#( but asking like this is at least not hurting his pride cries )

[heelix1r]

𓆩ᥫ᭡𓆪 I NEED YOU SO MUCH IT HURTS … 🎥

𖤐ᝰ.ᐟ𖦹₊⊹ if they have to give up their sense of pride and lay everything on the line to show you how much they need you, then so be it.

bela is typing . . . HELLO SORRY FOR MY RANDOM BREAK FINALS SUCKS !!! wanted this needed this very much yes pls enjoy this with me 😼 i probably should do word counts too but i don’t use other media to write ,,,, SORRY JUNGWON’S IS A LIL ANGSTY

ot7 x gn!reader | drabble | romance/drama | no established au

masterlist | guidelines | requests OPEN !

. ° ༘ 💋⋆ 🎸 ₊˚ෆ [ LEE HEESEUNG ]

“y/n, stop.” you never turned around as heeseung kept calling out to you. you didn’t want to. turning around meant facing him again, and you didn’t know if you were capable of it.

“y/n, stop!” you walked faster, but heeseung’s legs were faster than yours. a brisk walk turned into a jog, until you broke out into a sprint, your vision blurred as you realized you’d never be able to outrun him. this proved to be true—before you knew it, a pair of arms had enveloped you with a strong force, the momentum barreling the two of you to the ground. you hit the grass with a thump.

“just go away,” you murmured, trying to avert your gaze from him. as you scrambled to your feet, you felt a tug at your legs. reluctantly, you looked downwards. the sight before you made your breath hitch in your throat.

heeseung laid himself bare for you as he got on his knees, grasping at you as if he was begging for his life.

he was begging for you.

you felt paralyzed as he looked up at you, pathetic and desperate. “just listen to me,” he pleaded, all discretions gone. his inhibitions had finally thrown out the window as he threw himself at your feet.

“heeseung—”

“please,” he begged, bowing his head. “i need you more than anyone else i’ve ever needed in my life. i didn’t get it before, but now i do.”

he looked up at you then, his shoulders slumped, his palms facing upward on his lap. “y/n… i love you. you don’t understand how badly i need you.”

he was in complete submission of you. the thought of lee heeseung at your mercy was a thought beyond comprehension.

“get up, heeseung,” you pleaded, not wanting to maintain eye contact. you tried to push him away, at least trying to pull him up from his knees, but he wouldn’t budge.

“stop calling me that,” he cried, shaking his head. he was groveling now. “baby, please. i need you. i’ll do anything to show you. i promise, i’ll spend the rest of my life proving it to you.” his eyes were tear-stricken. “please.”

you gave him a good look, the way he threw himself at your feet as if he knew nothing better. you were silent, completely still. he was a mess at your feet, and even if you wanted to say something, you couldn’t. you were at a loss for words. this was too much to take in all at once.

“let me prove it,” he begged, staring up at you like it was all he knew how to do. “give me the chance to show you how much i need you, how i’ll put everything into showing you that i need you here with me.”

. ° ༘ 💋⋆ 🎸 ₊˚ෆ [ PARK JONGSEONG ]

“what is it going to take for me to prove it to you?” jay yelled at you from across the way. “what do i have to do, huh? what do you need from me to show you that i’m serious?”

“just forget it, jay.” you gritted your teeth and turned away from him, your back facing away. “just go.”

“no. no!” his voice was clear. “i’m not going anywhere! i’m going to stay here, and i’m going to make you listen to me! i’m being serious about this!” he reached out to you, grabbing your shoulder with one hand and spinning you back towards him in one fell swoop.

you narrowed your eyes at him. “so you’re serious now, huh?” you asked facetiously. your tone held traces of mockery. “don’t make me laugh.”

“yes,” he agreed without letting you interject. “yes, i am serious. i will do anything and everything to prove this to you—right here, right now.”

“sure you will. just what could you possibly—jay? jay?” you stumbled over your words as he reached out to grab your wrist, giving you no room to fight back as he firmly placed your palm over his heart. you were frozen in place as he approached you then, breaking the distance between the two of you. “what are you—”

“do you feel that?” he interrupted you, his voice desperate, whiny. “do you feel me?”

you did. his heart beat was racing, more than you’d like to admit. the longer he stared at you, the faster it seemed to go. but no matter how fast it beat, he continued to stare at you, conveying his desperation the only way he knew how. “this is what you do to me,” he breathed out, gripping your wrist tighter. “keep it there. you drive me crazy. i need this. i need you.” when he realized you weren’t going anywhere, his facial expression softened. “i love you,” he whispered.

he had you stunned. he saw the way your jaw fell slightly ajar, and he took the opportunity to come even closer to you. his chest was inches apart from yours. “i’ll do anything to prove it,” he pleaded. “if this isn’t enough, i’ll do something that is. y/n, this is the most serious i’ve ever been in a long time. if it’s anything you can believe from me, it’s this.”

“jay, you can’t be serious,” you whispered.

he looked at you, the determination and desperation in his face clear. “yes, i am.”

. ° ༘ 💋⋆ 🎸 ₊˚ෆ [ SIM JAEYUN ]

“why do you keep doing this to me?” jake called out to you, his voice wild with frustration. “stop pushing me away! stop doing this!”

“just leave me alone,” you screamed back at him. but no matter how far you moved, he followed suit. “i don’t want you here. leave me alone.”

“you’re lying to yourself and you know it!” he argued, now beating your pace with a jog. before long, he caught up to your pace, taking your hands within his own. “y/n, i don’t understand. help me understand. i’m right here, for you. don’t you get it?”

“can you just let go?” you thrashed in his grip, trying to throw his hands from yours, but to no avail. “i told you, i don’t want you here, you don’t need to follow me, you don’t need to do anything of this. just leave already!”

“no!” he yelled in retaliation, his eyes widened with panic. “do you not get it? do you really not understand?”

“no,” you spat at him, “i don’t.”

then, in one swift motion, jake had his hands gripped to your hips, almost slamming your body against his. you yelped at the close proximity, but his eyes never wavered from yours.

“y/n,” he whispered, his voice breathy. “i’m yours.”

you didn’t answer, his shock confession processing in your mind. noticing the way you slowly loosened your tense body, jake pressed his forehead to yours. “i am yours,” he repeated, his words pronounced. “undeniably, i belong to you. you are all i think about, you are in my dreams, you haunt me, and i invite it. i want all of it. i want all of you.”

“jake…” your attempts to escape his hold were futile—but you weren’t really trying your best, anyway. your voice faded as he traced your bottom lip with his thumb.

“i don’t care if you’ve got some baggage,” he continued, desperation creeping into his voice. “i don’t care if you have demons to fight, i want you. you, your baggage, your demons, i’ll fight them all for you if i have to. i’ll prove it to you. i’ll do anything for you. you say jump, i say how high.”

you swallowed a lump in your throat, completely in submission to his embrace, and he explored your expression, your eyes, your face.

“do you get it now?” he asks, his voice softer. “i love you.”

. ° ༘ 💋⋆ 🎸 ₊˚ෆ [ PARK SUNGHOON ]

“y/n, don’t make me do this!” sunghoon’s fading voice amidst the crowd was your only solace in your attempt to distance yourself from him. “please! just come back!”

“go to hell, sunghoon,” you spat at him, hearing the way people jostled and chastised him for rudely tossing them aside to reach you. but you didn’t turn to witness it for yourself. “i don’t want you here.”

“no,” he yelled at you, across the distance, amidst the people. he knew he couldn’t reach you. there were far too many people in this rush hour, and he’d lose the energy to push against them to make it to you. “i’m not going anywhere, i’m going to follow you until you turn around and let me say my piece!”

“what is there to say?” you asked, venom in your tone. “you don’t like saying anything, so don’t make me laugh.”

he grimaced at your words, because he knew you were right. but that had to change. right now, or else he was going to lose his chance forever.

“i have plenty to say, y/n,” he urged, pushing against yet another wave of unsuspecting strangers, all of whom shot him dirty glares. but he didn’t care—not in this moment. the way people thought of him didn’t matter, when losing you was in the balance.

“yeah, right.” you laughed, but there was no humor. you continued to storm away.

“i love you!”

his words made you stop in your tracks. despite every nerve in your body telling you this was a bad idea, you turned around, facing him from across the crowd.

“what?” you asked him.

“i need you,” he cried out. as more strangers realized what he was doing, they stepped to the side to give him some space to squeeze his way towards you. “i said it. i know i’m not the best with words, that a lot of the time i’m lacking, but if this is what it takes for you to understand, i’ll say it a thousand—no, a million times over.”

at last, amidst the active crowd, he grab your wrist and pulled you closer to him.

“do you need me to say it again?” he asked, searching your eyes for the answer. “because i can. i will. as many times as it takes. in front of all these people.”

he cups your face gently. “i’ll tell the world if i have to, if that’s what it takes for you to believe me.”

. ° ༘ 💋⋆ 🎸 ₊˚ෆ [ KIM SUNOO ]

“seriously, if you aren’t going to actually tell me what you’re trying to say, then stop making me think you’re going to.”

you huffed at sunoo, who had stumbled over his words once more. he scrunched his face in frustration, playing with his fingers as he followed you while you were walking away.

“hold on,” he cried, the frustration visible on his face. “please—just give me a second. i… i just don’t know what to say.”

“you’ve been saying that for months, sunoo. months.” you shook your head in disbelief at his words. “you keep stringing me along, wanting to tell me things, then you chicken out, and then you act like it never happened when i ask you about it. i don’t want to feel stupid anymore, because this isn’t fair.” you sped up your walking face, almost causing him to trip when he tried to keep up.

“i know, and i’ve been really mean for that,” he admitted, the anguish clear on his face. “but really, y/n, if we can just stop and you can just listen to me, i promise i’ll find the right words for you—”

“i’ve been trying to listen to you this whole time,” you snapped at him. “you’re the one who just won’t talk.”

“i’m going to!” he exclaimed, taking a deep breath as he quickened his pace. “please, just stop!”

“you’re so confusing, sunoo.” your voice twinged with hurt. “why would i believe you now?”

“because now i have the words to tell you that i love you!”

you stopped walking. as if time moved in slow motion, you turned, only to see sunoo bowing deeply for you. his eyes were squeezed tight, his hands were shaking. your breath was caught in your throat.

“what?” you asked, barely a whisper.

sunoo slowly looked up to you, and your eyes widened as you noticed his had begun to well up with tears. “i’m sorry,” he cried, approaching you and grasping your wrist. you didn’t move away from him. “every time i thought i had the confidence to tell you, i’d get scared you’d say no. that i would do something to mess everything up. and then i’d lose you.”

“and then i realized that by not telling you, i’d lose you even faster.” he gently squeezed his hand against yours. “and now, i’m realizing now that i’d rather tell you how i feel and make myself look stupid, no matter how i have to say it, than to lose you from my own cowardice.”

you couldn’t believe your ears. “sunoo…”

“i won’t be a coward, not anymore.” he swallows a nervous lump growing in his throat, shaking away any lingering anxiety he had left. “i adore you too much to ever hide away from you again.”

. ° ༘ 💋⋆ 🎸 ₊˚ෆ [ YANG JUNGWON ]

“y/n, you need to understand!” jungwon was desperately trying to get you to listen to him, but you were too busy grabbing your things, your contempt for him loud and clear. “this is necessary, what i’m doing is for us! can you please look at me? i’m really trying!”

“i’m trying, jungwon,” you hissed at him, throwing shirts into your bag without bothering to sort them out. “i really have tried to. but i feel alone. and i’ve tried to talk to you so many times, but no matter what, that’s the only thing i ever hear from you. that it’s necessary and that it’s for us.” you’re nearly in tears thinking about it, but you don’t want to look at him. “but what about me? i don’t know what your bigger picture is, because you’re always so focused on working towards something necessary, when all i’ve ever wanted is just the present time.”

your words ring deathly in jungwon’s ears, and his body feels crushed with the weight of it all. he’s rendered speechless, as you finish packing your things. you take his silence as him giving up, and you feel a pang of hurt in your chest, that he didn’t try any harder.

no matter. you were on your way out, anyway.

without another word, you slung your bag over your shoulder, your eyes glued to the floor as you made your way to the front door.

to your surprise, you heard jungwon’s feet scrambling past you, and by the time you reach the door, he’s already there, his back pressed towards it, keeping it close. he kept himself there to keep you from leaving. you saw the way the color escaped his face, begging you to reconsider your choices.

“y/n, please, don’t do this. just let me make things right with you.” jungwon planted his feet in a way that kept him rigid against the door, but the desperation on his face told you that if you really wanted to, you could push him aside. “i was so focused on the bigger picture i didn’t realize i should’ve focused on the special details in front of me.” he reached out to you, “i see that, and i don’t want to ever make that mistake again. i didn’t mean to hurt you, i’m so sorry. please, y/n, let me make this right.”

you gritted your teeth, trying to keep your composure. but jungwon’s sincerity was something you couldn’t ignore. “jungwon, why now? why does it have to be now?”

“i…” his voice falters. “i don’t… i don’t want to give you a stupid reason. or a lame excuse. i just… i thought i was doing the best thing for you. but the best thing was always to just appreciate having you here with me.”

when you don’t respond, he slumps to his knees in front of you. before you know it, he’s bowing for you to the floor, his hands curled into tight fists. he’s shaking.

“y/n,” he begs again, “please, i know i was too in my head to realize how much you needed me. but i need you. everything i’ve been doing is because i love you. and i’ll do anything to reassure you, to make sure that you never have to doubt me ever again.” his voice is muffled against the floor, but his words are crystal clear to you.

you dropped your bag and knelt beside him, nudging him. “stop bowing,” you murmured, your lips pressed together. “just get up. please.”

he peers at you, slowly getting up from his bowing position. without warning, he envelops his arms around you. “please believe me,” he whispers, “i’ve never been so sure about anything in my life. i need you here, with me. and i’ll be here for you, i promise.”

. ° ༘ 💋⋆ 🎸 ₊˚ෆ [ NISHIMURA RIKI ]

“you can stop pretending now,” you whispered, a clear hurt in your voice. “i’m sorry.”

riki was in a state of distress as he realized you had interpreted his words the wrong way. as you turned to move away, he grasped your wrist to prevent you from going any further. “y/n,” he breathed, shaking his head furiously. “no, you didn’t let me finish, you’re getting it all wrong.”

he was surprised at the speed you removed yourself from his hold. you were already walking away, and the farther you walked, the tighter riki’s chest constricted. he took a deep breath, realizing what it meant to chase you down. what this would mean for him.

but as he watched you fade into the distance, he cursed to himself. you were here, now. leaving, because of him.

it didn’t take him long to find his resolve. he chased you down, sprinting to catch up to you in a matter of moments.

you heard him sprinting, but you had to fight the urge to turn around to look. you didn’t know how much more you could take of this—

until he yelled out your name.

“y/n!” he called out, his breathing increased, his face flush from a mix of working up a sweat and something deeper. as you heard your name, your resolve weakened, and you turned to face him.

only for you to nearly be plowed over by riki’s forceful embrace. having to almost screech himself to a halt, he caught himself by wrapping his arms around you, nearly causing the both of you to topple over.

your face was pressed against his chest, but he wouldn’t waver. “riki, let go,” you called out to him, but he shook his head.

“i’m sick of this,” he whispered, “i’m sick and tired of running away. i’m done with this. i’m done with pretending.”

“what are you—”

one hand snaked around your waist, the other reaching forward to cup your cheek. “i need you,” he said, his voice no longer quiet. a proclamation of the truth he had been hiding from the world—no, himself—for too long. “more than i’ve ever needed anyone in my life.”

you were put in a stunned silence. riki only held you tighter, the facade of his indifference slowly slipping through the cracks. his eyebrows creased, his lip slightly quivering. “if it’s anything you’ll ever believe from me, let it be this.” he searched your eyes, to see if you harbored any doubt, any challenge to his words. “i’ve fallen so deeply in love with you, it’s suffocated me whole. and i… i’ve tried fighting it, i really have. but i can’t do that anymore, when it hurts me, and it hurts you.”

his thumb caresses your cheek. “i’ve been a fool,” he confesses, “but let me be your fool. i’ll learn, and i’ll be better. for you—for us. and i swear, i’ll make you the happiest you’ve ever been.”

2024 © heelix1r.

[nebulaafterdark]

The Blacks & The Greens

Summary: A marriage of convenience is not enough to bridge the gap between their warring houses. Y/N and Aegon pay the price for his crown. Based off this request.

Aegon Targaryen x Velaryon(Strong)!Reader

18+ ONLY MDNI

Roughish sex, Targcest, angst, depictions of stillbirth.

Y/N and Aegon marry out of convenience. To keep peace, to mend a house broken long before they were born.

Aegon does not mind bedding her, she is pretty enough. He does not mind watching her swell with his heir, he enjoys it even, paying special attention to Y/N as she grows.

“Does it hurt?” He wonders, tracing a little hand or foot across the skin of her abdomen.

“No,” Y/N smiles, passing a hand over his hair.

Aegon kisses her bump, bidding her and his child a good night before making his way down to the pleasure house.

Their first child, a son named Laenor, is Aegon’s pride and joy. His heart swells with something close to love for his wife, the first time he sees bits of her in their son’s features.

Y/N loves Laenor, carrying him about, showing him the Red Keep and all her favorite places in it. Aegon joins them, on occasion, sharing quiet moments with his little family.

Outside of Laenor, they exchange few words. Refusing to share apartments, but Aegon sneaks into her room more often than not, after nights spent in the company of other women.

“I could never fuck you like that.” He tells his wife, words slurred from his cups.

“I would let you.” Y/N assures him.

“You make my heart ache.” Aegon admits, “I hate when you do that.”

“I do not mean to,” Y/N sighs.

Aegon rests a hand over her beating heart. “I know.”

————————————————————————

When asked for another heir, they are more than happy to provide. Exchanging sloppy kisses and sweet words, but never love, it couldn’t be love. Not with the twisted, possessive way of it.

“Beg,” Aegon demands, fucking her roughly enough that air is punched from her lungs with each snap of his hips.

“Please,” Y/N wails, clinging to him desperately.

“Please what?”

“Fill me with your heir, I wish to bear you a hundred children.”

Aegon grins, brushing sweat damp hair from her forehead. “I adore you, you know?”

Her eyes shoot open, meeting his.

“My pretty, bastard wife.”

The princess’s breath hitches, her cunt clenching around him.

“Enjoyed that, did you?”

There is no point in denying it, she likes the way he says it. The way he acknowledges it without insulting her. “Yes.”

“I do not care who sired you. You are mine now, bastard. Mine to fuck and breed. Mine to love, until we are both cold in our graves.”

Love? “Aegon?”

“You heard me well and clear.”

“I love-”

Aegon seals his mouth over hers, swallowing the words. “Don’t you dare say it.”

“Why?” Y/N asks, with big fat tears welling up in her eyes.

“You hold it inside until you burst or pour it over my cock as you milk me, but you do not say it.” Aegon sneers. He couldn’t be loved, he wouldn’t be, by her least of all.

The princess nods, allowing him to cradle her head against his shoulder. Whispering those forbidden words over and over, while she is never allowed to speak them. Her heart aches.

Like every other aspect of their marriage, this too is complicated.

————————————————————————-

Y/N’s term is nearing its end when her grandsire passes and Aegon is forced to usurp her mother’s throne. With blood running down her legs before Aegon is crowned in the dragon pit, she is rushed swiftly away to labor in her chambers.

