#But i swear once i get over this cold some light exercise at home and next month real workout regimen

[smegmafactory4ever]

The more i think about it and the more I look around i realize that I'm not even that fat it's just that most men are just too skinny. That's the real tea here.

[windblooms]

liyue boys – how they touch their s/o

headcanons and scenarios of how childe, chongyun, scaramouche, xiao, xingqiu, and zhongli would romantically interact with their s/o.

gender-neutral reader.  sfw scenarios for each character, with additional suggestive implications for childe, scaramouche, xiao, and zhongli (since they’re confirmed legal).  2309 words.

childe

the Touchiest of the liyue boys

he just really, really fond of touching you, whether it be with his fingers through your hair or having you a hand on your lap. 

the first time he wanted to touch you, he actually asked (yes, verbally) if you were okay with him doing so

at least one of his acts with you could be orthodox, yeah?  although, looking back on it now, he supposes that he was attempting to be a bit more serious and wasn’t sure how to convey the sentiment when his reputation often preceded him

since then, he’s made a habit to have you next to him at all times

you don’t mind, since his attention is admittedly nice, but understandably neither of you want to display affection towards each other in the presence of his coworkers.  

if you were to be in public, such as walking down the streets of liyue, then he’d have his fingers laced between yours

if he were to be in a particularly good mood that day, he’d actually have you hook your arm around his.  you’re not sure why – but maybe it’s because more of you would be pressed against him that way.

an avid displayer of fleeting touches.  some are playful, like tapping his finger on your nose to get your attention, while others are slightly more teasing, like trailing his fingers up your thigh when you’re working and really shouldn’t be getting distracted. 

“i can’t help it.  your expressions are always the best part.”

so long as you’re next to him, he’ll find any excuse possible to have himself on you.

you’re cold?  take his coat, but also a complimentary hug because wow he’s kinda sorta warm for a snezhnayan native. 

got work to do?  he’ll stroll over to you every once in a while, claim he’s checking on you, and then place a kiss on your cheek as “encouragement.”

just got home from a long day out?  take some time to lay on top of him, he makes for a comfy mattress

his favorite ways to touch you: gloves off, thumb rubs against the back of your hand, hands cradling your neck or squeezing your hips in more passionate moments.  especially enjoys contact the more of your body he feels.  not sexual all the time, but definitely sensually pleasing.  he’s reassured when he feels you next to him. 

chongyun

chongyun is relatively inexperienced in acting out his romantic impulses.  

hand holding?  yeah, sure, he knows it’s what people do, but apparently there something about interlacing fingers . . . ?

also, there are different ways to hug?  he thought that just wrapping his arms around your shoulders would be fine, but is there a specific instance where he should “back hug” you?  

he thinks there should be a lover’s manual for how to go about with physical touch, but sadly there isn’t, and he’s left by himself to make sense of his confusion.

he’ll have to learn first-hand – something he quickly realizes he won’t mind.

chongyun’s touches will reflect his nature: gentle and initially somewhat shy, but he will gradually become more confident as time goes on.

the first time he tries to initiate hand-holding with you, you’re sitting next to each other on the couch

you can tell something’s a bit off by how he’s staring straight into your skull, as if he’s conflicted over something even when there’s nothing to be distressed about –

and he lifts his hand, hesitantly, and you swear that he’s shaking, before he mumbles something along the lines of “screw this” and just

places the tips of his fingers over the back of your hand and

just leaves them there

and you’re blinking, not quite sure what to make of his awkwardness, before connecting the dots when you see him absolutely red in the face. 

he’s startled when he hears you laugh, and especially when you move your hand to securely grasp his own. 

you’re warm, incredibly so, and when he looks up from his lap to affirm that he hasn’t made a complete mess of the mood, you’re there to give him a pat on the head.

“y-yeah.  can we stay like this?  hey!  no, don't laugh – ”

the take-away: soft boy.  will realize that he loves it when you squeeze his hands but will be flustered when admitting it.  also internally enjoys it when you put your chin atop his head, and when you let him put his hand on your shoulder.  will become more confident over time with showing affection, whether it be through light touches or shy pecks. 

scaramouche

scaramouche is admittedly one of the more destructive harbingers

meaning he wouldn’t be one to be gentle in the slightest

probably doesn't even know that hugging is supposed to be an act of affection and instead registers it as another method to crush someone’s chest

the least likely out of the liyue boy to even be in a romantic relationship 

but in the off chance that he is, 

warm affection won’t be on the menu unless you’re in a dream sequence.

yes, he might not be as irritable around you.  yes, he won’t immediately scowl at your presence, and maybe even request for you to be beside him once in a while.

but that is a far cry from assuming stable, healthy intimacy.

the closest he’s ever gone to touching you kindly is by pulling you towards him – nearly winding you with his forcefulness – and insisting that you play with his hair

(definitely a pushy one, and it would be endearing if not for the fact that he does not know how to interact constructively with others.)

so it’ll take time, lots of explanations and dialogue to tell him that no, he doesn’t have to be so rough with his grasp, and yes, it does bother you and you’d insist that he learn to be gentler before touching you again.

he won’t strike you down for speaking your mind – that’s exactly why he’s with you to begin with, since you were able to back up your wit with fight.

he’ll grumble, as if you had told him the most unpleasant of news (which you suppose you just have), but nonetheless attempts to mimic touches you would approve of.

scaramouche is, admittedly, easy to vex.  while he might generally be a hassle to handle, the only time you do let him give in to his harsh tendencies are when you two are kissing each other a bit too hard or grabbing each others’ clothes too eagerly.

in other words, making out.

it’s obvious that he enjoys these more aggressive instances over the ones you’ve convinced him to be satisfied with.  it’s an agreement that both of you have come to terms with: if he’s to  command  ask for little things, he better be respectful about it.  but when you decide to reward him for exercising restraint publicly, it’s behind his door where you let him go unrestrained. 

“so long as you’ll still let me do this, then i might tolerate your . . . other preferences.”

xiao

he’s not sure when you became more comfortable with one another, but for some reason he’s certain that it had to be after you commented on his hair

something about it being soft and appealing to braid – not that he would ever let you,

okay, maybe if you ask enough times.  but for now the answer is definitely no.

anyways,

you were actually the one to ask to hug him first.  he was a bit perplexed, wondering what you were thinking that prompted you to ask, but then realized that neither of you had been physically affectionate before.  

as in, not even hand holding.  or hand squeezes.  or anything else that would be considered basic between partners.

as quickly as you asked, he affirmed that it was all right, and has since become attuned to your need for physical assurance.

something about him “feeling like home” and “safe.”  at the time, he wasn’t sure what feeling like a home meant, however through time he realized that you felt like home as well.

soothing.  as if automatic, he fits your body into his and holds the back of your head against his chest, lets you twirl your fingers in your hair, and carries you into bed.

under the covers, he feels more alone with you, as if the closed door isn’t already enough.

even in the dark, his eyes will roam all over your face, and he’ll run his fingers over your cheeks, down your neck, and over your collarbones. 

he can feel you shudder slightly under his touch, and he’ll always stop immediately, concerned for your discomfort. 

but when you take his hand to your lips and press kisses on his fingers, he’s relieved that he’s still doing right by you. 

so long as you’re sure, he’ll continue his ministrations.  whether it be holding your form flush against him as you drift to sleep, or crooking his finger under your chin so he can mold your lips together just the way you like, so long as you both know you’re safe with him.

in short: inexperienced, but always concerned for you.  won’t do anything unless you ask or suggest, and even then, his care for you is more obvious than the wake of day with the sunrise. 

“i’ll hold you as long as you let me – if you’d have me be with you.”

xingqiu

simple: dramatic.

if you thought that the novels he’s written have gotten to his head, then you would be completely right, because he does not miss an opportunity to add in some flair to your relationship. 

produces a glaze lily out of thin air each time he greets you after your day of work, “fairest, this is for thou,” and has the audacity to look pleased with himself.

a nerd at heart, and you might unironically think it’s cute if not for the laughs he allows himself afterwards.

is always smiling when you touch, even if you’re just bumping into him accidentally.

it doesn’t take much to make him happy, you realize, but that assumption morphs into wow he just.  really loves with his whole heart.

xingqiu’s a magnet when it comes to your shoulder, somehow always leaning against you when given the opportunity

you could be sitting next to each other at the table, or even standing up talking to other people, and he’ll latch onto your shoulder.

“i’ve got you right next to me.  why not capitalize on the moment?”

absolutely adores it when you let him play with your hair.  you’re not sure what it’s about, but after his obvious attachment to your arm, you just decided that he was a very physical lover and you’d be more than willing to indulge him.

if you come visit him when he’s reading or writing, he gets especially excited because!!!  head rest!!!!

and consider yourself occupied for easily the next hour as he rattles off yet another plot of a novel, or attempts to woo you with sappy lines that he decided to mentally bookmark just to tease you with later.

in the instances when he isn’t occupying your lap or shoulder, he actually likes it when you lean on him as well, especially if you’re sleepy.  he finds the whole act endearing, either you being too lazy to move to bed or finding him comfortable. 

so long as you don’t tire of his antics, he’ll be sure to indulge you in the same. 

zhongli

despite being what some would call oblivious when it comes to human interaction, zhongli is surprisingly romantically competent so long as you give him time to adjust.

he’s quick to notice things you like and hones in on them with relative ease.  admittedly, the first time you hugged him, he was a bit stiff, but was actually the one to initiate physical affection the following time.

 it gives you hope that there aren’t actually cobwebs still in that thousand year-old brain of his. 

already a traditional man, you soon realize that he’s fond of more innocent touches, such as when you slot your fingers against his or unbind his hair to play with the strands. 

he might even fall asleep if you comb his hair long enough, enjoying being spoiled.

forehead kisses!

at least twice a day, he’ll brush aside your bangs and place pecks on your forehead.  if not your forehead, then definitely your cheeks.

lowkey wants to pinch your cheeks.  you’re not sure why.  maybe it’s the childish curiosity that peaks out of him every so often, and he’ll absent-mindedly comment that your cheeks remind him of crystal shrimp balls.

you’d stutter every time, finding his sense in compliments endearing yet flustering at once, and he’d just blink, the sincere man he is.

“but they do.  flush with color.”  a pause.  “could i maybe have a bite?”

ah, yes, when he does want a bite –

his touches will be unbearably soft.  so much so that you’re not even sure he’s real, with the tenderness on his fingers and warmth in his voice.

zhongli cherishes you as if he’s waited a thousand years for you.  in the back of his head afraid that if he’s any more present then he might break you, as if he would ever capable of doing something like that –

he’ll have your thighs around his waist, body above your own and mouth leaving fleeting pressures along your neck

each time his lips press into your skin, he leaves sweet words behind.

he only wishes to enjoy the moments he has with you, so long as you enjoy yourself as well.  zhongli will be attuned to your preferences, and take delight in spoiling you rotten – even if he might be a bit unorthodox with his speech, his sentiment is never in question. 

[needleandhammer]

From Simmer to Score

Pairing: Soft!Curtis Everett x Reader

Summary: Curtis is good with his hands. And other stuff.

Warnings: 18+ only, explicit, smut, oral sex, penetration, fingering, dub con breeding, unprotected sex, breeding kink sort of, size kink, petite!reader, Curtis' fingers

Word count: 4k

A/N: This doesn't really fit the prompt i chose from @stargazingfangirl18 's 5k Soft Dark Challenge: "You hire a local handyman to help you with a few home projects." But the prompt still inspired this. I wanted to take the prompt somewhere more explicitly dark but once again my contribution to this challenge turned marshmallow soft. This is an au, non-apocalypse au, normal life au, idk. Just self-indulgent. Also, it was a struggle finding a gif of clean Curtis. Because he's clean in this and not living on a train, i swear.

“Try again. Very good. Let’s have you run through the exercises and then we’ll take a look at the new homework."

At your smile, the little girl nods and quickly turns to concentrate on coordinating her footwork on the pedals of your old Altenberg while reading the notes in front of her.

You back away, heading to the kitchen for some iced tea. You nearly forget your other guest who sits at the table.

This is the third time he’s accompanied Wendy for her lessons. For a man of his size, Curtis makes no sound except the faint swish of pages turning in his book. Like before, he arrived with Wendy, nodded a greeting at you, waited for your invitation to the kitchen, and then spent the entire hour silently reading.

You pull the fridge door open and pour tea into three glasses. You quietly slide one towards him. Curtis’ eyes flicker up to you, brilliantly blue, and he gives you a low murmur.

“Thanks.”

You’re about to return to Wendy when you hear your name in Curtis’ smooth baritone.

He nods to the notepad left on the table. “I, uh, noticed your reminder to call for maintenance. Something wrong?”

“Oh.” You tidy up the table, sheepish at being caught procrastinating house chores. “Just needed a second look at the water heater. The repair company came by and we tested things out when they were done, but the next day I had no hot water.”

You grimace, thinking of taking another cold shower.

“If you’re okay with it, I can grab my tool bag from my car and take a look,” he says.

You’re not prepared for the offer. “I wouldn’t want to impose.”

He shakes his head, no hesitance. “I don’t mind at all. As long as you don’t.”

“I mean. I-I would really appreciate the help.”

Your time with Wendy ends after you review practice goals with her until her next lesson.

Curtis joins you two. “Hot water is running again.”

Your jaw drops and you skip to the kitchen. Hot water pours out of your faucet. You return, unable to resist grinning widely at him.

“Thank you, Curtis. You’re a lifesaver.”

“Curtis taught my dad everything about fixing houses!” Wendy chirped. He offers her a crooked smile.

“Do you have everything?” you ask your young pupil.

While Wendy thanks you and you help her pack, Curtis watches on with a faint curve to his lips.

“Edgar’s changing over to late shifts for the next couple of months. I’ll probably be driving Wendy to lessons again.”

You nod. “Sounds good. See you both then.”

After they leave, you enjoy a glorious steamy shower and then you settle onto your couch with a plate of leftover grilled veggies and fish.

Reviewing your schedule, you consider taking on one or two more students. It was years ago that you gave private lessons to help pay for college. Nearly a decade of moving between a few jobs, you are now in a quiet suburb working with a team of digital designers. The job allows you to work from home half the week, a flexibility you take great appreciation in. The professional stability encouraged you to return to music and to helping others develop their musical interests.

Wendy is your only student at the moment as you want to ease into taking on this additional responsibility. You smile, recalling your initial meeting with Wendy and her father, Edgar. Her father’s bubbly energy is such a stark contrast to Curtis. Edgar opened up quickly, sharing that he and Wendy’s mother were no longer together, that he would support whatever Wendy wanted to do. There was a perpetually youthful vigor to the room when Edgar was present.

Wendy calls Curtis, Uncle, and his adoration for her is clear. He barely said two words when he was here the first time. It doesn’t bother you. You get the impression Curtis purposely tries to not draw attention to himself, and you can empathize with that preference for tranquility.

_ _ _ _

It’s a windy day, heavy with rain clouds, the next time Wendy and Curtis are over.

“I saw your screen door was down. Planning on replacing it?” Curtis asks when you wrap up with Wendy.

“Nah. I was just going to look up what I would need and try fixing it myself.”

“It’s kind of heavy.”

His tone doesn’t imply any skepticism aimed at you and you’re not offended. You’re used to people calling you ‘small,’ though you’re not small so much as you’re short. You like to think you take up ample space. You also admit strength is not something you have in abundance. Your whole life you relied on family and friends for a lot of literal heavy lifting. But Curtis already helped you out once.

“I could fix it up.”

“I won’t ask you to do that.”

“It’s no bother, really. I’m happy to help out.”

He promises to be quick about it. While he works, Wendy happily practices on your piano.

“I have Oreos,” you announce.

She pauses to grab a cookie. “Thank you so much for letting me practice longer.”

“Of course, dear.”

She chats a bit about her upcoming birthday plans, as children are wont to do.

Curtis pops his head in. “All set. Do you want to take a look?”

You follow him out back. Swinging the screen door on its hinges, you nodded appraisingly.

“I suppose it passes inspection.” You look up with a cheeky smile, pleased to see Curtis’ lips twitching. “Thank you. Really, Curtis. I do wish you’d let me pay you.”

He shakes his head. “It’s nothing. Besides, you’re great with Wendy. I’m grateful for that.”

You can tell he loves Wendy just as much as if he was her father. “In that case, I shall give Wendy her next lesson for free.”

He blinks at you, trailing behind as you make your way inside and calling out to Wendy.

Curtis has resigned himself to a quiet, bare life. He doesn't think he wants anything much. He has Edgar’s loyalty, a result of the brotherhood he formed in his impoverished teen years. They survived together, looked out for each other. Once Wendy came along like a little star burning in a smoggy midnight, Curtis counted himself lucky to witness the little girl growing up. A chance to help nourish one seed.

The first time he arrived with Wendy at your home, Curtis couldn’t help listening in on the entire lesson, making no progress in his book. Your clear voice, your generous encouragement. You, light on your feet moving so swiftly. You, barely reaching his shoulders yet mighty in spirit, curvy and sensuous. Curtis had an urge to lift you in his palms to be stored safely in his pocket.

_ _ _ _

And so things follow. Wendy diligently learning and Curtis primarily accompanying her, taking his place at your kitchen table. You come to enjoy his steady, grounding presence just a couple steps away from you and Wendy.

Now and then, he’ll notice some upkeep you’re doing – a leaky faucet, a box of new light bulbs on your counter – and volunteer his assistance. You are reluctant to put him to work, sure that he spends enough of his days working and doing chores in his own home and besides these are tasks you can handle even if you find them tedious. Curtis is always gentle in his offers, always obtains your permission first. As time goes by and you grow less shy about accepting his help and he grows more comfortable in your space, you realize working with his hands is second nature to Curtis.

It doesn't take long for Curtis to admit to himself he wants to be near you.

Curtis doesn’t meddle. He doesn’t mingle. He doesn’t have any interest in widening his social circle. He is aware you thrived on your own for a long time, just like him; and like he has Edgar and Wendy, you have a small close-knit group of friends. Lending a hand to you doesn’t count because you are like him.

Maybe this is why he lets his guard down under your roof. There is something kindred in your calm nature that his soul responds to. Under your roof, no silences need to be filled; no pretenses forced upon him. Your invitation to rest is unspoken – he hears it and almost weeps. The more time he spends with you, like two wavelengths in tune, the stronger his urge to insert himself. To fix, or in some way leave his mark on your home. Curtis doesn’t have any interest in widening his social circle. Lending a hand to you didn't count. Until he cannot help it. He doesn’t reach out for you, doesn’t try to prove you’ll curve perfectly within his arms; but he’ll ensure your softness can curl up in a sturdy home and delight in simple pleasures.

One evening, when Edgar works later than usual, you ask if Wendy and Curtis would join you for dinner.

“Nothing fancy. I have some noodle soup and salad. Curtis, can you call Edgar to meet us here?”

Wendy sets the table. Curtis assists with the food.

He’s quick to cup your hand in his when it's nicked with a knife. You can’t help leaning into him as he runs your finger under water, wraps it in clean paper towel. He finishes with the salad, making you sit at the table.

Edgar joins you all, tired but quickly gaining energy with food and a few sips of wine. You are full and warmed by their company. While Edgar cheers on Wendy while she practices from her book, you feel Curtis’ fingers curl over your hand. His thumb brushes over your cut. You share a smile with him.

_ _ _ _

You settle into your little Toyota only to find it won’t start. It stumps you because you never had issues with this car before. You have no experience with car maintenance and don’t know the first thing to check for an engine that won’t wake.

Calling Curtis to see if you can reschedule, he insists that he can swing by to pick you up.

He had called you, his voice almost shy. He wanted to surprise Wendy for her birthday with a piano and asked for your help.

You direct Curtis to the string instruments shop in the city’s downtown area. The two of you are greeted by a sales staff upon entry. When asked, Curtis looks to you, wordless, so you do your best to describe to the salesperson what you're looking for.

There are several options of acoustic and digital instruments. You give little demonstrations on a few pianos that you consider reasonably priced.

“Curtis, check this one out.” Your hold on his sleeve is loose and propels him towards one of the upright Baldwin pianos.

“I think any of these would suit Wendy. The sounds are clear, and they don’t take up too much space. The salesperson said this one is second-hand and it’s in really good shape.” You press a few chords, then look up at Curtis with a smile.

He looks at you, gaze gentle. “I’m not worried about price. I’ll take whatever you recommend.”

That was his general response when you asked his opinion during your time in the shop: he was up for anything you recommended. Other than that, he trailed behind you so that the salesperson assumed you were the primary purchaser. Much like in your house, Curtis seemed to try hard to not draw attention. Oddly, you didn’t think anyone in the same room with him could help noticing him. Even with the dark apparel he favored, Curtis’ reserved nature can't hide all the intensity and strength just thrumming beneath the surface of his tall imposing build.

You convince him to sit beside you on the bench. He’s never played before, but humors you and tries random combinations of thirds with you. You watch his hands – clean, wide, with thick fingers – hover and slide along the keys.

He nudges you.

“Sorry. I was just impressed your sausage fingers are quite nimble.”

A half-hearted glare. “Thank you. For coming with me.”

“If I say you’re welcome, will you take a look at my car when we get back?”

He stays for dinner.

It starts raining and you have to rush out to gather hanging linens. He helps and you both run back inside. You're giddy at his eagerness to assist, resulting in damp clothing on you both.

“Oh, let’s dump it here. I’ll fold it tomorrow.” You are happy to leave the laundry in a pile on an armchair, in too good of a mood to care.

You catch him with his attention on you, a look so soft you have to look away, walk blindly a few steps. His touch is on your arm, turning you around just as you reach the piano.

He dips his head low to press chapped lips to yours, capturing your lips more, closing in to envelope you in his heat.

Curtis’ hands grip your hips with a quick jostle against the piano, prompting a slur of bright notes ringing from the keyboard that you are pressed against. And then he’s hitching you further up and firmly in his arms. His tongue licks against yours. You slant your open mouth, inviting him to taste, to devour you from the inside out. Your legs wrap around his waist like you belong there, tethered to this point in time. There’s no past or future, only Curtis, only feeling safe and real in his arms now now now.

You barely register Curtis moving, tipping you onto the couch cushions to hover over you so close. You can’t remember burning for someone like this. You can’t remember much of anything, focused on Curtis, solid and unyielding between your thighs, muscles buzzing with raw strength.

You want so badly to know more of him. Your hands wander shamelessly under his shirt, sliding up his wide back, grazing under to squeeze appreciatively at his pecs only to be called south by a narrowing of hair that leads you on until you bump his belt buckle.

You’re distracted by the tease of hot kisses he drops along your neck. There’s something sweet, vulnerable in how you allow him access to the delicate skin there. It makes Curtis bury his nose against the crook of your jaw, a long moment for him to whisper something like a prayer, before his tongue swirls and he nibbles your ear lobe. Your high pitched gasp hastens his desire. Your shirt is gone. Your bra untangled from your arms. Your breasts, oh, Curtis takes a mouthful of one fleshy breast, sucking greedily when you moan, breathless and aching now.

