeah?”

you kind of give him a “you weren’t in this universe when it happened” look and he instantly retracts and takes a few steps away. 

“I-I meant oh yeah as in I kind of relate.” 

“alright, I probably misheard it, anyways night, we got work tmrw as well!” 

he smiles and gives you a small wave before you go inside your room throwing your bag of new clothes who knows where. 

you jump on your bed and place your phone on nightstand taking in the comfort of your bed. 

you mind suddenly goes back over the day and you start blushing remembering jihoon only calling you cute. 

but 

you suddenly think about the conversation that just happened outside your room with him. 

you weren’t sure if you misheard but you were pretty sure that you heard him say “oh yeah” in a way as if he was actually there when it happened. 

you turned so that you were facing the ceiling, almost glaring at it trying to wrap your head around the situation. 

meanwhile 

jihoon was pacing around his room but eventually lies down on his bed and picks up the manga again, reading through it for what seemed like the millionth time (you would’ve thought he would’ve been sick of reading about it own life but ig not) 

he sighs while reading the manga and ends up mumbling to himself 

“i hope she doesn’t figure it out...”

thank you for reading! I’m currently working on pt 3! I hope to get it out as soon as I can but school is currently finding millions of way to keep me doing homework ugh anyways I hope you all have a great day/night! <3 

#jihoon #park jihoon #wanna one #wannaone #wanna one imagines #wanna one scenarios #produce 101 season 2 #produce 101 #produce 101 season 2 scenarios #park jihoon scenarios #park jihoon imagine #park jihoon scenario #kpop #jeojang #wink boy

[himbowelsh]

Winnix + sex pollen. Like a sequel to "Poisoned rash" by pairatime on ao3 but this time it was Nix who got into the pollen??? It was 0600 in the morning Nix went out for a recon mission when he tripped over a puddle, crashed his face into a cluster of mushrooms and then he found himself trying to nip Dick's earlobe relentlessly ??? Idk just bc as far as I know no one has ever applied this trope for the pairing and I CRAVE FOR ONE

AN: im simultaneously horrified and thrilled that i get to play with this trope because im lowkey weak for it. doesn’t get smutty, but gets close.

The argument could be made that it’s Nix’s fault, but he’s far more inclined to blame something else. Anything else, really — from the brass, for sending him on a harebrained scouting mission in the middle of the night, to nature, for being so damn wily.He’s an intelligence officer, for crissakes. It’s his job to outwit the Germans, not to be outsmarted by a couple of rogue roots and tree branches that he can’t see until he ends up tripping over them. If he weren’t wandering around in the middle of the night, he reminds himself, none of this would have happened. If he were safe in bed with a bottle of Vat 69 instead of doing his duty for flag and country, he’d be a much safer man.(Maybe not happier, but safer? Sure.)

Instead, he stumbles back up to the tiny farmhouse he and Dick are boarding in for the night. It’s around midnight. His patrol around the French countryside lasted two hours, and he’s got nothing to show for it but a bruised nose and bruised ego.Dick raises an eyebrow at him as he steps into the dim light. (They’ve got a lantern. It’s a risk, but there’s no word of Germans in the area, and the light is hidden from view up in the loft anyway. It occurs to Nix that Dick didn’t have to leave the light on — but then again, he didn’t have to wait up for him either.)“How’d it go?” asks Dick. The tone of his voice says he already knows.“I fell facefirst into a bunch of mushrooms. If you can believe it or not, they were actually kinder to my face than my wife.”He sinks down into a bundle of hay, a scowl on his face. He knows he doesn’t have a reason to be irritated around Dick, but he can’t help it. It’s not just the press of his own failure gnawing at him. His face is still pulsing with pain, and there’s something else, too... for some reason, his clothes itch. He hasn’t washed these since the jump, and that was nearly a month ago. He knows he’s filthy, but god, it didn’t bother him like this a few hours ago. (In the back of his mind he wonders if he’s getting a rash, but that would be just his luck.)Dick is still staring at him, with that familiar crease to his brows that lets Nix know he’s concerned. Nix snorts, drawing his knees up, and blinks back at him. “God, does it look that bad?”That makes Dick purse his lips. It’s something that’s not quite a smile, but close enough. “You look fine, Nix,” he replies, before shaking his head and turning away.He’s reading something, Nix realizes — a book, probably requisitioned from a house on their travels. It looks dull as dishwater, but it’s in English, which automatically makes it a great book to anyone unable to read a word of French. Leave it to Dick Winters to find a book in the middle of a war zone.Nix shakes his head and sighs. Leaning back against the hay, he’s reminded once again of the itch spreading across all parts of his body. His uniform chafes at him. When he shifts, the sensations get even worse; when he tries scratching them, he is left with a burning sensation in his flesh that is worse than anything else. He feels eager to crawl out of his skin entirely, if only to escape the sense on wrongness that is growing more intense with every moment.He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes, trying to force it out of his head. If anything, this makes it worse.“Is it hot in here?” he mutters after a few minutes, tugging on his collar. In such a short time, the air has gone from summer-night humid to oppressive. He’s not sweating; rather, it feels like the heat is trapped inside of his skin.Dick glances up from his book, only briefly. “We’re in a barn. It’s not cool.”Nix continues to wrestle with his clothes. He can’t help it. They’re not just stifling. He feels like he’s being choked. The oppressive heat is one thing, but the way his clothes feel like they’re gearing against his skin is another entirely. “But it’s — hot, dammit,” he hisses. “How much heat does this hay preserve?” He finally manages to wrestle his jacket off. It’s a relief, but it doesn’t make it any easier to breathe. If anything, he grows even warmer. “I feel...” he huffs, voice strained. “Dammit, Dick, I feel like I’m burning up.”Dick frowns, unable to write off Nix’s blatant discomfort as something as simple as disgruntlement or exhaustion. He sets his book aside and crosses the short distance between them. His hand hovers over Nix’s forehead, just long enough for his frown to deepen. His touch is there and gone too fast, making Nix whimper.“Feels like you're running a fever,” Dick mutters. “Does anything hurt?”Everything, he thinks, but he can’t say that. He’s been through enough army training that he can tough out a bit of pain — not to mention, explaining how everything feels obscenely wrong would do nothing to heighten Dick’s regard of him. If anything, it might convince him that he’s crazy. That’s the last thing Lewis wants. So, despite the way he can’t stop squirming, he forces himself to put on a tough face. “No, it’s just, I — I just feel weird. My head’s spinning... I think I must be coming down with something.”“Here, do you need —“ Dick grasp his bare upper arm without a second of thought, and the touch is like ecstasy. Nix moans.The moment that follows is equal parts shock and confusion. Dick goes still, brows furrowing, while Nix’s entire body tenses like a coil. Their eyes lock. Nix’s mouth opens like he wants to say something, but no words come to his lips. He has no clue where that came from, but for some reason Dick’s touch is like a cool balm to his burning skin.He needs more, dammit. Shame and humiliation fill him in equal measure, but he finds himself fixated on the sensation of Dick’s hand on his arm.“Nix,” Dick says in a low voice. Nix’s face really is on fire now, and it has nothing to do with the heat consuming him.“Sorry...” he hisses, squeezing his eyes shut. “I’m okay. Really. I just don’t feel like myself...”“Nix. Do you want me to get Doc Roe?”“Uh-uh. I’m okay. I just... need to cool down.” Dick sounds so worried. It gouges out Nix’s stomach, leaving him feeling even more vulnerable. He’s not sure what he wants — should he throw himself at Dick for the sake of that desperately-needed relief? Should he pull away entirely?He can’t do any of that. All he can do is breathe, and try to hold on to his right mind. Whatever is happening to him (jesus, what is happening to him?), he can’t let it overwhelm him. He can’t be swept away…