Now that Aegon is king, he is allowed at her side without contest. Watching as their second child is brought into the world. The babe does not cry, something inside him knows….

The grand Maester is called to work on the child, a sweet little girl with silver hair.

Y/N begins pushing with the second, her tear stained face pleading for him.

Aegon goes to her, because that is all he knows how to do. He goes to her and holds her hand.

“Aegon,” she cries.

“Shhhh,” he hushes her.

“Will the babe live?”

He presses a kiss to her forehead, “I need you to calm yourself, dearest.”

“I can’t.”

“We must focus on this babe,” Aegon brushes a hand over her belly. “They need their mother to provide them safe passage into the world.”

“I want to see her.” Y/N cries, searching for her child.

“I am so sorry, sweetheart.” Aegon says, “so terribly sorry.”

Y/N bares down, sobbing as she does. The child is safe within her, the same cannot be said after it enters this cruel world. “I do not want to lose my child.”

“I will give you another,” Aegon promises, knowing that a thousand children can never make up for the one they’ve lost. “As many as you wish. Please, allow me to get you through this. You must live, our son needs you, I need you.”

“You must keep pushing my queen.”

Y/N brings her third child into the world, expecting the worst. But the little girl cries.

“Thank the gods,” Aegon lets his head fall against his wife’s chest. “Thank the gods.”

The child is laid against her.

“Healthy?”

“Kicking like a goat, my Queen.”

Aegon looks to his wife, their perfect babe in her arms. “I love you.”

Y/N nods, choking on her grief and joy and love for him.

“Say it, my heart.” Aegon feels it on the tip of her tongue, “it’s alright.”

“I love you,” Y/N laments, “I love you and I’m sorry.”

“You’ve nothing to apologize for.”

“Our babe-”

“None of this is your fault. Please know that.”

Y/N nods, not entirely convinced.

The King and Queen spend days in that bed, mourning their loss, unaware of Rhaenyra’s similar suffering across the sea.

There is no war so hateful as a war between kin, they will all pay the price for it; the Blacks and the Greens.

[miaoua3]

Aa you asked me to say it here, can you make a “husband svt reactions to their wives fighting with them” pls☺️☺️ tysm

hii! sure i can, sorry i made you wait for so long, it's been a few hectic days :((

Seventeen And How They Would React To You Two Fighting

scoups: he will try his best to remain calm and collected, but sometimes even he loses his self control and ends up yelling back at you, which results in a screaming match between you two. he isn’t yelling so much because he’s mad, but rather because he feels like you aren’t hearing him out and because he feels like the fight isn’t going anywhere. in the heat of the moment he might unintentionally say something very hurtful to you. but the moment he sees tears falling down your cheeks, he’s hugging you closely to his chest, so tight that you can only breathe in his smell. will probably tear up himself, all while apologising to you. in his deep voice you will hear him say in your ear “i’m so sorry baby, i didn’t mean it, i’m an idiot, don’t cry because of me, i’m not worth your tears, sweetheart”

jeonghan: i can see him either trying to calmly talk it out or getting so defensive that he becomes emotionally unavailable for that moment, scoffing and rolling his eyes at almost anything you say to him. it’s just frustrating how you both can see what he means and how you aren’t to just let it go, even after he went in detail explaining how he was right and you were wrong. will probably respond only with sarcasm, scoffing he will say “yeah you would know a thing or two about that wouldn’t you”. he doesn’t mean to turn that cruel, but the whole situation is just so frustrating to him that he doesn’t know what to do anymore, plus you putting the blame on him makes him become so defensive that naturally he starts responding with cruel and mean words. but the moment he sees your shoulders shaking, he’s abandoning both his pride and anger, and is instead running to you, your face immediately being developed in his big and warm hands. will mumble something like “didn’t mean to make you cry pretty girl, i’m sorry, i don’t even know what the fight is about anymore. forgive me?”

joshua: i honest to god can’t see this man getting so angry at you to the point that it would make you cry, he’s always so gentle with you and your heart i just can’t realistically see it happening. he would try to make his point come across, if a bit forcefully but it wouldn’t escalate (at least not from his side) beyond that. if he sees that the fight is leading nowhere, he would suggest taking a few minutes for yourselves, before making you both sit down on a couch and talking it out, speaking in turns. you would still end up crying but not because of him yelling at you, but because at some point his own eyes would well up with tears, making you realise just how stupid both of you are. the moment he sees you crying, he’s pulling you onto his lap, hugging you so tightly to his chest, his own tears hitting the skin of your neck where he’s hiding his face. eventually, you two would end up falling asleep like that, the fight forgiven and forgotten from both sides

jun: oh this sweet baby would actually be the one to end up crying please never raise your voice at him. the fight would start as normal as fights can be, but the moment he sees you losing it and you raising your voice at him, it’s done. he will try to respond in a trembling voice, his hands shaking next to his body out of fear. the fear wouldn’t be because he’s afraid of you, like that you would do something to him, because he knows you would never. no, his voice would shake out of fear that this is it for the two of you, that he has officially fucked it all up and that you will break up with him. he would stress himself out so much he will eventually just break down, soft cries escaping his plush lips. the moment you see it, you’re running to him, hugging him close to you and repeating your apology like a mantra. the most heartbreaking thing, the thing that will make you cry too, will be hearing his broken voice whisper “please don’t leave me” in your ear🥺 protect jun at all costs my baby i miss him sm

hoshi: oh fighting with this man would give me a headache, genuinely, i would just leave and/or apologise just to end it lmao. not only would he respond kind of rudely, scoffing at every remark he doesn’t agree with, he would also yell over you, trying to make his reasons be heard loud and clear. what he doesn’t realise is just how much this hurts you, how unheard and silenced you feel, with him just yelling and yelling. his words wouldn’t be necessarily cruel, but he might slip in some truth that cut deeper than he thinks it would. the moment that he sees you running to the bathroom, tears staining your cheeks, he would feel his mouth dry up. after giving you a few minutes, he would just sit in front of the bathroom door, softly apologising and asking if he can give you a hug. just hearing your soft cries echo off the tiled walls of the bathroom would break his heart so much, he himself would let a few tears slip out.

wonwoo: i genuinely can’t really tell how he would react in a fight with his significant other. he definitely doesn’t seem like the type to yell at you, not would he be a wild one like hoshi is. i think the most realistic scenario is him just repeating his point over and over again, slowly getting more and more frustrated, sighing and massaging his temples in an effort not to lose it. at one point he would be so fed up with it, he would either say “im not talking to you anymore”, ignoring everything you say after that and also you in general, just sitting down and either staring at something or being on his phone, or he would just get his keys and walk out while saying “i can’t do this anymore now, im going for a walk, we will talk more later”. the walk would give him the space to think about your fight again with a calm mind, he would end up understanding your points and what your thought process is. this would help him out so when he gets back, he would talk it out gently with you, holding your hands on his lap, softly brushing his thumbs against the back of your hand. after coming to a mutual agreement, he would hug you close to him, kissing your forehead softly as an apology

woozi: i think it would take jihoon genuinely a lot to get him truly pissed off, and if it gets to that point, expect his words to cut so deep, you two might never come back to the point you once were. he would try to be reasonable in the beginning, talking as calmly as he possibly can, trying really hard to make you see his point of you. but eventually, as you start losing it, so will he. he won’t ever raise his voice at you, there’s no need for something like that- especially because his words will be venomous enough that it will hurt much more than him raising his voice at you ever would. he would say such horrible things because it’s his defensive mechanism, he wouldn’t realise just how hurtful they truly are until he sees you running out of the house, crying so much, you don’t even think about taking your coat. he will stay behind for a minute, thinking about what he said before he’s running after you too. after the most stressful 20 minutes, when he finds you on a bench in a park, he will be getting on his knees to beg for your forgiveness, the rarity that are his tears would make their appearance. his voice would tremble while saying “you have no reason to but please forgive me. i can’t live without you, you are everything i have ever dreamed of and im taking it for granted. please forgive me so i can make up to you and treat you like you should be treated”

minghao: the most rational one out of all of them, so soft spoken and kind to you even during a stressful situation like a fight. he wouldn’t even get it to the point where you might completely lose it, the moment he sees that your anger is about to boil over, he takes your hands in his and puts one of your hands on his chest, where his heart is. while gently holding the eye contact, he would say “my love. i understand where you’re coming from, and although i don’t really agree with what you are saying, i understand where you are coming from. but i feel like this fight isn’t going anywhere. can we sit down and talk it out? find a middle ground that both of us can stand on? i just think otherwise we won’t stop fighting for a while-we need to agree on this one way or another.” 30 minutes later, the fight is over, the middle ground has been found, the tea has been brewed, and cuddles have been shared. i just can’t imagine him reacting any differently in this type of situation- the most extreme scenario would be him going to a room alone to calm down for a few minutes before coming back to you to make up.

mingyu: i feel like this one would try to play victim big time every time and it would personally piss me off lmao. he genuinely doesn’t understand how you think that this is his fault and why you’re still fighting him. like it genuinely baffles him that you aren’t seeing your own faults in this situation. would definitely scoff at every other sentence that lives your mouth, saying things like “oh so this is my fault too? so it’s everything that isn’t according to your standards my fault now? if im so bad, why are you even with me?” at some point you will start crying out of frustration for being with such a dumbass lmao. the moment he sees your tears however, every word dies before it gets the chance to leave his mouth. when you turn away from him, he will gently tug on the hem of your shirt before mumbling “im sorry. i wasn’t thinking clearly and was very rude to you by not responding to you properly.” after a few seconds he will shyly ask “can i hug you? please? im so exhausted because of this fight and… i miss you”. after a few millions of kisses all is well

dk: oh this baby, he would NEVER let the fight get so far as for you to end up crying because of him. you two will go back and forth for a while, but the moment he sees you getting annoyed, he’s rushing to you, your hands teleporting themselves into his, his gentle eyes looking at you while saying “my love please don’t get mad. im sorry, i didn’t mean to push you this far, please forgive me.” and just like that it would be over. this is of course in case that you two just misunderstood each other. if you did something very hurtful to him however, expect him to yell at you in the heat of a moment, before ignoring you for the next two to three days. he would avoid you at all cost, although you will still find your morning coffee ready for you and the dinner heated up for you, but he won’t talk to you, still mad at you for what you did. that is, until one night you corner him in the kitchen and hug him from behind, your soft voice breaking as you utter the words “im sorry”. the feeling of longing and hurt and anger will finally subdue enough for him to return your hug, saying “ im sorry too.” after a few second he would add “im still mad though. i want cuddles and kisses tomorrow, all day, the whole day, as an apology” because he wouldn’t be our seokminnie if he didn’t add something like that.

seungkwan: oh god may god help you if your fight with seungkwan ever turns very serious, it will be so loud and painful and illogical it will drive you mad. we all know that our diva is a bit sassy, but once the sassiness turns to annoyance and anger oh you will get it in the neck. at some point the initial cause for the fight would be forgotten by both of you, just throwing insults at each other, trying to hurt the other more than it hurts you. the fight would get so messy you would just walk out, slamming the door behind you. after an hour or two, you will be welcomed with seungkwan jumping off the couch, his eyes bloodshot, yet again yelling at you “where the hell have you been?!” before speed walking to you. the moment he’s within the arms reach, he’s pulling you to his chest, so tightly it feels like he’s tying you to himself. in a most broken whisper, he will shakily exhale “i was so worried about you, don’t ever do that again…please…i thought- i-i thought that you left me…” cue more tears from the both of you

vernon: i know that a lot of people deem vernon to be clueless and stoic and somewhat emotionless, but i really don’t think that’s the case. vernon is one of the most mature ones out of all the other boys, he’s so emotionally intelligent and careful with his words. and he can definitely get angry if something rubs him the wrong way. although he wouldn’t yell at you, his frustration would be very visible due to the frown caressing his face and also with how animatedly he’s moving his hands. and because he’s a bit thick headed, i feel like he would repeat his points over and over again in an effort to make you understand what he means, even when they aren’t making any sense or aren’t really that relevant to the argument. eventually he will just walk into the other room to calm down, saying “i can’t do this anymore right now, we will talk later”. once he’s calmed down, he will go over both your pointe, finally hearing you out, but also making you understand what he meant more clearly. over all, arguments with vernon would never last that long because he wouldn’t let them last that long. once the movie is turned on and you are all cuddled up into his side, all so forgiven and forgotten

dino: see, dino is one of the only ones who i can’t really tell how he would act during an argument. while generally more on the quieter side, i can see him lashing out a bit once he has reached his limit, but i feel like he would immediately feel guilty about it and would apologise to you for saying it that way. he would probably feel a bit repressed, thinking you don’t care about what he thinks, which would make him yell out “you never hear out what i have to say! is that hard for you to just listen to what i say?” the further it escalates, the worse he’s going to feel, until eventually he inevitably starts crying. feeling a bit embarrassed, he will just walk out and lock himself in the bathroom for the next few hours. channie is so sensitive, that your words always get to him, making him overthink about everything-is he a bad boyfriend? does he even deserve to be with someone as amazing as you? were you maybe right, was he in the wrong after all? he would spiral so much that you will have to talk him into joining you outside to talk about the fight and to make up. cue more tears from him, he would feel so ashamed and embarrassed, he would be looking down at his lap the entire time until you put a finger under his chin and raise his face so you can kiss his cheek as an apology. after the apologies are said, he will need you to hug him for the next several hours, just holding him like a little child until he feels better about both the situation and himself.

[ramp-it-up]

Dessert or Disaster?

Summary: James Bucky Barnes is an avowed bachelor and one night stand artist. You came along and knocked him on his face. You two are in love, but you two are both stubborn. Will you both put aside your pride to make this work? Can one or both of you be humbled?

Word count: 3.5 K

Pairing: Art Dealer (mob boss) Bucky Barnes x Reader

A/N: This fic is connected to the Knock You Down AU, and comes immediately after ...As Hard As I Did but I feel it can be read as a stand alone. It is in answer to this ask. Seb Stan's latest pics and this press run is making me feral. I can write these two ALL DAY!!!! Y'all are gonna have to deal with this for a while, sorry not sorry.

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. Read at your own risk. This is the filthiest these two have gotten. Ms. Independent Syndrome, Mr. Chauvanist condition. Argument, angst, the silent treatment, tipsy girl's night out revenge, jealous Bucky, jealous reader, handsy random Drunk guy, who gets laid out. Sam shows up. Dom/sub elements, mild BDSM exploration. Spanking, orgasm denial, humiliation kink, praise kink, talk of voyeriusm kink, begging, use of Daddy, use of google translate Romanian. Not Beta'd. All errors my own.

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I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

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James Buchanan Barnes didn’t own you.

But he thought he did. 

It was infuriating.

After a month of dating, you’d had your first fight. Bucky always paid whenever you went out, and last Sunday, when you both reached for the check at brunch, there was a slight tussle. 

You laughed as Bucky scowled, thinking he was joking, but he was dead serious about paying. You became indignant, and you may have called him a controlling crime boss.

Bucky definitely called you an entitled brat and you may have stormed away and walked home, refusing to get back in the car with him. Bucky followed you in his sportscar as you pretended he wasn’t there. 

You were shaking with rage by the time you reached your brownstone and Bucky parked illegally.

“Frumoasă, let’s talk–”

“There is nothing to talk about, James. If you can’t respect my boundaries, then I don’t know what to say. I need space. Time to think.”

You glanced at him, but you looked away from the hurt on his face. 

“What does that mean?”

You cringed at the hurt in his voice. 

“I– we. Listen, you were right. We went way fast with this. It’s a lot, Jamie.”

You loved the fuck out of this man, but you felt like you couldn’t breathe.

“Are you breaking up with me?”

Bucky’s voice cracked and you looked up into his ocean blue, watery eyes.

“No?”

“Are you sure?”

“No. I’m not sure, James.”

“I thought you were mine?”

You paused and took a deep breath. 

“You don’t own me. You can’t do whatever you want…”

Bucky just looked at you as if he were about to debate that fact. Then, he raised his hands and backed away.

“Our dinner date still stands. Maybe Saturday night, we can talk about this like adults…”

Your ire was raised once again.

“I am an adult, Bucky. And you are too. You should listen to me when I-”

Bucky interrupted you and ran his hand through his hair, which he had been growing out. Just for you. He was extremely frustrated.

“This relationship has been predicated on nothing but your boundaries.”

It was a standoff. You two stared at each other, an invisible wall between you. You didn’t like how it felt.

“Like I said, we need a break.”

“We agree on something, at least.”

Bucky turned and walked back to his car, and you both closed your doors at the same time, hearts beating out of tune.

—-

You only cried for a couple of hours that day, but when you woke up to no good morning text from Bucky on Monday morning, you cried again. You were hurt, angry and anxious. Were you two over and done with? You threw yourself into work, trying not to feel your emotions.

By Tuesday, Bucky was being driven mad with images of you, sensations of holding you in his arms, feeling your body around him, your voice telling him that you loved him.

Steve sensed his mood, but did not press him, just complied when Bucky asked him to speed up the timeline to divest themselves of all illegal enterprises.

On Wednesday, you were feeling some kind of way. How dare he just ignore you and pretend you didn’t exist. Was he trying to punish you or something? You didn’t realize how much Bucky’s attention mattered to you. But you bet he knew very well. You decided to have big, big fun that night with your girls.

Of course, Bucky still had eyes on you, so he knew you were safe, but he told Nico and crew to fall back a little. He didn’t want to crowd you. But he was going crazy at the fact that you didn’t reach out to him. He was giving you the space you requested and hoped that you would come back to him of your own accord. He wasn’t going to force you to do anything. It was a matter of principle, not pride.

At least that was what he told himself.

There were some things you needed to understand, however.  Bucky was just trying to take care of you. You loved him, and he loved you. This thing was destiny. And you couldn’t run from that.

Wednesday night, he got a text from you. He sighed as he headed toward your location.

—-

You wore a more revealing outfit than you usually did. You were wearing a backless top that showcased your braless breasts and the cool night had sharpened your nipples into hard peaks, pressing through the thin material. You may have been thinking about Bucky tearing the top off of you roughly, or taking off carefully, or leaving it on you as he fucked you.  He would still pay attention to your nipples no matter what. You were horny for your man, and not thinking about tempting anyone else.

So you decided to break the ice and send him a selfie.

When Bucky didn’t respond, you got angry all over again. How dare he just continue to ignore you? You were a queen, and you were going to act like one. You went to the club, got tipsy, and acted as if you were in college again, taking drinks from anyone who offered. And there were lots of offers. You danced with your girls, and later, with the men who bought you drinks.

It was all harmless fun, right?

Through the crowd and the flashing lights, you saw a familiar profile, a head of hair and those unmistakable shoulders. Bucky was there, and his body language indicated that he was aware and interested in what you were doing.

So you gave him a show.

A woman came up to him and he looked down at her, a small smile on his lips. A jolt of jealousy rocked your body when he moved to a quiet corner with her and of all the colors in the club, all you could see was red. When she smiled up at him and her hand reached for his arm, you began grinding on the body behind you.

The man pulled you closer and practically yelled in your ear.

“You come here often?”

You rolled your eyes as his hands squeezed your hips and moved down. 

“Yeah. Let’s just dance.”

You moved his hands away but then they glided over your stomach and skimmed your back, thumbs brushing dangerously near your top. He pulled you even closer and started grinding as you tried to keep his octopus arms off of you. You glanced toward the corner and saw one person talking on the other locked in on you. And then moving in your direction.

You were relieved and terrified, because what had you gotten yourself into?