You claw at his shirt until it too disappears. You wriggle to help Curtis pull your pants and underwear off. Your legs want to yank him back to you, but he braces himself to allow just a bit more space between you both than before.

“Let me.” It’s almost a growl, and you want to say yes, but you want to kiss him more. You’re clinging by his neck, drinking from his soft lips, until you both part to draw breath.

His hand caresses your cheek, sliding over to slip two fingers into your slack mouth. Your tongue swipes at them, lips close to suck them in, eager to touch and taste any part of him. Jaw tight, Curtis pulls his fingers away and down. Down. His hand spans large over your curves and you hold your breath, grit your teeth. One finger saturated with saliva, sinks into your cunt. You swear you can feel more arousal dripping from you to soak his hand and he adds another finger, drawing short whimpers from you as his fingers withdraw and plunge in. God, you won’t ever tease him about his fingers again because they’re perfect. Agonizing in their quest to undo you.

His voice is husky groans, wanting so bad to feel your oh so tight cunt around his cock. Soon.

He tortures you, adds a third finger. You’re riding them, whimpering as he pumps them in you and parts the digits to stretch you. His weight slides away and you can only grasp at his hair, you’re barely glimpsing his head between your legs before you arch high when his thick wet tongue swirls and licks your folds, dialing up the white hot blooming inside you. His fingers curl just enough inside to press that patch against your pelvis that strings you tight as a bow. Pressing insistently, scratching with finger pads, until you burst and all you can do is chase more of that pulsing pleasure, humping against his face. Your hips quiver while Curtis laps at your slit.

His sucks grow gentle, thumb teasing your bud, helping you come down from the intense high.

You sigh his name.

“I’m here.”

“I want you.”

His arms wind around you, holding you tight while he kisses you. You can’t remember feeling anything better than being cradled like this as Curtis languidly kisses you.

He’s not rushed to move from you, so you cling to him and he loves you for it. Yes, he’s hard, but he wants to savor this. Already high on the sensation of your soft flesh underneath him, your thick thighs tight at his waist, your quiet hums of pleasure the evidence of his thorough work.

He ran from his past, from early years strife with despair, washing away those memories like dust and grime. He thought his life of isolation was one that moved him forward; but he has been stuck all this time.

Seeing you care for Wendy, Curtis realized he wanted that. He wanted what his friend had. He wanted you, and the precious something conceived between two souls that sing for one another. Soon. He’ll make your sweet little body his to protect, to warm through the nights.

_ _ _ _

“Thanks so much for having us for dinner,” Edgar says. He was been watching Wendy run around your humble backyard, chasing butterflies and searching for little frogs. He turns to you with a toothy grin. “And for your help with the gift. Wendy’s going to flip. I’m lucky to have you and Curtis both around.”

Your smile is just as affectionate. “Happy to have you here. Although,” your smile turns sly, “I’m a little disappointed that your special lady friend didn’t join us.”

“Curtis,” Edgar mutters under his breath. Curtis is washing dishes at the sink and pays no mind to any half-hearted curses directed at him.

Your brow arches, urging Edgar to talk as he can't help an embarassed grin.

“Well, she was traveling for work, unfortunately. But I know Wendy doesn’t mind her.”

The girl has whispered to you that Edgar’s girlfriend is beautiful and she wished she would become her new mom; this you keep to yourself, not wishing to embarrass or pressure your friend further.

“I’m happy to hear that.”

Edgar’s eyes slide sideways, quiet for a moment before he jumps out of his seat and heads to the door leading to the backyard. “I’ll just…uh…” He exits, trailing off without finishing his sentence.

You sigh and take another bite of your cake, indulging in the moist chocolate flavor. Glancing up, you find Curtis watching you. His attention is singular, a warm simmer in those bright blue eyes, causing you to freeze except for your tongue that finishes sweeping over your upper lip. His gaze narrows, grew weighty, tracking your tongue as it retreats into your mouth. He pushes away from the counter, steps close until he is able to drop to his knee beside your chair. One strong yank has your seat turning so you face him.

The door creaks open again.

“Well, the sun’s getting low so I think we’ll head home and wind down.” Edgar announces with his daughter close at his side. He has a boyish grin on his face, pulling Wendy towards the front of your house. "Wendy, say good bye.”

“Isn’t Curtis leaving too?”

“Oh, I’m sure he’ll leave when he’s ready.”

“Have a good night, you two,” you say, walking with them to the front. Though Edgar is still cheerfully thanking you for the meal and insisting you stay inside and not see them off.

“You go on and just have a good time, both of you.” He sends a wink your way. You shake your head at him. “Curtis! You be a gentleman now.”

Quick as he can, he has Wendy secured in the car and they are on their way.

“Huh.” You lock the front door before turning to find Curtis. You can tell he wants to roll his eyes at Edgar’s antics. Instead, he closes in on you.

“Are you worried about me not being a gentleman?” he murmurs. His fingers hook under yours loosely.

You smirk. “I’m worried about you being too much of a gentleman.”

That smolder returns to his gaze. For a second, your body shivers, overwhelmed and you side step him, if only for a moment’s relief from the heat of his eyes.

You reach out. He takes your hand.

Once you’re down a layer, he grows even hotter seeing the mesh and lace number you have on. A tantalizing tease with the hard peaks of your nipples veiled in barely-there maroon. Just daring him to unwrap you. So he does.

His mouth leaves a wet trail seeking sensitive spots on your neck, you breasts, your thighs. Even as he moves, he still covers nearly all of your body, his heat and weight drowning you in want.

Your shudder has him grazing his beard up the inside of your thigh so that you arch and plea for his touch. God, all your uninhibited responses spur the blazing hunger in him. Curtis peels the mesh underwear down, impatient for a taste of you. His mouth waters, catching wafts of arousal and then he’s sucking and lapping your wet pussy. His rumbling groan is like a physical nudge that bows your back, and you remain rigid in the air at the sensation of his thick tongue pushing into you. Wide shoulders part your legs, shifting until your thighs rest on vast muscles.

You rock against him, keen at the hard sucks. Two fingers dip into, fucking you and rubbing with a dizzying rhythm that brings you over the edge.

With little effort, he holds up your hips and you feel a pillow slide under you to angle you higher. Then his muscled arms hook under your knees and he finally lines up and rocks forward. The tip of his cock parts your folds. Your breath hitches. His cock slides in, forcing your walls to stretch, to mold tightly to his girth.

“Curtis” – your hand was going point to the little bedside table with condoms.

Instead, you’re gripping a blanket. Gasping as he withdraws and your pussy tries to hold him in.

You mumble against his lips, incoherent. “The…inside..”

And then he feeds you his length again. And again, that delicious, addicting friction.

"Yes, inside," he agrees softly. "Like this."

With every pump, the spark catches and blazes higher. Curtis rises onto his knees, thrusts harder, watching your eyes flutter open and shut. He’s panting with the pretty picture of a needy you. He grips your thighs. As if his life depends on how tight he clutches you. Concentrating hard, his eyes drop low. Fuck. He can see your pussy clench, your puffy outer lips suckling his cock. Curtis swears your little body is refusing to give him up, and you’re wet but your cunt squeezes him so tight he has to drive harder into you to avoid slipping out.

You’re not even aware of your breathy moans, so turned on by his groans, the rough thrusts he gives you. There’s no grinding. Curtis can tell he’s rubbed against your g-spot and he keeps his snapping hips angled just right, one callused thumb circling your clit too lightly. And then your breaths stutter, your legs seize, your back arches. Curtis grits his teeth, keeping the exact same pace, draws out the storm of your pleasure. It’s so consuming, you lose your voice.

Just as you are able to breathe again, able to sense the physical realm around you, Curtis speeds up, bucking hard with low grunts, powering into you.

A high gasp – you feel him flood you. He drops to press his chest to you, still pumping his release into your clenching walls; and it’s too much, his cock merciless within your sensitive channel. He can’t help it, even as your legs start writhing with his unrelenting stimulation, even as he hears your hitched whimpers.

He finally stills. His lips find yours, tongue stroking deep.

Long moments later, his name is gentle, falling from your lips. “We didn’t use protection.”

Curtis nuzzles you, rubs his nose along the planes of your cheeks. Returns to suck your bottom lip. “It’s okay,” he whispers.

There’s a soft frown upon your brow that he kisses, and then scatters more kisses on your face.

“But, what if?”

“I want you. I want everything with you.”

You’re barely able to react as he nips hard at your collarbone and then rolls his hips. He’s half-hard inside you. You’re quickly losing yourself in Curtis, overwhelmed by the combination of his hungry mouth on your skin, unyielding clasp on your thigh. His thrusts persist, pins you in place, lights you up and scorches you. You’re right where he wants you, whining for more more more.

Now with each beat of his heart, Curtis has his mind’s eye on the prize. He’ll have you over and over. And you’ll grow a piece of him inside you. You are the way forward. You are his.

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

A/N: Hurrah, this one felt like it took forever. I blame Curtis. He didn't give himself up to me easily. Let me love you, ya broody boi! Thank you for reading!

[comfyswitcherblanketfort]

Weighted Blanket

I blame the Bog for enabling me here. This got out of hand. It was just gonna be a cute little drabble I swear yall. But the feels took over? I want a Geralt for myself? Preferably the fanon himbo variety? Idk fam, ya get what ya get today.

Warnings: anxiety/anxiety attack (not panic attack), new established relationship, Jask feels like he has to hide his anxiety from people, Geralt being a soft ass himbo, someone plz find me one? plz?

_______________

Jaskier had spent the night at Geralt’s a few times and he was always incredibly nervous until Geralt opened the door. He adjusted his backpack strap and tapped his foot on the concrete porch and felt a little bit like a child at a playdate. He was a grown ass man. This wasn’t that big of a deal. At least that's what he told himself while he waited for Geralt to scramble out of whatever pretzel yoga pose he was undoubtedly in. Jaskier was all for taking care of himself, he just preferred the ‘extra whip and a pedicure’ style rather than ‘whole foods and regular exercise’ route. He was worried Geralt would try to get him to go to the gym and drink kale but he seemed perfectly content to let Jaskier do what works for him. 

When Geralt opened the door he had a goofy grin and his hair in a sweaty floppy bun, “You’re early,” he said it like it was a treat every time, regardless of how early Jaskier really was. Be it fifteen minutes or an hour and a half, he always looked like an excited puppy and it set Jaskier at ease. 

But today he didn’t feel the tightness in his chest melt away when Geralt smiled at him. Not when he pulled him into a hug before he could utter his greeting. Not even when Geralt kissed the top of his head and rubbed his arms vigorously to warm him up because, “I know you have a sweatshirt in your backpack.”

Jaskier shrugged and leaned into his chest, “I kinda forgot.”

“You weren’t cold?”

“Well now that you mention it....” Jaskier forced a playful tone and got two handfuls of Geralt’s ass, that wonderful, perky ass. And it did absolutely nothing to him. 

Geralt frowned and tilted his head, brushing the damp hair out of jaskier’s eyes, “I was gonna invite you to shower. But you don’t sound excited.”

Jaskier sighed and gave him a weak smile, “I want to be excited.”

Geralt just tilted his head the other direction and tightened his grip on Jaskier’s shoulders and oh wasn’t that nice. That eased the ache a little bit. 

“I’m just a little anxious from work,” Jaskier assured him, patting his hands over Geralt’s perky asscheeks, “Go shower. I’ll be good by the time you’re done.” 

“Are you sure?” Geralt slouched just a bit to draw Jaskier’s eyes to his, “Come with? I’ll wash your hair?” 

Jaskier shook his head with a little smile, “Tempting. But I’ll drink some tea under my blanket then we can enjoy our evening.” 

Geralt kissed his forehead and gave him a quick but firm hug before darting down the hallway to rush through his shower. Jaskier measured his breathing as he made tea, now fairly familiar with Geralt’s kitchen, and settled down on the couch to dig through his backpack for his weighted blanket. 

Only it wasn’t there. His backpack had felt light when he left but it was just such a hectic day and he’d just wanted to see Geralt so bad. 

“Fuck,” he whispered, seeing his hands start to shake as he rezipped his pack, “It’s just a little anxiety Jask. It’s fine. You are fine. It isn’t the end of the world. It will pass. It’s just because that asshole yelled at you, not anything to do with Geralt. You two are fine, good even…” 

He sat back on the couch and pulled his knees into his chest, clutching at the mug of too-hot tea to keep his hands from shaking. Every few seconds he remembered he had to breathe, and do so slowly, if he wanted to get through this feeling and he would gasp a little bit with the realization he hadn’t been. He whispered his logical thoughts he’d prepared for this. The spiral would get a little momentum and he’d count his breaths and repeat his prepared sentences and he’d feel it receding but that was as much momentum as he could get. 

As soon as he started to calm down, he’d think about Geralt coming out of his shower to see him like this and it would start up again. He’d managed to keep his anxiety under control in front of Geralt so well. Geralt was so calm and steady and gentle that Jaskier hadn’t had to try so hard to begin with. But now his crazy was all out on the table and he wasn’t quite mentally prepared to be thrown out of Geralt’s house. 

In the middle of repeating one of his calming thoughts, he heard Geralt pad around the couch and felt more than saw him sit down.

“Jask?” Geralt’s voice didn’t quite sound real, but it was still soft and gentle enough not to spike his anxiety any worse, “You okay?”

He just shook his head and forced himself to exhale slowly. 

“What’s wrong?”

Jaskier swallowed hard and whispered with more effort than he’d like to admit, “Just an anxiety attack. I… I forgot my weighted blanket.” 

Gods did that feel horrible. Admitting to your hot new boyfriend that you have a security blanket at 30 and it sends you into an anxiety attack when you leave it at home wasn’t really on his to do list, but here he fucking was. 

Geralt gripped the tea mug by the rim and took the now lukewarm tea before his shaking hands spilled it all over his knees, “What do you need?”

Jaskier felt tears brimming behind his eyes and squeezed them shut, “Wh- what?”

“What do you need? To help you.”

“Oh,” Jaskier opened his eyes and tears fell down his cheeks, “No one’s ever asked me that before...”

Geralt took a deep breath and held it for a moment before exhaling and offering his hand to Jask, palm up, “Can we try something that helps my brother?”

Jaskier nodded, he didn’t even care what it was, he was too shocked by the realization that Geralt wasn’t scared off or disgusted with him. 

“Your weighted blanket helps, right?”

Jaskier nodded and set a trembling hand in Geralt’s palm, swiping at his face with the other. 

“Can I hold you? See if that helps?” 

Jaskier nodded again and uncurled from his ball a little bit so Geralt could pull his legs over his lap and wrap his arms around Jaskier’s body. He squeezed a little tighter than his usual hugs but the pressure was just barely registered with the way Jaskier’s body was in overdrive. Regardless, he burrowed into Geralt’s shoulder, partly to hide his tears and partly because it felt safe. 

“How’s this? Are you okay?”

Jaskier nodded, “Can you squeeze tighter?”

“How about we lay down?” 

“Lay down?” Jaskier’s voice cracked on his words but he barely even noticed. 

Geralt rested one large hand over his soft brown hair, “I could be your weighted blanket? It works for Skel sometimes.”

“Yeah- yeah, okay,” Jaskier muttered as he forced his creaking knees to straighten as Geralt laid him back onto the couch. Geralt positioned them so he was laying on his side against the back of the couch and Jaskier was on his back in front of them. He laid his head on Jaskier’s shoulder and half draped his body over him, just testing the waters. 

That alone was nice, but the little bit of relief only made Jaskier crave more. He tugged at Geralt’s elbow, not really pulling but guiding him to completely cover him. That was perfect. Jaskier could think a little clearer after a few seconds, then he could feel his limbs again and hummed happily. 

“Good?” Geralt’s hopeful smile beaming up at him from where he was resting his chin on Jaskier’s sternum was bright enough to end wars. 

“Very.”

Geralt closed his eyes and sighed, that soft little smile still on his face. Jaskier took a deep breath and basked in the way Geralt’s torso pinned him to the cushions. His thighs were pressed over his legs and pleasantly heavy and the way he’d cushioned his chin with his hands meant Geralt’s lovely, squishy, heavy arms were keeping his shoulders down. 

After a few minutes Jaskier felt the post-anxiety exhaustion hit that let him know it was really over, but he didn’t want to move. Instead he wrapped his arms around Geralt’s ribs and laced his fingers together over his spine. 

“Thank you,” he whispered, eyes closed with a tired smile, “You’re the best weighted blanket I’ve ever used.” 

“Anytime,” Geralt’s voice reverberated through Jaskier’s body in the most soothing way, deep and strong but gentle as well, “I mean it. You don’t need to hide this from me. I want to help.”

Jaskier giggled, “Oh don’t tell me that.”

One of Geralt’s hands floated up to trace Jaskier’s jaw and the high points of his cheekbones, “Why not?” 

“Well, I might believe you. It's a little overwhelming- believing you. -And my anxiety,” Jaskier clarified, brushing his thumb over Geralt’s back as he spoke.

“That’s okay.”

Jaskier frowned and looked down at his boyfriend. He was staring up at him with ridiculously round eyes and his eyebrows drawn in and together with a not-so-subtle pout to his lips. Regardless of the cute face, his eyes held sincerity. And Jaskier didn’t really know what to do with it. 

“I-” Jask took a deep breath and stared at the ceiling as he spoke, “I’m used to hiding it.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

Geralt tapped Jaskier’s chin to get him to look at him, “Yeah, that’s okay. If it’s hard for you to tell someone, that’s okay. We’ll work with it.” 

If he weren’t pinned underneath Geralt at an uncooperative angle, Jaskier would have kissed him, but he settled for resting his palm on his jaw, “You’re too sweet to me.”

“You deserve it,” Geralt hummed, turning his head to kiss his wrist. 

For once, Jaskier didn’t fight him on it. 

[yanderenightmare]

You made me fall in love with fear, it's all just fascinating. The way you write is an aesthetic in itself! It's so beautiful and thought-provoking. If your requests are open, I would love to see your volume one Yanderes with a clumsy s/o. Like, she is accident prone, always injuring herself, etc. I wonder how they would react with such fragility? Thanks! Have a wonderful day! :D

yandere ! BNHA headcannons

TIP-JAR

goodiebag WARNINGS: yandere, dumbification, abuse, manipulation, ableism, anxiety, death, murder, drugs, drugging, kidnapping

BAKUGO KATSUKI - KACHAN

He knew fragile things existed in the world.

And he knows that the world was designed to chew such powerless things up then spit them out again.

And he knows he isn’t one of those frail things.

As a child he thought it was fair for the strong to conquer the weak.

And hell… he still thinks it’s fair.

Her brittle nature provides him with such a great excuse too, such a perfect explanation for him to justify taking her.

To justify keeping her in soft frilly clothes, locked inside a room devoid of walls where they have been replaced by cushions and pillows and blankets and furs and stuffed-animals and all things soft, soft, soft against the bruises and scrapes on her knees and ankles and elbows and chin. Keeping her all cozy and clumsy where she’s unable to keep her footing on the plushie asylum floor, reduced to vertigo, especially with that fluffy pink ankle-cuff chaining her down.

Sometimes she’ll hide when hearing Bakugo’s footsteps coming thundering from behind her door. She’ll wrap herself up in all those soft things she’s grown to hate, pray under the covers only to hear the cracking predatory humor of Bakugo’s laugh once he spots where the chain trails to.

He'll drag her out of hiding like a puppy on a leash, all for him to punish, all with that splitting frenzied grin on his face, the one that makes her head dizzy on the sight of seeing how sharp those canines of his are, knowing how they’re going to find her neck as though she’s some chew-toy.

He’ll always make it sound as though that’s what she wanted, that punishment is what her weakness begged him for, as though weakness is synonymous with wanting pain or needing pain.

He’ll sleep there with her most of the time, in the room he’s made so painstakingly clear was her home. She’s coming more and more gradually to the understanding that nothing in reality is hers anymore. Not the room, not the clothes, not her body.

She’s too weak to be allowed to be in charge of anything, better for her to just find comfort in knowing how she has no responsibilities, better for her to just be grateful Bakugo wanted her as his pet rather than his prey. Better for her to listen and believe him when he tells her that she’s safe, instead of thinking of all those crippling reasons as to why she is far from being safe.

TODOROKI SHOTO

Clumsy prey is a sport Shoto always believed to be too mediocre and boring, given how easily the dexterity of the predator can win the chase.

He didn't think he could achieve stimulation without a challenge.

But, he’s now finding that chasing someone who’s barely able to keep her own footing is a game he rather enjoys quite salaciously. Understanding now that it’s less about the quest, less about actually catching his prize, and more about the experience, those funny little moments leading up to it.

The amount of hungry pleasure he derives from seeing her stagger away from him is bottomless.

He doesn’t know why, but it’s the outmost endearing and lovable and precious and cute thing he can think of.

Seeing her stumble and fall, all in the product of mixing her clumsiness with her wild manic fear. Watching those beautiful swivel-eyes spiral as she looks up at him through the thick darkness of the poorly lit hallways, hearing nothing but Shoto’s inhumanly sadistic snickering and her own heavy panting as she tries desperately to drag herself further away. Yet, knowing and awaiting his massive biting cold hand to grip around her ankle to drag her across the marble-floor back into her dungeon, back into the soft bed, so that they can do everything again.

Most chases end up with her hurting herself and eventually aiding her own capture.

She’ll always wake up with bruises she has no recollection of when or how she got, yet looking at them she can tell that they’re way too mellow to be something given to her by Shoto.

It's funny, where he hurts her, he actually ends up saving her more times than most. Where her sporadic escape has almost led her to go tumbling down the stairwell, where were it not for Shoto catching her in her fall, things could have gotten really ugly.

He wouldn’t want her to actually break her legs after all, no matter how many times he might tease and threaten her with the thought. Broken legs would mean no more games, and Shoto doesn’t want that to end any time soon.

But, there are softer aspects to her silliness too.

She can be just as dopey and awkward with her rambling thoughts as him, where her inelegance with her mobility seeps into her skillfulness with words too.

If she’s proper blissed-out she can talk up storms of complete and utter nonsense, rambling on about her dreams and what animal the shape of Shoto’s scars resemble and how pretty his eyes are and how much her body is tingling in the aftershocks of what fun Shoto exercised on her skin.

MIDORIYA IZUKU - DEKU

Naivety really is bliss, isn’t it?

Not just for herself, but for him too.

To watch her, in all her clumsy glory, fall on her face, time and time again, never learning her lesson.

That’s the definition of insanity, you know?

Doing the same thing over and over again expecting things to go differently.

But, no matter how many times she tries to escape, no matter how many times she runs, or screams or cries or swears she hates him until her lungs burn, she’ll always end up right where she started off, right where she belongs, right in his arms, under his thumb, under him.

He doesn’t even have to put any effort in to prevent it.

He just needs to sit back and enjoy the show as she fails so spectacularly all by her very own, then pick her up off the floor and coo and hush and shush and tsk at her to calm down or else she might end up hurting herself all over again.

How has such fickle featherbrained maladroit messes managed to survive? How hasn’t evolution wiped them from existence yet?

Perhaps because other more evolved creatures found them to be such a perfect source for blowing off steam. Entertainment is important after all. Small little escapes through the day where you can forget what nasty troubles you’ll eventually have to deal with and simply just play with your silly little pet.

