#ASHI WOULD REACT THAT WAY

[ashipiko]

EVERYBODY LOOK AT THIS RIGHT NEOW

Drawing for the FIRST raffle winner!!!🥳

For @ashipiko 💘💘💘

[triglycercule]

horror's jacket fluff has probably accumulated so much DISGUSTINGNESS over 7 years in it that it's managed to acquire it's own signature Dog Smell (TM). however i think this would be a prime opportunity to pet him and then get some of that disgusting smell on you because for some reasons Dog Smell is just unavoidable when you pet a dog with a lot of hair

he'd hate it but awww awww whos a good boy (ﾉ´∀｀*) whos a good boy (*≧∪≦) YOU ARE!!! awww so cute you didn't commit all those murders against innocent people you were innocent (￣▽￣)／ such a good boy!!!! (gets beheaded) (he got too embarrassed)

[delirious-donna]

tw: katsuki x female reader, pro-hero, early 30s katsuki, pure smut, pussy drunk katsuki, finishing untouched, implied multiple rounds, implied unprotected sex, seriously I was just on a filthy rampage 😌

It had happened so fast; so fast that you weren’t sure when your intent had been entirely disregarded in favour of your hot-headed husband’s desire to devour you whole. Not that you were really complaining.

Your phone slid onto the counter, anticipation thrumming through you knowing that another patrol had ended successfully with nothing but a few scrapes and scratches to deal with. Child’s play at this point for the number two pro hero and the love of your life.

Heavy boots stomped towards the apartment door; each step echoed in time with the second heartbeat between your legs and you clenched them shut for a hit of friction. It wasn’t enough. It would never be enough, not without his body slotted against yours. Hard steel enveloped by your soft curves.

The overwhelming swell of lust was immediate when the door opened, a head of ashy blond spikes dipped low appeared and it felt as if his presence sucked the very oxygen from the room. His cumbersome gauntlets were missing—likely left behind at the agency—but his hero suit remained. It was covered in fine dust, thick black streaks of dirt darkened his biceps and sweat lingered on his brow and shoulders as if he had run here… had he run here?

It was hardly a new scenario, this man was your husband and the routine of his dangerous line of work was well accustomed to both of you, but there was always the adrenaline that came after the ‘fight’. It consumed you both, dragged you under raging, lust-fuelled waves until there was no rational thoughts left—only the need.

Katsuki was your air, your reason to draw breath; all you wanted was to see him happy, loved, content with the world he built for you both. Those were the desires you always harboured, right now, you were focused on your baser instincts.

You needed to swallow him down, have his fat tip punish the soft tissue at the back of your throat until you were slurping down his seed like the greedy beast you felt like. Dammit, you were already licking your lips in sweet anticipation. The phantom salty musk taste whet your mouth with runny saliva, and he smirked when he caught your eye.

Honestly, you had expected to settle low and spread on your haunches. You wanted to worship him whilst he towered overhead. His sheer size and frame were mammoth and imposing; broad shoulders and arms thick with golden-hued muscles, a barrelled chest heaving with every inhale and his nostrils flared as confidence beat against his conscious thought. Bakugou Katsuki was a pure powerhouse of a man, a man of action first and foremost, and never more was that true when you felt his deeply calloused palm grab at the back of your neck.

His mouth slanted atop yours, tongue bullying its way into your mewling mouth as you grabbed at his shoulders to stabilise yourself against the force of being hauled against his chest. His unique glycerin laced sweat mingled with the spice of his soap, filling your nose with only him whilst caramel burst over your tastebuds.

Katsuki overwhelmed your senses so easily that you had no idea you were being walked backwards towards the bedroom. He boots thudded as he kicked out of them, stalking forward with no sign of halting the dominance of his kisses, the grope of your hips, waist, breasts. He never stopped, refused to waver and you were simply swept up in the rip tide that he was his momentum.

Instead of falling to your knees in the hallway like you intended, you found your spine pressed against rich brushed cotton sheets, bare and vulnerable to his attentive gaze. It had you squirming, reacting to every simple brush of his fingers on your heated skin. It did not go unnoticed, nothing every did with Katsuki.

You whined, low and throaty when he pathed a wet trail of kisses down your front, stopping at your breasts and lapping at your peaked nipples in turn. He showed no sign of shucking out of his hero suit, and whilst you adored him decked out for business, right here and now, it simply wouldn’t stand.

“Kat—please...”

His crimson eyes rolled in feigned annoyance, but the smirk couldn’t hide exactly how pleased he was that you wanted to see more of him, like he didn’t already know�� the menace.

“For a kiss,” he bartered with a smug smile.

“My fucking pleasure,” you replied, eliciting an amused huff of the hero hovering over you.

Grabbing at the front of his compression shirt, you pulled him down until your lips crashed against his. The kiss was a mixture of sweet and salty, the pace alternating between slow and steady to hurried and frantic. You knew every lick to make him groan, every nip at his bottom lip that would stir the beast within until it roared with the compulsion to take over.

“Cussing is my vice, get your own. Now stop complainin’ and let me eat you out.”

With those rough words, the top half of his clothes swiftly disappeared into a dark corner leaving him bare-chested and magnificent. A literal wall of muscle with a liberal smattering of scars, and it stole your breath to gaze upon him.

Your foot braced against his toned pec, taking in the sight of the ash blond God that moved to kneel between your thighs, drinking him down in intoxicated delight.

Katsuki kissed along your calf until his nose pressed against the fat of your thigh, a low moan issued from his throat sending sparks dancing in your veins. Sometimes you could hardly believe it; the big burly pro hero known for his surly, no-nonsense attitude was so easily affected by being buried in your pussy—pussy drunk if you will. It would make you chuckle if he wasn’t in the process of scattering your wits to the wind with his hungry mouth.

Time ceased all meaning as you gave into Katsuki’s every whim, giving up on the keening pleads for you to return the favour after your second orgasm broke onto his awaiting tongue, slick slurped down his swallowing throat. His fingers tightened into the fat of your backside, spreading you further apart with each massage of his warm calloused hands.

He took his time in licking a fat wet strip over your soaked cunt, tugging on the puffy flesh of your folds with insistent lips. Guttural groans vibrated against your throbbing clit, your bud tender from the array of orgasms the hulking male pulled from you without showing sign of stopping.

Your toes sank into the flexing muscles of his broad shoulders, sensing their every ripple as he prodded once more at your gushing entrance. Slick already coated his fingers, drenched up to the knuckles as he pressed against your velvet walls.

“So good—taste so fuckin’ delicious,” he grunted, lips dancing across your sweat dappled skin with every word.

“Oh, ‘suki—oh god. Please, one more.”

Eyes of brightest ruby snapped up to lock with your own, widening almost imperceptibly as his entire body jerked, once then twice. His digits pressed firmly against your front wall, massaging the engorged tissue of your pleasure spot in earnest until you broke apart at the seams once more.

So blissed out from the release of tension low in your belly, you barely realised when the weight on the bed dipped and moved, Katsuki rolled sideways on a panted breath to reveal a large damp stain on the front of his black combat trousers.

“Fuck—I… shit-I need a minute. Got me busting in my damn pants like I’m still a fuckin’ horny teenager, sweetheart.”

You chuckled but quickly schooled yourself into some semblance of a stern expression. “You’re saying it’s my fault, Bakugou?”

“Don’t you Bakugou me, Mrs Bakugou. Don’t think that cause I ruined my trousers I’m not going to ruin your insides. Just gotta give me five minutes,” he huffed, standing to peel away the sticky mess from his cum-covered groin.

You paid for that attitude… over and over until you were as ruined as he promised.

[megalony]

Can't You Be Mine- Part 2

I had an idea and a lovely request that I thought would go well for a follow up to this Evan Buckley imagine that everyone reacted so lovely to.

So I hope you will all like this next part, please let me know what you think. I have something in mind for a third part too.

Taglist: @justagirlthatlovedtoread @musicistheway @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @luula @missdreamofendless @bradleybeachbabe @woderfulkawaii @amberpanda99 @daggersquadphantom @marvel-and-chicago-fan @angryknightstatesmantrash @minjix @lyjen @kmc1989 @itsmytimetoodream @noonenuts @hiireadstuff @ashie-babie @classyunknownlover @jayyeahthatsme @sp1ritssz @dumb-fawkin-bitch @oliverstarksbae @gimatida @heart-35 @supernaturalstilinski @stefansalvatoresgf @kyky9103 @wutheringhearts2275 @gay4hotmilfs @itshamleth @chaoticnosleepinfluencer @gs29 @wh0reforsmutstuff @mel-vaz @natashamea18 @chrisevansdaughter @alexandra8484 @deena-beena-weena @targaryenluvs @shelbygeek @kpoplover-19 @marvelmenarebeautiful @gillybear17

@zoeybennett @mrspeacem1nusone @zephyrmonkey @estella-novella @eleventhdoctorsangel @kniselle @senjoritanana

@shauna-carsley @dottierose @cfdhouse51 @darkfemme1 @rainechase45 @ml572 @jessie-lynn28 @lolalolsstuff

@jupiter1700 @ashdoctor @an-aliens-ghost @lunaroserites @houseoftwistedspirits @itshamleth @callsignwidow @winterreader-nowwriter @reneinii

Evan Buckley Masterlist

Part 1

Part 3

Summary: Now that Minnie has started referring to Evan as her dad, he has officially adopted her. And he turns up to protect them both when a situation happens in a store.

Enjoy.

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

With her head tilted back against the cushion and one arm behind her head, (Y/n) looked across at Evan and smiled as she followed his movements.

She watched him closely as he rounded the coffee table and moved towards the sofa she was laid on.

Her initial thought was that he would do what he always did when he sat with her like this. She thought he would lift her legs and sit next to her and let her legs rest over his thighs, something he did often when they sat together. But instead, Evan grinned from ear to ear and crawled on top of her.

He pinned his elbows either side of her chest and wriggled until he was comfortably nestled between her legs.

Most of his weight was balanced between his hips and his elbows, making sure he wasn't letting his full weight rest on (Y/n). He could easily crush her beneath his body weight if he relaxed on her.

His hands held her sides and his chin perched on her left shoulder, staring up at her intently with those darkened eyes that looked like they had captured droplets of the ocean within them.

"Hi," (Y/n) spoke softly while she lifted an arm to card her fingers through Evan's curls that seemed to be getting longer and longer each day. She felt the way he shivered over her when her nails scratched against his scalp and it made her smile widen into a smirk.

Her other arm looped around the back of Evan's shoulders and she began smoothing her fingertips up and down his back in a slow rhythm that had him shivering on top of her. She liked the feeling of his cheek resting on her shoulder and she tilted her head at an angle so she could kiss his temple.

"Hey. You okay, how's bubba?"

When Evan shifted his left hand down to press his palm against the side of her stomach, (Y/n) pecked his temple again.

A shiver rocked down her spine at the feeling of his unnaturally cold hand slithering beneath her shirt to tickle across her stomach. His fingertips feathered along her skin and sent goosebumps in his wake over her flushed skin that felt like fire compared to his iced hands.

"We're good."

A hum vibrated against the back of Evan's throat as he continued to dance his fingers along her bump that was moulded up against his abdomen. He liked feeling her bump pressing up against him, as if the baby was trying to make sure they didn't forget about them. Evan could just see it, in a year or two when their boy or girl was here, they would be doing the exact same as Minnie always did whenever she saw them having an intimate moment together.

The five year old always got herself in the way, attaching herself to Evan's legs or holding her arms out to him, demanding he kiss her instead of her mum. And Evan knew their baby was going to be the exact same, he could sense it.

Minnie somehow knew that Evan was a sucker for her little smile. It was as if she sensed that Evan strived to make sure she didn't have to fight for attention the way he did when he was young.

He wanted to make sure that his kids never had to bed to be seen or heard or noticed. They wouldn't have to fight for the love that was supposed to be unconditional; not like Evan had.

He wouldn't allow them to have the same experiences he did growing up.

And now that Evan had adopted Minnie as his own, he was more desperate than ever to show her he loved her and he wasn't going to let her feel left out, not for anything in the world.

"Hi bubba," His voice tickled the side of (Y/n)'s stomach when he tilted his head down to kiss her bump.

Although he didn't know how well everything was going to go if he and (Y/n) ended up having a baby girl. They were keeping the gender a secret, but the longer they left it, the more uneasy Minnie was becoming. She was fully evolved in telling every person she met that Evan was her dad. They had all moved into a big house together, Evan took her to school and tucked her in bed and read her stories. He kissed her cuts and bruises if she fell and they had movie nights together.

She was the happiest she had ever been now she could call Evan her dad and hear him say she was his daughter. And when he told her he loved her, she always seemed to melt into a puddle.

If (Y/n) and Evan ended up having a baby girl, they had a horrid feeling that Minnie wouldn't be happy.

She had been very eager to be a big sister once they told her the news, but she had it in her head that the baby would be a boy because 'she was daddy's only girl'. Or his princess as she had started to say. Having a sister might make Minnie jealous or think she would have to fight for Evan's attention. And Evan prayed if it was a girl that Minnie wouldn't think he was going to replace her. That would never be the case.

(Y/n) stopped carding her fingers through Evan's hair and draped her arm around the back of his neck instead when he lifted his head. She could feel the end of his nose drag across her skin and up the side of her neck. He lifted his head until his chin feathered across her collar bone and had her shivering beneath him once again.

Each time she swallowed or took a sharp breath, Evan felt the movement in her throat and he grinned against her neck. His teeth scratched along her skin and he bit down just enough to make a sharp scratch burn over (Y/n)'s neck which made her breaths become shallow.

(Y/n) tilted her head back, arching her neck out into Evan's touches and tensing delightfully when he bit down on her skin. Not hard enough to leave a mark or a bruise, but enough to create a sharp sting. His teeth finally released her neck only to be replaced with his tongue which glided across the tender spot, soothing the stinging sensation he left in his wake.

His wet lips formed into a pout and he pressed open-mouthed kisses up and down her neck. He continued his administrations, kissing up and down her jugular until (Y/n)'s arm left his back and she moved her hand down to hold his wrist instead.

"Someone's awake," (Y/n) whispered against the top of his head while she shifted Evan's hand down to where the baby was kicking.

Her fingers stayed curled around Evan's wrist while his palm stayed perfectly still against her stomach, waiting to feel any movement that he could. Sometimes it was as if Evan didn't truly believe this was happening and he needed to feel the baby kicking or moving or see the sonogram before his eyes again to reassure himself that this was real.

When Evan lifted his head from her shoulder and grinned down at her with those ruby red lips and such a feverish look in his eyes, (Y/n)'s heart could of exploded on the spot.

She tilted her head up and captured his lips in a kiss. He dragged his tongue across her lips so he could bare his teeth down on her lower lip, sharp enough to make a scratch and draw a droplet of blood which his tongue lapped up.

The touch was craving and hungry and deep. All until Evan's phone started to buzz in his back pocket.

(Y/n) shifted her hands around to cup his neck as he hovered above her. She brushed her thumbs across his cheeks and smiled so sweetly Evan couldn't believe she was smiling like that at him. For him.

He tried to capture another kiss from her lips, but (Y/n) tilted her head back and pecked the tip of his nose instead.

"Don't you need to answer that?" (Y/n) panted, her voice barely more than a distant sound carried away on the wind.

"It's not important, they can call back."

(Y/n) grinned and rolled her eyes before Evan was dipping his head back down, nudging his nose against hers to take ownership of her lips. The feeling was overpowering and when his tongue darted across her lips and stole the air from her lungs, (Y/n) almost forgot what she'd asked him.

The sudden buzzing noise managed to filter through her ears a few seconds later while she parted her lips against Evan's, desperately trying to take in a breath before he devoured her lips again.

While he concentrated on bruising her lips, (Y/n) slid her hand down towards his trousers. Her hand swatted against his bum to wind him up before she dipped her fingers into his pocket and pulled out his phone. It could be something important. It could be Eddie needing something or Chris wanting to talk to him. It could be anyone from the station or it could be Maddie, she knew if she had to go to work (Y/n) and Evan were more than happy to take Jee-Yun for them and look after their niece.

She held the phone beside her head until Evan opened his eyes, his lips still barely touching (Y/n)'s while he panted into her mouth and looked at the caller ID.

It was Bobby.

"Answer it," She mused against his lips, scraping her teeth against his lip while Evan kept his left hand on her stomach and his right hand begrudgingly took the phone.

Evan flopped his head down into the crook of (Y/n)'s neck, attaching his lips to her shoulder while he closed his eyes and gained his breath back.

"Hey Bobby, everything okay?"

"Hi Buck… I'm sorry to call but Connor has gone home sick and now Chimney's called in. I'm down two for the afternoon shift and you're on call. Can you come in?"

Evan tilted his head forward into the crook of (Y/n)'s neck, smothering a groan when Bobby's words sunk in. It was sweet of Bobby to actually ask if Evan could come in rather than just say he was on call and didn't have a choice in this. Giving Evan the preconception of having a choice would make him feel a little better at the prospect of having to go back to work on his day off.