And what was Bucky going to do now? He looked like an animal, stalking his prey, dangerous.

The stranger moved his hands again and you recoiled, just as Bucky’s hand landed on your bare shoulder.

“That’s enough. Time to go.”

The random guy chucked his chin up at Bucky. 

“Who the fuck are you? Me and my girl are dancing here.”

You heard a record scratch, even though the music was still blaring.

“What did you say?”

Now you were afraid for this man’s life.

“C’mon James, let’s go. He’s drunk off his ass.”

You tried to pull him away, but he was not moved, staring down the man who would go down if Bucky breathed on him the wrong way. After a second, Bucky turned toward you, fury in his eyes.

You breathed a sigh of relief, even though you knew you were in for it. But Drunk Guy just had to open his mouth.

“Fucking whore. Acting like a slut on the dance floor and then leaving with this—”

And it was lights out for Drunk Guy, because Bucky Barnes laid him out flat with one punch.

Sam appeared out of nowhere to control the crowd as Bucky steered you through the crowd. His tense hand on your back sent a flash of dark excitement through you. He guided you by the elbow through the kitchen of the club. He took off his jacket and draped it around your shoulders before taking you out to the cold alley to his waiting car.  He walked you around the passenger side and opened the door, but before you could get in, a tug on your arm sobered you up.

You turned to see so much ice in Bucky’s glare. It was terrifying and thrilling at the same time.

“You are in so much trouble,” Bucky’s lowly growled threat made goosebumps rise on your skin.

 “What do you mean?” 

You shaky voice belied your nerves.

“Get this clear, Frumoasă. You are, in fact, mine. That man’s hands were all over your body. All over what was mine.”

Bucky was leaning down, face close to yours, rage barely contained. You knew he would never truly hurt you, but…

“I had things under control,” you urgently whispered back. You wouldn’t back down from him.

“What about you? Who were you huddled up with in the corner?.” 

Bucky’s eyes glinted.

“Jealous?”

He got even closer. 

“No, you are,”

Bucky’s  jaw tensed, and a vein pulsed in his neck. You hit a nerve. 

“I know that woman from… from before you. She means nothing to me.” 

Bucky brought his hand up to your neck and buried his fingers in the hair at the nape of your head. He tangled your curls and tugged, none too gently, bringing your eyes up to meet his.

“I don’t want her. There is no one but you. “

You were trembling in his grip, panties soaked, mouth open for breath. Seeing Bucky this worked up brought out something in you. Something you didn’t realize was there.

“Take me home, James.”

“Y/N.” 

His voice chilled you. He gave you a cold smile. 

“I said you were in trouble, and I meant it. You’re getting punished.” 

Your jaw dropped, and your face flamed as you started to say something. But a wave of need crashed into your cunt. You were intrigued.

“What are you going to do?” 

Your voice wavered despite your efforts to appear calm. Good lord you wanted this.

“What you deserve,” he said calmly, gesturing for you to get into the car. You resisted.

“Tell me now.”

He indicated the car again and you sat down, trembling as he buckled you in and walked around to the driver's seat. You took a deep breath before he got in himself. 

Bucky leaned toward you menacingly.

“You have driven me to the edge these past few days, Y/N. I love you, I don’t know how else to explain this to you, so I’m going to show you tonight with a consequence for your actions. Either you accept that consequence and come to my place, or I drive you home. And we seriously reconsider what we’re doing here.”

You looked into his icy blues and you knew he was serious. You two had talked about some kinks and limits while starting to experiment with his more dominant side and your submissive side. These versions of you first manifested when you called him ‘Daddy.’ Punishment and reward was a heavy theme in your verbal foreplay. A little humiliation and praise was mixed into your physicality, and it thrilled you. 

Bucky made you feel safe, and tonight you had been unsafe.

“I’ll take my punishment, Daddy.”

Bucky’s eyes stuttered half closed, but he quickly recovered, managing to stay cool toward you as he whispered a gruff, “Good."

He started the car and pulled into the street, headed toward Brooklyn.

"Now sit back and make yourself invisible. I’m trying to calm down and I need to concentrate to not be too rough with you when we get home."

You settled back into your seat, thinking hard about that word, ‘home.’

—--

Bucky virtually ignored you until you got into his bedroom, and you surprised yourself with how much you just wanted him to look at you. You were a whore for his attention. And now you knew that he knew that.

That’s when you realized that your punishment had already begun.

You walked ahead of him on shaky legs on the deep pile carpet of his bedroom, legs shaking and heat emanating from your core. You felt his hand tug you to a stop as he turned you around to face him. 

Bucky took his jacket off of your shoulders as he finally looked at you, admiring the pout on your face. 

“You were a good girl. So silent on the ride over and in the elevator.”

You shuddered as he spoke and as his fingers touched your bare shoulders. 

“You like being a good girl for me, don’t you?”

His palm moved from your shoulder up to your cheek.

“Yet you weren’t a good girl earlier tonight, were you?”

He was so close to you, his lips millimeters from yours.

“James, please –”

The space between your lips was driving you crazy. 

“I think you need to be spanked, Frumoasă.” 

His voice was so calm, in contrast to the whirlwind inside you. You were anxious, but you wanted this in your soul.

“We will talk while I spank you. You have got to understand how much I care for you. How much I love you.”

Anger with a rush of excitement coursed through your body.

 “I— This is— Fuck,” you whispered. 

Bucky pecked your lips, allowing just one bright spot of tenderness before he abruptly sat down on the edge of the bed. 

“Over my lap, Frumoasă.” 

“Christ, James.” 

“Now.” 

His eyes were iceberg blue. There was no trace of soft Bucky.

 “Or I will put you there myself.” 

“Do it,” you whispered, ever defiant.

In an instant, you were thrown over the bed like you weighed nothing, and flipped onto his lap.

“There we go.” 

His satisfied voice made you shiver. A large hand slipped off your heels and peeled your leggings down your legs. You squirmed, knowing that he could see the wet spot on your your panties. 

“Esti atat de frumoasă iubirea mea.” You are so beautiful my love.

He smoothed your panties against your wet crease before he yanked them down in one swift movement, exposing you to the cool air in his bedroom. 

“I’m going to enjoy this. You, not so much,” 

“Get on with it.” 

“Watch your mouth, and stop rolling your eyes.” 

Bucky squeezed your ass cheek as he read you like a book, and you braced for a blow.

“Don’t hurt me,” you pleaded in a whisper, chastened now.

“This isn’t going to be about pain.” 

You rubbed your nipples against the comforter, searching for some relief to the sexual tension coursing through your body.

“Then what?”

You were breathless as he rubbed circles on your ass. A slap landed, quick and stinging, causing you to  jump.

“It’s about you being a spoiled little princess.” 

His voice was rougher. Oh Lord. That nickname was your undoing. It felt so right. 

“I am not!” 

You gasped when he spanked you again, heat radiating from the spot. 

“Brat. Don’t contradict me.”

Fingers slipped into your folds.

“See? A spoiled, wet princess.” 

You bucked, lifting your ass to his touch, not trying to hide your reaction. 

“Mmm, you like being called that, don’t you? Your body can’t hide the truth.” 

“Daddy…” 

You buried your face in the bed as he rubbed your clit. How could he be so calm?

“That’s it, Prinţesă Open up for me.” 

More spanks made you moan wantonly. 

“I’m going to fuck you you here…” 

Two fingers moved deep into your cunt..

 “…And here.”

He lightly stroked the cleft of your ass. 

“Yes, I want you there. Please!”

Bucky’s intake of breath told you that he hadn’t expected your response. 

“Iti place, Prinţesă aia? You like that?” 

“God, it feels so good.” 

Bucky circled your tight hole and worked a finger inside. 

“Fuck, you feel so tight and untouched,” he crooned as you arched into his hands. 

“Almost innocent. But you are anything but, aren’t you? You were acting like a slut earlier. Letting him touch what’s mine.”

“James—”

You were angry and yet so close to cumming at the same time.

Bucky laughed. 

“You wanted attention, now you have it. Do you want me to have Sam bring him here to watch me do this to you? Or should I just call Sam? Or Steve? Or Nat? All three perhaps? You need an audience, Frumoasă?”

You were so wet at what he was saying despite your embarassment.

“Look at you.”

His voice was so condescending. Why did that get you even wetter? 

“You are so worked up over the idea. They’d be eager. They all say how fine you are, and how they would have you right where I do if I hadn’t made the first move.”

You pussy spasmed as he plunged two fingers inside you again while his thumb pressed down on your clit. He pulled away before you could fall over the edge and you grunted in frustration. 

“It’ll never happen though, because you’re mine. My little slut. My cum whore.”

A smack stung your ass. 

“Fuuuckkkk, Jamie….”

You were shuddering, shaking, creaming all over his hand. 

“My pure and total slut. In every way.”

You kicked, your ass fluttering around the two fingers he had inserted. Your pussy was gushing, but you could find no relief. Another hard smack rained down and you cried out. 

“Do you think I could ever look at anyone else while you are in the world, Frumoasă? A thousand women could be in here — naked, begging — and I wouldn’t look their way. Not once."

“James—” 

“Not when you’re here, so pretty on my lap, with your pussy on fire and your body desperate for what I can give you.” 

You whimpered and tried to close your legs for pressure on your clit, but Bucky spread your thighs with his hands and stared down into your shiny, wet cunt.

“And you're not just desperate.” 

Bucky was relentless. 

“You're greedy. They would have to watch while I fucked you, because you can’t wait.”

“Oh, fuck, Jamesssss!”

“That’s why I give you all my time, my attention, all my money, because I will give you anything you ask for. And more, Frumoasă.”

You hid your face, slung over his lap, and his big fingers began stroking in and out of you again.

Lightning bolted through you.

You gasped and clamped down on his hand. You came so hard. And then he was spanking you again. Your ass was numb now. 

Somehow you wound up on the bed, belly-down, knees on the floor with Bucky kneeling behind you. You arched your back, body begging for him. Another slap landed on your heated ass.

“Look at you, putting on a show. Just like earlier in the middle of the dance floor. But all of this is mine. No one else’s.”

Bucky grasped your breasts through your thin top and you whimpered, face down on his bed, presenting for him, spreading your legs, beckoning him to stop the torture and enter you.

“Need your cock, Daddy. Please. I’m sorry!”

A sudden smack on your clit made you cry out. Pleasure bloomed out from your cunt and your thighs were now soaked.

“Yes, you need me. And it’s okay. It’s okay to be taken care of, to lose control. I’ve got you Frumoasa.” 

For once, you had nothing to say, you just gripped the covers as Bucky lifted your hands and moved them behind your back, holding them together.

“I wish you could see your ass right now, Baby.” 

His voice was husky with lust. 

“It’s so red and so warm. So fucking beautiful. But you deserve my cock, too, don’t you?” 

He sank into you without warning, your wetness enabling him to sink in with one thrust. You were helpless; you just had to take it. You moaned as his thumb entered your ass as he squeezed your hip. And you felt so full, fucked sensless by his relentless nature.

“So fucking wet,” he growled. “And you want me to fuck your ass.” 

“Please, Daddy…”

You were sobbing now, wanting everything he was giving you, everything he was saying, and more.  

“Please cum inside me.”

“Good girl,” he whispered. “Love it when you beg. You should see the creamy goodness you are leaving around my cock..”

Bucky threw his head back and moaned, shutting his eyes tight from the erotic sight. His thrusts became erratic as his cum hit your wet, hot walls. Your mouth opened in a wide O and a silent scream as you came around him.

He growled as he finished, his hand rubbing your back as he softened inside you. You slumped against the bed as he rained kisses down your spine.

“Are you okay, Prinţesă?”

You smiled.

“More than okay.”

Bucky smiled and kissed your forehead before retreating to the bathroom. He came back, cleaned you up, and helped you to fully undress as you climbed into his bed.

He went to the kitchen to get a glass of water for you and made you drink, before he took off his clothes and climbed into bed with you and took you into his arms.

“Do you still love me, Y/N?”

Confident, dominant Bucky Barnes was gone. You looked up into his uncertain blue eyes.

“Of course I do. I wouldn’t have come with you if I didn’t. I love you, James Barnes. I’m still yours. It’s just— I’ve been taking care of myself for so long that I don’t know how–”

Bucky put his finger over your lips.

“That’s all I wanted to hear right now. Let’s get some rest. We will talk in the morning. I’m not letting you go without a fight. I love you, so much, Frumoasă.”

You kissed him and relaxed into his arms.

“You own me, Frumoasă, body and soul.”

—-

Next part here.

Let me know if you like this one! 😁

[pinkaditty]

HI i love your works sm ,,, and i really love the way you write it just brings out soemtnhign in me ,,, but hear me out on leo kurosagi angst where leo keeps insulting pc and pc just took it well until he said something sensitive (maybe sth ab the way she eats? or sth abt her face etc etc) and hurt pc's feelings and he didnt feel bad when pc cried , but when he saw pc going over to sho and sho giving him dirty looks he feels remorseful but he didnt want his pride to crack so he blamed pc , and then when pc started avouding him he started mocking her but in the inside it hurt him and his pride slightly , afterwards he found out he actually has genuine feelings for pc but denies it , until he found out pc is now his bff's gf WOW i NEED him humbled 🤗🤗🤗

Pavlov's Ghoul (Leo Kurosagi x Reader x Sho Haizono; Tokyo Debunker)

hey anon this existing is UR FAULT. (ilysm ty 4 the idea) and i hope u don't mind that I added my own little twist 2 it... hehe! even if u didn't expect me 2 write anything u can't drop a fresh, juicy steak of an idea like this and expect me not 2 salivate and tear it 2 shreds via writing it out.

OMG also TYYYYYYY IM SOSO GLAD U LIKE MY WRITING YIPPEE!!!!!!!!! i hope this is up 2 ur standards anon

a/n: why does this exist? blame anon and my inner need 4 a bitchy boy 2 be humbled amen! also i feel like i've completed my tokyo debunker rite of passage... ive finally written leo angst... nirvana at last.

summary: leo gets fuckin pavloved LMAO! considered calling this "ecstasy" or something bc of the pill line but ohh my god "pavlov's ghoul" hit too hard i fear.

cw: this isn't dark imo but be warned as this is just a little bit crazy, the most insane kind of yearning ive ever written maybe. implied sexual encounters, multiple sexual innuendos, and some odd behavior. MINORS DNI AS PER USUALLLLLL!

Looking for Part 2? Click here!

Sho's kind, reasonably so. Leo knows this. Sho also has an infinite store of deeply repressed anger. Leo also knows this. It's the reason he's in Vagastrom, after all. A deep, roiling anger that seems to eat at him if he doesn't have an appropriate outlet to balance his mood. That's why he's such a good cook, why he's so good at fighting, why he's got an excellent sense of balance and rides his bike smoother than anyone else he knew. He's using these things as outlets for his anger. It's not Leo's fault that the occasional outing to trick and deceive another sexually repressed rich old man for money is something else Sho seems to derive stress relief from. And it's not Leo's fault that Sho continues to stick around with him after those jobs are done. It's never been a problem for either of them, as far as he can tell. At least, there were no problems until Little Miss Inspector showed up.

Suddenly, Sho didn't want to lie anymore. Suddenly, Sho wanted to go as far as to address you with the proper honorifics, ask for your help with setting up his food truck, and even generally spend time with you outside of that. And for what? Some trembling, scared, pathetic girl that knew nothing of the world of anomalies prior to her curse? Some girl doomed to "die" in less than one year, no less? He couldn't understand the kindness Sho showed you. It made no sense, nor any difference. You'd be dead soon, so what did it matter?

It's got to the point where he's begun to randomly put you down with petty insults and biting remarks. They usually consist of things like "Oh my god, even preschoolers know Anomalous Biological Basics! Come on Inspector, is your head screwed on right? Not even the Captain is this stupid." or "You remember your ability is useless when we need it, right? You'd be nothing more than a burden on missions if you can't even control this power. " or even "God, you're such a basic loser. Can't you find something else to do with your free time instead hang around Sho like a lovesick puppy? You're starting to look like that dog that's always around Kagami." and worse insults. He gets the occasional sidelong disapproving glance from Alan or even a slight furrowed brow from Sho, but it didn't matter to Leo. So long as he could slowly plant seeds of doubt in his fellow ghouls and put you down to satisfy his ego, even an odd look was negligible.

He couldn't even stand looking at you. The uniform they'd chosen for you was awful, didn't even highlight your curves. He hated the way you styled your hair, and always thought he could totally do it better. The way you seemed so relaxed around other ghouls pissed him off, why couldn't he be good company? He found you repulsive, unable to resist glaring at you from the corner of his eye whenever he could. He had to get rid of you somehow. He would never admit to feeling threatened by you; instead choosing to focus all that energy into believing you were simply throwing a wrench into his plans to live an easy, get-away-with-anything university life.

It's all come to a head today. Leo thinks he's had enough of seeing you at the food truck after hours, chatting it up with Sho. It's like he can't even catch this guy alone anymore. Before he knows it, he's made a beeline for the truck. His brand new shoes scuff on the brick path in his rush, and eventually begin to stain green on the grass, his brisk stride tearing through the verdant lawn. He tries not to let his anger show on his face, but it's evident in his posture and pace. He forcefully sidles himself into the conversation, leaning on the service counter next to you, not even waiting for you to finish speaking before he pipes up. "Wow, here again, huh? And here I thought a basic bitch like you would know her place! That mouth of yours must be good for something if he keeps a chatterbox like you around."

The chill settles into the air almost immediately despite his candid tone and relaxed, smug smile. He's so focused on your reaction that he hardly notices the look Sho gives him, twisted with displeasure and confusion. He watches as you visibly falter, your lopsided smile fading into a barely-there frown. He stares, unrepentant, laughing internally. This was the reaction he wanted.

He turns towards Sho and raises an eyebrow at his look. "What? She can take it." Sho's expression visibly wavers, and Leo fully expects him to back down, as he usually does. But instead, Sho turns to you and his face grows pale. Leo rolls his eyes, assuming Sho is totally overreacting, and turns to you. He stiffens at your visible tears. Okay, totally not what he expected, but come on. This was the insult that made you cry?

Leo notices Sho is at your side in record speed, wrapping an arm around your shoulders, and gently drawing your hunched form away, giving Leo a harsh look. Leo simply scoffs. As far as he was concerned, your reaction was pathetic. It wasn't going to stop him from having any fun.

This. Under no circumstances should this hurt. At all.

Leo had noticed you'd been avoiding him. You would slink away if he so much as entered the same room as you. You wouldn't look him in the eyes if he approached, keeping your expression impassive. Sometimes you'd just outright ignore him. It was beginning to become a bit of a nuisance. He couldn't properly mock you if you weren't there to witness it happening, or didn't give him the reaction he wanted. It was odd. When he faced these feelings head-on, it almost felt like he wanted your attention somehow, even if he didn't quite want it to feel like that. A nagging feeling told him that maybe he went too far with his latest insult. He didn't want to admit that, but something told him he did. It was in the way both you and Sho acted around him.

Sho was missing a lot of Leo's calls lately, sometimes not even bothering to call back. Leo partially understood, what with the food truck business booming and all, but he didn't appreciate being made to wait for his own best friend who's usually at his beck and call. Not to mention the flat, terse responses he would get from Sho more often than not nowadays. Leo knew Sho was miffed with him from last week's incident, but as far as Leo was concerned, things still ended in his favor. He hadn't seen you around Sho much anymore, which means he could go back to how things were. No more pesky little honor student to reign upon his days any longer! Sure, there was the biting underlying feeling that maybe he'd screwed things up, but one ride on the back of Sho's motorcycle, going wherever Leo wanted as per usual, and he was living the dream again. No way everything would change over a silly, insignificant insult.