He saves the world every now and again, the world can allow him this much, to have his very own swivel-eyed toy. He deserves it. 

Besides, she needs him. If he hadn’t stepped in and helped her, saved her from her own mistakes, evolution would have done its job and she’d be dead already.

But, he doesn’t expect her bumbling brainless little head to understand that, she’d just get a headache from thinking about it too hard.

No, better for her to focus on other things… like how to entertain him before he decides to show her just how small a foolish little thing she is.

He’ll often play with her, make her turn all shades of hopeless because she’s too forgetful and too soft-natured to comprehend what’s happened.

He’ll give her things, small little trinkets as presents for her good behavior, mostly accessories such as hair-bows, necklaces, anything he can easily slip off her without her noticing, then pretend to be disappointed, scolding her as though she’s some child who’s unable to take care of her things, punish her and kiss her on that scared foolish little face as she splutters out her apologies, having not a single clue she’s right where he wants her, completely clueless to the fact that she’s perfect in every which way imaginable.

DABI - TODOROKI TOUYA

It feels so unexplainably good to hold something infinitely helpless and vulnerable and dainty in his destructive hands without it shattering like glass.

It feels so insurmountably meaningful and purposeful and godsend to save someone for once, even if it’s from themselves.

It’s nice being in the presence of true chaos, the true absence of order, a great real heap of a total clusterfuck. It makes him believe that even life requires a little death to scare them into safety, that even light requires darkness, that even love needs darkness, that even love desires darkness.

He used to think small things such as her were made up of cotton and all things soft like dandelion-fluff, but now he knows they’re made of breakable brittle things such as autumn-leaves, in desperate need of being wrapped up, suffocated, drowned in safety. He’s the one who needs to be soft like cotton, he’s the one who needs to be gentle and soft so she not crumble like the sweet pastry she is.

It’s cute. She’s cute. Unbelievably so too sometimes.

He feels like half the time he spends with her he’s teaching her how to walk properly, catching her when she falls or helping her up from the ground, dusting her off, wiping tears away from her face, patching up small scrapes and gashes, kissing her forehead, letting her know how it’s all okay, making sure she knows she’s no such thing as a burden, though not letting her in on the fact that he loves seeing her fail only for him to save the day.

He’ll take her outside more because of her ditzy nature, knowing how she’s far too dopey to ever manage an escape without pulling out a near miss unintentional suicide attempt, where which after a number of rescues from him she forgets why she was even running in the first place, now too caught up with being close to him instead, with feeling safe, feeling protected.

He’ll save her from wandering off into traffic, protect her when she says the wrong idiotic thing to the wrong batch of people, fight for her when her cuteness lures and pulls and ensnares other predators.

It’s symbiosis, if he thinks about it, if he tries justifying it.

She needs him and he needs to feel needed. She needs to be taken care of, he wants to take care of her, she needs protection from herself, he wants her dependence, he wants the safety of knowing how she cannot survive without him.

SHIGARAKI TOMURA

It’s hilarious.

She’ll break her own legs for him at this rate.

He wonders how many braincells could possibly be left in that thick skull of hers, with how much she trips and walks into walls and rolls out of bed, bumping her head on every possible thing, he can’t count how many times she’s head-butted him, whether it’s been on purpose or not. 

He wonders if she might just be blind.

If maybe she needs glasses…

Well… that’s too bad if that’s the case, no chance he’s giving up watching her agonize over every misstep that leads to her falling on the floor by his feet, her head tipping to look up at him with that ridiculous expression, that dumbfounded adorable confusion.

It probably doesn’t help that he keeps the room so dark.

It probably doesn’t help that he leaves things on the floor in hopes of her foot catching on them.

But, can you blame him for wanting to see her all cute and flushed? Watching her frustrate over herself, too caught up in being mad with her own inadequacy to bother being mad at him. So preciously hopeless as she tries to pick herself up off the floor, her hair always in a mess and bruises and scrapes littering her otherwise soft skin.

Pretty and stupid isn’t usually the type he fawns over, in fact: pretty and stupid is usually the type that disgust him, pretty stupid bitches that never spare him a second glance, pretty stupid bitches that are only worth one fuck before he dusts them.

But pretty stupid and sweet? 

That’s the perfect cocktail.

So stupid and sweet she doesn’t even know how pretty she is. So stupid and sweet that she’s surprised he gave her a second glance.

He wonders if he as well would be this careless and reckless if he hadn’t been gifted with that destructive quirk of his.

He wonders if she had been born with a heart made less up of honeycombs and more daggers like his, if she would also second-guess touching things as opposed to making it her mission to bump into every single thing in her path.

If she would be less trusting and more cynical like him.

He’s grateful she wasn’t.

He’s grateful that the only type of death she’ll ever get the chance to taste is him, that as far as she’s concerned… he is death.

TAKAMI KEIGO - HAWKS

Most of the time it’s cute.

Most of the time he loves watching her fall prey to her own absentmindedness. Watch her trip on nothing but her own poor footing.

After all, he does love catching her before she hits the ground. He loves being her hero, seeing that shocked expression on her face, that cute blush of embarrassment as he smirks down upon her jumpy skittish person.

Then of course there’s the less salvageable moments, yet still no less cute, where she’ll drop dinner plates or her glass or the wine bottle or the remote-controller, where she’ll get so frustrated with herself and her stubby fingers, her feet always needing bandaging where she always manages to step in her own mess of glass-shards.

Those times where she fucks up and fears Keigo’s temperance so much she’ll turn into a timid little ball of apologies and gratitude, where she’ll fear that any more screw ups will cost her his understanding attitude and awake something livid inside him.

She’ll be so sweet with fear as opposed to when she’ll jerk away from his touch.

So yeah, most of the time it’s cute, most of the time it’s beneficial.

But that habit she has of not thinking before speaking or acting gets her into a whole lot of trouble too.

Especially when she pushes him away or calls him something unsavory. When she acts like a brat, forgetting who’s in charge.

Keigo feels the need to teach her a thing or two about being a bit more careful and a little less brainless. 

He’ll pose her in the middle of the living room, with only red lace adorning her tiny frame, looking cold but not so much to be the reason to her shivers, he knows better as he can smell the fear laced in the air.

On top of her head he’ll put a perfect plump red apple and tell her to stand as still and picture-perfect as possible.

She’s pretty good at it too, at being still and quiet and pretty, speaking only when spoken to, at least until he starts sending knife-sharp feathers in her directions, creating her silhouette in the wall as the feathers fly just short of nicking her skin, where if she moves only a slight mere inch, the crimson edges will slice open her skin.

And if the apple should fall, well… if she can be sweet and apologize and show him just how sorry she is, he’ll think about making the punishment enjoyable.

SHINSO HITOSHI

Hitoshi can’t manifest how much awe he has for that ditzy nature of hers.

So forgetful, so clueless, so cute.

She’s like a little girl, a child, a baby in a cradle, yet with the ability to get lost, wandering off at every slight distraction.

He’s tempted to put a bell around her neck if only to be alerted off when her curiosity has taken her out of his eyesight. She would look adorable with a little golden jingle bell around her throat, hanging on a velvet choker.

But then again… he wouldn’t have the joy of finding her all tousled and knotted up in her newest little fuck up.

Little Miss Forgetful forgetting all her lessons, all those rules Hitoshi’s taught her, forgetting her manners, forgetting her chores, forgetting how to be his good little girl or else suffer the consequences of being punished and becoming Master’s little puppet on strings.

Little Miss Messy making a total clutter in the kitchen when trying her best to get her hand on a knife, but only managing to bump into everything, shards of glass painting the crime scene with the culprit displayed and trapped all perfectly in the middle of her own mess, all for Hitoshi to come and catch red-handed.

Little Miss Bump with new bruises and scratches as she’s fallen yet again on the floor in the midst of her newest escape attempt.

He could go on all day about his sweet little Miss Silly, his little Miss Scatterbrain, his little Miss Stupid, who’s always getting into trouble, constantly needing Hitoshi to come to her rescue.

But, when he’s not home, he can get anxious.

Scared that she might actually hurt herself just a bit too much and he’ll arrive just a bit too late.

It should take a lifetime to die, yet she’s on the verge of death nearly every day, it only takes an instant and it’s over.

He’ll check in on her at home more times than he probably should throughout the day, praying before he unlocks the door and steps inside the quiet stillness of their house, picturing her having cracked her skull open when slipping or accidently managing to hang herself off of something or drowning in the tub after having fallen asleep, there’s no end to what horrors he can picture.

His anxiety only satiated when finding her still asleep on the bed, soft untroubled snores hanging off the walls. 

It makes sense with how much melatonin he slipped in her drink before she dozed off…

Just a little safety measure.

CHISAKI KAI - OVERHAUL

It manages to surprise him each and every time… just how much danger such a little thing is able to wrap herself up in.

It’s as though she chases the trouble, as though she wants the punishment that follows.

He doubts she ever really thinks anything thoroughly through.

She’s reckless, ruthless in her disregard for safety. Hare-brained and untrustworthy and in desperate need of his protection and his correction, or else she might just accidentally kill herself one day or worse… end up in the wrong set of hands.

It’s come to the point where he’s stopped gifting her with jewelry, because he gets so hysterically uneasy whenever she’s gotten her hands on anything sharp.

Before he’d get angry when she threatened him, wrathful, raging because she doesn’t listen, her foolish little brain unable to follow the simplest of directions. 

Now though, he gets scared because she’s unable to understand what’s best for her, because the only thing she'll ever manage to hurt with those sharp trinkets is herself.

And if she hurts herself, if she risks getting bacteria in her bloodstream, infections in her wounds, scarring and marring that beautiful body, he’ll have no choice, he’ll see no other option but to make sure she can never manage such a thing ever again.

He often humors the idea of simply tying her to the bed and feeding her with a silver spoon, only liquids so she not choke when she forgets how to chew properly.

He’ll act as though she’s a nuisance, but it will be a lie most of the time, while actually finding an inane amount of reassurance and relief in her whimsy, in her gracelessness. Where yes, she is a danger, but she’s far from deadly.

And besides, it’s nice getting a little break from all formalities, someone he can finally be a little rough around the edges with, someone he can let himself enjoy soft pleasures with, someone he can smile or even laugh with when the occasion calls for it. 

Sometimes he’ll place her in high-heels, only to watch her stumble around awkwardly like a little deer skating on ice.

She’s so determined too, determined to prove she isn’t a klutz, how she too can be elegant enough for a dance fit for the ballroom.

He’ll humor that fantasy, but she’ll always throw her heels off in favor of standing on top of his surgically white sneakers and letting herself get floated and swayed with how swiftly and precisely Kai has the established proper poise to enact.

He’ll smile then, when those flirty bubbling giggles erupt from her as she holds onto him, telling how him wonderful flying feels like.

TIP-JAR

[love-toxin]

king of the castle - kaeya

a/n: i had some other fics in progress but this concept had me in a chokehold the entire day. enjoy

warnings: female reader, dom/sub, hard dom kaeya, sadism, degradation, dirty talk, roleplay, spanking, whipping, impact/temperature play, choking/belt choking, bruises, unprotected sex, threats, jealousy, possessiveness, sibling rivalry, i guess you can call it a cuckholding kink, praise, pet names, aftercare

word count: 4.3k

"So you're gonna whore yourself out to my brother, huh?"

Kaeya slapped his open palm with the belt. The sound alone made you flinch, and he just seemed to revel in it rather than shy away. 

"Answer me. You love Diluc? You want him instead of me?"

"K-Kaeya-" 

He brought it down even harder this time, the leather leaving a harsh-looking splotch against his toned skin. Your punishment was growing closer with each one, but he didn't seem at all fazed. He seemed excited.

"Just tell me, sweetheart. I don't want to hurt you." 

Liar. You could see it in his eyes--he had a lust for pain that overwhelmed all other warning signs in his brain. Kaeya was the definition of a sadist, his pleasure derived entirely from seeing you suffer, and he seemed to constantly be coming up with new ways to do so that would humiliate you even more than the last. He slid the leather down the raised flesh of his hand, and ripped a yelp from you when he smacked you on the inside of the thigh with it. 

"Clamming up, are we? I think that's enough of an answer." 

Finally, he climbed up on the bed he'd shoved you into, his stance predatory as he crawled towards you slowly and nudged your legs apart. Not once did his grip loosen on his weapon of choice, though his pants slid just slightly down his lean hips from the lack of support, revealing even more of his stomach that sloped down into an illustrious 'v'. With a gloved hand, he reached up to grab a handful of your arm and yanked you over on to your stomach, his strength just an afterthought for him but a terrifying obstacle for you. Kaeya could throw you around however he wanted to, if he wanted to, and you were just a delicate little toy that would break once he decided to play a little too rough. 

"Tell me all the things you like about him. One for each swat." 

Kaeya grabbed your hips to hike them up, your knees lifting up to prop you into a face-down position. He liked you the most like this. Vulnerable. 

Even better was when he yanked your bottoms down, flimsy as they were, and in his haste tore through the middle and tossed the shredded remnants aside. He spoke and you listened, he gave his orders and you obeyed--but this was something you couldn't do. Kaeya made you swear that you would never lie to him and you had kept to that, as much as he used it to manipulate you into doing whatever he wanted whenever he wanted it. 

"I-I don't...I don't-"

The words just barely spilled over your lips even as you tried to push them out. It was just too hard, but Kaeya didn't care. You earned an even harder spank for that, right on the inside of your bare thigh where he knew you'd be the most sensitive. 

"Speak up. Or else I'll mess up that pretty face of yours instead." 

As if to hammer that point home, you felt the dig of his fingers into the back of your skull as he grabbed a fistful of your hair, and shoved your face deeper into the sheets of the bed. They were soft, fortunately, but it was so degrading that you just wanted to melt into the bed and disappear. You even felt the dark chuckle rumbling in his chest as he ground his hips up against you from behind, your top sliding up your back far enough that he could drag the expensive leather down your skin, from the top of your spine all the way to your cheeks that trembled when he landed a smack on one of them. 

"You're pretty stubborn, aren't you? Is it really Diluc, then? It's not someone else, is it?" 

With the belt gripped tight he swatted you again in the same place, the skin there already growing so hot you could feel it radiating off of you. But while your attention was drawn to the stinging pain that you knew was only going to get worse, the hand that had tangled itself in your hair had started trailing downwards, fingertips light and cool as he left little splotches of frost in his wake that melted just as quickly. Once he found that little spot between your legs, however, he didn't reserve the same gentleness and pressed the pad of a freezing cold thumb firmly against your clit. You cried out, squirmed, struggled to vocalize anything more than a gasp--but Kaeya held you in place, and his smirk burned into you from behind like a brand. 

"Tell me, doll. You can't keep your little secrets from me anyways, so you may as well fess up." 

He ground his thumb in harder the longer you went without speaking, but soon enough he switched to an easier method to have you talk--he pinched your clit between two of his fingers and squeezed, the tips even colder than before to the point that it made your mind blank for a moment or two. Just to add to the humiliation, he forced you up with his other hand and ordered you to take off your shirt, your chest on full display for him to watch your nipples pebble and your skin prickle at the cold chill that he was responsible for. 

"Mondstadt? Liyue? Give me some clues. You're not trying to get in with the Fatui, are you?" 

He laughed but not from joy, rather in a mocking way that mimicked a childhood bully or an egotistical villain. If you could see him from your position, you had no doubts that he was grinning in that devilish way when he had something he wanted in his grasp, but with a slight twist to your tingling little bud your thoughts snapped right back to the present. A soft groan slipped from you, and unbeknownst to you, it made his cock stir into an even harder arousal than he already had going. At this point he was in danger of popping a button off those tight pants. 

"You just can't keep your legs closed, can you? I think they'd like you, actually. That redhead seemed to love watching you walk away, huh?" 

Evidently his attention waned for the moment and he released his stifling grip on your clit, only so that he could drag his fingers up your slit and part your lips just enough to feel for the soft flesh beneath, his fingers quickly growing sticky as your juices leaked all down his hand and towards his wrist. Kaeya's most precious desire was his affinity for abusing the softest, most sensitive parts of you, and so you knew for certain that this uncharacteristic gentleness would soon make way for pain that you wouldn't recover easily from, both physically and emotionally. 

"...No? Then what about the bard? You want him to write some love poems for you, princess?" 

No matter how you answered it would be used against you--either Kaeya would take it the wrong way or he wouldn't believe you at all. So you kept your mouth shut and tried to bury your noises into the sheets below, his fingers lithe and skilled enough that he had the power to draw some rather unsavoury sounds from you if he really wanted to. And when he plunged two of them inside despite how tightly you squeezed around him, he exercised that power quite easily to the point that the shame burned your face all the way to the tips of your ears. 

"How about this? You tell me exactly who it is you're trying to run away with, and I won't drop you naked into the nearest hillichurl camp." 

The threat rolled off his tongue so easily as to be criminal. The icy chill that surrounded him already made you shiver, but the thought of him throwing you to the wolves both literally and figuratively turned your thoughts to panic. Perhaps he wouldn't really do something so horrific, but the way he talked you through the scenario with a smugness lacing his words certainly made it feel so, each sentence punctuated with a curl of those dastardly fingers into your sweet spots. 

"No vision, no weapons, no defenses...how long do you think your precious little body will hold up? Five minutes? My bet's on five seconds." 

To prove his point, he spread his digits inside you without warning and listened for the muffled keen that erupted from your throat, his efforts rewarded with a gush of slick, syrupy arousal that clung to your skin as he pulled away and left a trail behind. You expected him to wipe it off with little regard, but instead you heard a strange noise from behind, and turned your head out of curiosity to see him sucking your mess off of every finger. With his half-gloves thoroughly ruined he yanked those off too, and like a true sadist, he took the chance to savour your pathetic expressions and beat your ass again with the thickest part of his belt, a welt surely already rising to your skin as you cried out in pain. 

"You think the Dark Knight Hero would save you then? Or would he take advantage of a shivering little crybaby who owes him her life in exchange?" 

Another smack, and then another still, and you were certain that you wouldn't be able to sit properly for the next few days. Kaeya dragged you deeper and deeper into his fantasy, and it was only then that you truly worried that Diluc might somehow hear the two of you and come to investigate. Your thoughts even drifted to the scenario Kaeya proposed, about the possibility of Diluc taking what he was owed from you...about taking you away from Kaeya, who you should've known by now owned every piece of you. Even your thoughts, which he always seemed privy to--and now was no exception, his nails teasing down your spine so you'd have no choice but to pay attention. 

"Why don't I just carve that into your skin for him, hm? 'Diluc's loyal whore', you want that on your back? What about your legs, where everyone can see?" 

The moment his fingers crested over the hill of your poor, beaten behind, he whipped you again with the belt hard enough that you were already starting to bruise, and this time the tears finally spilled out when you'd been trying to hold them in. He rubbed one of his palms over the sore, swollen globes of your ass, the skin-to-skin contact soothing your aches with the chill and causing you to push back against his touch--and he just snickered and made a passing comment about your neediness, to which you responded by whimpering his name under your breath with a plea for mercy. 

The wrong name. The name that didn't belong in your mouth, that caused your eyes to widen and a fresh set of tears to plummet down your cheeks as you hurried to try and backtrack. 'Diluc' this and 'Diluc' that, it wasn't your fault for stumbling over your words--but did he care? 

Of course he didn't. 

"...I knew it."

Kaeya's grip became hot and painful once again, a handprint stung into your skin as he slapped you with an open palm across the cheeks. It didn't look like he needed his tool anymore--because he leaned over to wrap it around your neck, the leather sliding hotly over your skin as he tightened the buckle to keep it in place. To keep you in place, exactly where he decided you should be. 

"Does it hurt?"

With words failing you, you nodded your head as much as you could--the leather dug into your skin and you already felt as though you were going to suffocate, and your tears were a clear giveaway that the cocktail of both pain and pleasure was starting to overwhelm you. 

"Good, you deserve to suffer a little bit for being a slut. Especially if it amuses me." 

As he spoke he fiddled with the makeshift collar, the peg loosening two holes more until it sat more comfortably--and once he was finished you felt his lips against the back of your neck, his grip on the belt growing taut only when he felt you take a deep breath against his touch. Kaeya straightened back up and fiddled with something else this time, his pants sliding easily down his legs to free the beast he'd been restraining within, and with a sigh on his lips you jolted against something stiff prodding at your vulnerable little opening. He took his time in making a move, maybe to tease you or maybe for his own enjoyment, but he made sure to wet the tip generously with your slick, before sliding himself up your slit one last time and slowly spreading you open on his cock that was cool to the touch. Only about halfway in did he release the breath he'd sucked in through his teeth, and by then he had tugged on your leash hard enough for your head to tip back and your lips to part enough for him to steal a kiss from you. 

"Filthy little cocktease...you don't have the right to be so tight. You'd think all your little boyfriends would've loosened you up-!"

He cut himself off with an unexpected gasp, his legs shaking almost unnoticed as he halted himself to steady his breathing. But once he had collected himself he was right back on top, your cheeks flush with new tears as he yanked on the belt hard enough to drag you back further on his cock. With one hand grasping at the sheets you brought the other up on instinct to grab at the collar, but even getting a finger underneath it was impossible as he started rocking his hips into you from behind and choking you with his belt in harmony with each thrust. 

"I can't wait for him to see you when I'm finished. You think he'll give you a bath and clean your wounds, babydoll?" 

All at once the air escaped from your lungs, but all you got to replace it were desperate coughs and foolish attempts to try and catch a breath. Meanwhile Kaeya pummeled you from behind regardless, his wicked glee only rising the longer he watched you struggle for air as he ripped every breath from your lungs with his thrusts. At the very least his preparation ensured a smooth drag of your walls around him, but the fact that your stomach churned as he reached depths further than he should didn't help in the least--especially when he moaned out his humiliating comments about how your body needed him so much it was sucking him in even deeper.

"Nah. He'll use you just the same as I will. He'll take advantage of you the second he gets the chance." 

Somehow he seemed to have regained his composure, and returned to taunting you with a hand resting threateningly just above your hip, daring you to say something back so he could spank you again. But you clung to the spare moments of reprieve when his grip loosened on the belt, and you were afforded a quick breath of air before he pulled it taut again and yanked you back to meet his punishing thrusts. Slowly you were growing dizzier, and Kaeya's voice floated about your head like he was speaking right next to your ear.

"You wanna be Diluc's little slut? You want him to cum all over your cute face like I do?"

No, you wanted to say. You wanted to speak but he made it impossible, all you could do was take his hips bruising your behind and his feverish tugging as he choked you, your mind filled with nothing but the feeling of Kaeya making you his. 

"He's nothing like me. He'll never satisfy you like I can." 

With his voice reduced to a growl in his chest he yanked on your impromptu leash again, but this time it was to tip your head back far enough to kiss you again, and so he could taste your tongue on his before breaking off so messily he left a string of spit connecting your lips. 

"Settle for your second best, then. As long as I get to fuck you, I don't care--he can have my sloppy seconds all he wants." 