But it was what he got paid for. Being on call meant getting an extra lump sum payment for the week for being on standby. No drinking alcohol, no planning to go to parties or social events and being in town and ready in case something came up and he was needed on shift. And it was extra pay any shift he had to pick up while on call too.

"Yeah, yeah I'll come in. Give me half an hour and I'll be there."

"Thank you, see you soon."

When Evan lifted his head and muttered a quiet "I gotta go," against (Y/n)'s lips, she grinned softly and pecked his lips.

"I heard." She let her hands fall down to Evan's shoulders, watching intently as he made no move to get off her and go get ready. He seemed to become stuck in place between her thighs while both his hands moved down to grip her hips tightly.

"Shit, we were gonna go shopping. Can we postpone for tomorrow?"

"Me and Minnie can go do it today, it's okay."

(Y/n) pressed her hands down to the sofa when Evan finally pushed up off her and sank back on his heels, kneeling between her thighs on the sofa. The way he tilted his head to the side and his eyes creased asked a silent question. He would happily take her shopping tomorrow. The look in his eyes told her she didn't have to go today if she didn't want to.

It was usual for them to go shopping together on their days off, more specifically when Evan had days off as his schedule was rather complicated and hectic.

(Y/n) didn't like going out alone. After an abusive relationship with her ex, (Y/n) felt safer if she went out with someone, whether that was to go shopping or to get herself out of the house or to appointments. Being alone made her self conscious and uneasy.

It had been hard enough before she met Evan to take Minnie to nursery or to appointments on her own. She often ended up asking her mum or a friend to accompany her and Minnie, being out with someone else felt safer than being alone.

And (Y/n) had been more than relieved when she got with Evan that he didn't mind. He didn't think she was clingy or being stupid and he didn't tell her to toughen up or stop being so frightened. If she wanted to wait for him to join her, he would go with her. He took her to any and all appointments, they went shopping together and Evan made it his personal mission to pick up Minnie from school because the pair of them loved it so much.

They had their own home now, the three of them all together, with a new addition on the way.

"Baby, I'll go, I'll be fine." She pushed up so she was sitting in front of him and her fingers danced along his jaw, creating pins and needles in her wake. Leaning forward, she attached her lips to the side of Evan's jaw, earning a groan that caused him to tilt his head back towards the ceiling.

(Y/n) wasn't doing too much on her own at the moment, she was still panicked and uneasy now she was pregnant. But she could handle doing the shopping, they didn't need a lot anyway. If it was a full blown food shop and cleaning shop for the house, (Y/n) would have waited. But she would rather go out now and get what they needed so tomorrow, she could spend the whole day with Evan and he could take it easy after what she reckoned would be a long cover shift.

"You go to work, me, Minnie and bubba will go shopping. Go write me a list of what you want before you go."

It was no secret that Evan was taking after Bobby in the kitchen. He was starting to enjoy cooking almost as much as Bobby did and therefore, Evan had become a chef on his days off. (Y/n) knew he had short shifts next week and if there was anything he wanted or needed for cooking, she would go get it today for him.

Shopping wasn't so bad. (Y/n) had a list and she would be in and out of the shops within an hour if she was lucky.

She could do this on her own. It would do her some good.

Her stomach fluttered with adrenaline at the smile which lit up Evan's face. He leaned forward, stealing a lazy kiss from her lips and pressing one to the top of her bump before he clambered off the sofa and headed into the hall.

"Mouse, you coming down? I gotta go to work baby." He leaned over the bannister to call upstairs since he knew Minnie was up there, doing whatever it was that held her interest this morning. It would either be the dolls house she was playing with or the new toy ambulance she was fascinated with this week.

Evan waltzed into the kitchen and started to write a few things down on the notepad for what they needed from shopping. And his lips curved up into a grin when he heard Minnie bounding down the stairs like a boulder.

He twisted his head to the left, letting a smile win out across his face when Minnie bounded over to him with her arms out.

"I thought we were shopping?" She made grabbing hands up at him until Evan leaned down and scooped her up in his arms, as always.

"I'm needed at work today, but you and mum are gonna go shopping." He bounced Minnie on his hip while he arched forward and wrote down the last few things they needed on the list.

"And baby?"

The corners of Evan's eyes creased as he let out a chuckle and nodded. "Yep, baby too. You gonna be good for me while I'm gone?"

Minnie nodded eagerly, grinning to herself when Evan mumbled "That's my girl," before she cupped his face in her small hands, a silent implication that she was waiting for a kiss.

"When's he gonna be here, daddy? The baby?"

"Not for another three or four months, little mouse. We have to wait a while." Evan was starting to feel as eager as Minnie for the baby to arrive, and they were only twenty weeks along.

He pressed a tender kiss to her temple before he eased her down to her feet and handed her the shopping list, knowing she would keep it safe like it was a prized piece of gold paper. He didn't dare correct her and admit that the baby might be a girl. The last time Evan tried to have that conversation with her, Minnie got very upset and Evan saw no need to have that talk today.

***

(Y/n) peered down at the shopping list, concentration written across her face as she tried to decipher the words Evan had scribbled down in haste before he left earlier.

Usually he had lovely handwriting, neat and cursive. But when he was jotting down notes or writing in a hurry, his words slanted to the right and his loops became bigger and the words squashed and scribbled too close together.

With a sigh, (Y/n) put the list back in her bag and leaned forward, folding her arms over the trolley to arch her lower back out. Leaning over like this felt better, it felt like the baby was more at ease since (Y/n) constantly felt like she was being weighed forward. It relieved the tension in her spine if she stooped over every now and then.

She was ready to go home. The store was crowded and (Y/n) had become suddenly tired and sluggish before she even got in the shop. Without Evan here with her (Y/n) could feel her panic rising and her determination dwindling.

She didn't like being out on her own.

A soft smile pulled at her lips when she felt Minnie gently patting her shoulder like she was trying to comfort her. Lifting her head, (Y/n) pressed a kiss to her daughter's arm and pushed up to stand straight again. They had almost got everything on the list, it felt about time to cut this trip short and head back home.

Minnie wouldn't care. The five year old had found a children's magazine that was all about animals. It had pictures to colour in, photos, games and lots of stickers. She was holding it close to her chest, marvelling at the front cover every now and then. But she was determined not to do any of the activities yet, not without Evan.

She knew he was very big into documentaries, especially ones about animals and as soon as she saw the magazine, she wanted it so she and Evan could do it together.

"Let's get daddy some popcorn, then we can go."

Minnie nodded and darted her head around the shop as they moved into the next aisle. They both knew what she was going to do. She would grab the brand of popcorn she preferred because then Evan wouldn't have a choice but to share it with her. It was a good job he didn't care what brand or flavour he had.

(Y/n) began tapping the list against the trolley handle and hummed as she made her way down the aisle, seemingly in a world of her own. But she came to an abrupt stop when her eyes glanced up ahead near the crisps.

Oh no.

A subtle tremble set in her bones and her fingers tightened around the handle bar as she felt her lungs seizing up.

Mark.

Her ex. The mad man she had successfully avoided since she left him five and a half years ago. (Y/n) had laid her eyes on him only a small handful of times, and none of those times had been close enough for Mark to see or approach her.

She had never been stuck in the same shop as him before, in such close proximity.

When (Y/n) found out she was pregnant, she packed up her things and went to stay with her sister until she could get her own place. She left before Mark found out about Minnie. She couldn't have him knowing they had a child together, it would be a tie connecting her to him forever. He would never let (Y/n) go if he knew and he would ruin Minnie's life. She didn't deserve that. It was why (Y/n) hadn't put a name down under father's name on the birth certificate, that way Mark had no rights and no way to crawl back into her life.

Evan had adopted her. He was her dad now, it was binding, it was legal and he loved the bones of her.

Why had he gone into work today? Why couldn't Evan have been here with her? (Y/n) could have told him who Mark was and they could have made a quick exit. Evan was tall and bulky enough to hide (Y/n) behind him like a shield.

"Daddy likes that one."

Minnie's voice broke (Y/n) out of her rambling thoughts and she looked down to see Minnie stretching across for a large bag of salted popcorn in the signature blue packet that Minnie loved so much.

"Let's go." She tried to find her footing enough to spin the trolley around, she couldn't walk ahead and bypass Mark, it was too risky. Too dangerous.

"(Y/n)?"

That voice had (Y/n)'s throat tightening and made the baby shift and weigh her down towards the floor. Her feet felt like they were stuck in tar, becoming glued to the floor and each step was harder to take than the last. Her fight or flight had always been broken, (Y/n) was never good at fighting and her flight response was wanting to sit on the floor and hide.

Flight was impossible when her body always became sluggish and the overwhelming panic slowed her down too much to escape.

But she tried. She tried to move, for Minnie, for the baby. She had to keep them both safe, they were her priority.

Her hands trembled and the plastic handle started to become slick with sweat that was drenching her palms and lathering over every inch of her skin. She could feel tears welling in her eyes and when Minnie patted her arm, it took all of (Y/n)'s strength not to whimper.

"Mummy okay?" The five year old tried to lean to look around her mum, wondering who was calling out to them when she could hear pounding footsteps trying to catch them up.

But Minnie looked back up at her mum when (Y/n) leaned in close with an expression she had never seen before.

"Don't look, Minnie don't try and speak to him, that's a bad man. We stay away from bad people, don't we?"

The little girl visibly shivered and shrank back in her seat at the front of the trolley, but she nodded. It was drilled into her mind about strangers. She didn't talk or approach strangers if her parents weren't with her. She didn't let strangers try and talk to her or go places with her under any circumstance. And if she was told someone was a bad person, she had to stay away and stick with whatever adult she was around.

"(Y/n). Hey, look at me when I'm talking to you." The way he rose his voice made (Y/n) shiver and she couldn't find the ability to breathe when she felt him rushing up behind her.

She wasn't going to get very far with the trolley.

Acting on reflex, (Y/n) spun the trolley round so sharply the wheels screeched against the polished floor and created a black skid against the white and beige tiles. She pushed the end of the trolley harshly, almost ramming it into Mark's legs to keep him at bay, to keep something between them for safety.

And she leaned over and hoisted Minnie up out of the trolley, sitting her high up on her waist so her legs hooked over her bump. She knew Evan wouldn't be pleased if he saw her sitting Minnie on her bump like this, but she didn't have much of a choice. She had to keep their daughter in her arms in case she had to run and she couldn't risk Minnie getting separated from her.

She felt Minnie's chin digging roughly into her shoulder and her arms bound tight around her neck as she began to whimper. She didn't understand what was going on.

Her hand ran up and down Minnie's back to try and keep her calm but she found herself backing up towards the middle of the aisle to keep away from him. To keep them all safe.

"I thought it was you-"

"Back off and leave me alone." She wasn't doing this. (Y/n) wasn't having an enlightened conversation and she wasn't going to talk about old times or let Mark sway the conversation. She didn't want to talk, she wanted to leave. He was the reason (Y/n) didn't feel safe going out on her own anymore. He had taken so much from her.

The one and only thing he ever did right was give her Minnie; and that was the one thing Mark could never know he'd done.

"Who's the kid?" He tilted his chin up in indication of Minnie and his upper lip curled like he was a rabid dog about to snarl and bark. The look was one (Y/n) had seen too many times before and it sent her blood draining down to her toes.

"Fuck off." She felt Minnie shudder against her when she spoke. Bad words meant bad situations and Minnie didn't hear her mum swear often. She hadn't heard Evan swear once in her presence yet either.

Grabbing the trolley, she gave it a rough shove but Mark acted quicker and thrust his hands out against it, forcing it right back to her. (Y/n) stumbled back into the shelves behind her, wincing and biting down a groan when the trolley rammed into her knee and sent her leg jerking.

She sidestepped to the left, cradling the back of Minnie's head as she tried to move away. She couldn't take her eyes off Mark. Not when turning away from him meant Minnie would have to look at him. He was nasty and his expressions could be vulgar, she didn't want him pulling faces or trying to whisper at Minnie. And turning her back to him posed the threat of him grabbing her by her hair, (Y/n) had made that mistake before.

"Oi!"

A shiver rolled down (Y/n)'s spine and despite how deeply she sank her teeth into her lower lip, it didn't stop tears from rolling down her face or her throat from tightening up.

I want Evan! He said he'd protect us!

Her body shuddered and she came to an abrupt stop when Mark launched a jar her way. It missed her. He wasn't aiming to hit her, he was aiming to frighten her. And it worked. A large glass jar hit the floor just a foot or so in front of (Y/n) and shattered into pieces. Splinters of glass went flying in every direction and she clung to Minnie tighter when her daughter screamed into her neck.

"Who's is she?" Mark's voice dropped to something dark and guttural and it had flashes of red crossing (Y/n)'s vision.

She could see fists flying in front of her eyes. Vases being thrown. Yelling in her ears. She could feel the bruises littering her skin and the pain tingling through her nerves. She could hear the neighbours calling the police and the sirens when Mark wouldn't let them into the house. Any and every memory of him danced before her eyes as she clung to Minnie tighter, trying to ground herself.

"My fella's." She sneered with as much venom in her eyes as there was in Mark's voice. And her free hand moved down to hold her stomach as she glared daggers into him. This was her family. These were Evan's kids, Mark had nothing to do with them. "She's four, do the math."

She clutched Minnie tighter just to make sure she wouldn't speak up and correct (Y/n) by saying she had just turned five. They didn't need Mark trying to do math and possibly coming up with the real answer. Four years ago (Y/n) wasn't with Mark, she had left him by then and she didn't care if he thought she was sleezy for moving on with someone else so quick. It was better than him knowing the truth.

Minnie didn't speak. She knew better, thank God, and she was too frightened to process what her mum was saying or realise that she wasn't four anymore. She just wanted to go home. She wanted her dad.

"What a whore."

(Y/n) was glad Minnie didn't understand that word or know what it meant. She backed up but when Mark threw another jar, this time aimed at her, (Y/n) spun round. She couldn't run backwards and she needed to move.

Tears soaked into her neck and she could feel Minnie starting to sob loudly into her skin.

"I- I want daddy," She mewled between deep, rumbling cries and (Y/n) pressed a shaky kiss to her cheek as she reached the end of the aisle and made a sharp left turn. They needed customers. They needed witnesses to see what Mark was doing and prevent him from getting close to them.

"I know-" (Y/n) broke off into a scream when the trolley forcefully rammed into her hip and sent her barrelling into the shelves of tinned food on her left.

She couldn't help but fall to her knees and her ankle spasmed and twisted, crushed against the wheel of the trolley which had caused shockwaves to rattle all up and down her right leg. Her arms deadlocked around Minnie and she tried to push her against her stomach to shield her. She could feel broken glass on the floor and it was cutting into her knees, she didn't want Minnie to get hurt too.

An ungodly amount of terror swam through her veins when she looked up and noticed Mark approaching them.

Why were there no people in this aisle? Why was no one hearing the commotion and coming to help? Were people turning away in favour of less confrontation?

(Y/n) shuffled forward a little and shakily stood Minnie up on her feet so she could manoeuvre herself in front of her daughter. She kept Minnie tucked behind her back, pinned between her and the shelves to keep her protected and hidden. Her chin lifted up defiantly and her lips curled into a snarl when Mark kneeled down beside her.

(Y/n) acted as fast as she could. Her fingers curled around one of the tins from the floor and she clutched it tight as she swung her arm with as much effort as she could muster. Smashing the tin into the side of Mark's head, level with his left eye.

The action caused him to howl and fall back on his behind, cradling his face which gave (Y/n) a few seconds.

Her hands shook so much she could barely scramble to get her bag off her shoulder. When she found her phone, she tapped her thumb repeatedly against the button until it unlocked.

"Call daddy. T-tell him it's an emergency!"

Minnie was gasping and screaming, alerting enough attention that people in other aisles were finally peering round to try and find out what was happening. One of which happened to be a middle aged woman with a child clinging to her hand and a young toddler in her trolley.

Women with children were usually safe, safer than people on their own at least. They couldn't run off with Minnie if they had other children to try and hurry out with.

Minnie tried scrolling through the phone to find Evan's contact, but she could barely see through her tears. Her vision blurred and it took her a while to lock onto Evan's dazzling smile in the icon picture. She barely clicked on his contact before (Y/n) was pushing her down the next aisle.

"L-lady, go to t-the lady." She pointed frantically at the woman with the children and tried to crawl away from the pile of tins and the trolley pinning her into the corner. She would follow Minnie, but she needed her daughter to move first and be as far away from Mark as possible.

Desperate, howling cries rolled off of Minnie's lips as she trotted over to the woman. She didn't want to be standing with her, but she had to do as she was told. She kept a foot of distance between herself and the lady who pushed her young child next to the trolley so she could rest a hand on Minnie's shoulder.

She had heard the commotion. She could see (Y/n) and Minnie were in some form of distress and she would stay with Minnie until things calmed down.

Relief splintered through (Y/n)'s blood when she heard someone yell "Call security!" That meant she was going to be safe soon. Shops had security, they had people who could cuff Mark and pin him down and call for the police to arrest him. They would have cameras to show that he had tried to attack her and Minnie, unprovoked.