For a short while, he begins to get bolder, openly mocking you when he does come across you. His originally surface-level remarks become rather personal, even using your eventual death as a way to tease you. From "You know, I'm surprised you haven't done anything to change up that unflattering look, considering you're dying soon. Ever considered dressing up a little? You might get some attention before you die." to "Hey, Little Miss Inspector! With the number of men you talk to around campus, I'm surprised nobody's written you off as a whore yet!", and worse, of course. He continues to get no such reaction out of you, and it frustrates him to no end. Why couldn't you just frown? Shrink away? Or even retort something just as scathing back to him? Your lack of entertainment towards his endless ridicule reduced his motivation, and slowly, it ended up dying off. Soon, he left you alone altogether, not talking to you unless necessary, mimicking your actions. In a way, some part of him hopes maybe this will be what gets your attention. Even if he can't quite admit to himself that your attention, regardless of whether it's positive or negative, is what he wants.

It's late, but Vagastrom students don't go to bed until far later. And Leo needs a favor.

His crushing lack of success in garnering any sort of attention or reaction or rise from you had driven him to a point. He didn't want to apologize to you or anything, but this new habit of you ignoring him was beginning to stoke his displeasure. In his pondering, he remembered how easily Sho captured your gaze and wondered if maybe he'd have any idea of what Leo could do to at least put an end to this stalemate.

Leo's reluctance shows in the way he drags his feet on the path to Sho's room, less than eager to confront him for his opinion on something so shamelessly trivial. Why was he wasting his time with this anyway? Surprisingly, the lack of a solid answer to that question did not stop his trek. A twinge in his chest told him he knew exactly why he was "wasting his time".

In the month it had been since he'd made you cry, the nagging feeling had only gotten harsher. His mind kept flickering back to the shock of your tears and how he'd not bothered to consider it much further. An uncomfortable guilt had made itself known starting then. He never really expected you to cry; he just wanted a mild reaction. He wanted your eyes on him, flashing with anger, just for a moment. Your ire was a saccharine pill laced with ecstasy that he'd gladly crush with his teeth to speed up his high. Maybe it'd be too much to say he got off on it, but he enjoyed the way you used to roll your eyes at any comments from him a little more than he cared to admit. Now, he wouldn't even get that. It'd be rare for you to so much as make fleeting eye contact with him, not that something as small as that would be enough for Leo. Part of him was willing to accept that maybe, he'd gone too far. Maybe. But how else was he supposed to monopolize your attention when you give that out so freely? To his best friend, even?

He didn't know it was possible to covet something so terribly. He found himself wondering why he couldn't catch your attention in the same way as the other ghouls? In his quest for the same attention you gave so freely to the kinder, softer ghouls, he found another version of your attention. It was negative, but it was attention nonetheless. Your sweet, honeyed rage seemed to fill his cravings and then some, so he continued to devour it under the guise of "chasing you away" or "putting you down" or "satisfying his ego". In truth, for whatever reason, there was a rather bothersome and persistent envious longing, a covet, for your attention. Leo wants to vomit. A part of him denies it still, pushing his needless feelings to the back of his brain. He had something to do, and he ought to focus on that. What good would mere wallowing do?

He makes it to Sho's room and almost considers turning back. He stares at the door, his expression morphing into a complicated look. He shifted his feet, his slippers sliding against the floor. It was quite clear he really did not want to do this. At all. He sighs and grumbles indignantly, putting his head in his hands in an attempt to gather some courage. This couldn't be that hard, right? Just in, ask Sho a question, get an answer, then out. The only reason this was easier said than done was just because it could potentially show Leo was capable of feeling remorse, which would make this conversation leagues harder than it needed to be. He shakes his head and straightens up, preparing to knock, when he notices something.

Sho's room was... unusually quiet. Usually, Leo almost always heard some loud music or a cooking show running in the background, but he couldn't hear anything this time. Sho couldn't possibly be asleep. As late as it was, the only person who Leo knew for a fact could stay up past him was Sho, regardless of how much sleep he had gotten. There was no chance Sho was asleep. Believe it or not, Leo doesn't like to spy on Sho. But curiosity overwhelms him. What could he possibly be doing that would render the whole room in silence?

"Haxs," he whispers, listening closely.

The first thing he hears is the cling-clanging of Alan hard at work on a car in the garage. Not the sound he was meant to be focusing on. Then he hears endless jeering and loud insults shouted, though they're all muffled like they're underground. Another pit fight? Still, not the sound he's looking for. He sifts through the sounds he hears before he settles on the one coming directly from Sho's room.

Voices. Groaning, strained voices. The sound of wet skin against wet skin. Panting. Sho's panting, specifically. He could tell by the slight nasally tone of it.

Leo felt his face gradually warm. Christ, of course it'd be this he'd be up to. Leo muffles a laugh into the collar of his pajamas, keeping his hand clamped over his mouth as his body shook with mirth. When he finally calms down, he slinks off to the corner down the hall, and hides himself there, shamelessly still listening to it. Sho's a sly dog. Leo certainly didn't expect him to be getting up to anything this soon. He leans his body against the wall, crossing his arms and drumming his fingers on his arm, waiting for Sho to finish. He smirks to himself, as though enjoying the vocal show.

...

He had to admit, whoever he was with had gorgeous moans. He'd have to ask Sho if he'd be willing to pass this girl's number. He could use a couple things to get his mind off of you.

...

Okay, he had to stop listening to this now. He lifts his stigma and holds his hands over his ears for good measure, partially trying to hide the furious red blush across his face. As pretty as that girl's moans were, he was not going to listen to his best friend's climax. No thanks. He huffs out an impatient breath as his cheeks cool down, leaning his back against the wall, leaning his head back until it hit the wall with a dull thump. Now he just had to wait it out. He knew damn well Sho would never let a girl stay over. He'd never hear the end of it from yours truly, Leo.

Leo's right. It isn't long before he hears the door to Sho's room click, and hears murmured voices travel down the hall. He smirks, rushing down the hall in the opposite way, so it doesn't look like he was listening the whole time. He listens, waiting for a cue of some sort.

"Shame you have to go, you know." Sho's voice. Laced with relief, pleasure, and a thick tiredness. Leo's skin crawled. He could practically feel the smile in Sho's voice.

"It's not so bad." The girl responded with a light and playful tone, her voice seemingly much more put together than Sho's despite all that moaning. The voice sounded oddly familiar, but Leo brushed it off. Must be someone he shares classes with. "I've got things to do anyway. But it was nice to spend some time with you, Sho." Eagh. Leo internally hopes this girl isn't the type to get easily attached.

"...Yeah. Same to you. Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

Finally, he heard the girl's footsteps trailing down the hall, heading in his direction. Leo hurriedly pulls his phone out of his pocket, making sure the screen was bright as he flipped through the latest trends. He made a point of not looking up until he heard the footsteps nearing him.

He looks up, prepared for a simple glance, but ends up being rooted to the spot.

It was you. Of course, it was you. Who else would be taunting enough?

Despite himself, his gaze remains glued to you, his head turning as you walk past him. For a moment, Leo thinks you're just going to ignore him again. Then, suddenly, your gaze meets his in a flash, and he stiffens, almost out of fear. The way your eyebrows crease and the way your lips twitch downward almost makes him salivate. You were clearly displeased to see him. Even so, he notices you don't slow down, continuing your way down the hall, not bothering to crane your neck to look at him.

Leo remains rooted to the spot, watching your figure as you leave. His jaw hangs open slightly, his chest heaving with shocked breaths. His eyes are wide open, pools of gold reflecting your retreating form. His hand trembles as he holds his phone, the latest trends left neglected in the wake of a single mean-spirited glance from you. He feels his heart pound mercilessly in his chest, as though confirming what he'd tried so desperately to deny.

All at once, anger and arousal seem to grip him simultaneously. Anger at himself for feeling arousal from a mere negative glance from you. He couldn't possibly have craved your attention so viscerally he'd happily accept mere scraps. And yet here he was, a lap dog, watching you as you leave as though silently begging for another glance, another chance to watch your eyes burn with that familiar, delicious anger, another meal to satisfy his starved heart.

For a moment, he would have gladly followed you, and pestered you to death, just to irk you and become a willing victim of your wrath. Anything... just for that attention.

a/n: wow. no stop why am i kind of in shock at the poetic lines i kinda think i did a great job! but 4 whatever reason it's always the writing i think was total shit that does actual numbers *sob*

aghhhh in any case. no i don't have an excuse 4 this. my requests are still technically closed. i just... couldn't help myself... so consider this a freebie. regardless though if u like my writing feel free 2 fill the fuck out of my inbox idnc i love hearing from y'all.

also TUMBLR KEEPS TURNING OFF MY REBLOGS!!!! GRAH!!!!!! tumblr hates me y'all they keep catching on2 me 4 writing porn :( so please if u really wanna show appreciation and tumblr won't let u reblog, leave a comment! those make me happy :)

anyways. usual note that i adore likes, comments, and tagged reblogs!! please tell me how much you like my writing, i love to hear it and it keeps me going! until next timeeeeeeee!

EDIT: I FORGOTTT QUICK EXPLAINATION: im assuming everyone knows pavlov's dog and the whole classical conditioning theory. this story is basically that mixed with the mere-exposure effect.

neutral stimulus: mc's presence

natural response: leo's arousal/excitement

response-producing stimulus: mc's anger

mere-exposure effect: psychological effect in which a like or dislike of things is developed merely due 2 familiarity.

[zumek0]

college bf! headcanons; kozume, k.

↪︎ headcanons, gn reader, fluff, a little angst but very mild, mentions of an unspecified argument but it gets resolved, allusions to an anxiety attack, mentions of marriage.

↝ summary: headcanons about your and kenma’s relationship.

College bf! Kenma who can take all his classes remotely but still takes two in-person electives so that you both can walk together to and from campus.

College bf! Kenma who isn’t one to wake up early (the earliest he can wake up is 10 a.m.) but makes an effort to do so when he knows you have an important exam so that he can have breakfast with you and wish you good luck.

College bf! Kenma who doesn’t listen to music that often (maybe sometimes has a video game's OST playing as background noise while finishing assignments) but still listens to every single song you recommend to him.

He always tells you his thoughts on each song (even if he doesn’t particularly like it).

College bf! Kenma, whose anxiety prevents him from openly showing you affection in public, but makes up for it by clinging to you constantly while in private.

College bf! Kenma who, after spending the night, makes sure to leave at least one hoodie at your apartment.

He insists that it’s so that he has clean clothes to wear if he needs them but then gets pouty whenever you wear one of yours instead of his.

College bf! Kenma who loves having you sit on his lap or between his legs while he games.

Usually, he rests his head either on your shoulder or atop your head.

Whenever he gets bored or his wrist starts bothering him (you cannot tell me he wouldn't have carpal tunnel syndrome, lol), he leans back and wraps his arms around you, letting you take control for a while.

College bf! Kenmawho cries when you two have the first “big” argument of your relationship.

He prides himself on staying level-headed in stressful situations and looking for solutions instead of panicking and falling into despair.

So then, why does he feel like this? Why does he feel so angry? Why does his skin feel uncomfortable? Why is his mind making up scenarios where you break up with him? Why does he feel like there’s a black hole where his stomach should be? Why does his chest feel like he’s on the verge of a heart attack? Why does he feel so guilty?

The last two hours repeat themselves over and over in his mind. Why did he say all those things? Why did he act that way towards you? Why did he hurt you like that? Why does he keep crying?

Eventually, you both calm down enough to talk and resolve the issue.

He decides that he never wants to go through that experience again.

Especially not if you felt even half as bad as he felt.

College bf! Kenma whose mom asks about you every time he calls her son.

If you happen to be around, she’ll always ask to talk to you for a bit (more like an hour and a half).

He's pretty sure she only calls him as an excuse to talk to you.

Eventually, he sends her your phone number and feels slightly offended that she doesn’t call nearly as often as she used to.

College bf! Kenma who keeps trying to convince you to move in with him as it would be more cost effective and convenient. 

College bf! Kenma who, when you eventually agree to live together, lets you search for a new apartment as you insisted on starting fresh.

College bf! Kenma who, when you move into your new place, you drag out to Walmart at 8 p.m. to buy two cups, insisting that they’re a symbol of this new stage of your relationship.

College bf! Kenma who finds himself wanting to become Fiancè! Kenma more and more everyday.

finally posting this after having it sit in my drafts for half a year 🫠 i also finally learned how to make my html text work for the colored words lol. reblogs and likes are appreciated!

—han

[fanged-fanfics]

Hello! U cann call me 🍙anon! I would like to Macaque hcs with his and GN!readers child! I feel like Macaque would teach his cub self defense when they start to walk just in case for the future, love your work btw!^^

💜🌙 To Raise A Warrior — Macaque x Parent!GN Reader HCs 🌙💜

Genres: Fluff || they/them pronouns for reader || No warnings needed

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁⋆˚｡⋆୨🌙୧⋆˚｡⋆✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖

- Macaque was very glad when he had a cub with you. He tried his best to keep up a 'cool' demeanor, but he couldn't help crumbling when he saw the bright, curious eyes of your cub looking up at him

- He co-parented with you the best he could. He was new to this, the entire concept of parenting, but he took your lead and worked with you to accomplish it. He learned the best he could how to be gentle, how to be a kind and guiding father to the little infant you had together

- He had his moments of slipping or panicking a bit, of course. You were used to him suddenly handing you your cub with some little problem he got caught up with, or the cub simply being super emotional and Macaque having no idea what to do when the poor thing was crying for literally no reason. He was no stranger to sleepless nights, but it took a while for his sensitive ears to get used to the piercing baby cries

- When the cub got older, Macaque had adjusted fully, and was now completely fit into his role as a dad. He'd talk to you about concerns he had over your cub, the biggest he had being protection. Macaque led a dangerous life, one with what felt like constant enemies. Even if he put his battles with Wukong aside, associating with the Monkey Crew put him in extraterrestrial battles often

- He brought up the idea of self-defense training to you as soon as possible because of this. You had many long discussions about it, which ended in him agreeing to wait until your cub was old enough for it to be safe

- As the cub grew, they saw Macaque's frequent training and heard about his acts of heroism (that he swore was because he had to), and they ended up taking after their baba like a duckling to a little pond of water. To Macaque's mild surprise, the cub actually approached him first with the training idea

- With your additional approval and supervision, Macaque began proper training. You kept a close eye, reminding Macaque that your kid was different than him, and he needed to take it easy. It took a few weeks to get the formula just right, but Macaque was eventually able to set a stable and comfortable rhythm with your cub to train with

- Training was at least twice every week, or whenever your kid asked for extra assistance. Now that Macaque had a pace that was accommodating to them, he was able to see them properly begin to flourish and make progress. He frequently told you how proud he was of your cub, and soon extended that praise to your kid as well, showing his pride in their work

- The cub frequently came to you to show off any moves they learned, and reassured you whenever you became worried about them. It brought them a lot of joy to have those bonding moments with Macaque, and you could tell Macaque held those moments close to his heart

- If your cub ever gets hurt during training, Macaque always feels terrible. As an old habit, he might distance himself for a bit as he deals with the shame. He didn't want this to be like what he'd done to MK, he didn't want his kid to see themself as a weapon. Several discussions with you and others helped him learn why that mentality was bad. Even through constant reassurances, he couldn't help but be a little protective over your kid together, and there's usually a long break after any injuries until the cub is absolutely 100% sure that they're ready to continue

- Macaque can't help but brag if he ever sees your kid using the tactics he taught them, he practically puffs up with pride and makes sure to mention how he was their mentor, to prove to others (and himself) that he's capable of being kind and a genuinely good dad

[gay-dorito-dust]

I read about Johnny with shy!reader (it’s so adorable) and it gave me an idea. Idk to write down HOW they met but Johnny has a huge crush on her pre-relationship and he keeps asking shy!reader out on a date but shy!reader keeps rejecting him. Until she finally accepts going on a date with him. Johnny family are curious why Johnny is acting strange in a good way. Shy!Reader superhero friends are being protective of her. Please feel free to pick any superhero friends of shy!reader

I couldn’t think of anyone other than like Remy (gambit) so he’s here bc I wanted him to be. This was too long.

‘Come on, just one date!’ Johnny exclaims as he looks at you with his brown eyes, the very eyes they made you suddenly unable to maintain eye contact as your gaze suddenly found your hands more interesting.

‘I don’t think so Johnny, it’s not right.’ You try telling him, wanting nothing more than to be his next conquest to be bragged about inappropriately behind your back for points with other disgusting men. You had to admit that Johnny was attractive but his cocky, arrogant personality kind of spoilt any possibility of ever wanting to date him in the first place, that and your friend Remy Lebeau didn’t necessarily take kindly to him nor his careless view on relationships.

‘You deserve someone who’s going to treasure you, respect you and believe in you, not whatever that Johnny boy does to his poor partners.’ He told you one day when you informed him of Johnny’s insistent need to take you out on a date. Remy didn’t like this one bit and would even keep a close eye on him whenever they were on missions together, not wanting you to be in pain when getting involved with a man as vain as the one and only Johnny Storm.

‘This reminds me of a story I’ve read somewhere about a prideful and vain man called Narcissus.’ You said.

Remy rose a brow. ‘What happened to him?’

‘He was so vain and so full of himself that after rejecting a nymph called Echo, he ended up falling in love with his own reflection and ended up dying as a result.’ You replied and Remy couldn’t help but laugh and clap a hand on your shoulder.

‘If only it could be that simple mon cherie, if only.’ Remy says through laughter and you couldn’t help but smile in response before remembering your current situation with Johnny, fiddling with your fingers out of habit. ‘If only.’ You whispered to yourself, hoping that Johnny would grow bored of you and move on.

However Johnny didn’t get bored of you and move on like you had hoped, if anything he only became persistent in asking you out, so much to the point where you were openly rejecting him at least three times a week because of it. You honestly didn’t see what was so special about you to warrant his attention, you were the complete opposite of Johnny in every possible way, you two just wouldn’t work out but for some reason Johnny was heavily insistent that you would.

Johnny frowns at your words. ‘You’ve been saying that for months.’

‘And yet that hasn’t stopped you from pestering me for a date.’ You muttered under your breath as your magic flickered in response to your conflicting emotions. Sure Johnny was handsome, that was a given, but his reputation as a playboy unfortunately proceeds him as you attempted to put distance between the two of you; you weren’t giving your heart to someone who wasn’t going to treasure it. ‘Besides I find it hard that you can’t get a date from anyone else.’ You continued and you swore you saw a flicker of hurt within his eyes after saying this.

‘But I don’t want to date anyone else,’ Johnny cried as he grabbed your hands, causing your magic to spark as his warmth enveloped them, ‘I want to date you, just tell me how I can make my dream a reality my little magician.’ He adds softly as his deep brown eyes searched your own for the answers he wanted more then anything.

‘Quit it with the playboy stuff, it drive good people and draws in the bad.’ You advised him before leaving Johnny standing there as your words echoed within his head, he was determined to get that date with you and if it meant quitting his old ways then he’ll gladly do it, for he had harboured a crush on you the moment you had saved him by using your magic the first day you met. Johnny didn’t care that you weren’t confident or loud, he loved you for who you were and didn’t want you to change in the slightest, however he thought that nothing would ever come to pass between the two of you and he had looked to get his mind off of you by hooking up with other people.