“Sorry,” he says again, and pulls away from Dick’s touch. It feels like ripping a rib from his own chest. His breaths grow more ragged, fighting each other to escape his lungs. His fingers dig into his thighs. “I — I need —“

“Nix, maybe you should get some air.” Dick’s tone is heavy with worry now, as cloying as it is alarmed. Dick’s hand lands on his shoulder once more, and he’s close, close enough that Nix can see the whites of his eyes and the freckles across his cheeks, can smell his sweat and feel his hot breath against his cheek, and oh jesus —

He doesn’t realize what’s happening until his mouth is already on Dick’s neck. The salty taste of his skin floods his mouth as he such a bruised into the sensitive flesh. One of his hands is knotted in Dick’s hair, the other gripping his back, and Nix is all but on top of him. Every inch of contact against his skin feels euphoric. He cannot think; he cannot breathe; he is drowning in his need, in the overwhelming lust that saturates his every thought. He needs relief, and Dick is here. God, he wouldn’t want to do this with anyone but him.

Dick’s hands are against Nix’s shoulders, pushing. Not shoving him away (like Nix would have expected), not holding him off… but bracing himself. The grip is almost possessive.

“Dick,” Nix gasps, pressing back. “I need this. Please. I need you, Dick, I’ve gotta…”

For the first time, he is painfully aware of the tightness in his pants. The pressure is so great that he feels ready to burst. He can barely breathe with it, and it hurts. The desperation chokes him. Undiluted need drives his every action, from the way his mouth works at Dick’s sensitive neck to how his hands tear at his clothes.

“I have to know this is okay,” he forces out, though forming coherent sentences is agony right now. “Are you…”

“Are you okay?” Dick asks, and his hand cups Nix’s face. Past the haze of desire in his own eyes, worry still rests in the corners of his frown. Nix wants to kiss that concern right off his face.

“I will be,” he huffs, and captures his mouth again. This time, there is no mistaking the sensation of Dick kissing back.

(God, it’s all he’s wanted since day one of OCS, everything he’s been afraid of and desired with all his heart. This isn’t the way it’s supposed to happen, but it’s happening. It’s happening, and Nix is alright with getting swept away, as long as it’s for Dick.)

Everything is so much, too much. Dick’s hands are in his hair, though, and his mouth is on his neck. Every brush of contact soothes the fire burning under Nix’s skin. He needs more of it, but what he’s getting is incredible.

More. He needs more, more, and he needs Dick to give it to him.

Nix leans back down, melts into Dick’s embrace, and surrenders himself to the desire. In this moment, it’s okay to let go.

(Later on — much later, after they’re both worn out and exhausted and the fire in Nix’s core has smoldered down to ashes — they blink at each other in the darkness.

“Are you okay?” Dick asks again. Nix closes his eyes.

“Never been better,” he answers honestly.

There is so much that this means. He doesn’t want to wonder, he doesn’t want to ask. He can think again. The desperation had evaporated as quickly as it seized him, and being back in his right mind is such an immense relief.

Dick pulls him closer. He sighs and melts into his grip.

Tomorrow, things will change. Tonight, however — tonight is what they have made of it.)

#winnix #well this happened #my writing