Her hands trembled as she tried to latch onto the shelves to pull herself up, she could hardly crawl across the floor to get away.

Her legs wanted to give way once she was up. Pins and needles rushed through her blood and her knees felt heavy and unable to lock in place to keep her stood up. The baby was kicking and twisting in panic and (Y/n) could feel adrenaline sparking in her stomach and dwindling around in her chest. Everything was on fire. She wanted to go home. She wanted Evan.

Apparently she wasn't very good at trying to get away. Three steps was all (Y/n) could manage before her eyes snapped closed and she started to choke when Mark roughly grappled with the back of her shirt. He yanked it so fast the collar rose and dug into her throat, cutting off her breathing.

She flung her elbow into his abdomen and pushed her weight backwards to try and catch him off guard and distort his balance.

Her watering eyes could see people heading their way. A man left his partner to run towards them. A young woman gave her husband a shove with a dirty look that silently told him to intervene and help. Security could be heard in the distance, rushing their way. Help was coming.

"Daddy!"

"Mouse? Baby, what's the matter?" The alert tone in Evan's voice made him sound sharp and panicked but it calmed down one of the thousands of nerves igniting in Minnie's system.

Her dad was on the phone. He had answered. He would know what to do, he would come and help them.

"Bad man. T-the bad man hurt mummy, daddy y…you come get me. Mummy said i-it's emergency."

"What? Baby where are you? What bad man, what did he do?"

Minnie let out another wail. Why wasn't he coming? Why wasn't he saying that he was going to come and get them? Why wasn't Evan telling her that everything was going to be okay and he would help her mum and come and get them both?

She tilted her head back and looked up at the lady behind her. Minnie didn't know where they were. She had no idea what shop they were in or what to tell her dad. She didn't know what was happening, she didn't know the bad man or why he was shouting and throwing things and trying to hurt her mum. Minnie didn't understand anything that was happening.

"Baby girl I need to know where you are." Evan's sharp voice cut through the speaker and Minnie looked up at the woman, lifting the phone to try and get some help.

The lady looked around, clearly trying to find her bearings and remember the name of the shop they were in. She crouched down and leaned over Minnie's shoulder to speak into the phone. She repeated the name of the shop and the street which stopped Minnie from screaming. Her dad knew where they were, surely he would be coming to get them now.

"No!" (Y/n) bashed her elbow into Mark's stomach again and wrenched her collar down from her throat so she could keep breathing. But when she saw Mark gearing back up with a clenched fist and his eyes on her stomach, (Y/n) shook her head.

She stumbled forward, flinging her fists at him to keep him off her. She had already fallen into the shelves and almost been mowed down by a trolley. Anymore shock might do some damage to the baby and she couldn't have Mark hitting her in the stomach, she had to protect the baby.

Both hands moved to her stomach as she stumbled back a few paces, shuddering and gasping through her tears when a man took a lunge and tackled Mark to the floor.

Her feet fumbled over one another as she moved towards Minnie who was still screaming and gasping, both her hands trembling as they held the phone close.

A pair of hands settled on (Y/n)'s arms but she jerked forward, choking on a moan. She didn't want anyone touching her; not unless it was Evan.

She let herself slump down to her knees, flopping her head against a trolley while her trembling arm reached out so Minnie could scuttle under her arm and tuck into her side.

Minnie lifted the phone up and mumbled a shaky "Daddy," to let (Y/n) know that she had done as she was told and called him. That he was on the phone and he was going to come and get them. The news made (Y/n)'s stomach swarm with relief. She swallowed harshly and tilted her head down to kiss the top of Minnie's head.

She could hear Evan's voice, frantic and paranoid as he called out her name, desperate to know if she was alright and what was going on. But (Y/n) couldn't muster a lot of words.

"Evan, p-please, come get us."

***

"Minnie no-"

(Y/n) sighed to herself and let out a grumble when Minnie bolted to her feet and ran down the aisle. There was no stopping her now that Evan was within her line of sight.

He was storming down the aisle like a force of nature, hands clenched into fists at his sides. Sweat soaking through his dark navy blue uniform. Hair askew in all directions from the amount of times he had raked his fingers through the curls on the journey down here. The darkest look was plastered across his face, one that (Y/n) had never seen before and it sent her stomach reeling.

But his expression started to thaw just a little when he saw Minnie bolting his way. Arms stretched out in front of her and a feeble 'daddy' falling from her lips along with the tears drenching her face.

Evan had left the rest of the team scrambling out of the truck so he could bustle ahead and try and find his family. It didn't take long. Security were on the doors, they weren't letting any customers into the store and people were being questioned before they were allowed to leave. But they allowed Evan and the team inside and he headed straight for the voices and the commotion he could hear near the back of the store.

He paused in his stride and bent down just enough to scoop Minnie up when she pelted towards him like a speeding car.

Her arms bolted around his neck and her shaking went straight through Evan's chest and to his core. His lips curled in anger when he felt how badly his little girl was shaking and he could feel her sniffling and mewling into his neck.

"It's okay, little mouse. I got you." He pressed his lips longingly to the side of her head while his hand smoothed up and down her back.

He continued in his long strides towards the scene in front of him. There she was, there was (Y/n). Sat on the floor, leaning up against the shelves. She had a bottle of water at her side and a bowl Evan presumed they were using in case (Y/n) felt like she was going to be sick.

She looked drained. Her body was trembling, one hand was knotted in her hair and the other was pressed down into the floor to try and stabilise herself. There was a security officer stood nearby, at least two store workers sat down with (Y/n), someone Evan guessed might be the manager was talking on the phone. And a lady with two young children was hovering nearby, possibly a witness to what had happened.

Evan sighed into Minnie's hair and jostled her a bit higher on his chest and a fire ignited in his heart when he heard one of the workers whisper "Is that your husband?" To which (Y/n) nodded.

One of the workers moved out the way to let Evan get close and he wasted no time crashing down to his knees beside (Y/n). He kept Minnie sat on his left hip, holding her tight with one arm while his other hand reached out to cup the side of (Y/n)'s face.

His eyes dragged over her frame, taking in whatever he could. Her shirt was dishevelled, the collar scrunched and crinkled. Her hair was out of place. Every inch of her was trembling and she had been sick.

"What happened?" He traced his thumb along the edge of (Y/n)'s jaw while she tilted her head back to look up at him. She had finally stopped crying, but just looking at Evan and the manic fear written across his face was enough to have her tearing up again.

She reached her hand up to clutch at his wrist, leaning into his touch as she tried to gather her thoughts.

"Mark saw me, he g-got angry."

"What'd he do?"

Evan didn't like the way (Y/n) wouldn't meet his eyes, he could barely take in a proper breath when he didn't get an answer. His lips pressed together firmly and he swallowed down a growl when (Y/n) tilted her head forward so she wouldn't have to look up at him. Her forehead pressed into his shoulder and she leaned close, securing hands into his shirt to give herself something to focus on.

A quiet 'okay' passed Evan's lips as he gently twisted Minnie around and sat her down between his knees rather than keeping her juggled on his hip. He let her curl up between his legs like she was taking cover and her face buried into his thigh with her hands latched around his trouser leg.

He wanted to get Hen or Chimney to check Minnie over and make sure she was okay. He wanted them to sit with her so he could talk in private to (Y/n), but he knew Minnie wasn't going to be moved one foot away from either parent when she was this distressed. Not even to talk to uncle Chimney or uncle Eddie.

"Tell me." His lips hovered over (Y/n)'s ear and she didn't have to look at him to know he had a stern expression and an even darker tone of voice.

"He broke a few things, tried to push me around… He- he pushed me into some shelves. He didn't get near Minnie, and I'm okay-"

"You don't look okay. I'm gonna need Hen to check you over before we think about leaving." By the looks of her, Evan wouldn't say she was okay. She was in shock and he knew she was wincing when she tried to move every now and then. Evan needed her to get examined and he needed to know if they had to make a trip down to the hospital or not.

(Y/n) mustered up some strength to perch her chin on Evan's shoulder, allowing her to look up at him. She sank her teeth down into her lip at the pained expression on his face.

"You promise me you're not in pain or hurt bad?"

She nodded. She felt too shook up and flooded with adrenaline to know if she had any bad bruises or strains, but she was okay. She had come off worse when she'd had fights with Mark in the past. A few sore spots was nothing compared to what she had felt in the past and she had kept Minnie and the baby safe. That was the main thing.

"Is that him?"

The dark tone to Evan's voice was almost unrecognisable and for a moment, (Y/n) wasn't sure if it was him who had spoken. But when she realised he was looking down the end of the aisle, she turned to look around.

Security were finally moving Mark now that he was in handcuffs since the police had arrived. And his eyes were locked on them.

A shiver crawled down (Y/n)'s spine and adrenaline intermingled with fright when Evan tried to move. His warmth and touch retracted from her and he jolted to the side, about to get up and storm over towards Mark. He was going to go and teach him a lesson. Evan would make him pay for petrifying his girls like this.

"Evan please-"

"Daddy don't leave me!"

Minnie's petrified voice was enough to stop Evan. His head twisted back to look down at her and he could feel his lips twitching as tears welled up in his eyes. Her little nails scratched through his trousers and her head lifted up when Evan tried to get up.

She deadlocked her hands around his arm and yanked forcefully, desperate to keep him with her. She wouldn't be safe if he walked away. He wouldn't be safe if he went near the bad man. Minnie just wanted everyone to be safe and go home.

He let (Y/n) wind her arms around his torso and burrow her face into his chest. And when Minnie started to tremble and looked up at him with those big watering eyes, Evan all but crumbled.

He swooped his arm around her waist and pulled her up to snuggle her into his chest.

"I'm not leaving you, baby girl. The bad man can't hurt you, I promise."

[cherryheairt]

Hi again (●’◡’●)ﾉ

Please can I request some oneshots of different genshin characters ( Diluc, Zhongli, Neuvillete) reacting to the reader getting into a bar fight when drunk.

hello! I love this ask it sounded fun

Diluc

Diluc was the last to know of y/ns activities tonight, despite owning the tavern that they happened in.

In the midst of his stacks of paperwork for the winery's many shipments, Diluc was interrupted by Adelinde opening the study door in a rush.

He lifted his head from his work, placing his pen down. "Is everything alright?" He asked, though assumed not. The always calm and collected Adelinde had a red flush on her cheeks, as if she had run to find him.

"Master Dliuc, I'm afraid there's been an incident at Angel's Share." She answered, catching her breath.

He rubbed a brow, nodding. "Isn't there one every night?"

She shook her head, exasperated. "It's y/n, she got into a fight with one of the regulars-"

Diluc wasted no time, standing from his chair and rushing past the maid. "Why didn't you say so sooner?!" He yelled behind him, a fury of red and black as he went to the stables.

Diluc made it to Mondstat's city in minutes, pushing the stead as fast as it could run. In front of the tavern, the amused face of Kaeya had just exited.

Before Diluc could speak, Kaeya carefully pushed his shoulders back, away from the door. "Calm down, Diluc. If you go in there in that state, nothing will get solved and the poor fellow will only get more hurt."

Poor fellow? Was y/n not the one who had gotten hurt? "I don't have time for this-"

"Though I have to applaud y/n, I never would have guessed that she had that kind of fire in her." Kaeya laughed, patting his brother's shoulder before leaving.

Diluc didn't have time to dwell on his words, slamming the door open.

Inside, only four people remained. Diluc went to y/n's side immediately, taking her face into his hands and inspecting it. Perfectly clear of aby blood or bruises. He scanned the rest of her exposed skin, nothing. "What happened?" He directed his question at anyone who would answer.

Jean, Charles, and a man Diluc vaguely knew as Albert were all crowded around, though Albert further from the rest with a wet cloth on his cheek, sulking at a table.

At the bar stools, the rest sat. Jean spoke up, "I am to mediate the fight when I heard of it. Kaeya beat me to it, though. I just stayed to make sure nothing else happened." She said, tired eyes barely staying open this late at night.

Charles nodded, "I sent someone to fetch you as soon as it stopped."

Diluc just crossed his arms, standing in front of Y/n as he glared at Albert. "What did he do to her?"

From behind, Y/n scoffed. "Nothing. He went down in one hit." The words were slightly slurred, though the amount of time that had passed waiting for Diluc to come most likely sobered her up a bit.

"Right, so what did he say then?" He questioned.

This made Jean herself bristle, though still silent.

"Bastard made a comment about Barbara, then tried to pass it off as 'oh, I'm just admiring her beauty and grace!'" Y/n mimiced Albert's nasally voice. Diluc looked to Albert, who shied away from everyone's gaze, clearly having no one in his corner. He shifted uncomfortably, leaving a bright ashy burn mark to be visible on his cheek.

Diluc whipped around to fully face Y/n again, spotting what he did not see the first time. A red vision, clutched tightly in her hands.

"You got a vision?" He asked, but it sounded more like a statement.

Y/n nodded, "I wish I got it in a cooler way, but hey, now we match." She winked, earning a small smile from him. He put a gloved hand on her shoulder, "is the matter settled, Jean? Clearly, he was in the wrong."

Jean, who might usually argue further about bar fights such as these, especially ones involving visions, nodded. It was involving her dear younger sister after all, some morals can be absolved.

Diluc and Y/n left first, dismissing Charles for the night and allowing Jean and Albert to discuss the matter in private.

Diluc led Y/n home, embracing her in front of him on horseback. "You're sure you're okay?" He asked.

Nodding slowly, she leaned back into his warm chest. "I'm great. Just wish Kaeya hadn't pulled me off before I could get another hit in." She admitted, amused.

Diluc laughed along, agreeing. "He's had that coming for a long time. It was time someone showed him his place.

They both went to bed contently, warm in each other's embrace.

On both of their nightstand lie two matching, glowing red visions.

Neuvillette

Y/n winced as a cold cloth wiped away at her swollen face. "Ow! Could you be any gentler, please?" She whined, attempting to tug her face away.

Neuvillette kept a soft but firm grip on her cheek, not allowing her to stop him. "If you hadn't gotten yourself into that fight, I wouldn't have to do this in the first place." His baritone voice reprimanded her.

She groaned, "That lady had no right to talk about you like that. The audacity to speak of the Iudex like that!"

He only raised a brow, patting at her split lip. "While I appreciate you defending me, there is no need. The people have a right to their opinions." Always neutral, Neuvillette stayed indifferent to the court's opinion of him.

"Not when they're wrong," she huffed. "She called you a cheater! Telling the whole tavern of how the Iudex rigged the Oratrice to send her husband to the Meropide because he insulted you."

"Lady Penny is simply upset, as any wife would be if her husband was sent to prison."

"Perhaps she should go join him if she misses him so much." Y/n rolled her eyes.

Neuvillette laughed softly, setting the towel down on the desk and taking her face softly in his arms. He caressed her bruise carefully, kissing it once, twice, then setting a final delicate kiss on her split lip.

"We can not send everyone we don't agree with the the Fortress, it would be anarchy."

Y/n giggled at his soft touches, squirming to the edge of the desk to hold his porcelain one in her own hands, which had proudly showed off her bloodied knuckles. "We won't know until we try."

He sighed contently, shaking his head in amusement. "What ever shall I do with you?"

[nvuy]

palingenesis — il capitano

summary. oh, to the gods, and to be reborn again from your rib.

notes. “nvuy do the corpse bride capitano fic” said about three people so i did it. is this actually corpse bride? no. do i care? also no. my halloween present that only certified freaks are allowed to read. capitano is geniunely not mentioned by his name or his status, so LOWKEY. you could read this as any male lead you want, i guess. but uh… it’s capitano. well. it’s supposed to be.

warnings. mentions of death. mentions of decay (but the khaenri’ah version of decay). capitano is literally a dead man walking. tangents about god and love. standard nvuy fic where everyone is miserable. angst if you squint.

“You used to love me for me, but I don’t even know what I am anymore.” 

There’s a small huff of laughter as you bring your knees to your chest. You wonder how he would react to you after all these years. You surely look different, and rot has set its teeth into your skin, and it morphs into his least favourite colour. 

You wonder briefly, if he would even remember you, was he to ever return. How childish.

You pick up a lone stick in the soil next to you and poke at the withered and abandoned white and yellow orchards surrounding the stone. 

His grave sits idly, silent. 

“I lost myself the day you died,” you admit. Your throat constricts for a moment and you struggle to breathe. “I had no idea what to do.” You lean against the tree stump, as you always do. “I still don’t.” 

His name is etched from many many centuries ago. Not by you, no. You hadn’t even attended the funeral, and to this day, you regretted it. Regret was a terrible ache that never quelled nor strayed too far from your heart. 

The flowers were dead now. You’d laid them here almost a hundred years ago. You hadn’t expected them to live, but the petals were now an ashy black, and the edges that used to be soft and rubbery were now crumbling like paper against your fingers. The petals fell to small pieces. 

The land was withering. Of course, the flowers would rot as well. 