Which in retrospect wasn’t exactly going to earn him any favours in asking his crush out. It also didn’t help that your friend Remy was protective over you but he couldn’t blame the Cajun man, what he could hold against him though was all the threats the mutant had given him in how he wasn’t the man you needed in your life, given the fact that he played love like it was a toy and you weren’t a toy to be played with. Johnny didn’t like it when Remy Lebeau could read him like a book because he knew he was right, and he knew that Remy was only an older brother figure to you and nothing more but that didn’t stop him from getting jealous from how much time you spent with him regardless; another thing that he knew you weren’t at all attracted to.

So if Johnny needed to prove he could change to win your heart, then he’ll gladly change to prove that he could.

After a long gruelling month passes by before you shared a mission with Johnny and news that he had left the playboy lifestyle behind him felt like a dream, something too good to be reality as you didn’t expect him to actually listen to you. So when the mission was over you could already see Johnny making his way towards you but instead of a shit eating grin, he was smiling softly at you and you couldn’t help but find him beautiful in the moment, pretty even as his eyes never once left you at all.

‘Hey little magician, long time no see.’ He greets you and for once you didn’t feel as though you had to force the smile as you look at him.

‘You’ve changed, I didn’t think you’d actually listen to me.’ You replied, cutting to the chase as it was the only thing that was at the forefront of your mind, dying to be let out the moment you saw Johnny act unlike himself or at least the Johnny you were more well acquainted with. Johnny shrugged. ‘You were right, I was only drawing the wrong kind of people with how I was doing things and now I hope I can draw the person I’ve been wanting to for along while.’ He responded with a soft smile that made you feel as though he was alighting a fire within you.

‘And who would they be?’ You asked, although you were more than aware of the answer but you just wanted to hear it come from his mouth and actually believe him.

‘Preferably you and only you if you’re available on this Sunday at 7pm.’ Johnny says as he watches your reaction closely, uncaring of the unamused Remy in the background who was watching like a hawk, you were the only one that mattered and he wasn’t about to let the Cajun ruin all his hard work becuase he didn’t like him being near you. Now normally you would’ve shut him down and walked away but this time was different and you knew it in the way he looked at you, you knew it in the way that you were actually tempting the idea and that you were finding yourself answer before your brain could catch up.

‘Yeah I would love to.’ Was what left your mouth as the way Johnny’s eyes shone like beautiful jewels and Remy’s looks of disbelief was all you could remember from that day. Meanwhile Johnny was back wt the Baxter building, rushing to get himself cleaned up before frustrating himself over what he should wear for your date in hopes of winning you over even more.

Sue, Reed and Ben could only watch as Johnny was smiling like some lovesick fool, constantly looking at his phone every so often as though he was waiting for something before going back to trashing his room for the perfect outfit.

‘Is he okay? He didn’t hit his head did he?’ Ben asked.

‘Looks like Johnny got himself a date.’ Reed replies before squinting his eyes as he watched the aforementioned male once again look at his phone just as it let him know that he had gotten a text. ‘He’s never looked this genuinely happy to go on a date in a long, long time.’ He then adds.

‘Whatever it is, I hope it stays like this because it’s clear to see that he obviously likes whoever this mysterious person is.’ Sue shrugs as she watched her brother knowingly, she knew about you from how often Johnny came to her about the one who kept getting away, you really must’ve set him straight enough for Johnny to actually be serious and change for the better and she couldn’t help but want to meet you even more because of it.

‘I can hear you all you know.’ Johnny said as he adjusted the black tie that completed his suited attire, he looked smart and handsome, something he never did at family dinners at all but for you he’d pull out all the stops even if it meant being in a expensive suit that he’ll never wear again. ‘And they’re here so don’t be embarrassing me okay?’ He adds sarcastically as he pats Reed on the shoulder, nudges Ben and hugs Sue before rushing to meet you by the entrance, his smile never once faltering at all as it only seemed to grow bigger upon his face to the point it hurt him.

Johnny didn’t care as he was quick to usher you in, he didn’t care that Reed, Ben and Sue were just behind him watching you both because they were bound to find out about you sooner or later, especially his sister whom he went to the moment you told him to drop his playboy act for advice almost immediately. Johnny didn’t care about anything because you were standing before him looking as beautiful as ever.

‘Hey.’ He says.

‘Hi.’ You replied.

You both smiled widely at each other for a good minute or two, much to Sue’s delight, secretly happy to see her brother happy and in the presence of the person who made him that genuinely happy. ‘You going to invite your date in or stare at them a little while longer.’ Ben interiors the cute moment, causing Johnny to look at him unamused while you fiddled with your hands that sparked with magic.

‘Dude.’ Johnny said but Ben only shrugged his shoulders.

‘What Ben wanted to say,’ Reed stepped in as he offered you a welcoming smile as did Sue as she stood next to him, allowing Reed to put his hand on her waist to pull her into his side as her hand easily fell to his chest, ‘welcome to the family y/n.’

[forwards-beckon-rebound]

kiss and cry

summary | you’ve learnt to build your walls sky high in the wake of dick grayson’s abrupt departure from the world of skating. but one decade later, he’s back like nothing ever happened, and you’re back to square one. prompt | language of flowers event: a bouquet of purple hyacinths in blue wrapping paper with a pink ribbon ♡ pairing | dick grayson x gn!reader wc | 3.2k warnings/tags | pairs figure skating, childhood friends to strangers to ???, mutual pining, repressed feelings, angst, swearing, insecurity, no use of y/n, very liberal interpretation of how you’d qualify for the olympics ty @strangergraphics for the divider!

Brian Orser is a liar. 

“Oh c'mon kid, I had no idea. I thought this was a good kind of surprise! You might have a chance at the Olympics this time around!”

You should’ve known something was up when he asked you to stay after practice. The old man is annoyingly close to catching up with you, and if you weren’t wearing skate guards right now, you’d speed walk to the lockers faster. 

“Isn’t this good? You need a new partner, Dick finally decided to call me back, and anyways, I thought you l-”

You don’t need to hear the rest of his sentence to know what he’s about to say. “I didn’t. And I don’t anymore.” Neither of you seem convinced, but at least it gets him to shut up. 

What pains you the most is you can’t even be mad at the older man. You can’t cry, or scream, or throw a tantrum like you were 9 again, because at the end of the day, this is the coach you had begged to take you on. The one who has been behind so many legends and basically built your career up from the ground. Had this been any other situation, any other person, besides the Boy Wonder himself, you would probably be on the verge of much happier tears. But you know, just like last time, he won’t be here to stay. And you don’t know how much more heartbreak you can take.

Before you get the chance to talk him out of it, a pair of footsteps joins you. Speak of the fucking devil.

It’s like they had planned some flanked attack, with Brian herding you towards the front of the building and Dick stepping in to cut you off as you’re about to make your grand escape. No idea, your ass. Brian knew you wouldn’t be able to say no if they had you cornered like this.

“Dick!” he exclaims, pushing past you to wrap the black-haired man in bear hug. Normally, you think you’d be hurt by how his face is practically illuminating (he had never greeted you like that before). But you have your own worries to deal with: namely, a heart that is currently trying to claw its way out of your throat and lungs that have forgotten how to inhale air. You think Brian might still be speaking, but if he is, you’ve tossed that all to the side in lieu of studying the man in front of you.

You make it a point not to meet his gaze, even as you feel him trying to meet yours. Perhaps it’s pride, perhaps it’s fear, but either way, you know as soon as you look at him, properly look at him, any objectivity will fly out the door.

So you settle for the obvious things. He’s taller, and his face is sharper, no longer rounded by baby fat. Even the spiky haircut you used to tease him for is grown out now. He looks good—but nothing like the boy you have enshrined in your memories. This isn’t the boy who would stay behind to help you practice your jumps. This isn’t the boy who would pack an extra lunch for you in case you forgot yours. This isn’t the boy you cried yourself to sleep over for months, the boy who almost made you quit the one thing you loved most in the world because the thought of skating alone made you want to hurl.

This? Him? It’s just a bitter reminder that figure skating wasn’t the only thing he left behind all those years ago. 

You think you hear the two of them discuss the technical details. Practice schedules, song choices, choreography—it all goes in one ear and out the other. It’s a conversation you have with the older man at the start of every season. An annual promise that that year would be the year you finally earn the recognition you had worked so hard for. 

Technically, everything had been perfect. Technically, you were good. Enough to consistently land a spot at the Grand Prix Final.

But not good enough for a medal. It was never enough. No matter how much training you did, how many extra jumps you crammed into your programs, how many partners you had cycled through. There was no use in denying it: after Dick had left, you hadn’t been the same skater.

It’s pathetic. Your crush had not only abandoned you at 14, but any hopes of even making it to the podium had been crushed then as well. And you hate that 10 years later, you still haven’t moved on. Not enough to say no to his offer. Because like it or not, chemistry is everything in pairs, and there’s nobody like him. There is nobody like Dick Grayson.

It’s silent now. They’re waiting for you. 

You finally look up to meet his gaze. “Okay, I’ll do it.” 

—

It’s too easy to fall back into step with Dick. He always greets you with a smile, brings you snacks before practice (homemade ones at that), and carries your bag to your car for you, even though you insist that you’re more than capable of doing it yourself. He’s certainly trying, but the more effort he puts in, the more you can’t help but resent him. 

His kindness is all just a means to an end for him. He’s buttering you up so your movements are less goddamn stiff when you’re next to him, so you at least vaguely resemble an evenly matched pair. You know from Brian that he’s only coming back because of a stupid bet he made with his brother. He’s just here to prove he can make it to the Olympics. Your childhood dream, what you’ve decided would be the sign that you’ve made it—to him, it’s just another achievement he can use to inflate his ego. The worst part about it is he’s good enough that he could genuinely make it happen that effortlessly. And once he’s satisfied with that, he’ll waltz out of your life just as quickly as he came in. 

So when he offers you a hand as you step out of the rink, when he happens to have an extra energy drink, when he suggests a “team bonding” dinner, you don’t accept. You’ll let yourself entertain him on the ice for the sake of the skate. But nothing more. 

At the very least, you can admit that your performance aspect has definitely improved since skating alongside Dick. You breeze through Eastern Regionals, then Skate Canada, then Skate America, and in no time at all, you’re at the Grand Prix Final: the one barrier you’ve always hit. 

The short goes even better than you imagined it would. Too good. You’ve seen the posts that the fans have made about the two of you, digging up old skating clips to support their theories about the two of you. There’s a poorly worded interview by Brian that does nothing but fuel the flames, and even some of the commentators have been talking about how good the two of you look together. All signs seem to be telling you that you have nothing to worry about; the two of you are perfect. They don’t understand that that’s exactly what you’re worried about. 

You don’t catch yourself until it’s too late. You’re slowly getting consumed by him—by his soft smiles and whispers of encouragement and stupid, stupid puns. You’re back where you started, feeling weightless as the two of you skate your free program, actually losing yourself to the music. There’s nothing to prove anymore; this isn’t a performance—this is just how it’s always meant to be. It should feel right. But it doesn’t, because you’re terrified that if you let yourself get comfortable in his embrace, you won’t be able to skate like this ever again.

You pop the triple Lutz. Then you go into an Euler and a double toe loop that’s under-rotated too. You don’t understand, your jumps have always been pristine, especially your doubles. You haven’t made a sloppy mistake like this in a while. The last time was when–

Shit, you’re too early into the step sequence, the turn too sharp at the corner. You meet his gaze repentantly, like that will absolve you of your guilt. You don’t know what emotion you’re expecting to find in eyes. Maybe anger? Frustration? That’s certainly how you feel at the moment. Whatever it is, it’s certainly not adoration. 

You want to ask him what the hell is going on, but there’s no time. Last move. Death spiral. You have to hold hands, and the contact makes your skin burn. You don’t have the heart to look at him again. You’re afraid of what you’re going to find.

Suddenly everything feels too tight: the rink, your chest, the skates around your feet. You have to get out of there. One revolution, two, three, four. You can hold on, it’s almost over. Another four. He pulls you back towards him. It’s your final pose. The two of you are chest to chest. 

You just have to hold this for a second, and then you’re free. You can do it. You can do it. And then he’s leaning in even closer, until his forehead is pressed against yours and your lips hovering over each other. 

You can’t do it anymore and all you can think about is how to get out of there. You don’t even bother to wait for your score; you’ll deal with Brian’s scolding later. But you know if you stay out there any longer, you won’t be able to scrape together what little sanity you still have left. 

You’re leaving. You have to leave.

And as you run back to the lockers, you realize somebody’s been calling out your name.

“Hey, wait! Is everything okay?” Of course, the one person you don’t want to see would follow you. “Why did you leave like that? Did I do something wrong?” His hand hovers over your arm for a moment before he pulls it away and you don’t know whether you should laugh or cry. He used to do it with practiced ease back when you were kids, when you would joke that he had cooties but let him do so all the same. Now, you’re not sure if you can stand his touch, and from the look on his face, it seems to break his heart.

”Nothing, let’s just forget about this.” You feel like you’re being strangled and it takes all of your energy not to burst into tears at the moment. 

”No,” he says softly. “No, I know you, I know you’re not okay. Please, let’s talk about this.” 

And suddenly, everything’s just too much. He’s acting too nice to you, like he actually cares. Like maybe the fervent glances and lingering touches on the ice mean more to him than just pandering to the judges. But you know he doesn’t, because then he wouldn’t have left.

You let out a bitter laugh, shaking your head. “No, you don’t know a single thing about me. So don’t act like you care about me now.”

”I do though!” 

“Bullshit. We’re not anything to each other.” 

His face crumples immediately. He takes a step back. This is the closest he’s ever been to tears.

On a kinder day, you’d take it all back. You’d apologize and beg for his forgiveness and he would be disgustingly kind like he always is and you could both forget about this. But you’re tired of dancing around the issue and you think there’s a sick part of you that revels in his pained expression. 

You take a step forward. “You’re just a coworker. This? This act where we pretend like we can stand to be in the same room as each other? This isn’t real. So stop acting like it is. You didn’t care about me when you left. So why the change now? Do you know how fucking hard it was for me to move on? I couldn’t even skate afterwards. I thought my career was over. And I’ve had to fight every single day to prove that—that I’m still a capable skater, that I have a place in this sport.” 

Your voice trembles, and it takes all of your strength to swallow the lump in your throat. “I had to fight to be able to skate without you. To have the courage to stand on the ice alone. So I’m sorry that I’m not willing to welcome you back with open arms, because I know this is just some stupid game to you. You’ll get to the Olympics, because of course you will, and I’ll get to ride on the coattails of that. And that will be the greatest moment of my career, but to you, it’s just another thing on your checklist. Then you’ll go back to whatever you decided is more worthy than m–” You choke on your own words. “Than skating. And I’ll have to pick up the broken pieces again. But frankly speaking, I don’t know if I can do that a second time.”

It’s dead silent, save for your panting. You feel like you just ran a marathon. And Dick? You can’t read him, and that’s what scares you the most.

”Forget it.” The silence is driving you insane, and you just start running your mouth. “Fuck, forget it. I should just be grateful you’re even my partner this season. It’s the only way I’ll make it to the Olympics. I know you’re thinking it, you and Brian—”

“Don’t say that.”

“—that’s why you left, isn’t it? Didn’t want to be tied down to a pathetic fucking loser.”

“I never said th—”

”I can’t blame you. I’d leave me too—“

“I DIDN’T LEAVE YOU!” 

Now you’re both silent. You’ve never heard him raise before. You’ve never seen him this desperate either. He’s shaking as he stands in front of you. “You’re right, I didn’t care about skating. It was always just a hobby to me. But I stayed because of you. Because I was young and stupid and in love and the only way I knew how to show you that was to skate with you. And it killed me when I had to quit, but I just…I saw how much passion you had for skating. Like it was the air you needed to breathe, but I knew I couldn’t dedicate myself to the sport like you could.. And you deserved a partner who would love skating as much as you do.”

You think your brain short circuits after “in love,” and if he says anything else after that, you certainly aren’t processing it. “…You loved me?”

Dick laughs like you’ve just asked if water is a liquid. ”Of course I did. Everybody knew it too. Brian used to tease me about the way I would look at you. And I figured I would finally tell you after I quit, in case it would make things awkward, but then…”

“I blocked you.” You whisper in horror. 

“Yeah, so I figured you didn’t want anything to do with me after that. I didn’t realize quitting meant I would lose you too.” 

And suddenly you’re 14 again, watching the boy you’ve had a crush on for over half of your life tell you that he doesn’t want to skate anymore, and you feel so small and so stupid. “Oh god. So all of those years…”

He nods, “I lied about the Olympics thing. Or well, I really did have a bet with Jason, but when Brian told me that you needed a new partner…I came back hoping it would be a chance to make it up to you.”

You’re still having a hard time wrapping your head around the fact that maybe Dick had genuinely been trying to make amends with you. “So you being nice wasn’t just for show or team-building or whatever?”

“Team-building? God, I don’t think there’s a world where I can love you in any other way.”

The first realization that he had loved you in the past had been enough to nearly give you a heart attack. But to hear love? In the present tense? You think back to how he’s been acting for the past few months. All of the weird incidents that you can’t just explain away by saying that he’s making fun of you or being civil to you as a teammate or just being nice because that’s how he is. 

Because there’s no other explanation for why he looks at you like you hung the stars in the sky, why he lifts you with a reverence that could rival the likes of Keats and Byron, why he lingers on the ice after every practice, like he’s chasing the last vestiges of your warmth. 

And you have so many words dancing on the tip of your tongue, ways in which you can lay down your heart for him as he has done for you. But both of you know that even this stolen moment is just that: stolen time.

”Shall we go back?” He offers you his hand evenly, but there’s a tremble in his voice that gives him away. Like he’s worried that even after all of this, there was a universe in which you still don’t reciprocate his feelings. 

Your heart is screaming at you to assure him, promise that yes of course, you would accept him. But the words evaporate from your mind before you have a chance to grasp onto them. So you hope that at the very least, your actions can convey a fraction of your feelings. Hand in hand, you make your way back to the rink. No matter what the result is, you think it’ll be alright if you have Dick’s shoulder to cry on after this is all over. 

—

“And with a free score of 129.44 and a final score of 205.57, that puts America’s own duo from Gotham at third place in the Grand Prix Final!” 

Third, the word echoes in your head, taking you a few moments to process. Third, and there were no other American teams on the podium. Sure, it isn’t exactly the most fairytale ending, but it’s better this way—more real. You turn to look at Dick, who you’re sure has the exact same look of astonishment that you do. You remember Brian doing the math before you guys had even made it to the venue. Based on this event and the rest of your results this season, it was clear that the two of you were the uncontested pair in the whole country. 

“You’re going to the Olympics!” Brian whoops, hugging the both of you and jumping for joy in a way you think only he can get away with. You’re grinning so hard your muscles are starting to twitch but honestly you could care less about that. All of the training, all of the sleepless nights had finally paid off, and you felt like you had really, truly made it. And the fact that you did it with Dick makes it all the sweeter to you. 

You got a medal, a boyfriend, and that day, the kiss and cry finally lived up to its name.

more dick skating hcs | event m.list | main m.list | navi

[tetragonia]

A Wave of Feelings

Rafe Cameron x F!Pogue!Reader

Blurb: Rafe and (Y/N) got into an argument for God knows how many times, about literally anything when they breath the same air, ranging from a small accident to a heated one about their cultural beliefs. But something in the air was different this time. Or was it only in the air? Not something in their heart and mind when the two of you finally realize something big that could change your lives?