The force was unneeded at this point, your body to the point of collapsing on its own--but with the heel of his hand on the small of your back he shoved your hips down to the bed, using his own as leverage to keep you there while his thrusts grew even more erratic. Whatever else he had to say got jumbled up with whines and groans peppered in, and just when you felt your own consciousness start to slip away from you, he shoved a hand beneath your hip and searched until he found what he was looking for. With the pads of two of his fingers Kaeya rubbed up against your clit again, though this time was with skin cold enough that it shocked your system into an orgasm you weren't ready for. 

Your mind whited out within moments, the heat in your belly swirling into a cool feeling that rose all the way up into your chest, and your fingers twitched and curled to bite into your palms with your nails while the rest of your body shuddered underneath him. Kaeya himself seemed to be reaping the rewards on his own end, your cunt spasming wildly around him and clenching him like a vice until he felt that same warmth wash over his body. Leaving himself to bask in the feeling until the very end, he pulled out just before it was too late and released his hold on the belt, instead replacing it around his cock to aim where he wanted. His cum jetted out in thin ropes as you anticipated, yet you still flinched weakly at every spurt that landed against your back, the cold chill of it still unusual enough to take you a bit by surprise. 

Your focus continued to waver as you lay there prone, your body so worn out that he could do as he pleased without hassle. But a rush of warm shivers raced up and down your spine as Kaeya laved his tongue against your sweat-soaked flesh, each sticky glob of his love either licked up or sucked off of you until you were as you were before, mostly. Afterwards he unbuckled the belt from your neck, and it was then that the mood finally turned and he flipped you over on your back so you could catch his smile as he leaned over you.

"Nice to see you again, princess."

He dipped down to take another kiss, though this one was a hundred times softer and not liable to leave a bruise this time, his lips like the petals of a mist flower as he slowly broke away. 

"C'mere, come cuddle with Kaeya, baby...you want some water? Your throat probably hurts after all that.." 

His tone had come down too, so much gentler and with an obvious tinge of sympathy just above a whisper. As he settled back in bed and tucked you into his side, he brushed his fingers over the bruises already blooming across your throat, taking great care only to use the most sensitive touch as he cooled your skin down just enough to take some of the pain away. 

"You made me feel so special, little one--you're such a precious little treasure, aren't you?"

The love in his voice and in the way he looked at you was a complete turnaround from a few minutes ago, but you were glad to cling to the change in your Kaeya--though your body was still working a little faster than your mind, and a few words fell from your lips before you could think twice about them. 

"I-I don't...I don't like Diluc, Kaeya...I promise.."

You finally croaked out your reply and Kaeya was on you in seconds, his fingers running through your hair as he kissed the corner of your mouth, just where he could reach without straining you too hard in your vulnerable state. Under normal circumstances he liked to coddle you on occasion, and right now was no exception. 

"I know you don't, honey. I know. You're such a good girl. You're my good little girl." 

He brought his hand back up to rub the top of your head, and had you lift it up just enough for him to lay his arm underneath so you could use it as a pillow. And while you caught your breath and came down from such a shaky high, he took your chin into his hand and swiped his thumb over your bottom lip, his mouth parted in awe shifting into a genuine, toothy smile. He kissed you again, and this time you swore the world paused for just a moment. 

"I love you more than the whole world. You're the little shooting star in my heart--you're my everything."

Kaeya touched you like you were glass, like you were a precious piece that he feared breaking, unlike the façade he'd put up just a while ago. This was your favourite part of the experience...Kaeya doting on you as he loved to do, and never wanting to let you out of arm's reach. 

"You're Kaeya's little princess, understand? And since you were such a good girl, I'm gonna get you a present. Whatever you ask for." 

Such an offer wasn't something you came by often, and at once your mind wandered to what you might ask of your lover as a reward for being his. But there was only one thing you wanted at the moment, and you murmured it just loud enough for him to hear and have a little chuckle about it. 

"Wine? Well of course you can, but we won't count that as your gift. I'll go fetch us a nice, big bottle--you just wait right there for me."

As loathe as he was to leave you, and as much as you didn't want to watch him go, he heaved himself up off the bed and reached for his clothes, the uniform out of sorts and messy in a way that he didn't really care about at the moment. Leaving his coat be as it would only be a brisk walk, he buttoned his shirt up halfway and stepped into his boots, before turning and leaning over you one last time with a kiss to your forehead. 

"I love you, my princess. Be right back."

With that you bid him a brief goodbye, and while you rested your weary bones he sauntered out the corridor and down the steps into the night air, a warm haze settled over Mondstadt in the late evening when most had gone to bed. 

But there were few places that were still open and Angel's Share was one of them, the tavern so close that he pulled on the door within minutes and took a step into the soft chatter of the tavern. Only a spare few patrons still milled about, all having spent more than enough to be too inebriated to pay attention--and at the counter was an all-too-familiar redhead, washing a glass with little purpose while he caught his gaze as he walked in. Diluc said nothing even as he approached the counter, and just turned away with a soft grunt when he picked out the perfect wine to take back to you. No small talk needed. Neither of them wanted it anyways. 

"While I'm here, I'll give this back."

As Diluc set the bottle on the counter, Kaeya couldn't miss the sudden flash of emotion in his eyes at what he'd set down in front of him. The letter with a very familiar seal stared back at the bartender, and he just couldn't help himself from digging it in just a bit more while he had the chance. 

"Shame she didn't see it in time." 

He would've had to be an idiot not to know exactly what it was when he found it tucked inside your coat pocket, the well-placed gift going totally unbeknownst to you as Kaeya snatched it up when the opportunity presented itself. He hadn't really planned on telling you his own feelings until later--but love always managed to find a way, didn't it?

"Don't worry. I'm sure she would've let you down gently."

"...I think you have somewhere to be, Kaeya."

Heat radiated off of Diluc, and it wasn't the normal aftereffect of his vision that most who possessed them experienced. He knew well enough when his brother was furious, if the way he turned his grimace towards the floor wasn't proof enough. 

"I do, in fact. Have a splendid night."

With the bottle in hand, he spun on his heels and strolled right back out where he came, the open door making way for another breeze of pleasantly warm air through the stale musk of the tavern. 

"...Oh, and before you go, there's something else."

He only just found the energy to lazily turn his head back over his shoulder, and was met with one of the most fiery glares he'd ever seen in his life, Diluc's hand that had come down on the counter setting the letter ablaze and reducing it to ash in his fist.

"Never come into my bar again." 

With one last smirk, Kaeya let the door shut behind him as he stepped back out into a lovely Mondstadt evening, the sounds of glass shattering echoing his footsteps as he wandered back to the one he always knew he deserved. 

[passable-talent]

i love your works! could i request a zuko x reader scenario where the reader and zuko first meet at the northern water village (reader saves zuko from drowning during that full/blood moon) and sees zuko again when he joins the gaang? they’re training and the reader heals a cut on his face and they kiss👀? thank you!

oooooo I haven’t gotten a water bending reader request yet 👀 this’ll be fun

also thank you! I’m definitely enjoying myself

When you saved Prince Zuko’s life, you’d had no idea who he was.

Okay, to clarify, you did know he was a firebender. That much was obvious, from the fact that he was under the ice of the northern water tribe, melting his way through it.

You’d been wandering down toward one of your favorite hideaways, a little platform closer to the water’s surface that doubled as a pipe’s drainage point. You’d been sitting there, legs dangling so that you feet almost touched the water, when you heard a thump behind you. You turned, and saw nothing, and so ignored it. But a moment later you heard sizzling, and turned to see red-hot hands pressed up against the thick ice.

At that moment, it didn’t matter that he was a firebender. It mattered that he was trapped under the ice.

You shot to your feet and skidded to your knees over top of him, just as you watched his hands detach from the surface of the ice. He’d lost his air- and was sinking downward.

Immediately you split the ice open and used water bending to create a current upwards, spitting out enough of his torso that you could drag him from the water. He was lucky, and hadn’t yet taken a lungful of water, and so when you dropped him on his back he took a big, gasping breath.

“Are you okay?” You asked him, concern in your eyes for a moment before you asked something else. “What in Tui’s name were you doing under the ice?” You demanded, honest concern for the safety of this clearly insanely brave individual in your tone. But he looked up at you with a cold expression, and you sat back with a sigh as realization clutched your heart.

He was a firebender. The city was under siege. There were likely soldiers like him everywhere, crawling in like elephant rats through any holes they could find.

“Oh. Right.” You looked over his shoulder and with a hand motion, resealed the hole you’d pulled him from. He made no attempt to move, and made a few puffs of flame to try to warm up.

“You don’t look like a soldier,” you told him, and his fire began to turn from the cooler red flame to the hotter orange.

“I’m not,” he answered, which soothed your fears a slight bit. The night was eerily silent, but the movement of the water at the mouth of the pipe echoed through its length and past the two of you. There was an odd sense of peace- a firebender and a water bender, at a truce, within a pipe. His nation was laying siege to your capital city, but you wouldn’t hold that against him. Forgiveness, and unconditional love. That’s what you loved about your people, and you would let it guide you. You wouldn’t let someone drown- not even a fire bender.

You only hoped that you wouldn’t discover that he killed Princess Yue or something, you decided, as you watched him sneak off into the streets of the city. But you had faith in him. After all, he could’ve killed you.

When three months later you were a part of Team Avatar, you still hadn’t known that the boy you saved was indeed Prince Zuko. You’d joined Team Avatar late, only for the eclipse invasion, and so had only heard tales of the angry banished prince who caused so much harm. The two were definitely not the same person, it hadn’t ever even occurred to you that they could be.

So when Zuko turned up at the Western Air Temple, your first response was unbridled joy.

“It’s you!” You’d shouted before he could say a word, and rushed forward to hug him even as he stood stalk still in surprise. You turned back to Aang with a huge smile, relieved with this turn of events.

“Guys, this is perfect! He’s a firebender, but he’s good. I met him back at the Northern Water tribe, on the day of the lunar eclipse. He’s good, he’s-“ you turned to Zuko, a sheepish look of embarrassment on your face.

“I’m sorry, I never knew your name,” you said, before Katara spoke from behind you.

“That’s Zuko,” she spat, and your shoulders dropped. “Y/N, step away from him. I don’t know what you know, but he’s not what you think.”

You found it easier to accept him then a lot of the gang did. You had only ever seen the good side of him, and even though you’d heard of the bad, you just remembered that shivering teenager you’d rescued and the honest thankfulness in his eyes when he saw you.

You saw the relief on his face every time you sent him a smile, because you wanted him to know that you were supportive of his change of heart. He began to gravitate toward you, knowing that conversation with you wouldn’t feel awkward or forced.

You’d seen the good in him, and now you were sure of it.

When he wasn’t training Aang, he’d gotten into the habit of sparring with you. Hand to hand combat, without bending, had been a focus of yours ever since the lunar eclipse back at the North Pole, and even moreso after the Day of Black Sun. Both eclipses made you realize that it was easier than you expected for a bender to lose their ability, and illustrated just how much your fighting relied on your bending.

So the two of you started sparring together. You’d learned how to convert some of your waterbending into close quarter combat, and he began to do the same with his firebending. It made you better fighters, benders, and made you a better team.

Sometimes, though, it got a little rough.

On the beach in front of the Fire Lord’s vacation home on Ember Island, you both stood with bare feet in the sand. He’d taken off his shirt, and you any layer you could spare, as the physical activity warmed you both up. The sun was setting, turning the sea all sorts of blood red, and Katara was in the process of making up dinner, which was why the two of you were free to do this. You were both standing with your fists up, tense and ready for the other to make the first move.

As soon as you did, he ducked his torso out of the way and attempted to jut his fist into your sternum, which you caught with your wrist and shoved it downward. Your opposite hand made use of the opening left by his fist and you tried to get a jab into his chest, but he blocked it out to the side, opening up your torso for a kick that thrusted you backward. You stumbled but got your balanace, giving him a soft, playful snarl before rushing back toward him with a flurry of hand movements that he skillfully blocked. You grew frustrated and, without thinking, slashed with your left hand, palm up and open, away from your chest. It sent water up and to his face, centralized into a small enough stream that it gave him a shallow cut along his left cheek.

The sparring match stopped dead as you covered your mouth with your hands.

“Oh spirits I’m so sorry,” you said, one hand gently reaching out to cup his face. “I’m going to heal it, it’ll be fine, you won’t even notice. I’m so sorry.” With a light laugh he wrapped his hands around your wrist, his eyes locked on to you.

“It’s fine, I’m okay,” he said, and yet still you felt horrible.

“I didn’t mean to, I swear,” you said, your right hand drawing water from the ocean and quickly you purified it by letting the salt fall out. Your left hand pulled from his cheek for just long enough to cover it in water, and slowly you pressed your hand back onto the cut. You didn’t quite touch his skin, but let the water soak onto his face, and though you focused on making the water glow with healing, you vaguely noticed that he’d closed his eyes, and let out a small puff of air.

The water’s glow faded, and you lifted your hand to check that the cut was gone. Once you’d confirmed it was, you took your right hand to discard the water, leaving your left hand still cupping his cheek.

“I’m sorry,” you said again, this time whispering. The waves crashed on the shoreline, but he’d heard you. His eyes opened slowly and your breath caught, for a moment astounded by the gold that shimmered behind his eyelids.

You told your whimpering heart that he hadn’t been this pretty when you first met him.

His left hand slowly detached from your wrist and reached out toward you, first tucking back a strand of your hair that had fallen into your face, then letting it fall to the back of your neck. From there, he slowly brought you in, as though giving you time to pull away.

You wouldn’t.

As much as you wanted to keep your eyes open, to watch him, for as long as you could, instantly you’d closed your eyes and let him guide you into his lips. He was warm, beyond the warmth of exercise, and you realized you’d heard somewhere that firebenders were naturally warmer just as waterbenders were naturally cooler. Zuko was exceptionally warm- you felt almost as though you could fall asleep with his arms around you the way they were, the comfort of his heat and his contact soaking into your bones.

And his lips. Though they were chapped, they still managed to feel so soft, and he tilted his head in just the right way so that the two of you fit together, perfectly.

“Hey, Y/N, Zuko, Katara’s got-“ Sokka, who had appeared over the hills, stopped dead in the middle of his scentence to turn around and walk back to the house. “Dinner,” he called over his shoulder, giggling a bit, and as you pulled from Zuko’s lips with a smile you could already imagine the kind of comments the two of you would get during the meal.

With a single look to Zuko’s face, his expression soft and caring, you decided you didn’t mind.

-🦌 Roe

[ttttaehyungie]

an exercise in restraint | jjk x reader

an exercise in restraint | jeon jungkook x reader

genre | established relationship, smut, pwp

summary | Wandering hands need to be trained with self-restraint.

rating | 18+

word count | 3.7k words

warnings | subby jk, vvv slight exhibitionism (inappropriate touching in public places), no touching rule, nipple play, oral fixation, cum eating, jealousy/insecurity but they talk it out bcos we love healthy communication ✌🏻

a/n | that blonde jk selfie made me do it

When she walks into the apartment ahead of him wordlessly, he gulps. He’s in trouble.

It's not anger that emanates off her. It's not the brooding kind of silence that’s filling the atmosphere as she ignores him.

No. The aura that radiates off her is unmistakable.

It's domineering.

He calls her name, voice edged with the slightest hint of worry, but she pays him no response. In the emptiness of the silence, he has no clue what thoughts exactly her head is filled with. Trembling, he tries again, "I'm sorry."

She halts. Purposeful steps come to a stop. They're standing before his bedroom door and despite the obvious familiarity of the physical space before him, he shivers at the uncertainty that lies ahead. "Are you now?" she asks, her voice clear and unwavering. Her words grip him.

Without waiting for his response, she pushes the door open and enters the room like she owns it. She may as well have. It certainly feels like she owns him.

Standing in the center of the room, she finally turns to face him. Her expression is neutral, but her gaze is firm and pins him in place where he hesitates in the doorway.

"Come here." At her word, he obeys. He stands before her, toes scrunching against the stiffness of the hardwood floor beneath him. Despite his height advantage over her, he feels infinitely smaller, his head bowed in admonishment. "What are you sorry for?"

He chews on his lip. Shame fills him.

With a hand on his chin, she directs his gaze away from the floor to meet hers. She prompts him with a simple but expectant, "Hm?"

"I'm sor- I'm sorry for, for getting jealous," he mumbles, averting his eyes.

"Look at me." His eyes dart back to hers. But this time he finds gentleness in her gaze. "There's nothing wrong with being jealous, Jungkook. Although I wish you would have talked to me about it instead of bottling it up to yourself. It's been, what, two weeks now since I made that comment about him."

Just as the sensation of release that accompanies relief blooms in his chest as he thinks he's off the hook, her gaze hardens again as she continues, “But what is not okay is your inappropriate touches in the middle of our dinner with Namjoon."

Something within Jungkook tightens at the sound of his name. Whatever shame that had previously filled him was now singed into nothing by the flare of jealousy that bursts within him.

Tonight was not the first time the three of them had dined together. As her best friend of over a decade now, Namjoon came over to hang out together frequently enough that Jungkook was beginning to consider him his own friend. Namjoon was cool – dorky enough to be relatable, yet composed with a certain air of sophistication brought by his intellect such that he easily commanded Jungkook's respect. And Jungkook had walked into his current relationship with his eyes wide open. He'd known about the close friendship his girlfriend shared with Namjoon and didn't want to be the jealous boyfriend who broke precious friendships apart. And he had been doing well, had been genuinely chill about it.

Well, he had been, up until that little comment from two weeks ago.

It was a lighthearted remark, just an offhand comment. Mindlessly scrolling through her Facebook feed on that lazy Saturday afternoon, she came across an engagement announcement by two of her friends. The comments were filled with people gushing over how perfect their story was, being childhood best friends and all. She laughed and rolled her eyes at that. "It's all so romanticized. But what's so romantic about knowing someone before their puberty glow up? Hell, maybe we should ask Namjoon what he saw in pubescent me!"

His ears perked up at that. "What?"

"Oh, yeah, Namjoon confessed to me once when we were, like, fourteen? Can you believe it? The upper limit to my fashion sense back then was my scruffy jeans and bright magenta jacket!”

Gentle fingers pry his own out of the tight fist they had clenched themselves into, simultaneously prying him out of his reverie and back to the present. Sliding her hand into his, she frowns at him. “If you were jealous, you should have just talked to me about it.”

“But it’s so silly,” he said, immediately prompting her to shake her head.

“Your emotions are not silly, Kook,” she said. “It’s my fault, my blind spot that I didn’t expect it, and I’m sorry if I made you feel insecure about our relationship.”

Lowering his head to rest on her shoulder, he pouts as he hides his face in the warm comfort found in the crook of her neck.

“Whatever happened back then is in the past. I rejected him because I felt we were better as just friends, and it took him some time, but ultimately he agreed. And I swear, that was the one and only time. We’ve been nothing more than best friends after that,” she continues, and the words roll over him in waves of reassurance that synchronize with the slow strokes of her thumb over his knuckles. “I’m yours, and yours only, Kook.”

His free hand slides up to grip at her waist possessively. “Mine?” he asks.

“Yours,” she promises. The tight feeling in his chest begins to loosen itself. Things will be okay. They’ll work through this.

Smiling at him, she speaks again, her voice laced with mirth this time, “But what shall we do about your misbehavior tonight?”

He hadn’t been able to help himself. The worries that he left unaddressed in his refusal to talk about his jealous emotions resulted in an unpleasant dread making its home in the pit of his stomach, displacing his appetite as he sat in the cushioned bench of the restaurant. As he watched his girlfriend respond to Namjoon’s jokes with the carefree laughter that Jungkook so adored, he felt the jealousy rise in his chest, fill him, and he left his dinner half-eaten and abandoned to go cold on its plate.

The gnawing thought that she was slipping out of his hands spurred his next actions. As if needing to hold her back to him, he placed a hand on her thigh. And when she shivered at his touch – throwing him a quick questioning glance, but nothing more – her reaction further fueled him. The inane need to stake a claim on her, to remind her of whose she was, began to overtake him, and his hand slowly but steadily slid higher and higher. Watching his tattooed knuckles slither up the smooth skin of her exposed thigh was a welcome distraction from the ongoing conversation. With their legs tucked under the table, Namjoon was none the wiser from where he sat across from them. And with their table in the corner of the dimly lit room, they were adequately concealed from the danger of any wandering eyes of the other diners. Still, it all felt so illicit, but also oh so thrilling. Curiosity at just how far he could take things clouded his senses and he ignored the way she shoved his hand down when they brushed the edge of her short skirt. His hand crept up again, and this time it got to the hem of her panties and traced along the elastic. Just as he angled his hand to stroke a lone finger up where he knows her slit is, her thighs clamped shut. Under the table, she swiftly pulled his hand away before she gave his thigh a meaningful pinch.

“Sorry Namjoon,” she said, with a saccharine sweet smile on her face. But Jungkook knew better. “I think Jungkook’s had a long day. Do you mind if we head off first?”

Back in the bedroom, she steps away from him, and he whines at the loss of contact. But when she tuts at him, he falls quiet.

“My naughty boy,” she scolds, voice light but firm. “Being so dirty and trying to touch me in public. I think I need to teach you a lesson in restraint today.” Her hand runs gently down his chest and he suppresses a shiver. “Will you be good for me, Koo?” At the sound of his pet name, the name she only ever evokes in times like this, he immediately nods. She smirks. “Sit on the bed.”

He’s quick to obey, sitting attentively at the edge of his bed. She takes his hands in hers, looking them over, admiring them. “Such beautiful hands. But so, so naughty today, wandering to places they shouldn’t have been.” She places them down on the bed just by his sides. “No moving.”

Then, she backs up to stand front and center in his vision. Knowing that his eyes will be glued to her, she runs her hands over herself, tracing the curves that she knows he’s dying to touch. Arching into her own touch, she releases the buttons of her blouse one by one in a teasing fashion, letting the fabric fall open to reveal the satiny sheen of her bra. Unzipping her skirt, she shimmies her way out of the garment. A tinge of self-consciousness creeps in at the thought of her plain undergarments and how they must pale in comparison to some of the raunchier lingerie sets she’s worn in the past. But Jungkook looks at her like she’s a pin-up model all the same, slack-jawed and pupils dilated. And it gives her the boost she needs to carry on.

Shrugging her blouse off, she saunters over to him and climbs to hover just above his lap. His hands twitch but stay where they are. Her fingers comb their way through the smooth locks of his blond hair, and she watches as his eyes flutter shut under the attention. He’s so, so pretty for her as he succumbs to her touch. Tilting his head back gently to have him look back up at her, she asks, “Tell me what you want.”

“You.” His voice is petulant. “I want to touch you so bad.”

“Do you deserve to touch me after your behavior tonight?”

He shakes his head wordlessly, taking his punishment. Smirking at his obedience, she hoists herself off to sit on the bed beside him, legs crossed and leaned back, the picture of self-assured confidence.

“Strip for me,” she directs simply.

It takes him a second to process her words. But when he does, he snaps to it, whipping his shirt and slacks off. But when he makes to pull his boxer briefs down, she stops him.

“Nuh uh. Those stay on.”