“You’d hate what your home has become,” you tell him. “We’re all rotting. And it all hurts.” You grimace next, but almost playfully. “Everything is blue. You hate blue. You used to tell me it upset you.” You look down at your forearm, and the withering aches upon your skin. “Even I’m turning blue.” It’s more so black than it is blue, but whatever colour it may be, it scars and will never leave. It is your fate, as it is your people’s. 

The forest is quiet. 

His body was buried amongst his favourite orchard field, but those flowers are long gone now, and all that remains is the black and blue prickly grass that you sit in, and a stone with his name left in it. He is somewhere below the ground, his body long decayed and faded and given life to the soil that once grew the most beautiful greenery you’d ever seen. 

Not even that remained. 

“If you were alive, you’d… y’know…” You tilt your head. “You’d rot, too. And for that, I’m grateful you died with glory.” You stare out into the dead fields. “Though, I can’t help but be selfish. I think it would hurt less if you were here.” 

And there it is. 

You hum soundly. “Yeah… you made everything hurt less.” 

There’s a ring in your palm. It’s small, just large enough to slot nicely around the swell of your fourth finger, but the rot has dug into your flesh just enough that it doesn’t fit anymore. Not the way it used to. 

It’s beautiful, however. Silver with white and blue diamonds. He bestowed it to you one night, though it was significantly after his proposal. The proposal itself was… special. Not in a bad way — but in his way. He had been missing for several days after his army had been struck with an ambush. Only a few men had initially returned to seek refuge and aid from the city. 

It was only two months later, after the city had mourned the soldiers’ losses, that they had returned. Bloodied, battered, beaten, but they had returned. 

He’d spotted you that day when he’d ventured out alone to visit his favourite field of flowers. You were sitting amidst the orchards, because this was where he’d usually be. 

And by your wishes, he returned. 

“It’s you,” you heard him whisper. 

You’d never heard a more beautiful sound. 

You turned quickly and dropped the flower from your hands. The colour almost drained from your face before a newfound pleasantry blossomed across your cheeks. You smiled, and it’s the first time you’ve done so in months. “You’re alive.” 

You took a hesitant step forward, as if unsure if his body would crumble to dust the moment you touched him. 

You sobbed pathetically. You held his face, or what remained of it. “You’re here. I thought you–” 

“I am here.” 

You think it silly now, believing he was dead over and over again. Every time he departed he’d come after the expected arrival date, and even then you used to panic and flourish and do everything but accept he was really gone this time. 

And now. 

Now that he is gone, it only took you three-hundred and ninety-four years to accept it. The rest of those you were busy returning to his grave and retelling your day as if he was alive and listening. 

The few people that were left on this side of the city pitied you. Even the grand old Mage had whispered that you’d better off leaving the dead to sleep soundly before he’d left for Snezhnaya. There was nothing you could have done to prevent this, or what occurred afterward. 

You had asked the Mage, once, if necromancy was truly a thing possible. 

“I am sure, even if it was, living dead is worse than living alive,” he had told you one day. “The past is finished.” 

“Is it selfish to think this way?” 

He looked down at you, and there was pity in his glance. “Very.” You eyed the ring still captured around your finger. “But, love is selfish. To want one person for yourself. It is indulgent.” 

“I suppose,” you whispered. “But possession is beautiful.”

And it had been beautiful. 

Just you and him. 

It was hard to adapt. Still is, really. You forget him for days at a time, and then you remember, and then you return. You stop and stare at walls. You glance to where he would be standing if he was around; next to you, at the dinner table, on his side of the bed. You never truly made the bed your very own. It was his, once. 

Just as your heart was — you weren’t able to develop the courage to move onwards with your life, so you were trapped within purgatory; swindled in a void of pure blue, like his eyes. 

Because isn’t being someone’s everything so special? 

Especially someone like him. 

Someone so brave, and courteous, and gentle. 

You never deserved that, really. So it makes sense why he disappeared just as quickly as he appeared in your life. Unfairness. 

You look down at the ring again. 

“You would be mine?” he asked one day, laying beside you in the field. “If I asked?”

You stared up at the sky. “I already am.” 

That pulled a small puff of laughter from him, and he sat up. You followed shortly, facing him. “I have a ring. And a proposition.” 

Oh. You looked down on what he was offering you. 

“It is your burden to oblige, and it is your choice.” You couldn’t see his face clearly through his armour, but there was a flash of that awful treacherous blue he hated so much. “But, if you’ll have me, I will have you. In this life, you and I will be as one, and never apart again.” 

“That is a bold claim to make,” you told him. “There is no guarantee you will not die soon.” 

“To which I rephrase: even when I am gone and you still walk these plains, you will be mine, and I will be yours, and my love for you will blossom through the soil and bloom the flowers that you love so much.” 

You laugh gently. Such a stupid man. 

You want to crush the ring until it welds flat and unwearable. 

Marriage is a privilege to the blessed, and you’re far from it. You receive no watchful eye from the Gods; they don’t care. They killed everyone you ever knew, and loved, and shared this miserable life with. 

The jewel squeaks in its confines as you squeeze. 

Such a stupid ring. 

You breathe in shakily. Stupid, stupid fantasy. Stupid games. Stupid delusions and useless pining and all of this heartache was for nothing and–

How hard do you have to believe in love to love the same person for an eternity? How hard do you have to imagine a world where everything is perfect when what is foretold to be eternal dies with the soul and the flowers in the rot? 

How long do man and Gods have to continue fighting each other before they realise it is futile? Gods are not kind, man even less so. 

Beautiful rot and ruin. 

That’s the world. 

The crows that sing in the trees screech their awful song to mock you. 

So, you drop the ring. You abandon it right where he had abandoned you in the soil. The silver rolls along the stone until it comes to a stop on the cracks. 

And it sits. 

You consider picking it back up. 

You don’t. 

Instead, you stand and turn to leave. 

Fate is fickle, however. 

If you had picked the ring back up, perhaps none of this would’ve happened. 

The breeze hits hard behind you and it sends chills down your spine. 

You glance up. 

The crows are making awful noises again, and you grimace. Though the spindly trees are ugly, you find there’s nothing uglier than the sound of those birds. 

He rather liked them.  

You step away.

Something sharp scratches against your ankle and then twists, and you scream. 

It’s a branch of some sort, and it moves and wriggles like a worm when you free your foot from its grasp. It twitches as if it has not moved in years, as if the bones inside of it were finally coming to life. 

It retreats into the soil beside his grave. 

Then, nothing. 

Nothing moves. 

The crows still and quiet, and you feel as though you can’t find the energy or courage to breathe. Your ankle is covered in soil and scratches, and you’re sure from how weak it stands when you try to apply weight to it that it’s twisted at best and completely sprained at worst. 

The soil does not stir. 

Until it does.

A hand pops a hole through the ground, and it is as still as the branch was, twitching and writhing and feeling through the open air for leverage. 

A hand. A hand like yours—covered in rot and ruin, purple and blue, and the phalanges are swollen with wither and time.

You step back and bite your tongue. A wrist reveals itself next, consistent with blue and bruise, and it reaches until the bloodied terrible fingers squeeze the soil and begin to pull. The hand claws and claws and digs itself from the ground, fingernails dirtied and brown. 

You want to scream. 

Nobody would hear you all the way out here. 

An elbow. It climbs and climbs, revealing more rot and decay. It writhes as if in pain, and you don’t doubt it so. 

You swallow hard. 

A shoulder. Sides of the neck reveal itself through the soil, caked in mud and wear and tear. It’s other arm tears free from the ground. 

And then a face. 

A face unidentifiable and ruined. Sullied with rot and bruise and wear and fade and filth. Two horrific blue lights of sort cast through the pain and the shadow that shrouds its face, and it only prompts you to step back even further. 

To that, the creature leans forward as best it can to try and grab your ankle. It’s waist is stuck in the soil, and it tries to pull itself out, despite how weak it is. 

“It’s you…” the creature whispers. 

You can’t move. You don’t even blink. Your breathing only comes out in short pathetic bursts. 

You’re not sure what it is, but rot has completely disfigured it beyond recognition. It’s sickening to look at. It’s worse than anything you could ever comprehend, and you imagine one day that you will appear the same. 

It manages to free itself from the confines of the soil, though it cannot stand. It hasn’t done so in centuries, nd the feeling of moving limbs are foreign to it, being entrapped below the ground for so long. 

It tries again to reach for you. It’s fingers brush just shy of your foot.  

You swallow hard. “Who…” You feel as though you already know the answer. 

There’s a single eye that you barely recognise. Deep blue like violet satin robes. Darker than the dead blue spruce. Darker than the sky, and lighter than the depths of the ocean where the sun could not reach. 

You know him. 

You bite your tongue. 

Waves of black hair as deep as shadows drown you on both sides until the world has swallowed the two of you whole. 

“I’m yours,” he reminds. “Correct?” He raises the ring you let go of.

It is him. 

You fall to your knees in front of him despite the fear and nausea churning in your stomach. He almost leaps on top of you, but settles in front, hands reaching forward to rest on your legs. He has not felt the warmth of another person, or anything, for five-hundred years, and he only simply freezes at the feeling. 

You furrow your brows and try to control your breathing. You try to push him off to sit up, but he does not budge. 

“You kept my ring.”

Your fingers curl around what remains of his shoulders and he takes your hand. 

“It is you,” you whisper. “How’re you–” 

His old uniform he was buried in is caked in soil, and it’s covered you, as well. He does not bring himself off of the floor, but he leans back just enough to allow you to sit up. You feel you can’t turn to run just yet, and you’re not sure if you want to. 

You can’t steady your breathing. 

He cannot move his legs properly, and so while you freeze, he uses your corpse as leverage to climb further up and rest upon your shoulder. He is heavy, as heavy as a corpse is, but you find comfort in the weight, somewhere. 

“You look so different,” he comments. Rotten fingers come forth to graze the same textured remainders of true flesh across your cheek. “What has this world done to you?” 

“You died,” you say. His lips rest against your cheek and he hums. “I…” 

“I abandoned you.” 

“I grieved over you for five centuries,” you quickly finish. “You were alive this entire time in the ground?” 

“I don’t know,” he answers. “I don’t think so. I feel as though time hasn’t moved at all. But it has.” He looks around, your face still in his hands. “This is the field.” 

You nod briskly. 

“Everything’s dead,” he comments. 

“It has been,” you reply. “For years.” You look elsewhere. “Everyone’s dead.” 

He holds you tight. “I left you in a world like this.” His hair is matted and disgusting, but you reach up and rest a hand on his crown. Guilt presses into his chest like a weight, and he wills himself to ignore it, despite how heavy it is. 

He is a corpse. A corpse. Like you. Like everyone that remains in this place. 

And he scares you. 

Despite how tight he holds you, you fear him. You feel for a moment you are hallucinating; this can’t be real. Your husband cannot spring from the soil and restate his love. Not like this. 

True death was incurable, and he had died many moons before the war in battle. He had sacrificed himself for victory and peace, only for it to end when the Archons set forth and destroyed your home. You still remember them, even if most of them were dead now. That Barbatos and Rex Lapis remained, despite everything, and you wanted them both dead in return. Dead and buried and never to return in the soil. 

“This isn’t real,” you whisper. 

“It is.” 

“No,” you try. “You died. You cannot reverse death.” 

“It is not reversed. I am still dead.” He wants to kiss you, but the fleeting warmth of your skin as you try to pull away and the soil and filth that rests upon his face shies you away with a flinch. “I can be yours again.” His fingers grace over the rot along your face. 

“It doesn’t make sense.” 

“I proposed that I would never part from you, and you I, even after death.” He holds the ring close to your face before he takes your hand. He rests it against your knuckles, perhaps admiring how the silver still shimmers against your skin. “It was a vow.” 

A vow, he says. Your face scrunches up in frustration. “I never married you.” 

“Marriage or not, the ring was a promise of my word, and you kept it all these years.” 

He takes your fingers gently before he parts them and slots the ring where it belongs. It nestles gently close to your knuckle and you swallow. Your finger felt strange without the piece, and wearing it again after only minutes satiated that discomfort. 

His face is… nothing you remember. 

His eyes are barely the same as they were before, and you turn away when he draws close again with a shaky breath.  

“Are you afraid of me?” He’d asked you that many years ago, many times. 

Even now, you feel the same. “Should I be?” You look out towards the dead fields, and you feel something cold bump against your cheek. 

His nose squishes against your skin when he kisses you close to your ear. “No.” 

It is only then through a gentle whisper and his lips do you muster the courage to look at him. He is so different. 

But, he’s still yours. 

“Are you the same man you were five-hundred years ago?” you ask him. 

He leans in as close as he can and his nose brushes against yours. His fingers lock tight around your hand and he squeezes; the silver ring imprints on your finger. 

He smiles, and you fall in love again. 

“I can be.” 

[therandompagesblog]

SKZ Mate: Chapter 2

Trigger Warnings: Marking, Angst, Misogyny, Sexism, Trauma

The weather had turned cold and it was starting to rain. The wet droplets burned the open wounds on Y/N's body. She said nothing to them as she followed them through the woods, stumbling along. Y/N wouldn't let any of them touch or help her. She could see that her behaviour was annoying the alpha but still said nothing. Her thoughts filled up with what might happen to her. She would be alone with male wolves who have never been involved with an omega. Didn't one just recently turn into an alpha? Y/N sighed at the thought. Wait. How many are in his pack? Y/N was starting to panic. Her alpha had seven other wolves, along with two other male omegas. "What is it omega?" Chris stopped to ask. He could see her thoughts rattling around her head. "How many of you are there?" Y/N asked nervously. "In my pack. There are eight of us." Chris said with a small smile. Anyone could see on his face how proud of his pack he was. They meant a lot to him. "You have two other alphas? One has just recently turned?" Y/N asked. She knew new alphas were volatile during their first few years. They could be extremely irrational and impulsive. Their anger could get the better of them and they weren't safe around omegas. "Hey," Chris said. A soft look on his face. "Jeongin won't hurt you. I won't let him. I swear to you omega." A growl erupted from Y/N's mouth. Her lips turned into a snarl causing Chris to lock his eyes on her. He wanted to discipline her but he couldn't. Not yet at least. Changbin on the other hand thought it was so funny. He had never met anyone who could infuriate his alpha. At the same time, Changbin felt sorry for Chris. Everything his alpha had ever wanted for his pack was an omega. Chris had sacrificed so much for his pack. He deserved an omega. They all did. Now that she was here everything had changed. Every imagination they all had of their omega was thrown completely out of the window. She had an attitude and it seemed as if she wouldn't easily submit.

Chris huffed at her actions and slightly stormed off forward, wanting to head home. He was feeling too many emotions: anger, frustration, disappointment, rejection. "Omega..." Changbin started before a growl erupted from the girl's throat. "What is your problem?" Changbin snapped at the younger female who looked down. "So, uh, little wolf..." Jisung tested out a new nickname. She doesn't seem to mind that. "Is that okay? If I call you little wolf?" "Mmm," Y/N answered sadly. It was better than being called omega. Jisung accepted her response. It was an improvement. "What is your favourite colour little wolf?" Jisung asked. He was hoping if he made small conversations she would become more open to them. "Grey," Y/N said. "Not like a dark grey. An ashy grey." "Like your eyes?" Jisung asked with a smile. "They are sometimes more silver... In the winter." Y/N added, making the slightly older wolf smile.

Admittedly, Jisung did worry about how the others were going to react. Some of them did not take well to others. In particular their second Alpha, Hyunjin. He could be a cold dismissive man with new people, particularly wolves and omegas. Then there was Minho who didn't like things sprung on him and often would make him extremely agitated. Not only that, Seungmin has been in a grumpy mood recently. Jisung wondered if he should warn her but he didn't want her to run, so he decided against it. He didn't want to leave a bad impression before she met them, even though it seemed she knew who they were. Instead, he opted for more generic questions. Ones that were not too invasive, like her lucky number, favourite flower, or favourite animal. It was a quick way to pass the time until they eventually reached their large open house. Their home was more like a cabin with two floors. It was very open and spacious, consisting of windows and ledges. Except for the back part of the house that branched out into a smaller cabin. That was used for something else.

Y/N stopped behind them, noticing how different their home was compared to her last home. This had a strange feeling to it. It smelled homely. It smelled like burnt wood and cinnamon, but there was an underlining floral smell. Her old home smelled like the forest. It was very earthy and didn't have a lot of comfort. This place, however, felt different. Something in her soothed her. "Your home?" Y/N whispered. "Why does it smell like that?" "What does it smell like? To you?" Chris asked, folding his muscular arms across his chest as he watched her nose twitch in curiosity. "It smells... Nice. Different." Y/N whispered, "It smells warm." "Do you want to come inside so Felix and I can check your wounds?" Chris asked as he held out his hand, pointing towards his home. Y/N nodded and followed him up the stairs and through the door. She noticed his hallway was rustic. Not too dark, but had enough to let the sun shine through. Y/N looked around curiously as Chris walked her through his home. When they reached a room, that looked as though it were a medical office, Y/N was smacked in the face by a sweet citric smell. It was so strong. "Hi." The voice was sweet and angelic. It almost wasn't human. "Omega, are you alright if I have a look at you." The voice said again, but Y/N's senses were all blocked up leaving her completely confused. Y/N tried to ground herself but his overwhelming sweetness englufed her. "Hey, omega. Are you alright?" The voice whispered again, grabbing her arm, causing her to snarl, making the male jump back.