Note: I have always wanted to write an angst especially for this character and it has occurred to me one day that arguing/miscommunication plot is kind of my fave trope so here we are lol.

Warning: angst, hurt/comfort, miscommunication, argument, bad writing lol English isn't my first language. also, soft!Rafe in the end!

Words: 1490

The sun hung low over the Outer Banks as Rafe Cameron and you found yourself embroiled in yet another heated argument. This was clearly not the first time you both got into an argument. Some of them were heavy like that one time when your best friend asked you to go to the party just to talk to Rafe (which she did) but then he dumped her after the party and she cried for weeks on your shoulder, or some Kook-owned properties that limited your access, or some insulting banter between Rafe and your friends (that got you realized how much he hated JJ).

But most of the time it was just about silly things: when he knocked up your beer accidentally, when you sailed in front of him and accidentally splashed some water (it didn't even make his already oily hair wet), or when you were napping in a near beach and he claimed that it was his territory (he was in the Cut area, for God's sake!). You two always found a way to argue.

This time, your voices clashed like crashing waves, echoing off the walls of the old shipwreck where you had sought refuge.

"You're impossible, Rafe! Always acting like you own this place, roaming around thinking that you're so much better than us Pogues," you exclaimed, your voice tinged with frustration. Pogues always owned this place, not some rich snobby kids like him, you thought.

Rafe's jaw clenched, his temper flaring and pride wounded. He hissed, "Maybe if you Pogues have some ambitions, you wouldn't be stuck in the same place your whole life!"

Oh, this was definitely one of those heavy arguments.

Your fists clenched at your sides as took a step forward. Your voice trembling with emotion. "You have no idea what it's like to struggle, Rafe. You've always had everything handed to you on a silver platter."

For a moment, you needed to convince yourself that you saw Rafe's gaze softened. You wanted to believe that a flicker of remorse crossed his features before he quickly masked it with a defiant glare. "At least I don't have to scrape by just to survive. Maybe if you Pogues worked harder, you'd actually amount to something."

His words struck deep, a painful reminder of the challenges you and your community faced every day. You recoiled as if struck by a lightning, your eyes stinging with unshed tears and your face was red, "You don't know anything about me, Rafe. You don't know what I've been through."

Your argument drew the attention of Sarah who was nearby with John. She was one of your best friends and you felt nothing but pity every time you realized that she shared the same blood with Rafe. With a furrowed brow, she stepped between you two, her hands raised in a gesture of peace trying to calm you down.

"Hey, what's going on here? Can't you two go five minutes without arguing?" Sarah pleaded, her voice filled with concern and annoyance. She must be tired with all these arguments, you thought. But those were all about Rafe's incapability to control his temper! And that might or might not be your issue as well...

Rafe shot you a scorching glare before turning his attention to Sarah. "Stay out of this, Sarah. This doesn't concern you."

Your eyes flashed with defiance as you stepped forward beside Sarah. "You're the one who concerns everyone with your existence!"

"What did you say to her, Rafe?!" Sarah looked at you with a concern. You were one of her strongest friends and she rarely saw you tremble like this. "Come on, talk it out like an adult, will ya!"

Rafe's fists clenched at his sides, his frustration boiling over. "Talk? What's there to talk about? I said, stay out of this, Sarah."

His gaze turned to you, "You think you know everything, (Y/N). Being the weaker one of the community, blaming us for having some money. If you said that I don't know anything about you, then you also don't know anything about me!"

His words cut like a blade across your pain. Your expression softened, a hint of hurt flickering in your eyes and you were not sure whether Rafe realize that or not. "Let's just cut it out. You would never understand what I've been through. What we have been through. Let's go, Sarah. Let's get out of here."

Sarah watched the exchange with growing concern, her heart aching for her brother and her best friend. She knew there was something deeper at play here, something that neither of them wanted to admit.

"Come on, you two. Let's take a step back and calm down, especially you, Rafe," Sarah suggested, her voice gentle yet firm. She glared at his brother. His face was as red as you, his forehead frowned deep.

You and Rafe exchanged a wary glance before reluctantly exhaled a deep breath. As much as you hate him, as much as you didn't want to admit, you really want him to apologize. The tension in the air began to dissipate, replaced by a palpable sense of unease.

Sarah sighed, running a hand through her hair as she tried to find the right words. "Look, I know things have been tense lately, but I really can't bear another sight of you guys bicker over things. If you still want to do that, please not where I can see you. I need you two to be in your best behavior when I'm around. Especially with you, Rafe. I have enough of you already."

Rafe's gaze softened as he looked at his sister, a pang of guilt tugging at his heart. "You're right, Sarah. I'm sorry for snapping at you earlier."

Sarah still held her concern, but she relieved to see them finally finding common ground. "It's okay. Now I'll leave it up to you. I can't mom you around like this, geez."

She walked away from you both. She lived long enough with both you and Rafe and there was no way she did not realized that beneath the surface, there was a different kind of tension simmered—a tension born from unspoken feelings and unacknowledged desires.

You stood still, refused to meet his gaze. The wind blew your hair as the sun began to set. You started to feel the chill and instinctively hug your own body, fixing your shirt together. You accidently drew a sharp breath when a cold wind sent chills down your spine. You sniffed and looked over the horizon. Refusing to take even the tiniest glance at him, you kept looking at the sea while stroking your upper arm.

Despite the heat of your argument, Rafe couldn't ignore the way the cold seemed to seep into your bones, making you appeared small and vulnerable against the vast expanse of the beach. His heart ached at this view.

You didn't see that he wanted to reach out, to wrap his arms around you and shield her from the biting wind; his hesitation to offer you warmth and comfort in the midst of your argument.

But his pride held him back, a barrier he had built long ago to protect himself from vulnerability and pain. Yet now, standing on the windswept beach with you before him, he couldn't ignore the truth any longer.

With a heavy sigh, Rafe took a step forward, his voice barely above a whisper as he spoke. "(Y/N), I... I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said those things. I was out of line."

Your eyes widened in surprise at Rafe's apology, your anger momentarily forgotten as she regarded him with cautious curiosity. You had expected him to be stubborn, to be the usual Rafe: to dig in his heels and refuse to back down. But instead, here he was, standing before you with such humility you'd never seen before.

For a moment, the two of them stood in silence, the only sound the crashing of the waves against the shore. And then, slowly, hesitantly, you took a step forward, closing the distance between them.

"Rafe," you said softly, your voice barely audible above the wind. "Thank you."

And with that, Rafe's resolve crumbled completely. Ignoring the voice of doubt in his mind, he opened his arms and pulled you into a tight embrace, provided you with the warmth of his body against yours. He could feel the softness of your hair against his cheek and he kissed your head softly it almost gave you a heart attack.

So you were not hallucinating all this time. The glances, the gestures, the underlying concern for her.... He felt the same way, too.

In that moment, with the cold wind whipping around them, you knew that he had finally acknowledged his feelings for you. And as you stood together on the windswept beach, you both vowed to never let your pride stand in the way of your connection again.

[chogiwow]

for well and for good | park sunghoon

pairing: sunghoon x gn!reader

genre: angst

wc: 1k

warnings: allusions to a toxic past relationship (sunghoon and unnamed ex), crying (a lot), hurt-no-comfort fic, heartbreak; sunghoon realises his feelings for you too late

a/n: all i want is to break hearts <3

a/n pt 2: umm, not a solid plot but more so like a scene building concept?

there wasn’t a more heartbreaking moment than this, not for sunghoon; not even when the consequences of his actions that led him here had played out exactly as you had warned him it would.

now it was too late, and beg as he might, a heavy feeling in his chest slowly settled against his favour, a premonition turning true and cry as much as he wanted, everything was spiralling out of control so fast, he wasn’t sure who he should save first.

“(y/n)...(y/n) please, i can’t do this, i can’t live without you. i’m sorry, i’m so sorry, please don’t leave, i need you…i love you.”

the more he weeped for a lost cause, the more it hurt your chest and ripped you apart piece by piece but you made no attempts at stopping the pain.

everyone had always assumed that you and sunghoon would be the endgame. it was so obvious! you both were head over heels for each other, but of course, of course the heart wavers ever so often now and then. sunghoon let himself ignore all the signs, pretend that the affection and sweet words weren’t another ploy for his wealth, his looks, his popularity, the safety and love he was so willing to provide someone, because he was always so very generous. generous and ridiculously naive; always looking to give away a piece of himself to anyone who so much as asked for it.

and a man in love is hard to sway again, especially when the man is sunghoon, with his giving nature and so much love that filled his heart that he couldn’t contain it any longer.

words were said – spit almost venomously at the cost of saving face and pride, and how dare you question his love and hers, when you had no business? how dare you make assumptions about this beautiful woman who loved him – at least he hoped she did – as much as he did?

and then…and then everything you said came true. your warnings carefully etched themselves like knife carvings on a paper – vehemently and so very stubbornly irreversible. now he’s here, after months of grieving not just the loss of his trust in love, but also you. and he had to make things right, but how does one convince a person they've broken and trampled upon so mercilessly, that they are indeed in love with them?

how does sunghoon convince you that he’s so utterly in love with you that he could physically feel the pain of your pointed ignoring and cold looks? how does he even begin to express how sorry he was when the unsaid apology squeezed the breath out of him in aggrieved pants? how does sunghoon not lose you again?

“”i’m sorry hoon, i can’t do this anymore. i can’t love you anymore, i don’t want to love you anymore…you’ve hurt me too much.”

“(y/n) please, please i beg you,”

and beg he did; getting down on his knees on the cold tile floors of your living room, he wrapped his arms around your waist and dampened your shirt with his hot tears. neither he nor you were making much sense of this conversation anymore.

he felt you shake in his embrace, your own tears and gasps of air breaking his chants of an apology, his hands tightening around you to physically feel your touch after months.

“hoon stop it,” a wretched sob, ugly as it sounded when it tumbled out of your lips in pain, like a helpless rotten fruit falling off its branches, makes you whimper and clutch onto the clinging man's hand who refused to let you go.

in a hurried motion sunghoon is up on his feet, holding you by the shoulder that shakes with the cries staining your cheeks.

“i can’t live without you, please give me another chance,” he shakes his head frantically, mumbling out his words in a frenzy as he is yet again painfully reminded of exactly how weighted his words were and how much truth they held in them. it weighed him down, your refusal to look past this, like a sack of cotton drowning in water, and yet he could not bring himself to blame you, hoping against hope that his words would make a change.

his lips find your forehead, pressing down on them in a hot kiss; the trembling of his lips breaks you, you wish would stop – but he doesn’t. he’s kissing your shoulder, your arms, your wrists, your palms and he’s kissing your forehead – again and again and again and again – until you push yourself away, your eyes closed, shaking your head.

“don’t, it’s time we stopped this. we can’t hope for things that were never meant to be.”

sunghoon was standing on the edge of a cliff, and you just pushed him off into a bottomless pit that made his insides curl into themselves, his hands shooting in the air for something to grasp but there’s only air that passes through his fingers like bullets.

in his last attempt he kisses you on the lips. he holds your face so gently and kisses you so deeply and for a moment you feel yourself swaying. you let him kiss you, because you know this would be the last time you would let this happen. you whimper into his mouth and he lets a broken sob tumble on your lips where it stays as a reminder of this very moment, searing you both apart. you don’t kiss back.

“stop it, please. you’re hurting me.” it’s a whispered plea, but to sunghoon it’s a huge boulder that blocks his way from you. you’ve planted it there for once and for all, and he knows that there’s nothing he can do to make you move it.

“i’m sorry, i love you, but i don't want to anymore. i’m sorry.” 

sunghoon rests his forehead against yours, your tears mingled and continuous and he knows he’s lost you now, for well and for good.

[tumblingxelian]

Crossposting from SV:

https://forums.sufficientvelocity.com/threads/iwiw-rwby.125050/post-32676154

Regarding the expectation of perfection, yeah, I don't think the team expected it. The one who could be arguably said to have put the most "pressure" on Ruby is Blake as we saw in V8, but having faith in someone isn't the same as demanding perfection. & Blake showed she was fine stepping up and trying to help or support Ruby when she needed it.

The others applied even less pressure, at least knowingly, but none of them are aware of how Ruby had internalized Ozpin's lesson (& from what I know of Coco Second Semester does not make his lessons better)

But Ruby definitely took a lot of these things to heart in a way likely never intended. & more to the point that likely wouldn't be nearly as bad if not for the trauma conga-line the last volumes have been.

For instance in V8 Ruby does seem briefly hurt by Yang noting that following her lead hasn't worked out, but Yang's language is still rather casual, this isn't her trying to deliver some cutting barb to wound Ruby's pride. & given their reunion in V8 it didn't have a lasting impact... Up until V9 landed because with everything that went wrong, suddenly those words pack a lot more sting.

In regards to Yang & Ruby in particular, one thing I find interesting is that in early volumes, even after Ozpin's leader talk Ruby was more comfortable showing uncertainty, discomfort, fragility and the like.

Especially around Yang. She was sulking in V2 about Blake not coming to the dance and feeling overtly helpless, she was fine with being uncertain about her decision to reveal the WF's location to Ozpin & co, also in V2.

But more integrally, in Volume 3, after everything had gone to hell what is the first thing Ruby did once she could move under her own power?

Was it go to her dad for comfort? Seek Qrow for advice? nope, those two came to her, with Tai mostly being used for an intel update and Qrow being prodded for info, and only seeing a flash of vulnerability.

The person Ruby went to was Yang, Yang who she was surprised to find wasn't in a good head-space, and who when Ruby asked what to do couldn't answer her, seemingly leaving Ruby unsure of what to do. In essence, there have been periods where Ruby also expected others to be more sturdy than they could otherwise be expected to be. This isn't a jab, just an observation.

More integrally however, in V4 we see Ruby really hit hard on the repressing.

Oh she did it before, the fact she's modelled her entire persona after her missing mother and was raised by a girl two years her senior should already make it clear she's gonna have some issues. But it becomes a lot more overt with her being all smiles around JNPR but sad when unseen until she's hitting a breaking point. One that is... Sort of countered though of questionable help by being told she's inspiring.

The time we really see it break in in Volume 5 when Yang & Ruby reunited, she cries, she fumbles her words, she gets a damn hug.

But then, the next day, she sees that Yang is not nearly as recovered as she's trying to act. When Yang is upset & removes herself from the situation to calm down and mourn silently, its Weiss who has to help her out of it, because Ruby has no idea what to do.

That's not just her sister in there, its the girl who raised her, & this stuff is not Ruby's forte, but more integrally, Yang is the one who has always been 'all right', the one who Ruby could turn to whenever she needed and who she never had to worry about in combat.

But she's not OK the one person Ruby could always rely on is more fragile than Ruby ever realized, and so clearly, Ruby can't go to Yang with her problems either.

& thus closes her final person to really, properly, well and truly reach out to.

& the thing is Yang would have no idea this is happening!

She didn't hear Ozpin's speech, or Ruby re-phrasing it. She wasn't present when Ruby was really building her walls in V4, and any that existed before that will have been interwoven with Yang's own issues and thus be something she deemed as normal the same way Ruby deemed Yang's self sacrificing penchant as normal.

Put simply, Yang isn't aware that Ruby's mental image of her has shifted and so is not aware that Ruby no longer sees her as someone viable to reach out to.

None of which is helped by the fact Yang canonically admires Ruby and so is prone to see the best, strongest, most idealized side of her, and so like Ruby would need to be told Ruby needs help before keying into it.

Both these girls are very traumatized and damaged and they care about each other so god damn much, but also just cannot wholly see one another.

Its agony, I love it.

[honey-minded-hivemind]

When Fallen Angel! Reader first fell into Heck, the place was empty. With blank black dirt and Black grey skies, the only thing with color is Reader themselves.

They cried and screamed and mourned for a decade or two, hurt by what happened. But after that, they realize that this place was pretty boring. They still had their powers, which was sharper now, harsher and less delicate. But it was still theirs, and they would make this place theirs too.

They started first with the land. Filled it with forests, cities, mountains, oceans, plains, and deserts. Each part planned and crafted out as perfectly as their old paperwork.

That occupied them for a couple centuries, but they noticed the place was still awfully lonely without living beings inside. So they roll up their little sleeves and start their next project.

The first one made is ginormous. Full of scales and spikes and fire. A drop of their blood gives him life and a touch of their own power. He is full of rage. Rage at everything. He is angry at this emptiness, angry at heaven for their misdeeds against his "parent", always angry. They name him Satan, the Sin of Wrath.

They make other sins. Asmodius, Beezlebub, Mammon, Leviathan, and Belphaghor. They are all at least triple their size at any given moment, but they all love their parent. Don't let the size difference fool you, Reader is the only mature one in the group.

They split the realm into 7 layers and assign each Sin a layer much like a parent assigning kids rooms at a new house. Reader takes the highest and most empty layer. It's the closest to the portal to heaven. They aren't sure if heaven will ever open it, and they don't want to find out what they'll do about the Sins if they do.

It was around this time they realized they have physically changed, even though it started when they first fell. Horns instead of a halo, those horns, hooves (they've always had goat legs, they're just normally hidden under clothes and their hooves can easily be mistaken for shoes), eyes, and some feathers looked dipped in red, limbs stained black, slit eyes, and forked tongue. This place has changed them as much as they have changed it.

Eventually, the Sins get bored and ask for people to fill their "rings". Not seeing anything wrong with giving them responsibility, Reader makes much smaller, much less dangerous people to fill "Heck" as the Sins call it (they don't know where they got the affinity for naming stuff). Imps, Hellhounds, Succubi, Innucubi, Goat-demons, Bird Demons, and those Shark-fish demons Leviathan loves so much. They don't make any that go in their ring specifically, but some move in anyway and start the beginnings of Pentagram City. So Reader spends a couple centuries just ruling Heck and keeping their overpowered kids in check ( they love them, but the Sins can be real jerks sometimes.)

The first Sinner comes as a surprise and with the first contact Reader has with Heaven since they fell. Their home is being used as a dumping grounds for the souls Heaven doesn't want, the Sinners are practically immortal, can't leave the Pride Ring (Reader doesn't know if Heaven knows about the other rings, and has no idea how to find out), and are filling in fast. The Sinners are a pretty rough bunch in general, so Reader establishes the Overlord system to try to bring some order, but that only forces them to have regular meetings with the worst of Sinners.

When Heaven sends a second message, telling them that there are too many Sinners (whose fault is that???!!!!) and they will send an Army of Angels once a year to cull them from existence. Any damage they cause to the ring is considered holy justice and will be Reader's problem to fix.

They consider blowing up the portal in sky. (You can't. Satan tried. It didn't work)

(Sugar, I love this ♡^♡!!!)

Reader is revered, even worshipped, in Heck. They are their Maker, their Creator! Every move move make has only made Heck stronger, safer, more prosperous! The Sins love their parent (I'll say they have a few altered designs and aren't quite the same as HB or HH, but they still have their animal motif, because they're so freaking cool).

Satan (Wrath) is proud to be a mama/dada boi. He is bossy, and tries to help Reader with the overload of new demons amd sinners by being very, very harsh with the laws and justice system. You abused your ex and tried to murder them?! You are sentenced to public execution, and your ex will have the front row seat, and can choose which method you die by! You abused orphans and uses them for labor?! You are sentenced to be a servant for ALL ETERNITY, and can only do what you're told! You dared insult Reader, his mama/papa/oldest sibling/maker?! HE WILL SEND HIS LEGIONS AFTER YOU AND BROADCAST YOUR DEFEAT AND FORCED APOLOGY! (Then he'll make sure you can never smack talk them again). Satan loves Reader and his younger siblings, and he favors the Ars Goetia, but no one messes with Reader or the peace they've brought to Heck...