She scoots back and spreads her legs, patting the space between them to get him to come sit. As he does, he can feel the smooth slide of the satin material of her bra against his back, and he longs for the warm plush feel of her breasts against him.

But before he can get too lost in his own want, she grabs his hands to place them on his thighs. “Show me you can restrain yourself,” she says.

Meanwhile, her own hands go skimming up said thighs. Up, up, up, they slide, past the tingly ticklish sides and raking with a featherlight touch between his pecs that have his nipples perking up and begging for attention, his dick twitching in his briefs.

She strokes his collarbone and leans in to whisper in his ear, warm breath puffing against the sensitive skin and her smooth voice delivered directly into his ear makes it feel like she’s everywhere, like she’s overtaken all of his senses. “Will you be good for me?”

He keens out a yes. It’s all he can ever manage when it’s her.

Then, quick as a bolt, her hand drops down to stroke his cock through the cotton material of his briefs. With a pressure that is barely there, merely ghosting over the outline of his erection, her hand pauses where his precum has created a damp spot in the heather grey material. She swipes it ever so lightly with her pointer finger and giggles. “Is this for me?”

He nods, eyes squeezing shut as she rubs her finger over the tip of his dick. He groans out his answer, “Only for you.”

Her hand resumes the torturously fleeting touches over his erection, toying with him. Her legs are hooked over his, anchoring her to him as her hands run free. The smooth skin of her legs is right there. Right there, mere inches from his hands. But he’s not allowed to touch. Jungkook thinks he just might lose his mind. But then her finger comes tapping at his lips, and presses two into the warm, wet cavern.

She knows all about his oral fixation by now. It’s hard not to notice it when, despite every post-orgasm haze, he’s latching onto something of hers, be it a tit or her fingers or sometimes an intense but slow and languorous make-out session. Well-acquainted with his preferences by now, she gives him exactly what he needs. Jungkook sucks on the two fingers she’s granted him like it’s a lifeline, and it eases the ache for him somewhat.

But very soon it becomes insufficient, and his hips begin to rut upwards, seeking more than just the gentle sweeps over his cock that she’s graced him with so far.

“Please,” he begs. “No more teasing.”

But instead of giving him more, she covers his mouth with her hand, continuing relentlessly with the excruciating lightness of her touches. The resultant whine that comes out of him is muffled underneath her palm.

“You’ll take only what I give you,” she says. But as she finishes her sentence, she adds pressure to her strokes, relieving his want just enough to entice him yet keep him on edge.

He writhes against her, but each time his hips lift for more, she pulls away. He can’t even ask for more with the way her tiny hand silences him, the hot gasps that escape him puffing against her palm.

“You need to practice self-restraint,” she coos. He whimpers, and tries his best to control himself, to be obedient for her.

Trembling in the arms that snake around him, he attempts to get a grip on himself. Taking deep, shuddering breaths for what feels like multiple eternities, he finally calms himself down. Aside from the occasional reflexive twitch, he’s gotten himself under control, abs clenched tightly as he keeps a tight rein on his desire.

“Such a good boy for me,” she murmurs her praise, and she finally releases the palm that was over his mouth, stroking his hair back affectionately to tuck it behind his ear.

Then, her hand descends onto a dusky nipple, tweaking it and running slow circles around it, and his moan is released unrestrained and bouncing off the walls of his bedroom. Her hand slips down, down, down. Delicate fingers caress his balls, and it takes all the self-control that he can possibly summon not to thrust upwards, not to move his hands to grab her tiny ones in his, not to use the physical strength he possesses that he knows will easily domineer over hers to flip her over and pin her down and have his way with her already.

Instead, his hands grip at his knees where they’ve remained all this time. His nails dig into his flesh, creating little indents of crescent moons. Seeing this, she tells him to relax. At her gentle coaxing, he begins to release the tension held within his taut muscles one by one. He lets go, eyes falling shut as he lets himself flow with the languid strokes she unhurriedly palms through his briefs.

At his display of obedience, there’s nothing but contentment in her voice as she murmurs, “So good for me.”

Hearing this, he decides to try his luck. “Please,” he begs, his voice tiny. “I’ll be good from now on. Can I please, please touch you now?”

She hums in consideration, but it’s all feigned. Completely pliant in her arms, she knows he’s restraining himself as best as he can despite the way his body trembles with pure want. And she’s ready to give him what he wants.

“Ok.”

His eyes fly open at the simple permission granted. Afraid he might have just imagined it, he asks again, “I can touch you now?”

Pulling away from him, she slides herself backwards to lie fully on his bed and he turns to watch. She unclasps her bra, but leaves it on, giving him the honor of taking it off. Hands beckoning, and voice commanding, she directs him, “Touch me, Koo.”

He crawls forward meekly and gingerly lifts her bra from her, soaking in the sight of her breasts. Slowly, reverently, he traces a finger on her areola. She giggles. “Such a patient boy for me now.” He nods, delighted that she is delighted, and rolls her nipple between his fingers with more boldness.

“Do you want them in your mouth, Koo?” she asks, but it’s less a question than it is permission. With that, he bends to take the other bud into his mouth, and sighs at the feel of it against his tongue, at the satisfaction of having something to suckle on.

With his mouth busy, his hands go running all over her, across the planes of her ribs and caressing her sides and her soft tummy and briefly dipping into her bellybutton. She lifts a leg and grabs his hand to place it on the back of her thigh. Getting the hint, he releases her from his mouth, the bud slightly red and swollen from the attention, and lifts her other leg to pin her thighs to her sides. The damp spot he spies in her underwear causes pride to swell up in him, knowing that he did that to her.

“Here, Koo,” she says, tipping her chin up and pulling him in by the shoulders for a kiss.

Their tongues intertwine and he moans. He’ll never get enough of her. The way their cores fit against each other, melding together despite the two flimsy cloth barriers that separate them, is like they’re just made for one another. The thought of their twin damp arousals rubbing up against one another as their warm, wet tongues slither against each other in this erotic tango has his head swimming in the foggy lust.

She grinds upwards with her hips, legs hooked around his waist, dragging the softness against his dick that’s been painfully hard for god knows how long now, and the thin string of his restraint very nearly snaps. But he’ll be patient. He knows that’s what she wants. And what she wants, he gives.

“I want you, Koo,” she moans out. “In me, please.”

This, he’s happy to obey.

At her word, he pulls the last article of clothing that remains on her down, the last thing that separates her from his eyes. Her folds glisten under the yellow glow of his ceiling light, and it’s a sight to behold. He has to force himself to stay focused, to keep himself from the temptation of bending down to lick a stripe up her slit, to get a taste of her arousal. No, she wants him in her. And that’s what he will give her.

He pulls his briefs down, no time to get them fully off, and they wrap around his muscular thighs as he kneels and lines himself up to her entrance. And then, slowly, steadily, he slides himself in.

As much as he wants to focus on her pleasure and her pleasure alone, the warm and viscous arousal coating him and the velveteen, pillowy feel of her is a sensation like no other and he can’t help but get lost in it for a moment. The feeling is absolutely transcendental, and he pauses, relishes in it, thanking the heavens she’s on birth control.

“Feel good?” she asks, noticing his pause. He nods meekly. “That’s good. I like it when you feel good too.” She smiles and clenches around him lightly, pulling a moan from him. “I like it when you’re a good boy for me so we can both feel good. Will you make me feel good now, Koo?”

Her words set him off and he begins rolling his hips, slow but deep at first, then speeding up as she asks him to. The way her nails rake through his scalp and then down his back drives him forward, the clapping of their flesh together rhythmical with each one of his powerful thrusts.

Soon, the tell-tale signs of her oncoming orgasm begin to show. He feels her clench around him and watches as her back bows as she arches upwards, taking in the wondrous sight of her falling apart before his eyes as she finally erupts around him and coats him in her essence. His heart fills to brim and spills over. Watching her consumed in pleasure and knowing that he was the one to give that to her, it only takes Jungkook a couple more strokes to completion, and he collapses into her chest as he whimpers into the safety of her neck, creaming her walls white.

His lips latch onto the soft skin of her shoulder and he can’t do anything else but suck gentle hickeys into the expanse of her body. He would be content to stay in her forever, feel his dick soften in her plush folds. But she squirms underneath him and he pauses to accommodate her. Gently, she slides him out, but keeps him in her arms and his head nestled in her soft chest. He watches as she slips a hand down, dips two fingers into her pussy, and scoops out their mixed arousal. And as his doe-eyed gaze remains fixated on her glistening fingers, his mouth opening instinctively as they come closer, she slips her fingers and their cum into his mouth.

Savoring the taste of their coupling, he dozes off, completely spent, her fingers still in his mouth as he suckles on them tenderly. And as she watches, the thought of clean-up occurs to her, and she knows that the wiser thing would be to temporarily relinquish her comfort and get it done. But wrapped in his embrace and watching his little blond head rise and fall in tandem with her breaths, she really can’t help herself. Instead, she decides, that’s enough restraint for now.

[winter-soldier-vibes]

What’s going on with you? (Bucky x reader)

What is going on with you?

Bucky Barnes x reader

Word count: 2633

Warnings: Purging, restricting, depression, anxiety

Summary: the reader is a part of the avengers, and has an eating disorder. It used to be worse, but whenever she feels like she makes a mistake r gets into an argument, she slips up. Bucky discovers this one day and tries to help her.

A/N: It has BEEN A BIT. I am home for the semester, and therefore have much more time. I should be able to write more, but I don’t want to get overwhelmed. I’ll make a separate post about what happened. Take care of yourselves!

You stood up on shaky legs, leaning against the sink for support. Your heart was still racing and your head was pounding. You flushed the toilet and looked in the mirror. Bloodshot eyes, tear-stained face, and sweat-slicked skin. You looked like you were sunburned and had just had an intense crying session. That or something much more likely.

You looked like you had just been throwing up. Which was the case.

You sighed as you turned on the water, cold. It helped with the redness. You washed your hands first, then cupped them to bring to your face. Ideally, you would shower, but you were too exhausted for that right now. Plus, you had a meeting to get to and this round of purging had taken longer than you had anticipated. Damn pasta nearly choked you on its way back up.

It was methodical. Wash your hands, then your face, make sure your eyes aren’t as bloodshot. Blow your nose 20 times, stick your face in a towel and sigh, take your hair down and make it look more presentable, like when you had come in. finally, when everything is presentable, spray the air freshener and practice your fake smile.

God, you hated this.

You tried to stop. It wasn’t like you enjoyed puking your guts out. But you felt like your say in the matter was long gone.

You either didn’t eat anything or ate and vomited everything. 

Thankfully, no one had picked up on it yet.

You sighed again as you turned off the lights and exited the bathroom. You felt lighter and calmer, although your heart was still racing. Family dinner with the Avengers is always the worst. No excuses to miss, no reasons to not eat, therefore, you just had to take care of it after.

Usually, it wouldn’t have been too bad - you hadn’t eaten anything in days aside from a few apples. But you had fucked up. You were sparring in the gym with Natasha and you kept missing your mark. You were weaker, unable to focus.

God knows why.

Nonetheless, it was a horrible training session and you got your ass beat. Not just normal Natasha-Romanoff-beats-everyone beat, but if-this-was-real-you-would-have-killed-me beat.

Not that that was too undesirable at the moment.

See, usually, you were able to just get away with not eating without trying too hard. But whenever you made a mistake, you felt that urge. You wanted to just eat everything. You don’t know why or where it came from, but you just wanted to eat everything in sight. Just so you could barf it up along with all your negative feelings about yourself.

You had tried to get over your issues with food for so long and it never really worked out. You had gone to therapy and hospitals as a teenager and they would always give up on you. The hospital staff knew your name by looking at you, you were the revolving door patient. Any discharge and goodbye really meant see you at your next admission when you relapse in a few weeks.

It wasn’t really about you recovering. It was about keeping you alive until your next relapse. 

It was better now. You used to be skin and bones, on the verge of dying. Then you started eating and vomiting your feelings. Now you were a healthy weight, no matter how much you tried to lose it. You missed being skin and bones. You wanted to get over this, but you wanted to be thin first. 

You weren’t dying but you weren’t living either. Your eating disorder was better but still was the silent shadow on your life. The only difference was now no one saw it or asked about it. So when you went longer without eating or purged more times, no one noticed. Because no one realized there was something to notice.

You didn’t think it would get better so you stopped hoping it would. You stopped trying. You were an adult now, so you were free to make your own choices. No parents or therapists in your way.

You made it into the common area, where Steve and Bucky were waiting. There were a couple of empty chairs - one for you and one for Sam. you had a mission briefing, and since it was urgent you would be leaving tonight. 

Great. 

You sat down - well, you more fell into your chair - and leaned back and closed your eyes. Bucky, who sat next to you, turned your way slightly and laughed nervously. 

“You okay there, doll?”

You opened your eyes and turned towards him. “Just a little tired I guess. Haven’t been sleeping well.”

Bucky chuckled. “You and me both.” He laughed a little, but you knew it was a touchy subject. Nightmares would keep Bucky up for days on end, and the dark circles under his eyes right now told you this week had been relentless for him. 

Steve, ever the one to care about his team, inquired, “Are you okay to do this mission y/n? I can get someone else if you need to -”

“I’m good Cap. Really, I’m fine.” you interrupted, sitting up and flashing a fake smile. 

He smirked a little. “There you are.”

Bucky was a little less convinced. “You sure you’re -”

At that moment Sam burst in and sat down. Steve perked up. “Finally. Alright, everyone’s here, let’s start.”

You caught the first few things that Steve said but began to zone out. You couldn’t focus. You kept your eyes on the files in front of you, but it looked like an entirely different language to you. You pretended to read but your eyes just glossed over the pages and pictures. All you knew was it was a HYDRA base you were going to. But that was a given.

Bucky shook you out of your trance, only for you to realize everyone else had left. You looked at him and he furrowed his brows together. “You sure you’re alright? You totally spaced out.”

You laughed. “Yeah, I’m good, sorry. Just tired I guess!” you said lightly, hoping he didn’t hear the nerves in your voice. You stood up and your vision went black for a few moments, so you leaned on the chair with one hand. 

Bucky was by your side in an instant. “I don’t think you’re fine. What’s going on?”

You shooed him off of you and flashed him another bright (fake) smile. “It happens all the time, I swear. It’s fine.” and before Bucky could protest you walked away to get ready to leave. 

You knew you should eat something. You’d only kept down a few apples in the past few days. But you were doing so well, and you didn’t have time to purge should you eat too much. You felt like you were about to pass out though…..

No

You shook the thought out of your head. You had gone longer on less food doing more exercise before. You would be fine.

You put on your uniform and went to the roof to get into the quinjet. Bucky was there as well, Steve up at the front getting ready to pilot. Once again, you were waiting for Sam. no surprise there.

You flashed a small smile to Bucky, and he gave you one back, but you could see the concern on his face. Silence was all there was aside from Steve up at the front. After a few awkward minutes, Sam came jogging in, and with that, you were off. 

“Shouldn’t take too long,” Steve called from the front. “It should just be a small base.”

*skip to the battlefield*

Boy, was Steve wrong. 

You hadn’t known what to expect, but from what Steve said (and how everyone was fighting), it was well over double what they had anticipated. You were with Bucky and Sam was with Steve, everyone fighting HYDRA agents on all fronts. Luckily, they were taking all of the hits. For now. 

As you were fighting, stars swam through your vision. You kept shaking your head trying to reorient yourself, but you were starting to get nervous. Your offensive and defensive moves were both delayed and weaker than usual. Bucky was covering your ass and both of you knew it. 

When all fronts were secured Bucky turned to you, slightly angry but also concerned. “What the hell is going on with you?”

You were panting and your heart was racing. Widened your stance nonchalantly to try and regain some balance, and placed your hands on your hips. “I don’t know…..What you mean…” you said between breaths. 

“You could’ve gotten us both killed! You’re lucky we didn’t all split up y/n. I don’t know what’s gotten into you!” 

You swallowed thickly and blinked back the tears. You tried to speak again, but your mouth went dry and you couldn’t speak. You saw Bucky’s eyes widen as he saw your face go white. He reached his arms out just in time as your knees gave out and you were unconscious.

He didn’t hesitate to pick you up and carry you back to the quinjet. Over the coms, he said “Something’s wrong with y/n. I’m bringing her back to the quinjet.”

Steve immediately asked, “What the hell happened?”

“I don’t know but she’s unconscious.”

A pause.

“Stay with her, Sam and I will finish this.”

Bucky laid you down across a few seats and scanned your body for injuries. Maybe a HYDRA agent had sliced you somewhere he hadn’t seen. But he found nothing and didn’t know what to think. No injuries, just a racing heartbeat, a white face, and shallow breathing.

And he was fucking terrified.

He’d never said anything, but the super-soldier had quite the feelings for you. He was always too shy, feeling damaged, and like he didn’t deserve you. He didn’t want to hurt you but what he didn’t realize was you were hurting yourself more than he ever could. 

And he still didn’t know. 

You came to after a few minutes, disoriented. You looked around and your eyes fell on Bucky, who sighed in relief. You tried to sit up but Bucky gently but firmly pushed you back down.

“What happened?” you asked groggily

“You passed out y/n.” he deadpanned

Your eyes widened. Shit…

“Does that also happen ‘all the time?’ Or is there something else going on?” he asked firmly, still worried about you but you mistook it for anger.

You felt tears prick your eyes and your face heated up with shame and embarrassment. You put a hand over your face, hiding your eyes. “I’m fine, Buck,” you said, but your voice cracked and you knew you didn’t sound convincing at all. 

“To hell you are! What the fuck is going on with you?” he nearly yelled, causing you to flinch. Bucky softened a little, and you started letting out small sobs, shoulders shaking. Bucky helped you sit up and pulled you into an embrace, hushing you and rubbing your back. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry…” you kept mumbling and Bucky just held you tighter. 

He was terrified. He had a feeling that something was wrong but he didn’t know it was something this bad. He didn’t even know what was wrong yet. “Please, y/n. Tell me what’s wrong. I just wanna help you.”

You shrugged. “No one can help me anymore.”

Bucky stiffened at your words, oh too familiar to his own thinking. But what could possibly have you feeling that way? You were the kindest person he had ever met. What could have you feeling so down? “Please tell me what’s going on y/n.”

You opened and closed your mouth a few times, unable to find the words to say. “I just...Sometimes I….and it’s just hard…..I don’t know what…” you exhaled, unable to form a coherent thought. After taking a few deep breaths, you closed your eyes and tried again. “I throw up sometimes.”

Bucky pulled back and looked you in the eyes with concern. “Are you sick? Why didn’t you say something, we could have brought you to medical -”

“It’s not like that Buck.” you cut him off and looked to the side. “Not exactly.”

He furrowed his brows and cocked his head. Why would you be throwing up if you weren’t sick?

You took another deep breath. “It’s a long story, and it’s depressing and I’m sorry. It’s just...I hate myself and I just need to lose weight and I’ve done this my whole life and I try to be healthy and sometimes I don’t eat for days and then I eat and I can’t stop and then I hate myself more and then I just need to get rid of it and I throw up and I can’t stop and ithurtstobadijustneedittostop-”

“Hey hey, breath…” Bucky said as he pulled you in, and you realized how you were hyperventilating. You tried to calm down and focus on Bucky’s heartbeat, trying to follow his forced deep breathing patterns. After a few minutes you felt yourself calming down. Still locked in his embrace, Bucky began to ask questions softly.

“How long has this been going on?”

“Since I was a teenager.”

“Why did it start?”

“‘Dunno.”

Some silence passed between you. 

“When was the last time you ate?”

Silence. 

You sighed. “Technically a few hours ago, but I didn’t keep it down.” you said softly. “Before that an apple a couple days ago.”

You felt him inhale sharply and swallow, wrapping his hands around you a little tighter. “Y/n…”

“I know, I try to stop I really do but it’s so hard.” you said, voice cracking and fresh tears filling your eyes. 

More silence passed between the two of you. Eventually Bucky took a deep breath before asking, “Can I try and help you?”

You let out a dry laugh. “I’ve tried getting help for years Buck… It never really sticks. It never gets better. I stopped hoping that it would.”

Bucky’s heart shattered. He’d never seen you so defeated before. And it scared him how much you sounded like his own thoughts surrounding his nightmares. “It can always get better doll. Please don’t stop trying. Please, let me help you. Talk to me, talk to any of us...But you can’t keep doing this to yourself. You passed out y/n, and it could get a lot worse...I can’t watch you do that to yourself. I care to much about you. We all do.”

You looked up at him. “You sure you wanna get involved in this? I don’t want to disappoint you.”

He smiled back at you. “You could never disappoint me with this. You’re trying your best, that’s all I can ask for.”

You smiled a little, still skeptical but nodded anyways. Maybe he really could help you. Maybe things could get better. 

And it was hard. There were days you slipped up, days you broke dishes, snapped at Bucky, locked yourself in your room, and found yourself bent over the toilet again. But there were also days that you couldn’t stop laughing, you enjoyed movie nights with the team, and family dinners weren’t so hard. It was a long journey, but that was exactly it - there wasn’t a destination. It was all a process. One that you had help with now. And you wouldn’t trade that for anything.

[chilly-me-softly]

fluff alphabet for jordan (henderson)

This is my first alphabet so hope I did it right and that you like it! x

A - APRON

Jordan wasn't the best cook in the world, he kept it simple and always made the same recipes sure that the result was more than acceptable. And you loved to see him in action, from the moment he put on his apron until he got to the cooker, his expression always focused as if he were in the middle of a surgical operation. And then his eagerness to know if it was good, the smile on his face when you complimented him, him enormously pleased with himself.

B - BALL

Of course he always has a ball between his feet, many times urging you to play with him. And you're not a professional player at his level, but you certainly manage to distract him in other ways...

C - CUDDLE

After a day of practice what better thing than holding you in his arms while you tell him what happened while he was gone or anything else that comes to mind. Your voice is better than any relaxing drink, so much so that many times he has closed his eyes without even noticing.

But it's the little circles you draw on his arm, the light kisses you leave on his chin from time to time that make his night. Because no matter how much he likes being around the boys, no one pampers him like you do.

D - DINOSAUR

The little dinosaur is supposed to be for your son, but ever since it was given to you, it keeps you company when you're alone. Or even to annoy Jordan as he often complains that you spend more time hugging that soft toy than he does.

"I swear, as soon as he's born, I'll let him have it"

"If you say so" Jordan strokes your eight month old baby bump with a smile on his face, "did you hear mommy? She'll leave you her toys" he leaves a light kiss on your belly as you gasp hitting him with the dinosaur head.

"You're really mean Jordan, go away I never want to see you again" you put on a fake pout as he looks at you softly getting up to be at your height.

"How about you keep this dinosaur, and our son gets another one? You can match"

"I don't need a stuffed animal, I'm a big girl now" but you don't believe it either, him raising an eyebrow clearly amused and you hitting him with the dinosaur again.

E - EXERCISE

Even on his days off Jordan had to work out, the home gym built for the occasion. And he loves showing off for you, when you go to sit on a bench and your gaze settles on his toned, sweaty body.

"Like what you see?" he sneers, gently passing the towel over his face and then laying it on your shoulders, you rolling your eyes faking nonchalance.