Y/N didn't know what happened to her. She didn't understand why her senses were so confused. It was only when she looked at the male that she saw a guilty look on his face. He used his gift to distract me. It annoyed Y/N the way he used his scent to calm her. It was manipulative. "I'm sorry." The male apologised lowly as he noticed his alpha's glare. "Felix. What. Did. You. Do." Chris' voice was harsh as he looked at his beta. "Felix. She needs to feel safe here. What were you thinking?" Chris growled lowly making Felix bow his head in cowardness and submission. "There are thirty-six marks." Y/N openly said, causing the two males to look at her. "There are thirty-six marks," Y/N repeated, showing her arms before slowly pulling her light blue stained t-shirt over her head. There were bite marks all up her arms, on her side, under her breast, and across her neck. Some of them were bloodied purple and red. Some of them were green from infection. Chris couldn't believe his eyes as he looked down at the marks. What have they done to her? My omega. Chris couldn't help it, he had to reach out to her. He had to touch her. As carefully as he could, Chris softly touched her shoulder. A warm tingling sensation shot through her body. She jumped at his touch. Not because he touched her, but it was the feeling he gave her. It was a feeling of comfort, hope, home. Y/N wanted to embrace but she couldn't. He was not hers. He couldn't be. "Omega?" Felix called out, causing her to growl. Chris rolled his eyes at her outburst. "What happened to you?" Felix asked as he slowly lifted one arm, inspecting the wounds on her arm. "I got bitten," Y/N said as if it was obvious.

Felix just nodded, carefully inspecting each bite. Some of them he poked and pressed, others he was more careful with. Felix could tell by the bite marks they were done by different wolves. Some of them were deep, and some of them were surface level. Some of the bite marks dragged down a couple of centimetres. Felix did not understand how someone could treat an omega like this. It astonished him. Even Chris was concerned. Hell, he was furious. Every bite marks Felix touched he would growl. It wasn't until Felix pointed out an obscure bite mark that was planted just below her scent gland that he lost his shit. Chris couldn't believe his eyes. Someone marked his omega! Everything in his body made him turn feral. His wolf was scratching at the surface, ready to turn. Felix knew at that moment he could not hold his alpha back. Once he was angry that was it.

[vivwritesfics]

Can we get a nnta blurb of how would carlos react if he learned y/n was insecure

Tell me this picture doesn't scream nnta carlos

Series Masterlist

His pretty little wife had no reason to be insecure. She was gorgeous, and Carlos made sure she always knew it.

He had no idea that she was feeling insecure until after Oscar was born. He'd been selfish for months before that, not paying her any mind. Carlos out right neglected her before they started using each other, fucking each other with something close to hate.

"What do you think of this dress?" Y/N asked as she held it against her body.

Carlos let out a low whistle. She wasn't wearing it, not yet, but he couldn't wait to see her in it. "Fuck, mi corazón," he said as he sat forward, feeling the material of the dress between her fingers. "You would look amazing. Try it on and let me see," he said.

She frowned as she looked down at the dress. It was short, white, form fitting. The sleeves fit to her arms until they got half way down her forearm, where they billowed out. It was gorgeous, that was undeniable, she just didn't know how it would look on her body.

She disappeared into the walk in closet and got changed into the dress. It didn't take very long, but she stayed in there for far longer than she should have, just staring into the mirrors. She turned this way and that way. It looked gorgeous, sure, but she didn't feel gorgeous.

"Mi corazón?" Came Carlos's voice.

Smoothing down the skirts, she stepped out of the walk in closet. His eyes lit up upon seeing her. Holy fuck, she really did look beautiful. "You look amazing," he said, reaching for her hips.

He pulled her closer, wrapping his arms around her and placing his chin on her stomach to look up at her. "My pretty little wife," he said. They were words she'd never get tired of hearing. She was his pretty little wife, and he was never going to let her forget it.

Taglist (CLOSED): @biancathecool @multi-universe2016-blog @formulas-bitch @gills-lounge @weasleyswizarding-wheezes @carlossainzwho @f1lov3r @samaib11 @charli123456789 @queenofmanydreams @ironmaiden1313 @vellicora @glitterf1 @80sloverry @lightdragonrayne @moonayu @bellsalabanccini @hiireadstuff @handsupforamiracle @cmleitora @jenniferrvsesi @barcelonaloverf1life @sbella13 @nicolettecallednikki @darleneslane @thehufflepuffavenger1 @champagneproblems17 @aespie @yukheizcigarettes @rewmuslupin @hollie911 @ashy-kit @ririgy @stqrgir1 @zaynzierulez @minkyungseokie @rafaaoli @carolinesainz@ashies-ln4op81aa22 @measimp @mizelophsun11 @eviethetheatrefreak @andydrysdalerogers @chonkybonky @shobaes @celesteblack08 @watermelonworries @gracielukey @cassie0sstuff @goldenharrysworld @venusesworld @sparklyperfectionstranger @evans-dejong @graciewrote @formulaal

[florvaine]

bakugou katsuki in denial ;) warnings: none, reader is mentioned to have a telekinesis quirk (im obsessed with the idea of telekinesis atm) genre: fluff, headcannon-type-thing notes: take this draft from months ago as i try finish the first chapt. of brutal <3 mwah love you guyssssss!!

totally-not-crushing!katsuki bakugo who angrily denies accusations denki and mina throw at him, asking the ashy-haired boy if his lingering eyes and slightly kinder actions towards you were intentional. he’s yelling pretty loudly, calling the two of them names in the empty common room of heights alliance, and it’s no surprise that denki called kirishima down for backup.

totally-not-crushing!katsuki bakugo who gets tired of being interviewed, so he storms out of the common room with his hands deep in the pockets of his grey joggers. his expression is aggressive, a dangerous snarl on his face and with his thin eyebrows pinched together.

the moment totally-not-crushing!katsuki bakugo gets into his dorm room he collapses onto the sheets of his head, hands behind his head as he stares up at the ceiling with vermilion eyes.

he doesn’t like. he hates you. he hates your stupid hero costume that’s a perfect mix of tactical and cute, he hates the way your hair looks good 24/7, he hates the way you give him genuine smiles that reach your pretty (e/c) eyes, scrunching them. he hates how attractive he finds it when you get serious.

totally-not-crushing!katsuki bakugo who despises the twisting and churning of his stomach, the heavy beating of his heart, and the amount of focus he has to place into not accidentally setting off his quirk when he’s near you.

he hates how he goes all out on you during sparring because he knows you can hold your own against him. he hates how funny you are even if it’s unintentional, the fact that he hides his grins behind his hand when you say a joke. he hates the way his eyes immediately go to search for you in a sea of people, or whenever someone mentions your name he’s suddenly intently listening in.

totally-not-crushing!bakugo who, 5 minutes after clambering onto his bed, pulls his phone out to search up the symptoms he’s having. of course, he knows how the human body reacts when the person likes someone, but he would sleep easier if google tells him it’s something else.

totally-not-crushing!bakugo who slams his phone onto his bedside table with gritted teeth once scanning a few answers and articles about ‘how to know if you like someone’ from this bullshit reporter and writer.

totally-not-crushing!bakugo who has to actively avoid looking at you, he's hyper aware of everywhere his eyes move and if he even sees a glimpse of you (h/c) hair he's going to turn bright red. too bad for him, there's practical hero studies today!

and it seems you had some adjustments made to your costume - a whole new design and colour scheme that better suited your quirk and a big hood that covered your head. oh, and the same style of boots that he has - you even said that you got the idea from him!

trying to ignore your whispers with mina at the back of the group, he listens in at aizawa groups everyone in pairs for the practical exercise. and it was just his luck that totally-not-crushing!bakugo was grouped with you.

he wanted to yell in disagreement, but as soon as he saw you walking up to him, totally-not-crushing!bakugo saw the look on your face as you rattled on about ideas of what faux villains you two were up against, and he swallowed down his shouts. instead, he plasters on a disinterested face and hums along with your words.

turns out, the two of you are quite a duo. with your telekinesis, the two of you could rescue the dummy civilians and safely bring them to the safety in a matter of seconds, and he kept any threat at bay - both on the ground and in the sky.

totally-not-crushing!bakugo who gave you probably one of the kindest compliments he's even given that year - 'you're not the most useless, i guess,' and he even squeezed in a hesitant 'good job' at the end. but you barely heard it from behind his clenched teeth.

and you just looked so happy that he had been nice for once, and instead of commenting on the struggle to say the praise, you smile at him with those dimples, sipping water from a plastic cup provided to you by momo, and thank him.

totally-not-crushing!bakugo who feels a strange feeling in his chest and gut when you comment on the fact that the two of you made a good team, and should probably try work together in the future.

and he's actually going to sleep with a tiny, minuscule smile on his face thinking about the both of you creating agencies, and partnering up when you're both capable heroes.

still, you wont get the number one spot, he wasn't willing to give that up.

...yet.

[soobszzn]

shut me up!

synopsis: despite his tough and confident rockstar persona, even beomgyu needed reassurance sometimes.

pairing: rockstar!beomgyu x reader

genre: fluff, semi-comfort, established relationship

content/warnings: kissing, (playful) teasing/bantering/yelling, beomgyu says ‘shut up’, beomgyu is in a (rock)band that isn’t txt

wc: 1.2k

a/n: this one’s for u, G🌼

- 

you’d be lying if you said being a rockstar’s girlfriend wasn’t absolutely exhilarating. you’d fall asleep in one city and then wake up in the next. you’d go from private jet, to tour bus, to private jet again. life was insane, but it didn’t matter how crazy and unpredictable life had become, because beomgyu was your constant.

you knew the band’s setlist by heart at this point, but the atmosphere and energy of each night’s crowd was always a new experience. what never changed, though, were the loving gazes you shot your boyfriend as you watched from stage side.

you’d hand him a sweat towel or a bottled water whenever he stepped backstage. with no time to chat, you’d occasionally shoot him a thumbs-up or a “fighting” gesture. in return, beomgyu would alternate between quick pecks and forehead kisses as a sign of thanks.

watching him up on that stage was the best part of each day. when he was performing, he was completely in his element: his expressions were always filled with joy and excitement, and with his electric guitar in hand, he’d move dynamically across the stage without missing a beat. he’d look out into the crowd affectionately, face beaming with gratitude towards the dedicated fans.

he’d never miss a chance to turn to you and shoot a loving glance back. you knew how grateful he was that you could follow him on his first major tour. you were there for the first performance jitters, mid-tour anxieties, and now for the band’s long-awaited performance at lollapalooza.

the band had a couple hours before showtime to film content and do interviews, which left you passing time in their trailer with some staff members. you’d already sped through a book on the plane ride here, opting to mindlessly scroll on your phone as you anticipated your boyfriend’s arrival. eventually, the group returned, giving them time to decompress and prepare for their set. 

you were sprawled on the couch at the end of their trailer. when beomgyu walked in, he motioned for you to lift your legs so he could take a seat. plopping himself beside you and letting your legs fall to his lap, he let out a sigh.

“how’d it all go?” you asked, turning to face him while still laying down.

“i don’t really know why we need to do so many interviews when they just ask the same stuff.” he complained as he fiddled with the hem of your pants. 

“it’s only cause so many people love your music.” you lightly nudged his arm as you sat up. you leaned your arm against the sofa backrest as you rested your head in your hand. this put the two of you face to face, giving you the opportunity to look at him closely.

you loved the way his ashy purple hair fell onto his face. as a matter of fact, you loved every damn part of his face. from the warmth of his eyes to the softness of his lips, you could just never get enough. those blush pink lips of his were so irresistible, you just wanted to lean in and kiss him right then and there.

he looked at you quizzically. “what?”

“you have something on your face.” you lied, reaching to brush nothing off his cheek in embarrassment. he smiled, but it quickly faded. he let out another sigh. 

“what’s wrong?” you asked with a slight pout. 

“it’s my song. i’m scared people aren’t gonna like it.” he confessed, now hunched over with his forearms resting in his lap. you had almost forgotten that the band was planning to premiere a new song tonight. and it wasn’t just any new song, it was a song beomgyu had produced.

“what if nobody reacts? what if they leave during our set? what if they start booing? i’d be a failure of a musician!” he cried, now sitting slumped on the couch. he was bouncing his leg and staring off into space, and you just knew his mind was racing. 

“stop stop stop!” you exclaimed through a laugh. his concerns were understandable, but you had to admit he looked a bit silly whining the way he did.

“why are you laughing?” he asked with a pout this time.

“because you sound a bit silly,” you replied cheekily, in hopes the teasing would cheer him up a bit. 

“i’m being serious.” he said quietly. 

“i know, and i get it. but you’re so good at what you do.” you reassured him.

“but this is lollapalooza. it’s a big deal. it’s a huge deal for us.” he replied in a bothered tone.

you had a feeling beomgyu’s worries were the main contributor to his now souring mood. but a part of you was beginning to get annoyed at the fact that he just wasn’t listening to you.

“you’re being stubborn.” you blurted out, regretting it immediately. 

“i am not! god. maybe i should just take it off the setlist now while i still have a chance.” he replied defensively, quickly standing up from the couch.

“can you stop it!” you cried, also standing up to face him. “you’re being so annoying. you don’t see what i see.” 

he looked at you perplexed.

“i know how much time and effort you put into your music, gyu. but most of all i see how talented you are,” you spoke earnestly, unintentionally starting an impromptu rant at your boyfriend.

“people love your music. why do you think you got invited here?” you continued, noticing his expression soften. “even though you’re the one on stage, i watch the crowd too. they eat it all up, they love you guys!”

“it annoys me because you don’t get it. you don’t get that your music is loved by so many!” you continued on your tirade. beomgyu inched his way closer to you. “you annoy me because you don't see how much you are loved!”

“and not just by me-mmph-” your words were suddenly interrupted by a pair of lips on yours.

cupping your cheeks in his hands, beomgyu guided your face closer to his. he deepened the kiss before pulling away and saying “and that’s all that matters.”

“i’m sorry for being stubborn,” he apologized, looking at you softly. you nuzzled your face into the crook of his neck. 

“everyone’s going to love your new song. i promise.” you mumbled into his chest after a few seconds of silence. then, you looked up at him.

he whispered “thank you” before kissing your nose. 

- 

an absolute success; that’s what you’d call their performance.

beomgyu was absolutely electric on that enormous stage. and maybe it was the bias in you, but his band had to have been the highlight of the weekend. the energy of the crowd was unmatched, and the familiar melodies of their discography were transformed into amplified versions of themselves. 

the reveal of your boyfriends’ newly produced track was met with an eruption of cheers. you watched fondly as beomgyu gleamed, face softening with both relief and delight. your heart was bursting with happiness, feeling so incredibly proud of him.

the second his band finished their set, you watched beomgyu hug his bandmates as they made their way off stage. they were all smiling so brightly, but your boyfriend’s smile was most infectious. on his way backstage, he thanked the stage crew and staff members as he caught his breath, coming down from his “performance high.”

then, you noticed his eyes start to wander and you had a feeling he was looking for you. you raised yourself up on your tippy toes and waved to get his attention. you met eyes, and the sweaty, out-of-breath boy made his way directly to you with absolute excitement. his ashy purple hair was almost matted to his forehead, skin glistening with perspiration. and you loved it.

immediately taking you into his embrace, he lifted you up and spun you around. you latched onto him, wrapping your arms around his neck. 

“i told you they’d love it.” you said cheekily as he set you down.

“can you shut up?” he teased with a smirk before pressing your lips together.

[nordickies]

SuNor Royalty AU prompt Relationship: Sweden/Norway Characters: Norway (Sigurd), Sweden (Björn), Denmark (Magnus) I had a small oneshot exchange/exercise with @pvffinsdaisies and @ifindus and I feel brave enough to share my oneshot writings for the first time. We were feeling nostalgic and decided to roll some nostalgic AU prompts with a wheel. Mine landed on "Fake Dating" and "Royalty". I just had to go with Norway and Sweden, of course! We also randomized some dialogue prompts, as well and I got: #23 - “You’re doing the right thing.” ; “Then why does it feel so wrong to me?”

Something different this time, enjoy!

─•~❉᯽❉~•─

“You’re doing the right thing.”

The giant man sitting by the desk didn’t react to Magnus’ comment. He kept his eyes firmly on the glass his freckled friend had poured him just moments earlier. Watching the earthy-toned beverage sit still in the crystal snifter as if it could answer all the questions running through his mind. Something about the liquid’s stillness helped him focus — a small reminder that the world wasn’t boiling over, even if it felt like it.

Without raising his glance from the glass, the ashy-haired man pondered out loud, “Then why does it feel so wrong to me?”