Asmodeus (Lust/Love) is always looking to spread the love their parent/sibling/maker has shown them/him! He was taught its important to have consent, and that their has to be certain moral codes with acts of lust or acts of love. Anyone who tries to be a creep or jerk I on their hit list. They will not tolerate such insolence! Such cruelty! Love is supposed to be wonderful, magical, and feel good! Anyone who breaks that is about to have a serious talk (shovel talk) with the birb Sin... So just be good, and try to act lovingly, like their parent, or you will have to be corrected or executed...

Beelzebub (Gluttony) loves to receive attention from Reader. That's her mama/papa/parent! They get an invite to every single one of her parties, they are sent their favorite foods cooked to perfection, and whenever they need a break, she and Belphagor will happily take them on a relaxing vacation! She likes to indulge others, to feed their hunger for food, or love, or movies, or whatever, really! That's what Reader always did for her, and they even made all the Hellhounds just for her! And they're all so cute and precious and are perfectly loyal to both her AND her parent/sibling/maker! Now, however, she doesn't want anyone hogging all the good stuff! Reader said everyone has to share, and not neglect their needs, so Beelzebub makes sure her ring is taken care of!

Mammon (Greed) is a mischievous sort. He doesn't understand why they can't just steal Heaven from those posers and then rule it all together! (See, he's sharing this once, look how good he's being!) Sadly, they can't do that. Buuut what he can do is make sure Reader's finances amd treasury are always in check and full! He's greedy for love, for power, and attention, buuut he's willing to help others... But he will be teaching them to make sure they have what they need. They shouldn't give everything away for nothing, no! That's what happened with Readee, those idiots stole everything from them, and then cast them into this pit! So for everyone's good, he will make sure none of the rings are underfunded and that he and his siblings and Reader are safe at the end of the day...

Leviathan (Envy) is jealous of the angels. They had Reader, and got to see them when they weren't sad and angry and upset! They got to have Reader at their best self! They had ALL of Reader's love, then TOSSED it away like trash! Well, Heck no! Reader is now THEIRS, and they and their siblings and Heck will keep them! Take THAT! They aren't jealous of their siblings, but they do make sure they always have a day out eith Reader every week or so. They're making sure everyone knows who Reader is, and will paint them in the best light possible. (They totally rile up the Overlords to get back at them for being slimy. Gotta make them jealous enough to get rid of each other after all!)

Belphagor (Sloth) is a sleepy little demon. They appreciate Reader keeping them fed, and happy, and safe, and giving them others made in their image. They like to take things easy, and make it easier on others. So they make medicine that can prevent disease, or that can calm anxiety, or even some simple sleeping syrup for those who have insomnia. They want to help those who need help, and they should relax. They make sure to keep their ring healthy and relaxed, as Reader never wanted them to be overworked or anxious or exhausted all the time...

All the Hellborn are told of how Reader, seeing the Sins so alone, went and made them people, who would bring new ideas and light into this dark pit. They would live there, and be happy, and they'd be safe from Heaven's rule and burning light...

(There is a whole museum dedicated to Reader, and the creation of Heck and it's denizens).

Sinners were... well, they weren't always great people. Some were downright awful, or evil. But some were just unfortunate people who weren't bad, but broken, who'd been dealt a rough hand, who were at the wrong place at the wrong titime. Reader set up Overlords to take care of them, but... well, sometimes they had had be pruned, if they were too vile or too bloodthirsty... Sinners know Reader exist, but are not sure how far they can push their luck with them. They all just hope to please this new tiny being, and try to make the best of their new world...

Heaven is on Reader's sh*t list. The adult angels are about to purge Heaven of its "fallen" and try to set things straight. Because nononO, they are not exterminating these people, sinner or not! Those are PEOPLE.

Let's just say Heaven is about to be under new management, and that peace between Heaven and Heck might be possible...

[farfromstrange]

Do No Harm

CHAPTER ONE: Night Shift

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Pairing: Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Summary: Matt has to accompany Foggy to the ER in the middle of the night because he dislocated his shoulder. In need for some peace and quiet, Matt wanders the halls of Metro General and instead finds you crying in one of the abandoned hallways. A conversation ensues.

Warnings for this chapter: Slight angst, mention of injury.

Word Count: 4.3k

A/n: My brain gets the strangest ideas for fics and then I have to write them or else I will go crazy. This is how this baby was born. Keep in mind, I’m not a doctor. I simply watch a lot of medical dramas and I like to research medical terms for the fun of it. Heed the warnings for the entire series (see Series Masterlist) but also chapter-specific warnings that apply, as seen above. I hope you enjoy!

Read Chapter 1: Night Shift here on AO3

Ever since he can remember, Matt has hated hospitals. The antiseptic scent that lingers in the air, the sterile white walls that seem to close in around him—it all brings back memories of days spent in agony, tied to an uncomfortable bed, and seeing nothing but an endless void of black.

He can only tune out so much. The stench, the sirens, and the overlapping voices in an emergency room—they could easily kill him. 

Hospitals remind him of what he lost. He lost his vision, he lost his father and in the process, he lost his innocence. Matt lost everything, and even though he is well aware that it isn’t the hospital’s fault that he decided to save a man or that his father made a deal with the devil and got himself killed, he still hates the same empty walls that made him feel so small to begin with.

Matt doesn’t want to be a liability, he doesn’t want to be the reason the people he loves get hurt, and yet it continues to happen time and time again.

Maybe he’s cursed. It’s the only explanation for how things are going for him now. Maybe God has a grudge and finally decided to exercise his right to make his life a living hell. There is an infinite number of possibilities, but none of them make sense. 

He’s the anti-hero of his own story and that of everyone else who has ever dared to let him into their lives. He’s his own worst enemy, his personal saboteur. His unwavering pride has a tendency to get in the way of his happiness, which often leads to more bad than good, but admitting that would leave him vulnerable and exposed—and he can’t let himself get hurt again. 

It’s better to push the people he loves away before he can hurt them and force them to walk out on him the same way everyone else in his life has walked out on him ever since he can remember. At least in his twisted mind, that’s true. 

He never thought he would find himself in Metro General again, not since Claire came into his life. Claire, the caring nurse who saved him when he was on death’s door and continued doing so until she realized that falling for the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen comes with its own set of risks. 

Foggy dislocated his shoulder. 

It’s almost laughable. Out of everyone, he chose Matt to come to the hospital with him. Not Karen, Matt. He had the choice between the most empathetic person either of them have ever met, and Matt, someone so far out of touch with his own feelings, living in denial has become the standard for him. Foggy chose the latter, for whatever reason he doesn’t even seem to know himself. It just felt like the most natural thing to do, he told Matt when he asked his best friend, “Why me?”

He should feel honored that he trusts him that much, but being trapped in the sterile four walls of the hospital he only connects bad memories to while Foggy is stuck in the queue for an X-ray feels more like torture than an honorable act. 

The loud, demanding voices of the nurses, the painful groans and soft cries coming from the patients in the waiting area of the emergency room a few doors down, and the obnoxious beeping of the machines lining the walls in every room are like a swarm of bees in Matt’s inner ear. No matter how hard he tries, he can’t get them out. He’s allergic to them.

The room smells of disinfectant, blood, and other bodily fluids. He tries to focus on his cologne and the scentless laundry detergent he has grown so accustomed to over the years, but the balm only lasts for a few seconds before the wound reopens and his senses are flooded.

Matt keeps rhythmically tapping his fingers on his thigh. How much longer he can sit on this uncomfortable plastic chair in front of the radiology area and wait for Foggy to return, he doesn’t know. It won’t be long now until he loses his mind. He is about to drown in his own misery.

He feels the desperate urge to land his fist in the wall next to him. He wants to scream, cry, maybe even both—this night is not going well. He hasn’t had a good night in weeks. Tonight though, he’s stuck in the hospital rather than outside, doing something against the injustice he is forced to listen to every day.

The hits he took the previous night were pretty severe, and his ribs still hurt. The numb ache that tears through him whenever he moves is a temporary relief from the pain induced by the noise around him. Whatever bits of sanity he tries holding onto eventually slip through his fingers. 

Eventually, he can’t take it anymore. He gets up, his head tilting toward Foggy’s elevated heartbeat. He’s still in line. Fifth, probably.

Matt taps his cane against the floor, making his way down the hallway. He’s not quite sure where he’s going or where he will land, he just knows that he needs to get out of there as fast as possible.

Rounding the hundredth corner of the evening, the sound of clattering metal trays and medical supplies disappears behind layers of drywall and automatic doors. Matt takes a moment, and he realizes that right here—right where he is now—he can finally breathe again.

The sound travels more easily. The air wafting through the vents and over the cotton sheets on a row of empty beds is the only sound that meets his ears. They’re lined against one side of the wall. The rooms are empty, the doors locked. It seems as if in a moment of desperation, he found his way to one of the abandoned parts of the hospital. 

A lack of funding caused Metro General to cut their losses. It certainly wasn’t an easy decision, but with capitalism on the rise, public hospitals are barely holding on.

Even though the truth is depressing, Matt still can’t believe his luck when he realizes how quiet it is. That may be a selfish thought, but he can't help it. The world is always so loud and uncomfortable. Finding someplace quiet after torturing himself in the waiting room for hours feels like heaven on earth on such a busy night.

The fog dulling his senses finally dissipates. He takes a deep breath. The air is cleaner here. No disinfectant, only the faint scent of plastic and dust; he wouldn't have thought it possible that he would ever consider that combination a blessing.

That’s when he hears it—a slightly elevated heartbeat followed by a series of muffled sobs. He got so caught up in the fact that he finally found what he was looking for amidst the chaos that he forgot to fan out his hearing.

Despite what he originally believed, he isn’t alone.

The air smells of the salty essence of human tears. Matt stops dead in his tracks, not sure whether to continue his journey or to turn around and return to the uncomfortable plastic chair in front of the radiology department.

“This nervous breakdown space is occupied,” your soft voice bounces off the high walls. It’s thick with exhaustion. Pain. Loss. He almost recoils at the all-too-familiar feeling it elicits in him.

Matt keeps his cane hugged tight to his chest, his knuckles whitening with how hard he is gripping the base. “Oh, I...I’m sorry,” he says, careful to keep his voice light. “I didn’t catch you there.”

You’re essentially a stranger to him. A troubled one, at that. You must have your share of problems or you wouldn’t be here. You wouldn’t be crying your eyes out. He doesn’t want to intrude, but he also can’t turn around. Not now, not anymore. You’ve already noticed him.

You sniffle, your hands wiping against the soft skin of your reddened cheeks. For a moment, your heartbeat picks up in speed before returning to its normal rhythm. “It’s alright,” you assure him.

Matt picks up on the faintest hint of disinfectant and the scent of antibacterial soap on you now, maybe a little blood, and definitely antiseptic laundry detergent—you’re wearing medical scrubs.

Your shampoo smells of vanilla and some herbal element he can’t quite identify just yet. Your perfume isn’t expensive, just enough to last through a long shift and filter the sweat that is seeping out of your pores. It’s not unpleasant. You smell like someone who’s been working hard and far past your limits, too.

“Do you need something?” you ask him. 

He pauses for a moment, rethinking his answer. His lips purse. He’s not sure how to answer that without completely giving himself away.

Your eyebrows raise slightly.

“Oh, just…some peace and quiet,” Matt says, finally finding his voice again. It sounds a bit more nervous than he would like to admit.

The chuckle you exhale is one of surprise and possibly even a bit of genuine amusement. “Yeah,” you sniffle, “I know that feeling.”

“Well, I’ll, uh, leave you to it. Sorry again.”

“No. Don’t.”

Matt stops in his tracks when the words pass your lips. 

You pat the space beside you. Your perfume becomes a little clearer. It’s so natural, so… you. He could get high off of it. Or maybe it’s just the sleep deprivation catching up to him. 

“This is the only quiet corner in this hospital,” you tell him. “Trust me. Underfunding has its perks for introverts. Rest in peace to about thirty internal medicine beds, but lucky me.”

Your chuckle echoes bitterly off the walls. You use humor to cope, apparently, but you’ve run out of strength to pretend.

His cane begins to gently pave the way as he makes his way forward. “Do you mind?” Matt nods toward the bed you’re sitting on. 

You pat the mattress again with a shake of your head. “Not at all.”

Gentle seems to be the one word that is consistent with everything you do. He can’t get this picture he has painted of you based on the sound of your voice out of his head. Maybe you’re an angel and he has officially gone insane, or maybe there are just a lot more good people left in this world than he originally thought. 

Matt folds his cane and skillfully sits down on the edge of the mattress. You smell even better up close. Your heartbeat reminds him of a beautiful symphony, no longer as erratic as when he first picked up on your presence. 

“I’m Matthew, by the way,” he says.

He can hear a sudden uptick in your heartbeat. He may have just imagined it. You suck in a sharp breath, and he’s sure he didn’t imagine that, but then you lift your hand to take his.

“Olivia,” you say. 

Matt listens closely. You have no reason to lie about your name. Your heartbeat may be faster, but it isn’t a lie. You just seem a lot more nervous and unsure than before. It doesn’t quite make sense why you would be unsure about your own name.

“Nice to meet you, Olivia.” His lips curl into a soft smile.

You smile back, he can hear it, but it lacks an essence of truth. You’re trying hard to seem like you’re okay. It’s not your fault that his senses are sensitive to all changes in the human body, even in that of a stranger he just met.

You’ve been crying, so of course, you wouldn’t be alright. The question is, why? 

“I take it you’re not part of the staff,” you say into the silence.  

“No.” Matt chuckles. “I, uh, have a friend with a dislocated shoulder,” he says.

“Ah! Let me guess, his doctor in the ER reduced the dislocation but insisted on doing an X-ray just in case, so now you have to wait because radiology has a hold-up longer than the Nile?”

A laugh rumbles through his chest. “Yeah, that… that’s pretty accurate.”

“It’s always like this,” you say. “A dislocated shoulder doesn’t have priority. We have bigger fish to fry.”

“You work here?” he dares to ask. 

You pull at the bottom of your scrub top. “Guilty as charged. Trauma surgery. I’ve been an attending here for a little over two years now.”

“Oh, wow! That’s…that’s incredible.”

Matt has encountered his fair share of doctors in the past, but no one has ever been quite like you. You’re unique. Mysterious. An enigma. You have piqued his curiosity, to say the least, and your profession only adds to the pile of interesting things he can ponder about.

You smile at him again, but it’s still not a genuine one. “Thanks,” you drag the last syllable out, the air deflating your lungs.

He swallows. “Or it isn’t. I didn’t mean to–”

“No, that’s not… some days just aren’t that rewarding,” you say. “That’s all.”

“And today has been one of those days?” Matt asks.

“Yeah, something like that.”

Your eyes roam over him once again.

He reaches for his hair, running his hand through it. He ruffles the brown strands until they’re covering his left temple. Matt’s not sure if you saw; there is a high chance that you did, but he can't anticipate your behavior. Not yet. 

You let out a longer breath. “Not a fan of hospitals, I take it?” you ask.

He shakes his head. “It gets… loud,” he says. 

“Sensitivity to sound.” You nod. “Noted.”

He hears the fabric of your scrubs brushing against your skin and the cotton sheets on the bed. You cross your legs, opening yourself up to him just slightly, and he wonders if you really are comfortable around him or if you’re just being kind. 

“Probably to smell as well? Feeling? Taste?” There is a soft smile laced in your voice. This time, it’s real. 

Matt chuckles. You hit the nail right on the head. You’re simply not aware of how sensitive he is to these things. “Pretty sensitive, yeah,” he says. 

That about sums it up. You nod, but you don’t push him any further. 

“Well,” you say, “The ER is pretty disgusting. And loud. And to be forced to wait in front of radiology is probably a scenario they offer as a torture device in one of the seven circles of hell.”

He can’t help himself, “It’s nine, actually.”

“Sorry?”

“Nine circles,” Matt clarifies, his lips twitching in a faint grin. “Dante’s Inferno. A good Catholic boy’s guilty pleasure.”

You let out a genuine laugh this time, and it warms his senses. It’s a rare sound in a place filled with so much pain. He can almost hear the weight from your shoulders hit the floor. The tension in the air seems to ease, if only for a moment. You allow to let yourself go. 

Your grin turns into a smirk. “Catholic, huh?” you retort. 

“Since the day I was born,” he says. “Are you religious?”

That seems to steal your breath away. You have no words. For a full minute, silence settles in between the two of you. It’s almost uncomfortable, and Matt fears he must have crossed a line. He just doesn’t know how to apologize for something he is truly curious about. 

The topic of God and religion seems to hit a nerve when it’s not used in a humorous context. There are many reasons why that could be. He spends every day battling his own religious trauma and the demons that he feels he’s harboring deep inside, but he still holds on tight to his faith. If he doesn’t have an excuse—if he doesn’t have anything to hold onto other than what broken self-respect he has left—where would he be?

You finally clear your throat after what feels like an eternity. “No,” it’s a simple answer. “I don’t believe that there is a God.”

Your mouth stays open. You want to say something else, but your lips close within seconds after the thought has passed by you, and you swallow it. He wonders what he could have learned about you if you had allowed yourself to say what you were truly thinking when the words first left your mouth. You’re holding back, and it is audible. It might even be visible. Your cheeks are running hot. 

Matt nods. He doesn’t question you. Your beliefs are yours. Most of the time, he doesn’t even believe that there is a God himself. 

“It’s hard to keep the faith in this world, especially when you work so hard every day trying to save people’s lives. When you are forced to see what the system does to those who can’t defend themselves over and over again, but you can’t do anything about it. Or when you see what people do to each other. I mean, the cruelty of human beings is unmatched, and it makes you wonder if God is just a sadist, or if maybe he isn’t even real because a gracious God wouldn’t let innocent children die,” you cut yourself off in an instant, and he tilts his head toward you in surprise. 

Your breath shudders. “I… I’ve seen too much bad to believe that there is an all-merciful God,” you say. “So I simply don’t.”

You try to meet his eyes, but all you see is your reflection in the red of his rounded glasses. Your heart breaks a little, he can hear it. Your shoulders slump. You’re defeated.

He isn’t sure how to react to that. How to help. How to be a decent human being. Matt just doesn’t have the answers you need, and it makes him question his own faith for a minute. Not that he has ever not questioned it; his relationship with God is as complicated as it gets.

You catch yourself after a moment of staring into the void of his glasses. “But… that’s my opinion. I didn’t mean to offend you.”

“I’m not offended,” Matt says.

You were smiling, and now you’re not anymore. He doesn’t like that. He liked it more when you were more open with him. Your legs have moved back to your chest, your arms clinging to them. You’ve retreated. 

“Sorry,” you whisper. The edge in your voice breaks his heart. 

He shakes his head. “Don’t apologize. I get it. Injustice…it’s a parasite. I’ve encountered my fair share of good people who deserved better than what they got. You try and you fail over and over again because the world isn't fair. I’d be the last person to judge you for not sharing my beliefs.” He breaks off in a chuckle. “I'm not that kind of guy.”

Your eyebrows shoot up to your hairline. “What is that you do again?” You didn’t ask that question before.

“I’m a lawyer,” he states. “Defense attorney.”