"Please my lover is in better shape"

"Oh yeah?" Jordan walks over trapping your legs against the bench and starting to lie on top of you.

"No Jordan you're sticky" you try to desist but he's already on your lips. So you draw him to you by the neck, the thin layer of clothing separating you starting to get annoying.

F - FAMILY PHOTO

Jordan literally loves family photos, a big one of you just on the fireplace. He claims that every year you have to redo it because you all change so much, especially the little ones. Plus that year there is a new member of the family so it has to be redone.

You smile, arranging the ribbon around the baby's head in your arms as a three-year-old runs past your side almost tripping.

"Careful" you sigh, "Come on come over here next to us so we can take the picture and then you can go play" you don't know how he hasn't gotten dirty in some way yet. Jordan and the light shirt obsession. It's cute but totally not appropriate for a vulcano like your kid.

Finally Jordan arrives after talking to the photographer about the shots, wrapping an arm around you briefly. He places a kiss on your temple and the forehead of the little one in your arms before stopping the baby who was about to run away again.

"Just two minutes okay?" he smiles, crouching down and resting his hands on the kid's shoulders, smoothing down his jacket and adjusting his little bow tie before guiding him back to his seat.

And at the end of the week all you have to do is choose the best photo.

G - GETAWAY

Especially in summer you used to disappear to spend some time alone away from schedules, appointments, dinners to attend, families. Nothing was better than disconnecting, just you and Jordan relaxing in a secluded place or being tourists in some unknown location. You did everything you could to keep your mind off your troubles for even a couple of nights and it was always worth it.

H - HUG

All you had to do was say that word and Jordan would drop what he was doing, his arms gently around your body. Sometimes you did it just for the sake of it, but most of the time you just felt the need to be held and he was almost always there to satisfy you.

I - ILL

Sick Jordan was absolutely something. His unkempt state, his bright eyes and his drawling smile made him so cute in your eyes even though he felt like crap.

"Stop looking at me like that" he complains as he always does trying to hide his head somewhere while you smile.

"I'm not doing anything"

"You're looking at me" his voice comes muffled from under the pillow as you try to take it off, stroking his slightly damp hair. You liked taking care of him for once, even if it meant he wasn't at his best. He always seemed so strong, always available for you and that was one of the few times you could somehow return the favour.

He got annoying but you couldn't really take it out on him, could you?!

J - JORDAN

You didn't use nicknames, his name was good like that and you didn't need to change it or not use it at all. And he loved to hear his name coming from you. With hilarity when you were having fun; with sweetness in intimate moments; and yet angry, joking, alarmed, every possible nuance brought a smile to his face.

K - KEY

You were having breakfast one morning, you were enjoying your bowl of cereal while his had become un-eatable by now as he kept throwing you glances not caring about it.

He continues to twist something between the fingers of the hand he has hidden from your view when suddenly Jordan reaches across the table, sliding something towards you. A key.

"This is the house key. I wanted to... well give it to you but don't feel pressured in any way" he doesn't know exactly what he's nervous about, many times he's left you his keys to get in or when he was out of town for emergencies. But you looking at him motionless certainly doesn't help him. Has he made a mistake?

"You're giving me the key to your house?" your gaze on that object, incredulous, not touching it as if it might shock you. "Really?" you always had his keys on loan, having your own meant he trusted you enough to let you into his space even unannounced, or that you wouldn't lose it and risk someone else finding it. It was a really great gesture.

"Yeah I mean I thought you could have your own copy, and use it even when I'm here" a huge smile breaks across your face as you stand up going to sit on Jordan's lap, him scooting his chair further back to allow you to be more comfortable.

"That's...I have no words. Just thank you"

"I like the idea of coming home to find you already comfortable"

"Oh I surely will" you chuckle as you finally take that key in your hands, snapping to your feet causing a confused expression to appear on Jordan's face as you leave for the door.

"I forgot something" you walk back inside using the key and going straight to leave a kiss on his lips as he stands up immediately wrapping his arms around your body. "Are you crazy? It's so cold out there"

"I have a key now" you state with satisfaction as you cling to him.

L - LAUGH

Definitely his trademark, you can recognise it even with your eyes closed. You couldn't be more different than that, you always trying to be as quiet as possible while he was always so loud. But you couldn't help but be mesmerised by his face when he laughed, from his squinted eyes to his head thrown back.

"If I were to lose my memory, I'm sure your laugh would make me remember you" a soft smile on your face as you looked up at him slightly from below lying on his chest as he raised an eyebrow. "What are you talking about? Why would you lose your memory?"

"I said if, it's a scenario" you roll your eyes pouting, him quickly running his thumb over your lips to remove it.

"Why do you always have to be so tragic?"

"Ugh Jordan it was a compliment, it's not my fault you don't get it" and that laugh is always there to fill your heart.

M - MATCHDAY

Every home game Jordan is sure to have you at the stadium cheering for him. Over the years that has never changed, only skipping games when you weren't feeling well or when you were really pregnant and Jordan would be more concerned about you and your safety than the outcome of the game.

A little unspoken routine between you, him always leaving home early no matter the kick off time to review tactics and you sending him a text to wish him luck with a picture of you - and later a picture of you and the kids - wearing his jersey.

After the match regardless of the result and after he has done any interviews, here you are together sharing a short but sweet moment. You remind him how proud you are of him, the children want to go and play on the pitch.

N - NOSE

His nose brushes your neck as he snuggles up against you to rest; his nose brushes yours gently in an Eskimo kiss before he makes your lips connect; his nose brushes your skin after you have just stepped out of the shower. You often teased him by saying he looked like a tracker but you liked that little attention, the build up to what came next.

O - OLD

You always tease him by claiming he's getting old, sprawled out on the couch after spending half an hour chasing his son completely out of energy while the kid would happily take another ten thousand steps in the backyard.

"If I'm old then so are you, you know that don't you?"

"Yeah" you shrug, "but I'm still younger than you"

P - PIXEL

It's no secret that Jordan travels a lot during the year, your pixilated face seen more times than he'd like. But you don't hold it against him, besides being work it's his dream and moving around so much means he's living it to the fullest; that he's required and indispensable to the team besides being its captain of course.

You have learned to live the moments when you are together, to cheer and not waste it. And every time he stops to look at you while you're sleeping by his side or even just at any other time, he can't stop remembering how much those pixels don't really do you justice.

R - RING

It was a normal day in your life when you realised as a teenager that you had a thing for guys' hands, and if they had rings for some reason it was a bonus.

And many times you'd literally froze as you stared at Jordan's hands moving as he talked or wrote or cooked, the addition of that ring after your wedding didn't help the cause. You were brought back down to earth by his laughter because it was always surprising how one minute you were actively participating in the conversation and the next you were like in trance.

S - SAFE

You don't think you've ever told him verbally but you were lucky enough to have met him. Jordan makes you feel safe and you don't talk about the need to be defended from the bad. You know that with Jordan you can talk about whatever is on your mind without fear of being judged, you know he will always be there for you no matter what. You're immediately heartened by the reminder that he's by your side because any moment is less hard if the right person is by your side.

T - TOMORROW

It is something you often talk about, tomorrow. Everything is unpredictable, you never wanted to make long-term plans because you never know what might happen but only one thing you know for sure that you want Jordan by your side. And your idea matches his.

"You are my tomorrow and as long as I wake up with you by my side I will have a reason to smile"

U - UNIVERSE

"You are my universe"

"Stop it"

"But you are, why wouldn't I tell you" he chuckles as you hit him trying to hide your face.

You are one who is always on the move, always available for others but at the same time doesn't know how to react to compliments. You do what you do not to be praised or anything else but just because you feel like it and every time after a compliment of any kind any word would seem unnecessary, making you stand in front of that person smiling embarrassed making you feel uncomfortable. There, if you had to find a word to describe it you could say that compliments make you uncomfortable.

And Jordan knows this very well, but every now and then when you're alone he starts showering you with compliments and sweet phrases for the sake of it. But the truth is that he likes it when you blush, your cheeks turning red as you do your best not to look him in the eye or hide your face in your hands.

V - VOWS

It seemed years away, but your wedding day had arrived overwhelmingly. You couldn't wait to experience that day and those emotions to the fullest. The thing that had been most challenging for you was the vows, so many things to say without finding the right words. Everything seemed already said, obvious, not perfect and several times you had been on the verge of a nervous breakdown for that small detail.

But on your wedding day, no one around you exists anymore. There's just you and Jordan and your hearts full of love for each other, his thumb caressing the back of your hand for support. You almost forget what you've been struggling to write over those last few months, the words that come easily from your lips just by looking into his eyes.

W - WINNER

Winner takes it all. Jordan watches from afar as you joke with some of his teammates and the only thing he can think about is how that year just ended was one of the most amazing of his life so far, both professionally and in his personal life. He had achieved extraordinary goals with the team, broken records and set new ones. And then he had you who had given him a child a few months earlier and he felt like a winner.

Y - YUMMY

"Yeah that's yummy" Jordan watches his baby close his mouth around the spoon and then bring his thumb to his mouth getting messy with his own food.

"Why do you do that hm? Why?" his tone of voice only makes the child laugh as he waits for another bite clapping his hands on the high chair. Jordan quickly satisfies him seeing the same scene repeat itself, the little hands that have now become sticky and are getting everything they touch dirty like they always do at feeding time.

Z - ZOOM

His professionalism never fails to amaze you as you watch him from afar managing to handle questions in front of a computer. It will be the third interview in which he's asked the same things over and over again and you have never seen him make any gesture of tiredness or annoyance. And you are waiting for him to finally get up from that chair to wrap him in your arm and give him the right amount of pampering he needs to clear his head of everything.

[mariamermaid]

F.R.I.E.N.D.S

Young Sirius Black x fem Potter!Reader

Summary:  When puberty suddenly hits you and your brother´s best friend realizes his interest in you

Words: 3.8k

Warnings: drinking underaged, mentions of smoking, swearing

A/N: Inspired by Anne-Marie´s song, but not really following the lyrics

 It happened from your summer break to your fifth year in Hogwarts, for your brother James it was his sixth year.

It was, what you would call the perfect summer; You had spent it with your friend Sarah in Spain, her family owned a stunning little cottage near Barcelona. The golden beach and the hot sun brought you back with a stunning tan and even a few freckles decorated your face now. Due to many trips to the mountains and the regular exercise of swimming, playing beachball and evenings dancing on the streets beneath moonlight, you had toned up and lost some body fat. A late, maybe even a drunk decision to get a new haircut and the obsessive amount of the new clothes, that completely reinvented your sense of fashion.

The time abroad away from your family felt like a gasp of freedom to you. You loved your parents and even your brother James, if he wasn´t annoying you, dearly, but that summer you felt grown-up and independent. You found new assets, hobbies, interests and confidence to further follow them. You hadn´t planned it, but your glow up transformation was born.

You came back just a few days before school was starting and somehow, you even looked forward to it. A new found motivation to become the best version of yourself pushed you to new limits. Not even the fact that Sirius Black had moved in with your family, could shatter your positive attitude.

 “Mom, where did Dad put my luggage, I brought a few souvenirs I wanted to give you!”, you asked while looking through your backpack for a hair tie. Your mother, who had already settled back in the kitchen, her natural habitat, to get some iced tea, shrugged.

“I don´t know, darling, didn´t he put them in your room already?”

Nevertheless, it felt good to be home again.

Your father entered the dining and kitchen area from outside, a suitcase of yours in each of his hands. Just as he was about to call your brother for help, James jumped down the staircase and patted your father on the shoulder. “In a second, dad?”

James, who always had been taller than you, eyed your astonished. “Who is that girl in our home? Is that even my sister anymore?” You chuckled as he gave you a quick hug.

“Shut up James, you´re just jealous that you´re still pale like a snow owl!”

While the two of you started your casual process of sibling bickering, Sirius carefully stepped down the stairs as well. From the back, he observed your figure.

All those years, you had been James´s sister or the younger Potter, but for the first time, you didn´t perish next to James. Actually, you overshone him. James, who was athletic due to the Quidditch practice, still had a crooked and flabby posture. It didn´t help that he was used to swagger through the halls of Hogwarts. But you? You remained with your head held high, your shoulders relaxed and your tanned skin freshly glowing.

“Y/n.”

You turned to find Sirius starring at you; you couldn´t point his look, but you gave him a polite, regardless smile. “Sirius”, you greeted him. Your voice wasn´t rude or cold, still it didn´t match the voice you´d use to talk to James. “Or should I call you brother number two?”

A painfully small grin was brought to his lips. Over the course of years, the two of you barely exchanged words. But yet, you were a constant part of his life. Yes, he had spent many Christmas holidays with your family. He most definitely spent more time with James than you. You were his best friend’s sister, right?

But why did it suddenly bother him, that you called him brother?

“Y/n, Sirius is staying in the guest room from now on. We didn´t use the room anyway, did we?”

The Potter residency had an altogether combined number of four floors; the basement with storage and washing area. The main floor with kitchen, dining and living room, leading to the outdoor terrace and garden and your parent´s bedroom. The second floor with James´s bedroom, your father´s study room and of course, the guest bedroom, which now belonged to Sirius. Last but not least the attic, which was renovated to your room. A point which had caused James and you to argue for several years; the attic was an amazing room and much larger than other bedrooms in the house. James lost the argument due to very weak points. To quote your mother, James spent more time outside doing mischief than actually staying in his room.

You were more relieved than ever to have not only your own room, but basically your own floor. You didn´t mind Sirius, but you needed your space and you didn´t wanted to be involved with their pranks.

“James, help me with my suitcase, will you?” You exclaimed, but your brother already made his way to the kitchen. By his moving pattern, you knew he was up to no good.

“Mom, don´t you and Dad usually spent the weekend at Cindy´s?” You couldn´t help but rolling your eyes at his comment. The last weekend before school begins; James´s house party.

Your parents knew he´d like to bring friends over at that weekend, they didn´t know about half of the school coming and the amount of beer and fire whisky.

“James?” You sighed, but your brother was pursuing his own goals.

“I´ll help you”, Sirius suddenly spoke up and hurried next to you. He took the suitcases without much effort and immediately started carrying them upstairs. On the stairs, you passed the Black boy to open the door to your room for him. Sirius noticed your swift movement and was reminded of James playing Quidditch. Clearly you both inherited that gene. Sirius put down the luggage and couldn´t help but eye your room with growing eyes. The high wooden ceiling, which was decorated with fairy lights and pictures and painting on the walls. You had a secret talent to be good at drawing and detailed sketches of plants, you had learned about in school, hung over your desk. Pictures of you and James at the age of toddlers and family portraits from Christmas. In one of them was even Sirius. You realized how he didn´t leave your room and eyed him warry as he starred at the pictures.

“I´ve never been to your room.”

“Don´t get used to it.” You heaved your suitcase up on your bed to start the sorting out process and Sirius turned away from the pictures, raising his eyebrow. “It´s my room.”

His eyes glided over the silk sheets of your bed and he couldn´t help but wonder, how you looked when waking up in the morning by rays of sunshine falling through the windows. Have you watched him playing Quidditch with James from those windows? Ever so slightly he shook his head to get rid of that thought. You´re James´s sister, he reminded himself.

There weren´t really rumors about you in school, unlike James´s reputation. But there was one thing Sirius knew all too well; you were not to mess with. What your brother inherited in talent, was put together with an almost deadly preciseness. He saw you battling a student in his year once, you won without even breaking a sweat.

“The new hair suits you”, he suddenly added before leaving your room and closing the door behind him. Your mother had pin pointed every single detail that had changed about you, but you´d never guessed that heartbreaker Sirius Black would comment on it…

 James Potter was awfully good at talking people into doing what he desired. And James Potter desired a more memorable house party each year, thanks his ego. Previously, you had spent the weekend at Sarah´s, but after an entire summer, you were left home as well. Against your own anticipation, you didn´t mind. Was it the fact, that you had partied and danced more the entire summer than anyone could imagine? Maybe.

“Y/n, you look out for James, don´t let him do stupid things!” Like a house party? Lingered on your tongue, but you smiled bitter sweet. “It´s hard to look out for somebody as stupid as James.”

Your mother wrinkled her eyebrows, but your dad let out a laughing grunt. “They´ll be fine”, he reassured your mother, before kissing you on top of your head and heading out.

“It´s hard to look out for somebody as stupid as James”, James voice filled the air while he imitated you. He and Sirius came down to the living room, a box of somewhat decorations in their hands.

James was everything but stupid, even though there were times, where you questioned his IQ. He took out old wine bottles with candles in them and packed away your mom´s favorite cutlery and vase. One thing less to worry.

“Tell me, Y/n, do the Spain kiss good?” He continued to mock you.

“Better than the British”, you answered sweetly. A sour taste spread in Sirius mouth, but James pressed his jaw together. He hadn´t expected the answer from you, his sweet innocent little sister.

“Should I worry about you tonight?” He asked a little more serious now, but you ruffled through his precious locks. “Why? Afraid I´ll crash your party?”

“Who are you and what have you done to my baby sister?” He yelled after you, while you left the room to go upstairs, chuckling.

The marauders were first to arrive; Moony, Wormtail and obviously Padfoot and Prongs himself. Remus also brought Lily Evans, your brother´s secret, not so secretly girlfriend. You watched as they arrived one by one from the window at your desk. The golden boy and his gang, all complete.

The past few days, you had taken your time to do whatever you pleased. Your mother didn´t force any of you to have breakfast or lunch together, due to the fact that you all had different sleeping patterns. You had spent it at your desk, getting ready for school, journaling about your holidays, sorting out pictures and old clothes. In the garden helping your mother put together bouquets of flowers or riding your bike around your favorite trails and sceneries. Really you hadn´t seen much of your brother or Sirius.

You took your time getting ready, the Marauder´s already starting off with drinking. You had invited Sarah and when you saw her and her older sister, who was in James´s year, arriving, you finally made your way downstairs. James, Sirius and Remus were grouped around the kitchen aisle, debating sport games with three more guys from Gryffindor. Matt Atkins, Hogwarts second bad boy after Sirius, eyes suddenly grew big as he ran dry. His remarkably sharp jaw fell down and his mouth open. “Who is she?”

You casually strolled down the stairs, even wearing some strapped heels together with a new dress from Spain. A rather hard punch let Matt yelp, James annoyed eyes bringing him to his knees. “That´s my sister”, he muttered with his teeth grinding.

The golden boy was about to be pushed from his throne by his own sister.

You gave the group of boys a knowing smirk before welcoming Sarah, who was glowing with the same tan as you. “Seems like Spain has been muy beneficioso per nos.”

Your laughter filled the air, as not only the marauder but also several other male creatures watched the two of you chat. “How´s Gabriel?” You asked her instead and Sarah blushed. Her apparent summer fling had made it clear, that his feelings were a little stronger than just a fling.

“He wrote me a letter with a poem”, she blushed. Before continuing the topic, a boy joined the two of you. “Ladies, can I get you something to drink?”

James was quick to appear next to you, a sudden wave of protectiveness had overcome him. “She´s my sister and she doesn´t drink.”

“Yes, yes she does.”

Lily, who had joined her boyfriend, snickered at your response. James watched you wide eyed, as did the boy, walking to the kitchen with Sarah after dropping the comment; “Not from you though.”

Sirius, who´s blood alcohol level was already high enough, started smirking as you approached. The feelings he had pushed back and buried, arose in him.

“Y/n, care for a drink?” “Yes, Black, I do.”

As he fished two cups for you and Sarah, the group starred at you. Matt Atkins was first to speak up again. His initial shock about Sirius approaching you, was put back after he remembered that he lived with you and James now. Remus and Peter watched the scene, secretly exchanging a bet of how quickly you would decline Atkins.

“So, Y/n, tell me how was Spain?”

You leaned on the counter top, a trick that had earned you free drinks in bars before, and smiled.

“Hot.”

Sirius passed you the cups and you nodded thanking. His senses tingled, an explosion rushing through his veins. He wasn´t to construe it the past few days, but drunk words are sober thoughts and Sirius´s attraction towards you, grew with each second. Peter slid the money to Remus, Matt Atkins had no chance.

The party continued into the evening and quickly into the night. You were sure that at least 50 people were there, with a few outside maybe more. James, who didn´t enjoy himself as much as he´d like to, was also too stubborn to admit it. You didn´t like how he watched, almost babysitted you, lingering ready to scare away any potential boy flirting. It was until Lily finally swept in and took his mind off you.

Outside remained a small bonfire, which was coming to an end, but you still decided to catch some fresh air. You had more cups than your brother knew about, but he was kissing Lily in the corner and didn´t realize your slight staggering.

James wasn´t stupid, but stupid enough to completely miss the fact that his own best friend was falling in love with you. And he was following you outside.

“Y/n Potter, you surprise me.” Sirius voice was low and a little rough, which was explained as he pulled out a cigarette. You took another sip of who knew what mixture and smiled innocently at him. “Why´s that, Black?”

You never called him Black before, until this summer. An unconscious defense mechanism.

It had taken Sirius five days after your initial arrival to realize that he´d liked you way more than he should and now there was no turning back. He was acting on pure instinct now and so did you. But your instinct told you, that Sirius Black was a heartbreaker.

“What do want, Black?” You asked whispering as he slowly came closer, his hand reaching up to tuck back strands of your hair. This was dangerous, but you liked playing with fire. “You.”

Your laugh was bitter.

“We're nothing more than friends. You're not my lover, more like a brother. I´ve known you since we were like ten.”

You left him behind in the approaching cold from the night and the dying fire. Sirius cursed at himself and ruffled through his hand. “Fuck!”

How could he have been so stupid? You were his best friend´s sister! You were James´s sister! Of course, you didn´t see him in any romantic way and now he not only embarrassed himself to the bone, but probably ruined any kind of friendship with you. He threw the leftover cigarette into the fire, there was only one solution left; alcohol.

 Don't mess it up, talking that shit

Only gonna push me away, that's it!

When you say you love me, that make me crazy

Here we go again

 Sirius Black was astonishing good in hiding feelings and even better at drowning them. At least for the next hour or so. That was until the music box suddenly played a Spanish song with a typical reggae beat and laughing, you pulled Sarah onto the dancefloor in the middle of the living room. Oh, how you had learned to swing your hips at the rhythm.

James was burning in fury and he wanted to punch every single pair of eyes laying on your figure. Luckily, he couldn´t and much too quick for your dismay, the song ended. The room echoed in applause and howlers, and giggling you left the stage with Sarah. The two of you were used to being drunk together and lazily you found your seat on the bathroom floor.

“James isss going to kill youuuu”, Sarah laughed as she not so gracefully, kneeled onto the floor. It didn´t help that after you sat down at the brim of the bathtub, fell over crackling.

“Oh my god!” Sarah suddenly exclaimed startled. You leaned forward surprised, legs still hanging over the brim. “What?”

“We don´t have anything to drink anymoreeee! I´ll be back in a second, just stay here!”

You leaned back, head against the wall, softly humming in response. “I don´t even think I´m able to leave, I´ll wait!” For a few seconds, you closed your eyes; enjoying the buzz of the liquor and the music in the background. You heard the door open and close again.