Magnus, sitting right next to him on the velvet couch, looked up to the ornamented ceiling, breathing out with a heavy sigh. He was trying to find words to describe the predicament they found themselves in. Uncharacteristically for him, he didn’t feel like mocking his younger friend or dismissing his feelings. Things were less than ideal, and Magnus himself had a lot to lose here. But still, he tried to maintain his professionalism. As much as he could sympathize with his friend’s turmoil, he had to be the steady one.

“I think it’s a sign that you care about Sigurd,” he said calmly and leaned his back deeper into the couch. “Which is admirable, I guess. Considering everything we’ve been through.”

It was hard to comprehend how the three of them would ever refer to each other as friends. Their friendship, if it could even be called that, wasn’t quite built on mutual affection, but on proximity and shared survival. They had grown up tied together by the unrelenting demands of their families. There had been more than enough conflict to go around—bitter rivalries, fractured trust, and old wounds that never truly healed. Yet, in some inexplicable way, they had remained inseparable. Perhaps it was their proximity in age, or constant family cooperation pushing them to spend time together.  Or perhaps it was a bond from heritage, diplomacy, and an unspoken understanding that only those who had known such tension could appreciate.

And it all led to this moment. This outrageous marriage proposal. Björn had never imagined that his future would unfold in this way—not so abruptly, and certainly not under such strained circumstances. The bond he shared with Sigurd, once as natural and easy as breathing, now felt tainted, ruined by the very proposal that should have brought them closer.

It wasn’t that Björn didn’t want marriage. No, that’s what he had dreamed of all his life, of building a future with someone who could share his heart. But he did not expect to marry so soon, and to a person so dear and close to him at that. Björn felt conflicted. This marriage wasn’t driven by romantic love, nor was it born of true necessity. It was a strategy, all at the expense of Sigurd— and Björn knew Sigurd did not want this. He knew that his friend, his brother-in-arms, had no desire to be tied down by a union born out of obligation. And yet here he was, about to be thrust into a situation where his freedom would be stolen from him by the very man who called him his dear friend.

“He doesn’t want marriage” Björn sighed, breaking the brief silence with words so heavy you could barely hear him. He finally raised his eyes from the glass, the weight of everything pressing down on him. He met Magnus’ gaze, and for a fleeting moment, it was as if the younger eyes were pleading—do something!

“What’s done is done.” Magnus' answer was brief, but not at all intended as dismissive. His hands were tied, even his witt and games couldn’t get them out of this situation now. “But consider that Sigurd will be safer with you than with anyone else.”

Perhaps Magnus was right. Björn had doubts Sigurd could maintain his freedom for long regardless if he stepped in or not. These decisions weren’t theirs to make. They weren’t even Sigurd’s to make. The ties that bound them weren’t just between him and his family; they were tied up in expectations, traditions, and even obligations that went far beyond their small circle. 

Sigurd was in a vulnerable position here, his family’s heyday long gone. His family, once known for their power and prestige, had long been reduced to shadows of their former selves. The house they once owned, grand and full of life, now stood silent, its halls crumbling and burying a history of glory that felt like a distant dream now. The marriage proposal had come as a last-ditch effort to pull them from the gutter.

The decision was not easy, nor something they thought would come so soon. But in the last attempt to upkeep their relevance and have some sort of hope for their heritage, they offered their heir to a longstanding ally. Perhaps accepting the proposal was Björn’s family’s attempt to uplift their image, which had been shattered after the last conflict, turning them unpopular in people’s eyes. His family was convinced Sigurd’s integrity was supposed to conceal the tarnish in Björn’s name. 

The troubled prince understood the stakes. This union, fraught with problems, was not just about their personal wishes. It was about preserving something far greater. It was a lifeline for them. But recognizing that still didn’t make the mental anguish any less painful.

Björn snapped out of his thoughts, his mind drifting back to the present as he noticed Magnus slowly pulling himself up to sit straight. The Dane cleared his throat, “A piece of advice, if I may?”

“...For this one time, I’ll allow it.”

“Marriage is just a piece of paper,” he said with a mentor-like warmth to his voice. “No one is going to control how you and Sigurd go about things. As long as you two handle your responsibilities, it’s enough.”

Björn raised his brow, but Magnus continued, “You’re marrying your best friend after all. Sounds better than marrying a stranger, no?”

Magnus didn’t get an answer to his comment—just an empty gaze from his friend. The silence hung thick between them. Though Björn’s face remained stoic, his eyes betrayed him. Conveying a clear unease, which he let out as a grouch. 

"He will hate me."

[vampcubus]

Ashi, my darling do u think izuku is a bratty sub or a obedient sub.. or both.. 👀

HI LARA!! more than happy to share my thoughts on this since he's been running laps in my mind. i got carried awayyyyy. i need to write a proper brat taming fic for him ong.

:ఌ¨ ♱ 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 : nsfw, sub!izuku, dom!fem!reader, master kink.

I'd say Izuku defaults as an obedient sub, especially during your first few sexual encounters.

He's desperate to please, and frankly likes to be bossed around in the bedroom. There's very little he wouldn't do just to hear you praise him for a job well done – and he always does his very best, serving you enthusiastically, tongue, hands, and cock just toys for you to use as far as he's concerned. He's pliant and submits easily, taking all that you give – or decide to withhold until he's earned it. Earning pleasure is very fulfilling for him, and an edged orgasm always feels more satisfying.

That said, he gets brattier as time passes and he gets more comfortable with your dynamic. He gets greedy, lapping up your praise and gentle touches like he needs them to live, only to plead for more of it in his next breath. He's always so quick to beg before you've hardly even started.

"Be patient, puppy," you'd urge, and he'd only whine and writhe harder, hips bucking into your open palm as it teases over the flushed head. "Are you listening?"

"But I want more. please, I need more," he insists, eyes half-lidded and glossy as he watches you play with his cock. You spare him only two fingers, stroking just below the head ever so softly. His head falls back onto the bed, hips lifting up, seeking more friction. He needs a firmer grip, a faster pace, but you only push his hips back down, pinning them there with a displeased grunt.

"You'll take what I give you, or you'll get nothing, understand?" You assert, letting his dick slap back against his tummy despite his whiny protests. "You wanna make your master happy, don't you?

"I want you to fuck me," Izuku huffs, brows pinched in frustration. He reaches a hand for his cock, and you slap it away instantly. "You're being so mean."

"I wouldn't have to be if you weren't such a whiny brat," you sigh, climbing on top of him, capturing both wrists and pinning them on either side of his head. He gasps as you sit on his cock but otherwise leave him to twitch pathetically against your clothed cunt, he can feel how warm you are and it makes him moan shakily. "Are you gonna keep your hands to yourself like a good boy, or do I have to cuff you?"

"No, please don't do that! i'll be good now. 'm sorry, please touch my cock again, master," he pleads, arms going limp in your firm hold to indicate his promised compliance. "Please I- mmf!"

His incessant begging is silenced when you pull down your panties, ball them up, and stuff them in his mouth.

"That's better. Now let's try again, shall we?" You hum, satisfied with his muffled whimpering.

There are times Izuku would obey you without question, prepared to kneel and worship the ground you walk on without a second thought. Other times he can't help but challenge you, can't help but test your patience, to make you work for his submission. Ultimately yes, he wants you to have your way with him, but sometimes he just can't stop the bratty phrase "Make me." from slipping out when you tell him what to do.

Sometimes he gets that determined glimmer in his eye and he misbehaves just to see how you react, a satisfied grin pulling at his lips when you flounder at his audacity. He'll move when you tell him to be still, moan out when you tell him to be quiet, and egg you on just to see you snap and put him in his place.

You're his Master, and he wants you to remind him why. To prove it. Izuku getting pinned down and railed into compliance is an absolute win for him.

[exorcqism]

hi!! i just read your intro and first can i just say, ayyyyy brooklyn and congrats on graduating!!!

for my request, it’s for our good boi choso. how would he react to falling in love with someone who previously had a bf who died during shibuya? 👀 (like, this first love but y/n’s second)

𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐎 𝐊𝐀𝐌𝐎

„𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐘𝐀𝐋 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐎𝐃𝐘”

: ̗̀➛ SENSITIVE CONTENT!!

: ̗̀➛ afab!reader, no nasty stuff. all fluff or the regular stuff. mature themes (attempted su*cide, depression, etc. if these said topics trigger you, please do not continue reading.) not proofread so i apologize in advance for any mistakes if they’re made.

: ̗̀➛ art creds by;; currently unknown. dividers are not mine, if you own these, you may claim them in comments.

: ̗̀➛ WORD COUNT;; 1.7K

* dark mode recommended

* do not copy this plot. i’m perfectly fine with inspirations but give creds. if this plot his stolen in any way, the post will be taken down and you will be blocked.

𝐃𝐀𝐊𝐎𝐓𝐀𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒 ✉️🖇️;; hii wtw and thank you. and ykw this a good ass plot. reblog to support meeee and if you want more :D

red arrows ripped through the flesh of the non-sorcerers. their blood splattering all over the ground and whatever wall it could touch. it was hell. the average human wouldn’t even be able to process what it was like to be in the midst of the shibuya incident. and the survivors of shibuya…their stories were different.

a traumatic event. tears were shed as much as blood had been. memories flooded back into the mind of the blinded and they were set free from what they feared, vowing to protect what was valuable to them.

feeling like a monster, they stumble away. how could you hurt what you should’ve protected? the answers were impossible to find. they wanted change. they wanted to be released from such shackles that held them down.

dawn. you’re awake early. you glance around to find your partner but you immediately sigh. the sad feelings starting to rush into your head and you burst into tears. during the shibuya incident, your boyfriend had died. he promised that he’d come home after he ran a few errands but he never returned. that’s when you heard about the deaths. your heart sank and you felt sick. you couldn’t even place a finger on who could’ve done something as cruel as this.

you crawl out of bed and stagger into the bathroom, doing your hygiene. showering, cleaning your teeth, brushing your hair and throwing it into a messy bun. you had errands to run yourself so you’d put on something simple. a white shirt with baby blue hoodie on top with some grey cargos and a pair of high top dunks that matched your hoodie.

you make your way back into the bathroom and gave yourself some eye drops to remove the red from your eyes after crying for hours on end. you then put on some eyeliner. you decided to attempt to make yourself look presentable rather than depressed when you left your cozy apartment.

you’d apply lotion to your face so it wasn’t dry and ashy when the gentle winds that blew outside would pick up hit your face. you even put on lip gloss. you force a smile on your face and remind yourself that everything would be okay.

in town, it’s awkward being outside again. though, it looks like some people have recovered from the incident and healed from their emotional scars, you knew that was impossible for you at the moment. and you knew they were all putting on acts for the public. you wanted to grimace but you didn’t have the time to be angry.

you were walking into you bumped into someone. it was an accident, so you immediately apologized. when you looked up at them, you noticed it was a male who might’ve stood at the height of maybe 5’11 or even 6 feet. you quickly examined him.

‘purple eyes. brown hair…tied back into two fluffy ponytails. a black line across his nose. bored expression. is he sleep deprived? what is all that stuff around his eyes?’ you thought. after the two of you exchanged a couple words apologizing, you quickly scurried off. something about him made you suspicious. it was odd.

choso watched as you walked off, having an odd feeling in his chest. ‘what the hell is this?’ he wanted that feeling to die. to go away. but the longer he watched you leave, it just wouldn’t go. he shoved his hands into his pockets, sinking his bottom lip into his mouth and gently biting down.

pathetic.

he didn’t even know you, yet he was taking some kind of interest in you. you were a human. why should he take an interest in the likes of you? he didn’t know why himself. the half cursed spirit would stop his staring and pull himself back into reality, walking away to process what he had been thinking of.

it was becoming odd now. as the days go by, you seemed to keep seeing the spirit everywhere. even in your dreams. you couldn’t say that you were being followed though. you pinned it in the back of your mind as a coincidence. a coincidence that the random male you bumped into accidentally where everywhere you treaded your feet upon.

what was the next move? confrontation? talking to him? him talking to you? what would you even say to him? nothing? good answer. because that’s exactly what you were gonna do.

you were about to return to your lonely but cozy apartment. you’ve done what you had to do for the day and you were tired, eager to get some sleep even if it was only early in the afternoon.

the light turned white, registering that pedestrians could bypass the crosswalk while cars were forced to stop for you. as you began to walk, you weren’t aware of the car that was still speeding down the street. the second you stepped down onto the asphalt, you were immediately pulled back and the metal body zoomed past you. you were sure that it grazed you just a bit.

you turned and looked up to see that same man again. he was holding your wrist a bit tight but soon enough he let go of you. a breath escaped you as your heart pumped rapidly after almost dying.

“i…thanks,” you say after you were to catch your breath. choso was quiet. he’d shove his hands back into his pocket before mumbling something.

“are you hurt?”

his voice was deep. it was a voice that could shake the ground if he spoke any louder. you just looked at him. you didn’t know what to say. but you couldn’t just leave him there in awkward silence.

“i’m okay…” you mutter, “..thank you again.”

you didn’t know why but your heart was racing. you felt like you’d pass out right there if you didn’t calm down. you weren’t scared of the fact that you were almost killed by a car anymore.

it was him. you couldn’t put your finger on it. he had an effect on you and you didn’t even know his name. what were you thinking? you didn’t know.

“behave…” choso mumbled to himself, holding onto a chess piece, which ended up snapping in half after applying too much pressure against it between his thumb and two fingers. the pieces fell onto the floor and his tired eyes lowered.

“shit…”

you were driving him crazy. keeping him up late. throwing him off of his work. what the hell was so special about you that you were messing him up this badly?

he should’ve been asking himself this when he asked for your phone number when you bumped into each other for the umpteenth time now. you should’ve been asking yourself the same question also. he was in your dreams.

a man you didn’t know was in your dreams. in those dreams, you touched him. kissed him. held him. you never imagined that you’d do such a thing with a mystery man. well, you’ve known him long enough now. you could practically say you were acquaintances. those random coincidences turned into something that happened for months.

maybe you missed your boyfriend. there wasn’t anything wrong with that. you lost the man you loved the most above anyone else. the memories you had with him was colliding with the image of choso in his place.

it made him look perfect to you. choso was something you needed…no. not yet. not ever. you can’t do that. your dreams were setting you up for failure. you didn’t want anyone else but your deceased partner…but you knew he couldn’t come back.

you stared at the text from choso, asking you if you were okay with eyes filled with tears. the salty puddles slid from the corners of your eyes and fell onto your screen. you weren’t okay. you weren’t okay at all. the world was overwhelming you. why was this higher power yelling in your ear telling you to let go and feel the pleasure of another? someone that wasn’t yours.

the dreams. that’s what it was. they were causing you so much pain and you hated it. the voices in your head were telling you so many things that you just wanted it all to go quiet.

the bathtub was full and you say there, fully clothed, letting the water that was slowly stained with your blood consume you. your eyes closed and tears were forming in your eyes. you were feeling so much at once that it hurt.

ding.

an interruption.

your eyes flicker open and your irises travel down to the bathroom door, which was open, showing off your hallway. you climbed out of the bathtub, feeling weak and sore.

the doorbell rang again and it made your eye twitch. you quickly dried yourself off and changed into some new clothes then dragged yourself to the front door. you opened it and saw him again. the two of you made eye contact. you were feeling embarrassed, knowing you were just about to remove yourself from the land of the living a few moments ago.

“you’re bleeding,” choso begins, taking your hand gently and lifting your arm to scan for any more injuries. he seemed concerned, despite his facial expression and his deadpanned tone. you were about to snatch your hand away but you needed this. maybe you did need him.

“what happened?”

“nothing-” you answered, choking back on your words, trying not to cry, “nothing happened, i’m okay. i must’ve accidentally cut myself on something.” you add, trying to smile. but choso wasn’t taking that. he’d pull you into a hug. it made you feel like you had to confess everything to him. your emotions were overriding your original intentions. you felt like you were betraying yourself in some way.

“you’re not okay.” choso said. “tell me.”

his gentle but rough voice broke you. you finally put your arms around the 5’11 male and bursted into tears, confessing everything. shibuya, the fact that you lost your boyfriend, what you felt when you met him, the dreams, what happened moments ago. words spilled out of you like water in a shattered glass.

choso pressed your head against his chest, his hand holding the back of your head as he held you close. he comforted you with his words and soothing voice. he made you think everything would truly be okay.

your throat began to get sore with all your crying and your body felt exhausted. the second your eyes closed, you fell asleep in his arms. he was a bit surprised himself but he continued to hold you. he’d carry you to your couch, gently placing you down so you could sleep and adding a kiss on your cheek.

“dream of nothing but paradise and blue skies...”

𝐄𝐍𝐃.

⋆｡࿇ ·࣭࣪̇˖ 𖦹°༅༚

[megalony]

Tiny Little Fighter

As promised, this is my new Evan Buckley imagine. Please let me know what you think.

If anyone would want it, I'm debating about making this into a little series. Let me know.