“Wow,” you let out a soft puff of air, “And you chose to go to Metro General instead of jumping on the big money train to the Upper East Side?” 

Although your tone is joking, Matt can tell that there is an ounce of truth in your words.  

He hides his laugh behind a cough. He’s not sure if he’s surprised or if he actually finds that assumption hilarious. Maybe a bit of both.

“Oh, no.” He shakes his head. “I have never even been in the same station as the big money train.”

“Oh?”

“No. We, my partner and I, do pro-bono work. We don't get paid for our services. Well, other than baked goods and overdue bills in the mail, of course.”

You chuckle. “That’s a relief. Not so much for your bank account, but ethically.”

“Yeah.”

“Sorry for assuming. That was prejudiced of me,” you say. “I’m not trying to judge you. I’m sorry. Rich or not, it’s none of my business.”

Matt shrugs. “It's okay. Lawyers and doctors are the two professions so many think make millions of Dollars a year, and while that may be the case for a few, a lot of us just… don’t,” he says.

“Amen! If I had a drink, I’d toast to that.”

“Yeah, well, an intoxicated doctor would not fare well in the legal sense.”

“You think that would end my career?”

“I can’t even give you good legal advice other than, don’t.”

Your giggle turns into a laugh. “Thank you for the advice, counselor.”

He joins in. “Anytime.” 

For a moment, only the two of you exist. Matt adjusts his position, but he doesn’t take his bruised ribs into account. His wince is barely audible, yet you notice it in an instant. And when his hair slips, you can see the gash on his forehead. The one he tried to stitch up himself but probably did an awful job at concealing. 

Your eyes narrow in concern. “What happened to you?” your voice barely breeches the sound barrier. 

“Oh, nothing,” he tries to shrug it off. “Just an accident.”

“An accident?”

“I am blind, you know. I tripped, hit my head. It happens.”

“Hm.” Much to his surprise, you don’t press him further. Instead, you gently reach out to brush the sweaty strand of hair from his face that he used to cover up the aftermath of his latest endeavor. 

Now that he thinks about it, his ribs really do hurt. He’s sure nothing is broken, but they are severely bruised. Even he can feel the blood pooling under the skin. 

You bite your lip, not wanting to pry. The urge is obvious to him, but only to him. You’re good at your job. You focus on the task at hand. That is probably why you became a doctor in the first place; to help people, not to pry. 

But Matt Murdock doesn’t need help. 

“It’s fine,” he assures you. 

You nod. “I believe you.”

You don’t. You’re lying. He appreciates the effort though. You try your best at making him feel comfortable and welcome. Asking questions would only drive him away; you wouldn’t be able to satiate your pathological need to help. It’s who you are.

“Whoever patched this up did a terrible job,” you say, “and I don’t want to know who did it because if you tell me it was you, I will lose my mind, so, I choose to believe you for the sake of my own sanity.”

His lips part in a soft laugh. “Yeah, you don't wanna know,” he says.

“Can I fix it?"

He opens his mouth to decline, “You don’t have to, I–”

“Please.” 

There is no arguing with you, it seems.

Your footsteps echo in the empty hallway. One of the drawers in the cart across from the bed slides open at your touch. Matt can hear the distinct crinkle of packaging and the clanking of metal. When you return to his side, your steps are a little heavier. 

“I’m going to clean the wound and then apply a butterfly bandage to help the skin grow back together,” you explain. “The cut isn't that deep, but you must’ve hit your head pretty hard when you fell. I can’t force you to get a head CT, so… If you experience any nausea or neurological deficits in the next few days, you should come back to run some tests. But—and that is not my expert medical opinion because I don’t have the tests to back it up—I think it should be fine to heal on its own.”

“Any other advice, Doc?” he jokes. 

“Well, I can’t give the same good news about your bruised ribs.” You only have to place your hand on his side and his lips come to press tightly together. “I’m guessing third and fourth,” you say. “If one of them is fractured, it makes you run at risk for internal bleeding, but to see the extent of your injuries, we’d have to get an MRI. That is not my call to make. I can’t force you to get your battle scars checked out, I can just advise you to think about it. Really think about it.”

Matt sighs. His laughter has long died. “I know.”

He doesn’t want to repeat himself. He’s fine. He has to pretend that he’s fine because he doesn’t have time for doctors or questions. Neither you nor the law can protect him from the damage that the truth would do. 

You’re disappointed, but you swallow your pride. With delicate precision, you start cleaning the wound on his forehead, the cotton swab dabbing at the dried blood. He winces at the sting of antiseptic, a subtle twitch in response to the pain.

“Sorry,” you murmur.

Matt manages a half-smile. “It’s alright. I’ve had worse.”

That doesn’t make you feel better, but you accept it. You’ve learned to respect your patients’ wishes, even if that means swallowing a lie. 

As you work, your fingers graze over his skin with a careful tenderness. It’s a stark contrast to the harshness of the world he navigates outside—a double-edged sword. If he doesn’t go out there, more people die or get hurt. He would sustain the same injuries over and over again and almost die rather than pretend that evil isn’t lurking right outside his window every night. And there is a bigger storm brewing in the distance, one he isn’t fully prepared for. 

Yet.

You finish cleaning the wound and proceed to carefully apply a fresh bandage. Matt can feel the cool adhesive against his skin. Your touch is soothing, almost comforting, and he allows himself to relax.

“There,” you announce softly. “All patched up.”

Matt lifts his hand to touch the bandage, a habit he developed over the years to reassure himself that someone cared enough to tend to his wounds. “Thank you,” he answers. 

“No biggie.” You shrug with a tiny smile, and that makes him smile, too. It shows him that while you are displeased with his lack of respect for himself and his health, you aren’t mad at him. You just care.

The shrill beeping of your pager tears a headache through his skull.

You curse under your breath. “I’m so sorry,” you say as you skim over the text that has been sent to you. “The, uh—the ER needs me.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he quickly responds. 

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. Go. Save a life!”

You’re reluctant at first, but then your lips curl into a broader, more genuine smile, and in the heat of the moment, you grab his hand. “It was nice meeting you, Matthew,” you say. “Take care of yourself.” 

Your footsteps retreat and your heartbeat gets fainter as you walk down the hallway. He’s speechless. He doesn’t even remember how to say goodbye. 

“Oh, and do me a favor?” You stop momentarily just to ask him, “Get those ribs checked out?”

His mouth opens and closes like that of a fish on dry land. “Sure,” he says. 

“Thank you,” these are your last words to him before you take off running. 

Both of you know though that once he is out of Metro General and on his way home, he won’t come back. Not for himself, at least. And it is something you have to accept as much as he has to accept the fact that you are long gone, off to save a life in the very four walls that seemed so scary to him all alone only fifteen minutes ago.

Tag List: @shiorimakibawrites @allllium @siampie @auroraslibrary @roseallisonparker @abucketofweird @thatonegamefish @capylore @kniselle @sumo-b98 @peachstarliight @littlehappyperson @danzer8705

[rae-and-mezo]

Could you write headcanon Seb and Omi being mean at reader so they cries and run away. The boys come to them to apologize.

Sebastian and Ominis say Awful Things During a Fight

A/N: This turned out a lot more like a blurb than headcanons, oops! I liked this one, angst is fun. I'm sorry it took me so long, finals are KILLING ME!

Seb:

You're sitting in the Undercroft with an ice pack to your head. Admittedly, you shouldn't have dove into the cave without a Wiggen weld potion. But you don't regret going in, how else would you save the Merlops from dark wizards.

Luckily you got out with just a concussion, Poppy dragged you away just in time.

But Sebastian heard the news in the form of a rumor, and he didn't hesitate to run out of charms class and towards where he hoped you were.

"Mc! Oh Merlin, what did you do?" He didn't even greet you as he stormed into the cold room.

You winced, half because of the pain and half because you had hoped Seb wouldn't find out.

"Hello, Sebastian." You greeted without turning around. After all, you weren't sure you could keep from crying. Sebastian grabbed your shoulders and turned you to face him gently.

He simply shook his head in wonder as he took the ice pack and examined your head. "It looks bad."

"It's really not." Sebastian frowns at your dismissal. "Okay, well, either way, it needs to be healed. The hospital wing isn't a good idea, they'll just ask questions. I'll run and grab a wiggenweld...no, I should stay with you. Anne taught me a healing charm a few years ago, I can attempt it if you would like."

"Sebastian."

"On second thought, I shouldn't try an unknown charm on you. Is it more of an aching pain or sharp pain? I have some herbs in my bag and-"

"Sebastian." He looks up at you fiercely. Around anyone else he hides his emotions, but around you it seems they flow right from his sleeve. Is he shaking? He is, you decide, but because it's cold. At least that's better than admitting he is shaking because of the fear you caused him.

"I'm alright."

"No, you're not. Look at this lump! How did you even get it?" the uncomfortable silence told both of you that he didn't really want to know.

"It will heal Sebastian."

"You didn't answer my question."

"It doesn't matter."

"It does!" Sebastian stands up with his hands in his hair. "Merlin, it does! You do this every bloody week, go off on some quest and come back beat up. Why don't you ever ask somebody to go with you? Is it your pride? I bet it is."

Taken aback by his outburst, your eyes widen. "I just ran into an unexpected group of poachers, Sebastian I promise."

"I don't doubt it. You...you probably scouted them out, right? You're always looking for more ways to get into danger anyways. You don't trust me. That's why you don't ask me to go with you. Either you don't trust me, or you're lying." He paces a small portion of the room.

"I do trust you, Seb. I just want to protect you."

"Is that what you call it? Lying to me about where you're going and then hurting yourself?" He turns to face you and steps closer. "Let me tell you something. You're going to die out there. A slow, painful death because you're too fucking stubborn too ask for help." When you don't budge, he narrows his eyes. "Will anyone grieve? We will miss you, but we all would know it was coming. Every one of us would know, I promise. And as much as we would miss you, we wouldn't have to worry about you anymore."

Silence.

"Fuck you."

And then, you're off. A blur of tears, are you shaking? You are. No sounds but the thumping of your feet on the corridors. Your head hurts.

You couldn't comprehend what Sebastian had said, it was too painful. A fog filtered through your mind and you didn't stop to think somebody might have seen you running. Everything inside hurt.

If you were gone, it would be a burden off of everyone's back. That's what he said. It hurt so bad you clutched at your chest.

In the dungeons, you couldn't run anymore. So you collapsed into the nearest wall in a mess of sobs. Of course, he was right. Of course he was. Had he ever been wrong?

And it's three days (or really, an hour) until Sebastian comes and finds you. He has tears running down his face too.

"Mc!"

"Fuck off."

You might agree with him, but you don't want to see him. He sits down opposite of you, and he's still shaking.

"I shouldn't have said that."

Silence.

"I didn't mean it."

Silence.

"I swear, MC, I was just worried and-"

He stops when you turn to face him. "Sebastian. Shut up." The harsh words shock him. "You were right."

"No!" Those eyes you love so much widen. "I wasn't, don't say that! Mc, you are the best thing that has ever happened to me, let alone Hogwarts. I would- no, the world would be devastated to lose you. All you were trying to do was protect us and the innocent creatures. I was terrified something happened to you, and took it out in the worst way possible. I am beyond sorry, my love."

You frown as you took in his face. Wide brown eyes, messy hair from sprinting towards you, swollen eyebags and a red neck from the near hyperventilating breaths he had been taking.

"I'm sorry too." He smiles and holds a hand out halfway too you. An invitation, maybe. "You don't need to be. How about this? I'll work on taking my anger out, and we can come up with a way for you to tell me if you're about to, you know, jump into a poacher ring."

"Sounds like a plan." You shake his hand.

Ominis

Yet again, the two of you were arguing.

It all had started a few days earlier with a letter from Ominis's parents. They had found a wife for him, a distant cousin capable of legilimency. With her powers and his Parseltoungue, they could make the ultimate heirs of Slytherin.

You wished that Ominis was able to forget things. He never had been, and never would be, but it would make your life easier. Instead, he fixated on a story his older brother had told him of one of their second cousins. Albert was his name. And he had refused to marry the bride his parents picked out. He was forced to marry her with a blade to his sisters throat and a noose around his beloved's neck.

It was probably just a tale, you told him. Maybe it was, but Ominis could never take the risk. You had spent the last few days trying to get into his head, but he prevailed. The attempts had ended in pure passive agression.

All he wanted was too keep you safe from his family, but all you had waned was him.

Here you sat, on the quidditch pitch in the middle of the night. An odd place to be sure, but it was secluded. And you could put as much distance between the two of you as you wanted.

"Are you even going to try and fight for us, Ominis?"

"try? I've been trying! I've done everything but refuse, and if I do it will kill you."

"You don't know that!"

"MC, it's not that easy. I love you too much to-"

"Love me so much you're willing to marry someone else and write me off? How is this fair to me?"

"It's not, and it's not fair to me either. But I don't have a choice." You glared at him as he swept a hand through his hair.

"like hell you dont!" You snarl. "Run away with me."

"MC, you know we can't do that. They'll find us." His look of pure heartbreak would have hurt if you weren't pissed off. "MC..."

"I don't want to talk about this right now. I don't want to talk right now." He frowned at your words. "this isn't easy for me either, MC,"

"I didn't say it was."

"Are you even trying to listen to me? Do you EVER listen to me?" Ominis runs an angry hand through his hair. "Do you listen to me MC, or do you ever listen to anybody?"

"Oh really, Ominis?" you stand. "you want to go there?"

"I swear, MC, you only care about yourself." You raised an eyebrow. "And that's why I saved hogwarts, and your ass right?"

"Just leave me alone. I don't want anything to do with you."

"You don't mean that."

"Oh, but I do. I never loved you."

Logically, you knew he was under a lot of stress and trying to protect his own feelings. But emotionally, it hit you like a bullet to the chest. You take a deep breath and turn to walk away.

"You're going to run away now?"

You started running. And didn't stop until you got to the Undercroft. Sure, he could find you there, but it was far, far away from the pitch and that's all you wanted in the moment. You crumbled against the wall and cried. How could he ever say that? It kept playing in your mind, over and over.

Tears kept coming, then they came some more, and eventually you fell asleep. It was exhausting to cry, after all. And when you woke up, there was something in your hair.

A hand.

Ominis was sitting next to you, running a hand through your hair, his face pale and blank. You had never seen his eyes so devoid of emotion. Instinctively, you curled up to him, but when you remembered what he said, you jumped away.

He looked down at you with sad, sad eyes. "I'm not even going to try to apologize. I don't deserve to be forgiven. Just, please don't make this more painful than it has to be. I know you never want to talk to me again. I just wanted to say goodbye."

"Fuck off." You groaned, scotting away from him. "I don't want to speak to you."

"I know. I just wanted to apologize before leaving." He sighed, raking a hand through his unusually messy hair. "I didn't mean what I said. I love you more than I could ever put into words. I am nothing without you. I have only ever wanted to protect you, and if that means having to say goodbye, so be it."

You stared at him for a moment before shaking your head. "You, Ominis, are an Idiot. I want you. I don't want you to say goodbye to protect me. All I want is for you to fight for me. I'm not mad about you saying you didn't love me. I was, but I know you didn't mean it. I am, however, furious that you aren't giving me a chance to fight for you, and that you aren't fighting for me."

"I want too. I will send an Owl to my parents first thing in the morning to tell them I won't marry her. That they can either cast me from the family or accept it, but it's what's going to happen."

You look up at him, wide eyed at his willingness to fight for your love.

"Really?" You ask and hate that you sound rather like a small child.

"Really." He wiped your tears with his thumbs and smiled gently. "I know you aren't ready to forgive me yet, but I'm here and I'm not leaving."

[biapascal]

Nap.

Authors' Note: Good morning everyone ☕️🤎I wanted to write about Dad! Pedro for a while (please don't let this flop lmao)

Summary: Pedro loves his daughter Bianca, but he also loves acting, and as a single father trying to make it in the industry isn't easy.

Warnings: fluff <3

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

No matter how many times it happened, Pedro was never at peace after being rejected at an audition. This role would provide him with economic stability, and once again he had been cast against a younger, more attractive man.

The expenses were many: Bianca's schooling, babysitting and rent, plus extra purchases.

He could have borrowed, but his pride forbade it. Bianca had turned the room upside down, playing with dolls and making a lot of noise. Pedro tried to study the script for the next show in the living room, but the little girl kept cackling. The man sighed and rubbed his temples as Bianca rolled down the hall. Every day was like this: he would have liked to finish rehearsals with the other actors, but he had to return early to pick up his daughter from kindergarten.

Besides, for at least three months he could not afford to call the babysitter, so he would have no alternative for a while. "DAD!" He pretended not to hear her, but the little girl ran into the living room and jumped into his arms, crumpling the pages of the script. "Bianca! You can't jump on me like that!" he scolded her.

She giggled. "I'm serious, look what you've done” he showed her the script, and she lay on her stomach, her arm protruding from the sofa. Bianca was almost four years old and had given him a lot to do: she was a lively child, but at the same time shy. She followed him everywhere and had to cheer her on to greet others.

She was witty, creative, and had inherited a passion for movies; there were many evenings when Pedro would order a pizza and they would share it on the bed in front of the television, which would horrify any professional child educator. The truth was that he had no idea how to be a father on his own and relied on the actions that received the most positive feedback.

Bianca already had a strong and stubborn character, but he found it hard to take it out on her, and when it happened that she cried because of an ordinary sermon, he felt his heart clench and wished he could go back and apologize to her, even though it would not have been the appropriate thing to do.

Aesthetically, she was becoming a squashed copy of Elisa; the same nose covered with a sprinkling of freckles, the same dimples in the same position, the shape of the face, and even the facial expressions. It hurt.

Pedro had overcome the despair of abandonment and felt only anger.

"Honey?" Bianca raised her head lazily, fiddling with the rubber bands on her wrists. "I can't let Margaret stay with you for the afternoon this month, so I'm asking you to be good and come to the theater with me” he asked her softly. She smiled back and he softened by gently tousling her hair. The boys loved her, and when she arrived at the rehearsal, she stayed quietly on one of the chairs in the stalls, painting.

"Pedro, let's go over that line again," the man nodded. "So," he cleared his throat.

“Well, Horace? .... You are pale and trembling....

What do you say now? You must have convinced yourself

that it was more than our imagination." He concentrated. "I swear to God, I would never have believed it

without the physical, tangible evidence

of my eyes..." he waited for the approval of the theater director, who looked at him intently.

"Doesn't he look like the king?

" "As you yourself.

And his armor was the same armor

that the king wore when he clashed

with Norway; and the threatening countenance

was that of the king when, enraged,

jumped down from his sledge

the Poles, in the course of a dispute....

It's strange, very strange. He continued.

"Well, well," the director rubbed his hands together. "And bravo, my Horace, you finally got the character!" he exclaimed with satisfaction. Pedro smiled with a child's enthusiasm.

"Come on guys, go rest, it's late".

The actors and actresses took their things and Pedro noticed that Bianca had fallen asleep. He sighed and slowly picked her up, being careful not to wake her. "How good she is" complimented Lisa, one of the actresses. He smiled at her. "Hopefully, she’s a sleepy head” he chuckled softly. "Well, we are are having a drink” the woman informed him. "Oh, well” he pursed his lips in embarrassment. "You know, I'd love to, but..." he lowered his eyes to Bianca, who was sleeping peacefully in his arms. Lisa patted his shoulder. "Don't worry, I'll see you tomorrow” there was pity in her tone.

"Yes, tomorrow..."