“Merlin Sarah, you´re flying when it comes to-.“ It wasn´t Sarah, it was Sirius. You eyed him with furrowed brows. “Did you at least get me something to drink?”

He had a cup in his hands and eyed it, pondering to give it to you, or drink it himself. But you leaned forward, grabbing his arm and then snatching the drink from his fingers. He found himself starring into your big eyes, not wanting to look away.

“Don´t you have enough boys outside to bring you drinks?” He asked and you shrugged while taking a big sip. “But you´re here, aren´t you?” The sentence made his heart beat quicker.

“Don't go look at me with that look in your eye”, you then added and avoided his glance again.

“Why not?”

“You know why, but apparently you really ain't going away without a fight.”

He suddenly turned to you, pushing one of his hands against the wall, the other one trailing down to your neck. His fingers brushed against your skin and you felt goosebumps crawling down your spin. He was leaning, yes hovering above you and his eyes wandered back and forth from your eyes to your lips. Stubbornly, you looked up to him.

“You can't be reasoned with, I'm done being polite. Haven't I made it obvious?” You pushed yourself a little up from the bathtub, your face only inches away. But the look on your face was stern and certain. “Haven't I made it clear? Want me to spell it out for you?

F-R-I-E-N-D-S”

Sarah pushed open the door and rolled her eyes, she had obviously noticed the boy´s attention towards you. “Back off, Black.”

Sirius was caught off guard by her, which gave you space and time to pull yourself out of the tub, leaving him sitting there.

 The night only slowly continued after your clashing in the bathroom. Remus watched his friend with plaintive eyes. He had realized the silence and even more oblivious, his sad stares into your direction. It wasn´t hard to guess really, but he understood his reticent mood. You were his best friends’ little sister and he knew, James would kill for you. If anyone were to break your heart and if that anyone was Sirius, the friendship could be over.

On the other hand, there was one thing Remus knew, Sirius had never acted like this around a girl.

“You shouldn’t give up yet.” Sirius glanced back at him and rolled his eyes.

“She´s sees me as a friend, I´m like a brother to her.”

“You don´t dance like this in front of your friend. Y/n and James both know how to get the things they want. It´s probably a family disorder”, Remus chuckled. But he became stern again, laying a hand on his friend´s back. “She´s playing with you, you know it. And I have to admit, she plays better than you, Padfoot. You liked this girl way before, before the summer, before she started flirting with you today.”

“I didn´t-“

“Yes, you did. Or why did you stress out about getting her a Christmas and birthday gift every year since knowing James? Why did it bother both you and James, about Kevin making that remark last year? You broke his nose, in case you forgot.”

Remus was right, he was way too often for Sirius taste. He liked you more than a friend from the second he laid eyes on you. He swore himself to protect you, but now he was the endangerment of hurting you and it scared him.

People left the party; it was past 3.a.m. and Lily started putting away empty cups. He knew Sarah would sleep at the Potter house tonight and just in second, he caught sight of you carrying a blanket upstairs. “You´re the best, Moony and I hate you for it.”

He hurried up the stairs and caught you just in front of your room.

“Y/n, wait!”

You sighed heavily. “Sirius, I´m tired and Sarah´s laying on my bathroom floor throwing up.”

He tried to remember every formal etiquette ever taught to him while establishing and taking together his bravery. Hundreds, yes thousands of pranks and yet, he never had been this nervous. You eyed him wary. “Have you got no shame? You looking insane. Here we go again.”

“I´m sorry for acting like a dick.”

The apology took you a step back, surprised.

“Don't go look at me with that look in your eye.”

His tongue brushed against his lip. “Why not, Y/n? Afraid to admit it?”

“For Merlin´s Sake, get that shit inside your head, Sirius! We´re just friends.”

His hand lingered on the wall to your back. It was the second time he had encircled you, but this time around, you didn´t see an outlet. Maybe you didn´t want one either. You felt his breath tingling against your skin and against your anticipation, the scene felt intimate and fragile to you.

“I like you, Y/n. I´ve liked you for a while now and I suppressed it. You´re right, I´m heartbreaker, and I knew, if I was to break yours, I wouldn´t be able to live with myself.”

You felt your shaky breathing, the dim light coming from downstairs barely gave enough away.

“You made it obvious. You made it very clear. But I wanted- needed you to know this; you were and never will be just a friend to me.” He gulped, lowering his glance.

“And I´m sorry, if that´s going to push you away.”

You dropped the blanket to the ground, throwing your hands around his neck and pulling him down. The kiss was passionate, but dripping like honey; sweet and slowly. His hands grabbed your waist and you inhaled his deep musky scent.

You leaned away from him with caution, sighing. “Sarah´s vomiting and I´m making out, I´m a terrible friend.” Sirius chuckled lowly, his nose brushing against yours again.

“I´m glad we´re more than friends then.”

[sickficsforthesoul]

Twin Idiots - Osamu

For @punkozume​

Prompt: sick Osamu, caretaker Suna ft. caretakers Kita and Aran (Michinari is here too, but he doesn't do that much tbh)

Osamu with the flu and a very high fever, he tries to hide that he's sick from Suna and almost passes out on the school, has a lot of nightmares and is kind of delirious

Word count: 2433 words

If you couldn't tell, there will be a separate Atsumu version of this fic coming soon. I didn't include any nightmares, but if this fic does well enough, I'll write a (hopefully) short ficlet to follow this fic up and focus on the nightmares and delirium, so let me know what you think!

(Suna doesn't have an accent because I remember reading somewhere that he's from Tokyo originally, but idk if that's right, so if it's not, please forgive me and pretend it's my own headcanon, not me forgetting where Suna's from.)

‘It’s really chilly today,’ Osamu notices, shivering under his coat. While winter was never warm, Osamu can’t remember the last time he’s felt so cold. Even his long walk to the Inarizaki gym does nothing to warm him up. Osamu snuggles into his jacket as he trudges on. It’s not snowing yet, but the sky is cloudy and ominously gray, so Osamu doesn’t expect the ground to stay snow-free for long.

Osamu doesn’t have to put up with his idiot brother today, at least. Tsumu had left for his fancy volleyball camp in Tokyo for the entire week the day before, so Osamu is on his own in Hyogo. Osamu and Tsumu attended together last year, but when Osamu’s invitation failed to arrive along with Tsumu’s this year, he can’t say he was too surprised. Osamu has never been as into volleyball as Tsumu.

Osamu has his own interests, like cooking and chemistry, that he’s far more passionate about. Volleyball is fun, but Osamu knows he won’t be doing it for the rest of his life like Tsumu probably will. Tsumu will always put more into volleyball than Osamu, and that resulted in him being invited to the All-Japan Youth Intensive Training Camp while his brother was not.

Osamu’s not upset by any means. He’s enjoying the separation from his twin. For one week, Osamu can have his own room, cook whatever he feels like, and watch as many cooking shows as he pleases. It’s a weeklong vacation from his ridiculously loud brother, and Osamu intends to enjoy every second of it.

When Osamu finally reaches the gym, he relishes in the warmth of the cozy gym. It’s a welcome change from the frigid air outside, and now Osamu is finally warm enough to shed his coat after shutting the gym door. Most of his teammates are already in the gym, either changing or warming up. Inarizaki may be on winter break, but Kita was adamant that his team continue to practice, even with Tsumu away at camp.

Osamu is already in his practice gear, opting for donning a sweatsuit over top of his shorts and tee-shirt due to the freezing weather. Osamu dumps his coat, bag, and other belongings along the wall before stashing his water bottle on the bench. Suna hasn’t shown up yet, so Osamu begins his warmup stretches alone. By the time Osamu has stretched his legs and hips, Suna and the rest of the team have finally assembled in the gym.

Once everyone is ready, Kita gives out instructions for what everyone will practice today. Most players are assigned exercises or drills for their current position, but Osamu isn’t so lucky. With Tsumu gone, Kita decides to use his absence as an excuse to work on Osamu’s setting. Osamu isn’t thrilled about the idea, but at least Kita, Michinari, and Suna will be working with him today, so practice shouldn’t be too miserable.

They begin simply, with Osamu setting to just Suna. Suna spikes Osamu’s set, Michinari digs up the spike, and Kita sends the ball over the net for Osamu to practice setting mid-rally. They continue the drill for a while, so Osamu can get in a grove before he tries more difficult sets later on. Osamu doesn’t love setting as much as Tsumu does, but he will admit that he’s enjoying the easy rhythm of the drill a lot. It’s a nice change of pace from his usual blocking and spiking, and Osamu enjoys setting to his best friend much more than he thought he would.

But Osamu’s enjoyment doesn’t last. When Kita finally sends them off for a water break, Osamu is feeling off. His muscles ache constantly, and he’s oddly cold despite the snug warmth of the gym. Osamu takes a sip of water from his bottle and sits on the ground in front of the bench. He leans his head against the bench and glances up at the gym ceiling. This proves to be a mistake as the bright ceiling lights cause a headache to flare in his temples. Osamu lowers his head and focuses on finishing his water, hoping futilely that he was just a little dehydrated.

Kita calls Osamu, Michinari, and Suna back to the court for more practice. This time, Aran joins them too. Kita explains the new drill they’ll be working on now. ‘It’s basically the same as the other drill,’ Osamu thinks quietly. The only difference between the drills was that now Osamu can choose between setting to Suna or Aran.

They get to work, and Osamu quickly adjusts to having a new spiker. His sets to Aran aren’t as clean or precise as Suna’s, but Osamu knows his sets are improving with every toss. Osamu’s headache also increases with every toss, but he doesn’t want to think about that. Kita will give him hell for practicing with a headache, and Osamu doesn’t want to get chewed out like Tsumu did when Kita caught him practicing with a cold. So Osamu stays quiet while they practice. Even as his headache gives way to nausea, and his body trembles with small shivers whenever he stands still for too long.

By the time Kita calls for another water break, Osamu is miserable. His arms ache fiercely from setting, and his legs are so shaky that he barely makes it back off the court. Suna fixes Osamu with a blank stare as soon as Osamu manages to stumble to the bench. Kita and Aran also stare at Osamu, but they remain silent. Osamu shifts awkwardly, eventually opting to lean forward and stare at the ground because that position lessened his headache the most. Osamu’s teammates still say nothing. The minute of silence between the four of them is almost as painful as Osamu’s raging headache, and that’s saying something because Osamu is pretty sure his brain is trying to escape from his skull with how hard his head is pounding.

Finally, Suna opens his mouth. “You’re an idiot, Samu.”

“No ‘m not,” Osamu mutters weakly.

“You are,” Suna insists. “You’re one big, sick idiot, Samu.”

“But ‘m not sick,” Osamu whines quietly. He knows he is, but he can’t bring himself to admit to being sick because then Kita will lecture him for practicing when he’s sick. Osamu can handle a lot of things, from a moping Tsumu to an Instagram-crazy Suna, but Osamu cannot handle a Kita lecture. Kita isn’t the type to yell or swear, but he always sounds so disappointed, and Osamu can’t stand disappointing someone he admires so much over such a stupid mistake.

“I hope you’re lying, Samu, because if you’re not, you’re a lot stupider than I thought you were,” Suna frowns slightly. “Maybe even stupider than your dumb twin.”

“Take tha’ back, ya jerk,” Osamu slurs, lifting his head to look at Suna’s near-expressionless face.

“Then stop acting like an idiot,” Suna counters, his voice still a steady monotone. “You need to go home. Like, now.”

Osamu sighs tiredly, lowering his head to face the ground again. His body agrees with Suna completely, but somehow, Osamu still doesn’t want to leave. Maybe it’s his hypercompetitive instincts from practicing with Tsumu so much, but Osamu doesn’t want to leave until practice is finally over. It’s completely ridiculous, Osamu knows, because he doesn’t even love volleyball that much. But Osamu hates leaving things half-finished, even if his body burns with fever, and his head throbs with every breath.

Osamu remains silent, so Suna takes matters into his own hands. Suna slides off the bench and stands in front of Osamu. Suna bends down and takes Osamu’s shaking hands in his own warm, steady ones. Then he gently pulls Osamu to his feet.

Osamu’s body strongly protests the sudden position change. Osamu’s headache intensifies to a new level of excruciating pain, and intense dizziness makes Osamu’s head spin. Osamu desperately tries to keep his balance, but his weakened body doesn’t stand a chance against the sudden but fierce wave of lightheadedness. Osamu’s body pitches dangerously as shadows creep into the edges of his vision. He feebly reaches for Suna, trying to steady himself before faints onto the gym floor.

Osamu tilts forward, his chin coming to rest on Suna’s shoulder before Osamu’s knees give out completely. Suna squawks in surprise as he suddenly finds himself bearing all of Osamu’s weight. Suna carefully guides them both to the floor as Kita and Aran dart off the bench to offer aid.

Osamu is still conscious (somehow), so he is distantly aware of everything his friends do to help him. Kita and Aran grab Osamu’s shoulders and pull him off Suna. They settle Osamu on his back lying prone on the gym floor. Suna takes Osamu’s ankles and holds them up at chest level to get some blood flowing back towards Osamu’s head. Michinari zooms off, returning seconds later with his and Aran’s duffle bags. Michinari stacks them to an acceptable height, and Suna rests Osamu’s feet on the bags.

Kita pillows Osamu’s head in his lap. “Osamu,” Kita calls softly, “are ya still with us?”

“Hm…? Yeah…” Osamu mumbles as his hazy eyes lock on Suna, who’s still kneeling by Osamu’s feet. “’m with ya…”

“Tha’s good,” Kita smiles gently. He rests a soft hand lightly on Osamu’s forehead. “Ya have a wicked fever there, Osamu. Do ya want some water?”

“Ya,” Osamu nods weakly. “‘m thirsty.”

“Here, Samu.” Aran offers the sick boy a water bottle, but Osamu’s hands are shaking too hard to hold it without splashing water everywhere, so Kita helps Osamu sit up more while Aran holds the bottle.

Osamu drinks greedily, only stopping to gasp for breath every few gulps. Aran sets the bottle on the floor once Osamu empties it completely. Osamu’s appearance has improved considerably by now. His face is regaining color, his eyes aren’t foggy, and his body has stopped trembling like a leaf in the autumn wind. Kita and Aran help him sit all the way up, and when he still looks okay, they beckon Michinari and Suna over to help them get Osamu standing.

Once Osamu is on his feet, Aran and Suna support the sick blocker by his shoulders. Kita goes to explain the situation to their coaches while Michinari does the same for the rest of the team, who had slowly stopped practicing once they noticed what was going on with Osamu.

Suna and Aran slowly walk Osamu to the door. They stop briefly to haphazardly dress Osamu in his coat as well as Suna’s hat and Aran’s scarf. Ginjima, who has slipped away from the team gather with Michinari, holds the door open for them. Ginjima has the trio’s bags. He passes off Osamu’s bag to Suna along with Suna’s own bag while giving Aran his bag too.

“Ginjima,” Aran says as he and Suna maneuver Osamu out the door, “please let Kita know we’re leavin’.”

“Sure,” Ginjima agrees, eyeing Osamu worriedly. “Are ya takin’ him home?”

“Yeah,” Suna replies. “He’s going straight to bed when we get there since he won’t rest unless we make him.”

“Okay. Good luck, then.” Ginjima wishes them well with a wave before he closes the gym door.

Suna and Aran make the agonizingly slow trip to the Miya household. It takes them over an hour to get Osamu home. By the time they reach the front door, snow flurries are falling onto their hair and eyelashes. It takes another fifteen minutes to get Osamu upstairs, changed, and settled into bed.

Osamu’s parents aren’t home, so it’s up to Aran and Suna to find Osamu medicine, water, and food. Suna tackles the food because Aran admits that he’s never done more than boil water, and Osamu will kill them for destroying his kitchen, even if he’s burning with an extremely high fever (the thermometer Aran finds in the bathroom reads 39.5°C after resting under Osamu’s tongue for a minute). Suna reheats leftover rice he finds in the Miya’s refrigerator and dumps it in a bowl. It’s hardly gourmet cuisine, but Osamu will be too loopy to care anyway. Suna also fills a glass with water before carrying both things up to the twins’ shared bedroom.

Aran is sitting on a chair across from Osamu, who is snuggled up on the bottom bunk. Aran takes the water from Suna and forces Osamu to swallow both the fever reducers he’s found and the entire glass of water. Once Osamu’s finished, Suna presents him with the bowl of reheated rice. Osamu only finished half of it, but Suna didn’t expect much more, even with Osamu’s reputation for his voracious appetite.

“I have ta go home now,” Aran admits as he gathers the bowl and glass. “Are ya goin’ to stay with him?”

“Yeah, at least until his parents get home,” Suna nods. “We can’t leave him alone when he’s like this.”

“Ya,” Aran agrees. “I’ll clean this up before I go. I left the medicine on tha bathroom sink, and the thermometer’s right there.” He nods to the thermometer lying next to Osamu’s pillow. “Thanks fer stayin’ with him, Suna.”

“S’not a problem,” Suna hums lightly. “You should get going before your mom comes looking for you.”

Aran laughs, “Good point. I’ll see ya later, Suna.”

Aran leaves, taking the bowl and cup with him, so now it’s just him and Osamu in the bedroom. Suna reaches out to ruffle Osamu’s gray hair. “You’re still an idiot, Samu.”

“I know,” Osamu cracks his eyes open slightly and smiles, “but yer not.”

“Obviously,” Suna smirks, “but you’re not as stupid as Tsumu. Not yet, at least.”

“Gee, thanks, Suna,” Osamu laughs faintly. “Thanks fer stayin’.”

“You didn’t seriously think I’d leave with you like this, did you?” Suna raises a slim eyebrow.

“Nah,” Osamu smiles, “yer too good of a friend fer that.”

“You’re getting soft on me, Samu,” Suna smiles back.

“I’m sick, ya jerk,” Osamu huffs. “I’m allowed ta be soft.”

“You are sick,” Suna concedes, “but you’re still an idiot, and sick idiots need sleep.”

“Who’s gettin’ soft again?” Osamu quips, but his eyes still slip shut without protest.

“Goodnight, Samu.” Suna pats Osamu’s head gently as he settles himself onto Aran’s now vacant chair.

“G’night, Suna,” Osamu yawns, finally drifting off into a feverish but natural sleep.

Suna adjusts Osamu’s blankets and pulls out his phone. Knowing Osamu, the night won’t be as peaceful as Suna is hoping for, so he plays stupid mobile games on his phone and waits for what he knows will come in a few hours.

[vs-redemption]

Betrayal:Part One (Cheater!Hawks X Fem!Reader)

✨Please click HERE to read Part Two

Requested by: @iibambii1

Not going to lie, this hurt me to even write! It came out a lot longer than I expected too (1,779 words!) but I hope it’s what you wanted! ♥

My requests are still open for anyone who is interested. Please check out my rules and masterlist!

The time on your nightstand changes to five am and the chime of your alarm pulls you from the depths of sleep. You groan in discomfort once your brain registers the uncomfortable stuffiness of the room. Trying to sleep at all in the muggy summer air was tough enough, but the man currently wrapped around you didn’t make it any easier. You grab his wrist to gently free yourself but he just reacts by pulling you closer. You feel his face nuzzle into your shoulder which you might have considered cute if you weren’t already covered in a light sweat.

“Keigo,” you whisper softly. “Let me go.” One of his giant red wings unfurls and flops over the top of you both in a blanket of soft feathers, making the temperature situation even warmer. This was the price you paid for dating a bird man who got cold really easily. You usually kept the air conditioning off whenever he came over so that he’d be more comfortable even though it was a bit unpleasant for you.

“I don’t want you to go,” He mumbles into your back. You assumed one of his feathers had zipped over to the nightstand to turn off your alarm because the irritating noise finally stopped

“I know,” you roll over to face him. “But if you don’t let me out of bed I’m going to sweat to death and miss my train to work.”

“Fine.” He reluctantly folds back his wing and releases the strong grip around your waist. You finally climb out of bed, stretching up your arms to work out the kinks in your muscles before turning back to look at your boyfriend. You roll your eyes at the pout on his face but don’t deny yourself the opportunity to lean back in and kiss his lips softly.

“Try to go back to sleep for a bit,” You tell him and he nods sleepily. You grab your work clothes and head to the bathroom so you wouldn’t disturb him while getting ready. Most days, he would get up with you since mornings were almost the only time you got to spend together, but lately he’d been doing a lot of night patrols so that he could train one of his new sidekicks during the day. He was exhausted. You make sure to start a fresh pot of coffee for him before heading to work.

It was just after your lunch break when you got a phone call from the secretary at Keigo’s agency. Your boyfriend had been sent out to the scene of a villain attack and ended up getting himself hurt. They assured you that his injury wasn’t too serious, but you still chose to leave work early to go see for yourself.

“Hey! What happened?” You ask him once you’d made it to the hospital. It was a relief to see he was up and walking around instead of laid out in one of the hospital beds. There were three ladies in the room with him. Two were wearing scrubs and one was wearing a hero costume. You recognized her as one of your boyfriend’s new sidekicks. Her hero name was Jet Stream and Keigo had recruited her from another hero agency a few months before. She had an air propulsion quirk that made her almost as fast as Keigo when it came to moving through the sky. It seemed a little strange that she was there, but you figured she must have been with him when the attack happened.

“I got swatted out of the air by a villain and landed weird on my arm,” Keigo says sheepishly while looking down at his right arm which was in a sling. “Nothing’s broken though, so I’ll be all right.” One of the hospital ladies gives him a list of exercises to do to help his arm heal properly before having him sign some paperwork so that he could leave.

“Why don’t we get you home so you can rest?” You suggest once you’re outside. “I’ll make you something good for dinner.”

“I can’t,” Keigo says regretfully. “There’s still a bunch of stuff I need to get done today at the agency. The good news is that all my patrols have been canceled for a while, so I can stop by your place later if you want.”

“Yeah, okay.” You didn’t agree with his choice, but that’s just how your boyfriend was. He was always on the move and it was nearly impossible to get him to slow down, let alone stop. “Promise me you’ll take it easy though.” He agrees to that and tells you not to worry before he and his sidekick take off into the sky.

The next couple weeks are somewhat of a struggle. Keigo wasn’t used to having so much down time, so he showed up at your place the first few days feeling energized and restless. It made it hard for him to fall asleep and he ended up keeping you awake too with his tossing and turning. That issue combined with his intolerance for air conditioning in the middle of summer made for undesirable living conditions. After losing patience with him a few times, you both decided that he should stay at his apartment until his schedule went back to normal. Not having your boyfriend around made for even worse living conditions though. You were both busy enough to begin with, and now you hardly saw him at all. It didn’t take long for you to start missing him terribly. You couldn’t wait until everything went back to normal.

You thought you might cry in relief when you finally got his text saying the doctor had cleared him to go back to his regular hero work. His coworkers at the agency must’ve been just as happy to have their winged hero back in action because he told you they were taking him out after work and that he’d try to come by your place afterward if it wasn’t too late. You felt a little disappointed but reasoned that it might actually be better for him to go out and have some fun before going back to working himself ragged. There’d be plenty of time to catch up with him later, so when it got too late for you to wait up any longer, you went to bed feeling content that you could enjoy your air conditioner one last time.