Taglist: @justagirlthatlovedtoread @musicistheway @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @luula @missdreamofendless @bradleybeachbabe @woderfulkawaii @amberpanda99 @daggersquadphantom @marvel-and-chicago-fan @angryknightstatesmantrash @minjix @lyjen @kmc1989 @itsmytimetoodream @noonenuts @hiireadstuff @ashie-babie @classyunknownlover @jayyeahthatsme @sp1ritssz @dumb-fawkin-bitch @oliverstarksbae @gimatida @heart-35 @supernaturalstilinski @stefansalvatoresgf @kyky9103 @wutheringhearts2275 @gay4hotmilfs @itshamleth @chaoticnosleepinfluencer @gs29 @wh0reforsmutstuff @mel-vaz @natashamea18 @chrisevansdaughter @alexandra8484 @deena-beena-weena @targaryenluvs @shelbygeek @kpoplover-19 @marvelmenarebeautiful @gillybear17

@zoeybennett @mrspeacem1nusone @zephyrmonkey @estella-novella @shauna-carsley @dottirose @cfdhouse51 @darkfemme1

Evan Buckley Masterlist

Summary: After Evan and (Y/n) have their baby very early, Evan won't leave them alone in the NICU. He stays alongside his baby, making sure they're okay.

Enjoy.

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

"I don't wanna do this." The look in (Y/n)'s eyes absolutely broke Evan's heart. If people could die of heartbreak, he knew this is the pain that it began with. He knew he was on the verge of a heart attack with how distraught his wife was and the fact that there was nothing he could do to make this any better.

His lips smothered the top of her head and his hands shakily ran up and down her back as he tucked her closer to his chest. Each shaky breath he took against her hair made Evan's chest tighten and tighten until he was barely breathing at all, just gasping and panting against the top of her head.

"I know, baby. I know."

What else could he say? What else could Evan do other than stand here and hold her broken pieces together and try to keep himself in one piece? How could he do this when they were both pieces of a puzzle, starting to fall apart?

His back tensed and he leaned forward when (Y/n) bent her knees and pushed down like she was trying to make them both kneel on the floor. He felt her nose push against his sternum as she buried her face in his chest and groaned. She choked on a scream when another contration split through her pelvis and made her want to hunker down on the floor.

This was too early.

They weren't supposed to be in the maternity ward right now. (Y/n) wasn't supposed to be over halfway through labour right now. Not when she was barely twenty five weeks pregnant.

They had another eleven weeks left, bare minimum, until they should have to think about labour. They had another fifteen weeks until their actual due date. But here they were, waiting for this to be over with to see if their baby would be able to survive being born this early.

They didn't have any other choice.

Not when (Y/n) had developed pre-eclampsia which had gotten to the point that her blood was starting to shred and her liver was shutting down. If they didn't have the baby now and (Y/n)'s liver gave way, that would be it for her and for the baby. The only way for her body to be able to recover and get back to normal was for the baby to be born. This was her body's way of reacting to the baby.

It was affecting her liver which was on the verge of shutting down, her blood was starting to shred itself and (Y/n) had already been given a blood transfusion to try and keep her going. It was affecting her vision and now the baby was getting distressed.

Inducing labour was the only chance they had of (Y/n) recovering and of trying to take care of their baby.

"I think you're ready now. Let's sit you on the bed."

(Y/n) shook off the midwife's hands but when she tilted her head back and looked up at Evan through teary, spotty vision, she nodded. She didn't want anyone's hands on her but her husband. She only wanted his help. (Y/n) knew none of this was the midwife's fault or the hospital or the doctors. It wasn't her fault either, no matter how badly her brain was trying to tell her that she was doing this to herself.

But she didn't want their help. Their touch. Their comforting words that sounded cynical and condescending to (Y/n). All she wanted was Evan.

"Don't let me go," (Y/n) almost pleaded as she grabbed Evan's hand when he carefully eased her back down onto the bed rather than standing with her in his arms. She wanted him as close as she could get him and more so. He had to be right next to her, he had to be touching her somehow. (Y/n) wanted to feel his breaths mingling with hers and his touch on her skin.

Evan’s eyes softened and with the tears welling around his blue orbs, they looked like they were beginning to melt. He nodded and pulled the seat closer to the bed until his knees pushed uncomfortably into the edge of the bed. His hand stayed curled in hers and he moved his other hand to rub up and down her arm while the midwife got ready to assess her.

She said nothing as the midwife put a heartbeat monitoring clip on her finger and two more to her stomach to monitor the baby’s heartbeat. She tipped her head back into the pillow, wanting to smile when she felt Evan bring the back of her hand to his lips.

"I'd say you're dilated now. You can begin to push on the next contraction," The midwife's voice had an air of caution and sympathy in her tone because she could see her words made (Y/n) cry harder.

She didn't want to be doing this. Labour had barely been induced for four hours and already (Y/n) was ready to evict her baby.

Her baby wasn't going to be able to survive on their own. They wouldn't be able to breathe or regulate their temperature or feed properly at this stage. None of their organs would be developed enough to survive outside the womb. They would need to be in the ICU for weeks if they were going to survive this.

Silence fell over the three of them, save for the few sniffs and tears here and there, as they waited for the next contraction to hit. Evan tipped his head down and pressed his lips to (Y/n)'s arm as they waited, his hands holding hers tightly. When the next contraction came, (Y/n) pushed but stopped at the sound of one of the monitors. All their heads seemed to snap to check which monitor it was to know whose heart was now in distress. (Y/n) wondered for a moment if it was her own heart that was becoming frazzled due to how it seemed to flutter in her chest before beating harshly.

But it wasn’t her heart, it was the baby’s.

“What’s happening?” Evan questioned, absentmindedly tightening his hand around (Y/n)’s as he moved his free hand to press to her stomach. His eyes narrowed as he looked at the monitor that showed their baby's heartbeat which was suddenly slower than it was before the contraction.

“Baby is just a bit stressed, that's all. The heartbeat should stabilise in a minute.” The midwife responded as she watched the monitor showing the baby’s heartbeat and waited for it to pick back up. All of them sighed in utter relief when it started to mellow and go back to the rhythmic beat it had been a moment ago.

They knew the moment the baby was born, their heartbeat would fluctuate again and become uneven. Once they realised they were no longer in the womb and would have to breathe on their own, the baby would be in complete distress.

Evan turned his head back to look at the midwife when (Y/n)’s hands tightened around his own signalling she was having another contraction. He cringed when (Y/n) started pushing and her scream rebounded through his ears and made a shiver run down his spine. But he felt relieved that the monitor didn't scream out this time, the baby seemed stable. For now.

(Y/n) cried out when another contraction hit and pushed to sit forward with her chin tucked down into her chest.

She pulled Evan's hand up until she could press it against her chest and her eyes followed him as he got up from the chair and moved to stand as close as he could to the edge of the bed. He leaned over, curling his left arm around her shoulders while he pressed his lips to her temple.

She could feel Evan mumbling "It's gonna be okay," into her hair and the words were soothing, even if she didn't quite believe them.

Part of Evan wanted to let go of (Y/n)'s hand and move down to feather his fingers across her stomach instead. She didn't look like she was five and a half months along.

He had been so, so happy when (Y/n)'s bumps finally started to show and he could feel the baby kicking. Whenever they laid in bed, Evan had a hand constantly glued to her stomach and he was forever talking to the baby and kissing her tummy and waiting for movement. He thought he would have another three months of that.

Evan thought he would get to spend the next three months marvelling at how (Y/n)'s body changed and telling her how much he loved her expanding stomach. Not anymore. Something akin to a knife twinged in Evan's gut at the notion that (Y/n)'s stomach wasn't going to get any bigger than this.

Their baby would no longer be connected to (Y/n).

Whenever their baby kicked or wriggled or squirmed, Evan would actually see them doing it. He wouldn't feel those movements anymore; neither would (Y/n). They would watch a tiny, miniscule baby wriggling and fighting to stay alive; if they made t through this labour.

"Okay, the head's born now, well done. Take a breather, you're doing great."

Part of (Y/n) was desperate to smile when she watched Evan lean over her stomach as soon as the midwife spoke. He kept hold of her hand and his other hand stayed on her shoulder, but he leaned down to look at their baby.

Evan had delivered a few babies after years of being a fireman and nothing really shocked him anymore. But this was different. That was his own little baby, his own child that was coming into the world and there wasn't a sight that would ever match that. Seeing any other woman give birth was never going to make Evan's heart clench or send his stomach rocketing like this.

That was his baby. That was his tiny little fighter.

They shouldn't be that small. They shouldn't be that wrinkled. Labour shouldn't be going this fast or be this swift. Their baby shouldn't be born so small Evan feared they weren't going to fit in the palm of his hand.

He didn't realise he was crying again until he felt (Y/n)'s trembling hand reach up and her thumb swiped away the tear from his cheek. Tears of sorrow, more than joy, because this wasn't a joyous moment. It should have been. This should have been a day where Evan's ADHD had him bouncing off the walls with excitement. He should have been flying through the roof, anticipating the birth of his first child.

He couldn't find the will to be happy about this when this early meant his baby might not survive.

He hadn't even told anyone yet.

Evan thought that when (Y/n) went into labour, he would have everything sorted. He would have the maternity bag packed, the nursery sorted. He would call Maddie, then Bobby, then Eddie, right in that order to tell them all. Then he would call them as soon as the baby was born and ask them to come over.

The only person who knew (Y/n) was in labour was Maddie. She knew because she had been here just this morning to see (Y/n). And she had born witness to (Y/n)'s scream and Evan's breakdown when they were told they needed to induce labour now, for both their sakes. Maddie had gone home, anxiously cradling her phone to await any news and she hadn't told anyone. She couldn't. It felt like overstepping the mark.

But what would Evan say if this didn't go well? What was he going to do if he lost his baby? He couldn't tell that to anyone over the phone, but he wouldn't want them to witness him having a breakdown if he had to tell them face to face.

"That's it, push again (Y/n),"

"You're almost there, keep going sweetheart," Evan nudged his nose against (Y/n)'s and pecked her lips before he moved round a little. He perched down on the side of the bed just behind her and leaned across so (Y/n) could lean her back against his chest. His arms cocooned around her waist and his fingers stayed oddly still against her stomach.

(Y/n) had never known him be so still in such a moment of unease and unknowing like this. She thought his hands would constantly be jittering and his foot would be tapping on the floor and his knees would be jerking up and down. But the only movement she could feel was him kissing the top of her head.

Tears tracked down (Y/n)'s face and she felt like she was on fire when she heard the midwife say that the shoulders were born. Then the arms.

It felt like she was being electrocuted and like her legs had been burned off at the thighs when all the weight was suddenly pulled down from her stomach. And she knew. She just knew that was it. She'd had their baby; they were no longer connected. Their baby was no longer safe and protected with (Y/n), they were fending for themselves now.

Her body slumped back into Evan and she couldn't hear whatever he said, even though she could feel his lips moving against her neck and his voice vibrated against her skin. His arms tightened around her waist in a comforting, broken hug as he held her tightly to his chest and started to sway them side to side.

Her shaking hands moved up to hold onto Evan's forearms that grounded her and kept her calm when she felt like she was about to disappear. She let her head flop back on his shoulder and her wet lips smothered his neck as her nails punctured into his arms.

It took (Y/n) a moment to realise that another midwife had already bustled into the room and both of them were tending to the baby laid between her legs.

"A-are they okay? Are they breathing?" Each word came out through a bubbling sob and (Y/n) was surprised any of them could make out a word she was saying.

But she hadn't heard a cry.

Tears streamed freely down her face as she clutched Evan's arms to her chest, letting him sway them from side to side to try and calm them both down. He had his chin digging into her shoulder and his lips against her neck, but (Y/n) could feel him crying against her skin.

"It's a boy."

"Is he okay?" Evan persisted when they didn't exactly receive an answer. She could be trying to calm them down, trying to tell them as dearly as she could that they had a boy, but he wasn't alive anymore. They had to know.

"We've got a pulse."

That was enough. That was more than enough. He might not be breathing or wriggling or kicking and they might not be able to hold him yet, but he had a heartbeat. That was all he needed so far. As long as the midwives could get him intubated and get him into the ICU, a heartbeat was what they needed to start with. That would do for now, that was enough right now.

"Would dad like to cut the cord?" The second midwife was leaning over the end of the bed and she looked over at Evan with something tender in her eyes. It almost made him wonder if she had been in this position before, if she herself had experienced a premature baby. The look in her eyes made Evan feel like they could relate to her.

When Evan looked down at her, (Y/n) nodded and managed to unlock her viper grip on his arm to let him move. She would be okay if he let her go, just for a little while. She felt him lean her forward before he gently sat her back against the pillows so he could shakily move round to the end of the bed.

His fingers briefly skimmed across (Y/n)'s ankle and up the back of her leg before he took the medical scissors from the midwife and tried to stop himself from shaking. She held the cord up where she had clamped it off and Evan cut it just like he had done at least three times before when he was on shift. But this was so much more intense, this was his little boy.

As soon as the cord was cut, Evan was left shaking, barely breathing as he leant over the end of the bed. His eyes glued to their initial midwife as she stole the baby from the bed and moved over to the incubator in the corner of the room. Evan knew in a minute or two, once his boy was breathing, he would be taken from them.

They wouldn't get to hold him, cuddle him or even touch him before he would be shipped off to the neonatal unit and a doctor would be assessing him.

Shivers bolted up and down (Y/n)'s legs which had previously felt numb until she felt Evan's fingers curling around the back of her ankle. He gave a little tug before his wide eyes were staring at her with a mix of emotions she could decipher.

(Y/n) shook her head, silently asking him what was on his mind because although she could usually read her husband like a book, in this moment, she had no idea what was going through his head.

"He- he's got a birthmark too." Evan's voice was so calm and quiet that it almost didn't sound real.

(Y/n) watched the way Evan let go of her leg so he could pat his cheek, indicating where he had seen the little patch of discoloured skin on their baby's cheek. Before his head was turning back towards the midwife, watching her intently as he started to shake, fuelling back up with adrenaline.

Part of Evan had been worried in the beginning. He worried that their baby would get lost or mixed up and switched. That the midwife would forget which one was his little baby or they would put the wrong nametag around his ankle or his little wrist.

If they didn't get to see their baby first, Evan wondered how they would know which one was their little baby and worry that the midwives might forget too. But that mark was an indicator.

It meant that Evan didn't have to panic about following the midwife like a shadow or keep his baby within his sights at all times. He would know which tiny, fragile baby was his.

(Y/n) swallowed harshly as she watched the midwife scribble Baby Buckley onto a wrist tag, along with the date and time of his birth.

They didn't even have a name for him yet. They thought they had another three months to come up with their favourite, agreed upon names for a girl or a boy. Now he was here and they didn't know what to call him. He was just going to be Baby Buckley until they could think of something suitable.

His birth had come so early that none of them were prepared for him.

***

(Y/n) could feel tears welling up in her eyes when there was a soft knock on the door and she looked to see who was walking in. She nodded and motioned for them to step inside when she realised it was Bobby and Athena.

Her eyes traced them up and down before locking on the small black duffle bag in Bobby's hand that she vaguely recognised.

"How are you doing?"

She reached up and looked her arms around Bobby's neck when he leaned down to hug her. And she did her best to force away the tears before they soaked into his shirt, not that she thought he would mind at all if she began to cry again.

"I'm okay." She thought she was. She hoped she was. (Y/n) couldn't comprehend many thoughts, feelings or emotions other than feeling disconnected.

It felt like she had been disconnected from the world, from her baby and from every emotional part of herself. All she wanted to do was sit and cry or try to sleep and pretend none of this was happening. The selfish part of her mind wondered why this couldn't have happened to someone else. Why did it have to be her and Evan? What had they done to deserve this?

"We brought you both some clothes from home, we thought you might need a few things." Bobby set the bag down in the corner of the room before he sat down in the chair beside the bed.

His eyes watched his wife as she took (Y/n)'s hand and perched down beside her on the bed.

Since Evan joined the station, they had become surrogate parents to him, and when he married (Y/n), she became another child to them. They didn't want to see either of them going through something like this and if there was anything they could do to help, then they would.

"Where's Buck?" Athena took a quick glance in the corner of the room, but the adjoining bathroom was empty meaning Evan wasn't in there.

Something soft washed over (Y/n)'s face as she brushed away the tears welling up in the corners of her eyes. She sniffed and tried to smile, giving Athena's hand a light squeeze as she sat up a bit straighter.

"He followed the midwife down to the neonatal unit last night… they uh, they couldn't get him to leave, so they had to let him stay. I think he spent the night in there."

(Y/n) had been more than a little surprised when the midwife came back to check on her late into the night and realised Evan wasn't with her. (Y/n) wasn't worried. She knew exactly where her husband had gone and why he hadn't come back yet. He was under the impression that if someone wasn't watching over their boy, something bad would happen to him.

Nothing they said would get Evan to move last night so after they gave up, one of the nurses had draped a blanket around him when he fell asleep next to the incubator.

He had come back to see (Y/n) this morning and make sure she was okay before heading back down. He knew (Y/n) would be down soon and neither of them would be moving very far away from their boy.

The only reason (Y/n) wasn't there now was because of all the IVs she had been on and the nurses monitoring her. They were making sure her liver function was picking back up, taking constant blood samples to check and to make sure her blood was returning to a healthy state and taking enough oxygen. Being separated from her baby really had made (Y/n) feel better, despite how it had ruined her, mentally.

"And how is the little guy?"

Bobby had shed a few tears early this morning when he had been in the middle of cooking breakfast and suddenly got a phone call from Evan. He hadn't expected to have Evan crying down the phone, saying (Y/n) had given birth already and now he had a little boy.

As soon as he told them, Athena and Bobby were getting ready to come down here and make sure both of them were okay.

Bobby knew Eddie and Chris would be coming down this afternoon after Chris finished school. And Hen and Karen said they would give it a few days before they came to visit, while Chimney and Maddie would be here almost every day at some point.

"He's okay, they got him stable on a ventilator and a feeding tube… they said he's stable at the moment."

It had been lovely that the nurses kept coming in every hour or so to give (Y/n) an update until she could go and see her little boy. They told her how well he was doing, how he settled almost straight away when they got him all hooked up to the ventilator and monitors. He seemed to be very settled and stable at the moment and that was all that they could ask for.

And (Y/n) was desperate to go down and see him.

Tiredness ebbed away in the corners of Evan's eyes and at the back of his mind, but he tried to push it to one side and ignore it.

His head tilted to one side and the first hint of a smile began to form on his lips when he looked down. His left arm curved and bent over the top of the incubator while he bent his left leg forward and stretched his other leg out behind him to keep himself supported. His upper body leaned forward and he leaned his head down until his nose was almost touching the plastic separating him from his little boy.

For what had to be the tenth time this morning, Evan carefully slid his right hand through the small circular opening in the side of the incubator.

His fingers skimmed across his little boy's chest, just a small, delicate touch that was barely there. Evan couldn't find it in himself to be comforted by the feeling of his little boy breathing steadily like this. Not when he knew it was the machine that was making him breathe.

As soon as that tube was removed from his nose and he was breathing on his own, Evan knew he would feel a lot better.

He leaned his cheek on his left arm and trailed his fingers higher until they brushed the newborn's cheek that was so soft but wrinkled that it made Evan shiver.

He wasn't sure he'd ever seen a premature baby this small or this close up in person. Sure, he'd seen a few pictures from friends or people on calls who said they'd experienced something like this. But Evan had never touched a baby so small and early on like this.

It was strange.

It was unnerving to think that if he put both hands in the incubator, his son would barely fit in the palm of his hands. He only weighed three pounds. Evan had never seen a baby so small and lightweight. He was like a doll.

"It'll be better when you're out of here, you know. That nurse said in a few days, maybe a week, we can hold you. I'm starting to get desperate," Evan managed a smile as he trailed his hand back down towards the newborn's hand that was clenched into a tiny fist.

He brushed his thumb against the back of his hand and tried to be careful as he delicately unfolded his fingers. Evan's fingertip barely fit against his son's palm but he refused to let go or flinch or squirm away. This was his boy, his baby, and he wanted some sort of contact.

Evan wanted him to know that someone was with him and watching over him.

He knew realistically that it didn't make much difference. This incubator was here to make his boy feel like he was back in the womb and to get him to grow and develop. He wasn't going to know or care if someone was watching over him or if his dad was keeping an eye on him or not. But it comforted Evan to know that someone was with his son. It comforted him to be able to touch his newborn and show him that he wasn't on his own.

He stroked his thumb against the back of his hand, noting how his son's skin was like sandpaper. A bit gritty, somewhat coarse and extremely fragile. If Evan applied too much pressure he might break his skin.

"But you have to stay in here for a while."

Evan didn't like this. He had imagined the moment he and (Y/n) had their baby, so many times. And not once did Evan consider the thought of having to have their baby prematurely like this. He thought once their boy was born, they would hold him straight away, get some pictures and just spend the day with him in their arms.

He didn't think he would be separated by a plastic box and wires and tubes or see his baby wear the smallest version of a nappy that the hospital had, specifically provided for premature babies.

Evan never thought about having to wait possibly weeks until his baby would be healthy and strong enough to breathe on his own and feed without a tube going straight into his stomach. He didn't think he would have to bide his time and wait until he could hold him for the first time.

And Evan knew for definite that until his boy was in his arms, he wasn't moving from this spot. Evan wasn't leaving this hospital for more than an hour to get something to eat or get a change of clothes. He was staying right here, watching over his boy.

"I can start telling people now, about you. I told grandad Bobby, and auntie Maddie this morning. And uncle Eddie. It's strange, being a dad, now that you're already here."

It still wasn't sinking in properly that this was real.

He couldn't quite get his head round the fact that he could now call himself a dad. He could tell people he had a baby boy. This little life right here, that wouldn't fit in his hands, was already alive and here.

Evan was responsible for this precious life that he was afraid he was going to lose.

This was his boy. This was the little person he was going to be cradling at night and settling to sleep and feeding and washing and dressing him up and taking him down to the station to proudly show him off. When he was better, of course.

"I wish I could take you out of this. I just wanna take you home with me and mummy." As he spoke, Evan's fingers twitched and pressed a little harder into the small fist he was cradling.

He was desperate. He felt like a bank robber plotting some great heist. He wanted to snatch his son and take him home and make a remedy to rectify all of this. If he could change things, he would. Evan would keep (Y/n) and their baby safe and take them home and change this so they had him when it was safe to do so. He wanted his little boy in his arms. He wanted him cuddled up into his chest and snuggled against his bare skin and held as close as he could get him.

Evan wanted his boy to know what a cuddle felt like. He wanted to be able to give him a kiss and hold him and let him know how much he was loved already.

"God, I- I haven't even got your crib ready yet." Tilting his head up, Evan moved his free hand and dragged it across his face and down his jaw.

He hadn't got anything set up.

They had barely started to buy clothes and blankets and bottles. And the crib was still flat-packed in the corner of the nursery that wasn't even painted or decorated yet. They hadn't done any of that. They thought they had another ten to fifteen weeks left before their baby would of made an appearance.

Statistically speaking, Evan knew he still had quite a few weeks left until he could take his baby home. He had four, maybe five or more weeks of visiting his boy in here. And when he and (Y/n) weren't here at the hospital, they were going to be decorating because being home without their baby would drive them insane.

Evan could see it now. By this time next week, the nursery would be finished and they would have everything ready in anticipation of taking this little bundle back home with them.

"You weren't meant to arrive this early, you know. I thought I had three months to get everything ready for you. I guess I'd better sort out the nursery soon, hm? Ready for when me and mummy bring you home."

He finally released the newborn's miniscule fist so he could drag his fingertips up and down his side like he was trying to tickle him.

Evan found it fascinating to look at the tiny nappy they put on his son. It didn't look right, being so small and compact and seeing such tiny legs sprouting out which only looked the length of Evan's index finger. And when his eyes trailed up to look at his son's small head, he was relieved that his boy now had a little lime green cap on to help keep him warm.

Evan didn't want anyone removing that cap. Not when he knew that was where the IV line had gone.

Evan had almost thrown up when he watched the nurse try and fail to find a suitable vein in his son's arms and she couldn't find one in his legs either which were like sand paper. She only found a good vein in the side of his head and Evan hated it. He hated seeing that needle puncture through his delicate skin and see the thin tube be taped to the side of his head so it wouldn't accidentally be torn out.

He was glad the cap covered the IV line which could only be seen popping out the end of the cap behind his tiny ear that was smaller than Evan's thumb.

"I'm not gonna leave you here alone, mister. I'll stay with you."

Just as he spoke, Evan felt a pair of arms circling around his waist and a familiar face pressing into his back just beneath his shoulder blades. His lips curved into a grin and he slowly slid his hand from the incubator so he could reach down and hold onto (Y/n)'s wrist.

"Hi baby, you okay?" He twisted his body so his left hip was pressing against the incubator, allowing him to weave his right arm around (Y/n)'s waist and tug her closer.

She happily tucked herself into his chest with her cheek pressing against his sternum so her eyes could focus on the incubator in front of them. The feeling of Evan's hand feathering up and down her hip and the feel of his lips against her temple faded out when (Y/n) looked at her little boy.

She hadn't managed to get a good look at him last night when he was born. But as she stared down at him, she realised Evan had been right this morning.

He was beautiful. He had a circular birth mark on his right cheek like a splotch of paint had been dropped onto him. His nose was tiny and rounded at the end, obscured only by the breathing tube taped into his nostril.

"Hm. How is he?"

"He's okay. The nurse will be back round soon to do some checks." Evan spoke against the top of (Y/n)'s head, breathing into her hair while he leaned back so she could slouch against his chest.

Tilting her head back, (Y/n) gently pressed her chin into Evan's chest so she could look up at him.

He had dark circles beneath his eyes and a hazy look in his pupils, showing off his desperate need for sleep. But the lazy smile on his lips was enough to make (Y/n)'s heart skip a beat and her stomach flood with adrenaline. She felt his hand move to run up and down her back while his left hand curled into a fist and propped his cheek up.

The way he slouched and grinned tiredly but endearingly made (Y/n) smile and attach her lips to his neck.

"You're gonna be living here for the next few weeks, aren't you?" Her words were soft and her tone was even softer, melting along the edges while she smiled against his skin and grazed her teeth dangerously close to his throat.

She could see it already. The nurses would all know Evan by next week. He would become part of the furniture, they would get used to him and weave around him to do their checks and daily tasks. They would have to stop Evan from intervening and trying to take over. They would be showing him how to change the tiny nappies and show him how they were feeding his boy and how they washed him while he was this small and tender.

Evan would become part of their routine, their staff team. Someone they couldn't avoid or get rid of, not until they discharged his son.

"Oh yes."

"Hm, good. Me too." (Y/n) nudged her nose against his jaw until Evan tilted his head down to meet her halfway in a kiss.

She kept her left arm looped around his torso but she stayed still and compliant as Evan held her right hand. He slowly moved her hand when their lips finally broke apart but stayed so close that (Y/n) could feel each breath he took like Evan was giving her his every ounce of oxygen.

Her eyes drifted to the side when Evan slid their joined hands through the small opening in the incubator and grazed her fingertips along their son's hand.

"Hear that? Me and mummy are staying here until we can take you home. We're not leaving without you."

[ask-poethetic]

Hello, you can call me Poe. I’m not all that familiar with social media just yet so do forgive me for any mistakes I may make. I only recently even got a phone!

Some of you may recognize me from my work at the Soup Kitchen (if you don’t know about it, it’s everyday from 17:00-20:00!!!) or from my shop on Connudatus St. (The Forest Reverie - I mostly sell flowers, but I’ve also started selling fresh produce!). Though I normally only set up shop on Saturday’s or Sunday’s -v-;;

I am normally pretty busy working or studying, so I may not be very active here. So I’m sorry if I miss any asks or am late sometimes, or seem to disappear for a while.

But! If anyone has any recommendations for things to check out (movies, books, games, places, and so on) please let me know! Until recently I haven’t really been able to go out or do much of my own thing, and it’s all rather overwhelming.

Oh, also, please feel free to send asks here. I don’t actually have a proper phone plan so I can’t send or receive texts either -v-;;;

<OOC Below> : Rules / Disclaimers / Trigger Warnings

THIS BLOG IS 18+ ONLY : if I learn that you are under the age of 18 you will be promptly blocked

Typical DOL (Degrees of Lewdity) Trigger Warnings : explicit noncon/dubcon, violence, brainwashing/drugging, transphobia (as in Poe is trans), weird purity politics of “virginity”

Further Trigger Warnings :

- Poe is 17 and has been sexually abused since he was even younger

- Nonconsensual Incest/PseudoIncest

- Extreme Medical Malpractice

- Extreme Power Imbalance

Poe’s story is a horror story rather than sexy fun times due to his asexuality and age. I write him going through canon-typical sexual violence and abuse, and write Poe reacting in realistic ways. DOL overall feels very unrealistic and goofy at times, with Poe I put effort to make it more realistic, which thus makes it more horrifying.

Continue at your own discretion

(This list is made as I have seen people have very negative reactions to what I have done in his storyline)

(Art by @dol-dee)

Basic Information

Poe is Tiny, Intersex, and Meek. He uses exclusively he/him pronouns and is transmasc.

He used to have Congenital Heart Disease (which is what kept him bedridden for his childhood) but has since received a heart transplant that has helped. He is however still immunocompromised and has difficulty doing physical activity.

His hair was brown until an encounter with the Ivory Wraith during the Blood Moon, in which he received an ear slime. The trauma from the event quickly led him to having a week in the asylum, in which during that time his hair quickly turned to its current ashy grey.

Poe continues to make weekly visits to the hospital for therapy and to check on his condition. He has full trust in Dr Harper and is not aware of Dr Harper’s abuses.

Poe obsessively ensures that his reputation is perfect, and any foul or bad rumors quickly disappear after appearing.

Doodles done by me @hemlocks-hidey-hole

TAG DIRECTORY

#me : Posts made by Poe

#ask-answered : … Answered asks

#vibes : Vibe/Aesthetic/Text posts that Poe would reblog

#convo : Interactions with other blogs

#not-blog : Posts that are set outside of the realm of the blog

#not-poe : Posts that are made by someone other than Poe

#Captured Poe Arc : A series involving ‘Evil Anon’, who had Poe kidnapped and then sexually assaulted him

<OOC Information>

Hello, making another of these cause I felt it needed updating! Also just redid Poe’s blog a wee bit. It may continue to have changes occur, which I’ll point out on @hemlocks-hidey-hole when they occur.

Once again, anything that occurs within <> is me talking in OOC, most commonly found in the tags of a post.

Also a fun character inspo/mood board thing, though these were all applied after the fact.

[yourqueenb]

So I finally took the player survey. It took me a while to complete because I ended up writing a lot more than I intended to 💀 But I wanna comment on a few things that stood out to me here…

I found this question in particular interesting because global traits were not something I had ever considered, but they could potentially mitigate the issues they have with the constant rigid, innocent, and socially/intellectually inept MCs. At least we could pick how we want to play our MCs, right? However, I find the 3 example traits they were able to come up with concerning, especially given that the majority of their players are women and the fact that we’ve been asking them to give us MCs outside of those boxes. Anyway, I’m curious to know what everybody else put for this. I think I selected 2 or 3, can’t remember which.

I also wanna know what everybody put for the questions under number 9 because to me a lot of them seemed to be related to changing the app’s interface or adding monetizable features. And things like that aren’t really important at all imo. (Or at least not as important as the story development and gameplay changes they need to make). I actually like the interface the way it is and would rather they not clutter it with all of the extras they mentioned.

I was also gonna put what I wrote in the additional feedback box here in case anyone was interested, but some of it got deleted from the original draft of this post. So I’ll just put a few of the major points I touched on below:

“Additionally, we should have the option to opt in or opt out of the appearance of hookups, ending stories in romantic relationships, and romancing certain characters, especially if a book is not classified as erotica or does not have a content warning. Unwanted sexual propositions and descriptions of sexually charged situations can be uncomfortable or even triggering to read, even if the characters aren’t real! For example, the “I’m in a dark mood” scene with Ethan in Open Heart book 3 and the hookup options in Laws of Attraction book 1. Players who have little to no romance points with one character and the majority or all of their romance points with another should not be getting propositioned by or receiving romantic dialogue and narration from/about the former so late in a series. And either less sexually charged lead ins before scenes or the choice to opt in to hookups outside of the main romance(s) from the beginning should be incorporated into the stories. Additionally, if choice is going to be taken away by only offering one LI option, we should at least have the choice to be single by the end of the book. Not all romances have to end in relationships!”

“Outside of romances with love interests, there needs to be a lot more care and development given to MCs. Players spend the most time with and are in the heads of the main characters; yet, it often feels like they’re the least important parts of the stories and experience the least growth. We also rarely see MCs with character trait combinations outside of innocent, incompetent, and new to their field/interest or (occasionally) mildly competent, brash, and uncouth. There should be more diversity in set traits, the choices we can make to shape our characters, and dialogue options/how our characters can react in certain situations. In game personality tests (like in TE and PM) or some kind of point system might help with this issue as well.”

“Lastly, if you don’t listen to any other feedback, please (for the love of all that is holy) retire the new MC body sprites that appear in Unbridled, Hot Shot, Guarded, etc. With flat torsos and legs and disproportionate arms/oversized heads in comparison to the lower bodies, they are very unflattering and unsettling to look at. And what makes them worse are the ghastly pale, sickly looking skin tones. Skin coloring is something you guys never mastered as the Black MCs (with the exception of 1 or 2) have always appeared ashy and as if they were given white/gray undertones - not to mention the minimal hairstyle options and straight roots on textured styles - which is quite irritating and offensive. However, now all of the MCs have skin tone issues in certain books. So players are only left with options that are painful to look at and difficult to enjoy customizing and playing as. MCs with richer skin tones, more flattering hairstyles options, curvier body types, fuller lips/noses, and more unique facial features in general would make gameplay a much more enjoyable and immersive experience.”