You knew something was wrong as soon as you woke up the next morning and found Keigo sitting by himself in your living room. It was strange for him to come visit you so early since he tended to sleep in unless he stayed the night. It was even weirder that he’d plopped himself on your sofa instead of crawling into your bed to wake you up. Your stomach drops when he turns to look at you with sad eyes that looked red and irritated as if he were about to cry. Your first thought was that someone had died.

“What’s going on?” You’re quick to try and join him on the sofa but he’s faster. He dodges your touch by standing up and moving to the other side of the room. His rejection of your comfort made you feel even more concerned.

“Something happened,” his voice comes out strained and it makes you fear what he’ll say next. He paces back and forth a bit before turning back to you and taking a deep breath.

“She… she kissed me.”

You swear your heart stops beating completely.

“Who?” You ask immediately. Your boyfriend clenches his eyes shut and runs his hands through his hair, making it look even more wild and feathery than normal.

“The sidekick,” he spits out the words as if ripping off a band-aid. “Jet Stream.” You tell yourself to try and stay calm until you know the whole situation, but the urge to get sick was getting stronger by the second. The thought of another girl touching your boyfriend made you extremely uncomfortable. Keigo lets out another shaky sigh before adding, “I… uh… I kissed her back.”

“What?” You push yourself off the sofa, too shocked and upset to sit still any longer. Was this seriously happening right now? “Why?!”

There were genuine tears welling up in your boyfriend’s eyes now and he averts his gaze to avoid your anger. “It was a few days ago,” he admits. “She… well, at first she offered to come over to my place to help me with those exercises for my arm. Everything seemed normal at first, but I guess it got too comfortable and then it happened.” You could feel your hands starting to tremble due to the surge of emotions running through your body.

“Why would you bring her home in the first place?” You finally snap. “You could’ve done the exercises at the agency or literally anywhere else!” You knew it was pointless to ask, but you didn’t know what else to say. You were feeling so angry that he somehow hadn’t been able to be away from you for more than a week without kissing another girl. You were also feeling guilty for agreeing to take a time out from the sleepovers even though it had been in both of your best interests.

“I don’t know,” Keigo rubs his hands over his face. “But that’s not everything.”

“What?” Your voice comes out low and cold even though inside you were petrified. You didn’t know if you wanted him to tell you. The tears finally start to fall from Keigo’s eyes and roll down his cheeks.

“There’s a reason I didn’t make it over here last night.”

He didn’t need to explain. Those words were enough to send your heart shattering into a million pieces. The seething anger you felt from before gets sucked away just to be replaced by a sadness that sat so heavy in your chest you could scarcely breathe. What happened to the guy who loved you so much he refused to let you leave your bed even to go to work? He must never have loved you at all.

“I think you should leave,” You tell him while fighting off tears of your own. A look of panic blooms in Keigo’s eyes and he takes a step toward you but you back away from his reach. He sounds so sad when he whispers your name, but you felt no sympathy for him.

“Please, go.” You state firmly and you see Keigo nod before heading to the door. You wait until the door shuts behind him before sinking back into the sofa and letting the tears fall.

✨Please click HERE to read Part Two

[j-wont-stop]

Title - The Scarred (Chapter One)

Word Count - 1550

Fandom - Batman: The Dark Knight

Pairing - Ledger!Joker x OC

Summary - Penelope Bishop works at a florist shop in Gotham, barely getting by in the corrupted city. Her life is shrouded by therapy and judgment with little light to find her way with. However, when a certain painted face starts making himself known to her, things take a turn.

Warnings - Some Swearing

Inspired By - Cold - Aqualung & Lucy Schwartz

Masterlist

Tick.

“What do you think about your day to day habits?”

Screams flooded her ears, a deep, guttural rumbling playing in the background.

“Nothing of it.” A pen scratched away in a notebook.

Tick.

The older woman watched as her eye fluttered about the old wooden floor. “Nothing?”

A cold breeze suddenly reached her numbing skin, her mind unable to comprehend the sensation of an ever true freefall.

“Yes. Nothing.” A sigh reached her ears, her right arm coming up to run over her left. The sensation was left unfelt, unnoticed if it wasn’t for the rustling of the oversized jacket.

Tick.

A brown eye shifted to the clock on the wall. 5:53pm. Another sigh. The pen stopped, then the notebook closed. Hands folded over the leather cover. “I’m afraid that’s the end of our session, Miss Bishop.”

“Of course.” Her eye stayed focused on the clock, yet grew more and more distant.

“Miss Bishop?” With a sharp inhale and whip of a head, the woman knew she finally caught her attention. “I said that’s the end of our session.” She raised her eyebrows at the younger female whose eye shifted to the floor once again.

“Right,” Her right arm pushed her off from her chair, walking - practically stumbling - to the door to grip the knob. It swung shut with a slight thud, a sign of underlying frustration.

Her hands stuffed in her pockets she started her journey through the woeful streets of the city, her eye dancing around cautiously at those around her. The sky was clouded, grey and foreboding over the already depressive buildings and people. Her shoes softly padded against the gum and puke stained concrete, silent compared to the heels that clacked around her obnoxiously. She felt the faintest amount of joy upon seeing a familiar building, the chipping white brick a comfort.

She followed the steps up to the third floor, keys noisily being shuffled to unlock the door to what she called home. She took a deep inhale, the scent of lavender filling her senses to bring a light smile upon her face. The apartment was small, obviously run down to fit the exterior, but her choice of furniture made it seem somewhat younger. She had spent at least a week removing mold and a few stains, and by the time she had finished it seemed almost brand new. The bleach smell took a while to wear off, but it was worth it to her in the long run.

The living room was just a bit larger than the size of an average bedroom, furnished with a small kitchen, dining table and couch. It was all put together and connected through accents like curtains, family photos and knick-knacks. She quite liked that it was smaller, that everything was visible save for the bedroom and bathroom which had their own separate rooms for obvious reasons. It left little room for any intruders to hide and she knew exactly where everything was, knowing someone had come through should anything have moved in the slightest.

She hung the tan jacket on a hook by the door, kicking off her shoes and throwing her keys on the table. She made her way to the bathroom that connected to her bedroom, clothes thrown in the hamper in the corner. Her nimble fingers grasped at the soft padding that hid the left side of her face and neck, the cotton coming off with ease as she pulled. She chewed on the right side of her cheek as she stared at her reflection in the mirror. The once soft, pale skin now uneven, scarred and discolored even where her eye used to be. As they traveled down they seemed to fade, stopping at her mid thigh. Though her arm had received the most damage, the deepest scars.

They used to bother her when she looked at them, but back then they had been far worse. By now, they were incredibly soft with her years of routine moisturizing and upkeep. She hadn’t been to physical therapy for almost two years, not after they told her they had done all that they could, to just continue exercising the muscle that was left before pushing her out of the door. Nothing but another block to check off.

She was now snuggled under her blankets after a soothing shower, the soft warm glow of her bedside lamp illuminating the area just enough to read the book she had recently invested in, Atlas of World History. While others indulged themselves in the words of romance, fantasy and thrillers, she much preferred factual information. Knowledge. To her, even the smallest bit of information that seemed useless could possibly save a life at some point.

__________________________________________

The bitter morning cold was relentless against her skin, encouraging her to attempt to tuck her face further into her jacket. It was moments like these where she was thankful for the bandages as they kept half of her face warm. Cars and buses alike filled the streets during the rush hour, jaywalkers slipping between them when the chance presented itself to involve themselves in the madness. She shook her head to herself, hand reaching up to open the door to a petite shop with a ‘ding’. It was warmer, even somewhat humid. The smells of different flowers and herbals were dominating. She walked behind the small wooden counter to set down her shoulder bag, hearing faint rustling from the back room of the shop.

“Penny? That you?” A woman’s voice floated over. Footsteps grew louder as they entered the front of the shop until a head of brunette hair poked out. “Hey, you!” She chirped with a bright smile while the other just returned it with tight lips. She walked over to where Penelope now sat down, pencil and journal on the counter in front of her. Her figure towered over her not only with her already shorter stature, but also because of her poor posture that would surely cause problems in the near future. “Long time no see, stranger.” She jested, gently elbowing her side.

“You saw me yesterday, you goof.” Penelope practically mumbled, attempting to bite back a smile.

“Still too long.” The woman ruffled her black hair, giggling as she watched her scramble to fix it once she pulled away. She disappeared to the back once more and Penelope picked up her pencil, beginning to jot down some notes as the brunette reentered with a small vase of assorted flowers. “Lunch is on me today, by the way.” She started to touch up the flowers to her liking. Penelope furrowed her brow at her, mouth moving to question her friend before she was cut off. “There’s a food truck just down the street I thought we should try. It’s mostly sandwiches, but I’m sure they have other things, too.” She looked up and smiled at the younger woman who gazed at her with doe eyes.

“Um-” She gazed nervously at the floor before looking back up at her. “Thank you?”

“You’re welcome.” The woman laughed and went around the room to reorganize other vases and pots. It was quiet for a few moments, the sounds of pencil scratching on paper and her friend’s footsteps adding to the peacefulness. The outside streets were muffled in the background and Penelope relished the calming atmosphere, the ghost of a smile gracing her face. It was soon washed away when a thought reached out to her, buzzing in her head. She started to chew on her cheek.

“Emma?” Penelope asked softly, breaking the silence.

“Yes, hun?” The woman’s chirpiness had died down slightly, sensing the more serious tone in the woman’s voice.

“Do I-” She started, pausing to take a deep breath and collect her thoughts. She started to regret her decision of bringing it up, but decided that she now had to commit to it. “Do I have… habits?” It seemed the roles had been reversed, for now Emma was the one furrowing her eyebrows.

“I mean, everyone has habits, hun.” She looked at her friend’s face and immediately noticed the racing thoughts just from her eye, sighing once she did. “Penny, is this about your therapy?” Her voice took on a motherly tone and she slowly made her way over to Penelope who just nodded her head. “I don’t understand why you even visit her, still.” Her arm wrapped around Penelope’s shoulders, her hand rubbing the farther one in small circles. “All they do is pocket your money for hearing your life’s story and feed you bullshit.”

“I guess I’m just too scared to stop visiting.”

“Why, because it’ll break your routine?” Emma leaned on the counter with her elbow, eyebrows raised.

“She knows the most and I’m scared to break that tie because of how much she knows.” Her large eye finally looked up to Emma, filled with desperation and fear. “What if she uses it against me somehow? Or tells someone else and then they use it against me? What-”

“Penny.” Her mouth snapped shut and her gaze cast down to the floor once more. “Not only are your conversations confidential, but - and I don’t mean this in a rude way - what would be so special about you that would make her spill your life story to someone?”

[chubbybuckydumpling]

A Daughter’s Tale

words: 3.6k

pairing: Bruce Banner x desi!daughter!reader

warnings: fluff, angst, swearing, mentions of death, mentions of suicide, people being in love, Valentine’s Day

A/n: HAPPY VALENTINES DAY! I hope everyone enjoys this and has an incredible day. This is part 2 to A Doctor’s Tale

My Masterlist

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Your hand hits the edge of the pool and you push your head up to gasp for air. The wet hair clings to your head, some droplets of water rolling down your forehead. Your chest moves in time with the heavy breaths you take in, the tight nylon adjusting to your body. The daily morning swims quickly became part of your routine. It wakes you up and helps you relax before your busy schedule sets in.

You’ve come to enjoy living with your father in the tower, but you spend most of the time studying or working next to Bruce in his lab. Tony’s equipment is far superior than your own devices back in Kolkata and yet your father keeps reminding you how impressed he is with you and how proud he is - all the things he couldn’t say in the past decade and a half.

You don’t really interact with the rest of the Avengers. You’ve met them, of course, but they make you feel shy. They’ve saved the world multiple times, it’s intimidating. Most of your days are spent with Tony, Natasha or your father. They worry about you, but you’re mostly fine.

The water sloshes against the tiles when you heave yourself out of the pool. Your feet pad against the warm floor, leaving little trails of liquid on your path. The soft material of your towel feels nice against your skin, a warmth spreading through your limbs. Your stomach rumbles in yearning for breakfast, the cool air flowing over any exposed skin and leaving goosebumps in its way.

The warm water of the shower relaxes your muscles, hot steams rising through the air. Puddles of shampoo land on the floor as you scrub away to get the chlorine off. The smell of flowers and spices fill the space, a gentle reminder of your childhood. You feel calm when you exit the gym, exercise usually makes you feel good. The elevator doors close, “Good morning, Miss Banner. How was your swim?” You smile at the ceiling, “It was just fine, Thank you F.R.I.D.A.Y”

Once you arrive on the floor your father and you are sharing, the smell of pancakes fills your nose. You trudge into the kitchen to find a stack of the food, a small sticky note next to them. ‘Good morning shona! I hope you’re doing well. I am working on a project with Tony, feel free to step by. Love you, daddy’, it reads. “Aww, dad”, you mumble, smiling while you put his memo into your sweatpants pocket.

The pancakes are fluffy and you can’t help but grin. Bruce has been trying really hard to be a good father, making sure you eat and drink enough, that you’re happy and satisfied. His efforts left you with a light heart and a fluttering feeling in your chest. This is exactly what you have craved all for all these years, you just wished your mother was still alive and with you.

Thinking about her still makes your heart ache and you immediately long for a hug. Tears cloud your vision and you take in a shuddering breath. This sudden sadness makes you go back to the elevator, your father did say you should visit him, right?

The door to the lab is closed, the shimmering, milky glass stopping your vision. You step forward, ready to enter, but the door doesn’t budge. You reach out to open it yourself, but no matter how hard you push, you can’t come in. “Uhm, F.R.I.D.A.Y, why can’t I go in?”, you probe the AI, the confusion obvious on your face. “Mr Stark asked me to lock the doors to the lab, Curious Kitty Protocol”

You raise an eyebrow, Tony’s antics never fail to both fascinate and irritate you. “Well, can you ask if I may enter then?”, your voice taking on a teasing tone. “Will do, Miss Banner”. After about half a minute the door bursts open and you take a step back, hand on your heart, “Gee, dad, what’s wrong with you?”. Bruce’s face is red, forehead sweaty and lips pink. He pants heavily, his chest moving and falling rapidly.

“Uhm, are you okay?”, you question, sounding slightly scared. He holds out a hand, the other one resting on his thighs as if to support his weight. “Daddy?”

“I’m okay”, he gasps, “what’s up, Shona?” This moment Tony turns the corner, equally sweaty as Bruce, but a smirk playing on his lips. “Hey, little miss Banner, come on in, the magical den awaits you”, he bows down, throwing a subtle wink in your direction. To his dismay, you hesitate, making him throw an arm over your shoulders and pulling you inside, “We don’t have all day, hurry up”

Tony pushes you into a chair and dramatically walks up to his desk, his hips swinging with every step. “Tony!”, hisses your father and walks over to you, his eyes shining with worry. “Shona, are you alright?”

In your confusion, you can’t form any words, mouth opening and closing helplessly.

The lab is chaotic, empty mugs littered everywhere and the robots are standing with their faces to the wall.The floor-to-ceiling windows are darkened, leaving the room under a shadowy gloom. A weird smell is lingering in the air, a strange note of pineapple the most noticeable.

“What are you working on?”, you ask the men, a suspicious glint in your eyes. “A project”, Bruce answers quickly, averting his gaze. “What exactly?”, you retort warily. “Top secret, sorry not sorry”, Tony chimes in. He is now sitting on the table, legs dangling through the air carelessly, a mischievous smile on his face.

“Okay?”, a confused whisper leaves you. Whatever is going on is highly suspicious. “Now, why did you come up here?”; Bruce’s voice is much calmer now. “I really wanted a hug, but you look really sweaty and I just took a shower”, you state, arms crossed and eyebrow raised. He pouts at you, fluttering his eyelids, “You don’t want to give your old man a hug?” He spreads his arms for you to fall into, to which you comply. Reluctantly. “Gross”, you mumble.

The air smells like lemon, the air perfume keeping it present, a wish you quickly opened up about when you first arrived here. It reminds you of home. A wave of spice reaches your nose from the kitchen where Bruce is cooking. He has been trying hard to recreate the Indian dishes he remembers. They’re not quite your mum’s cooking, but they’re good. Unique, just like your father.

“What are we having, dad?”, you shout. A heavy chemistry book lies in front of you, the pages filled with exercises. Your father insisted that you continue school. “It’s a surprise. It’ll be delicious, Shona, don’t worry. I’ve got this”, he shouts back, “I hope”, he mumbles afterwards. You smile at your father. Aarohi told you about this, how Bruce often doubts himself even though he is doing just fine. You’ve noticed this quite often, sadly.

“I’m sure you’re doing great, Dad”, you yell in hopes of cheering him up, “I love you!” His reply comes immediately, “I love you too, Shona” Your heart flutters, just like whenever he tells you these words. You’ve missed this for so long and now that you can have it, no matter when or where, it makes you feel giddy.

Time flies by and when you’re next called, dinner is set on the table. “You’ve made Aloo gobi! Oh my, dad, you’re the best, I can’t wait for this”, you smile and run to hug your father. He laughs and wraps his arms around you, a warm feeling filling your body.

The food is delicious and you have to force yourself to eat slowly, “Dad this tastes so good”. The man grins at your words, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes, “Thank you. I’m glad you like it”. Bruce is twirling around with his fork, not really eating much. “Are you okay?”, you ask, concerned. “I’m fine, don’t worry”, his voice sounds quiet, subdued even, “But we do need to talk after dinner. Nothing bad, don’t worry”.

The rest of the meal is filled with tension, tight and uncomfortable. A flood of worry rummages through your body, fear in your veins. Nothing good ever comes out of a ‘don’t worry’, right? You wipe your hands on your legs, sweat covering the surface, a sign of your nerves that you inherited from your father. Once the food is gone you offer to do the dishes, but Bruce stops you, mentioning he’ll do it later.

The two of you sit on the couch, avoiding eye contact. “So?”, you start in an attempt to overcome the fear, “Are you okay, dad?” He sighs and places a hand on your thigh, “I’m fine, I promise. I just…”, he interrupts himself. His eyes look cloudy. “Promise me that whatever I’m going to tell you, you won’t hate me”. Time seems to still as your fingers twitch anxiously, “What, dad, of course not”

You reach for the hand on your leg and wrap your own around it.”You can tell me anything”, you hope to reassure him. “Okay then, here goes nothing”, he takes a deep breath and looks into your eyes. “You know how Valentine’s Day is tomorrow, right?” You cock your head subconsciously, “Yeah?”

“Well, I have a date”, he says and looks away directly after, his hands really cold. It feels like your head is spinning, his words not registering. You feel your breath quickening and rip your hands away, quickly getting up from the sofa. “What?”, you plead, voice quiet. “Hey, Shona, please calm down, I know this is scary, but-”

“NO!”, you shout, “What about mum? Do you not love her anymore?” Tears are shooting into your eyes as you become more and more upset for every second that goes by. “How could you betray us like that! Don’t you love us?” Bruce gets up as well, his eyes misty too. “Of course I love you and your mother, nothing could ever change that” He reaches for you, but you shy away. “But how can you be with someone when you love mum? That doesn’t make sense!”

A sob wrecks through your body and you hug yourself, turning further away from the man. “Please, don’t say that. I love your mother so much, that will never change. But I can’t control how I feel. You have to understand, please”, his voice sounds pained and it makes your heart ache, but an overwhelming sense of irritation overcomes you and you lose control.

“So you’re just going on a date, huh? Are you trying to forget mum?”, the accusation silences him as the tears continue to flow down your cheeks. You grab a hoodie that lies on the couch and rush to the door. “Please don’t leave”, Bruce whispers and you slow down to a halt.

“I still love you, dad. I just need a minute. I’ll be back soon”, you whisper, not raising your eyes from the floor. Your vision is blurry as you run through the lobby and out the doors. The air is dry and cold, snow piling up on the sidewalk. Its crystal structures are clearly visible, beautiful and unique forms that usually fascinate you leave you feeling blank now.

The freezing temperatures leave you shaking as you mindlessly sprint through the streets. Suddenly you run over a patch of ice and slip. Your arms wave through the air as your body rushes down to the ground. The impact leaves you breathless, pain rushing through your back. You violently close your eyes and curl together into a small ball.

Tears stream down your cheeks as you sob helplessly. The temperature sinks into your flesh and bites at your bones. “Shit”, you whisper, the energy leaving your body as the adrenaline wears off. “Well, what are you doing on the floor, Y/n?”, a voice asks. You turn your head to come face to face with Natasha, her vibrant hair a strong contrast to the snow.

“Nat?”, your voice sounds croaky. “Come on up, I’m bringing you home. Don’t want you to freeze now, huh?”, she speaks softly and begins to heave you up. Her arms are strong and she is warm, so you nuzzle into her chest. “Now, why did you run away into this freezing cold?” You sigh and rub your arms to create some more warmth, “Did you know dad is dating someone?”

“I did”, she replies. You nod and stare at the floor, “It just came as a scare to me, I guess. It hasn’t even been a year since mum died” Her hand glides over your shoulders gently, “I get that. But your father is really struggling too. This hasn’t been easy on him” You shrug, but guilt slowly creeps up on you. “He tried killing himself, you know?”, her voice is careful, but her words shock you, making you stumble.

“What?”, you ask, desperation seeping into your voice. “He felt so guilty for leaving you and your mother, he wasn’t in a good spot. Tony helped him to become better, but Aarohi’s death set him back quite a bit” Tears stream down your face, silent and in agony. “Are you going to talk to him?”, her voice is stern. She seems to care for him a lot. “Yeah”, you mumble, still shocked at her confession.

You spend the rest of the way in silence, words and sentences floating through your head, a repetition of your outburst playing over and over again. You feel shameful at your childish behaviour. You should not have acted that way, that’s not how your mother raised you.

The warmth of the lobby envelopes you and you release a relieved sigh. You didn’t realise just how cold you are. “Nat?”, the woman turns to look at you, her posture as graceful as always. Your voice is raspy, throat hurting slightly, “Do you think mum would be happy for dad?” The woman grins at you and brushes a hand through your hair, “From what I’ve heard? Definitely” Your lips twitch, “Yeah, I think so too”

The woman accompanies you to the elevator and pulls you into a hug, “You’ve got this”, she whispers into your head. You take a deep breath to calm down, a determined glimmer in your eyes. When you enter the floor you find your father hunched over on the couch. Tony sits close next to him, one of his hands rubbing circles over his back.

“Dad?”, you whisper, the nerves crashing back down on you. His head whips around and his eyes find you. They are red like he’s been crying. You figure you look similar. Bruce gets off of the sofa and runs over to you to engulf you in an embrace, “Oh, shona, I was so worried”, he cries, “You’re so cold! Come on, let’s warm you up”

“No, dad, I have to apologise, I totally overreacted.I’m so sorry”, you stutter, voice breaking, “so, so, sorry” Tony coughs in the background, “I’ll fetch you some warm clothes, Y/n”. Your father pulls you even closer, your wet clothes staining his button-down. “It’s fine, Shona. I know this is hard on you” You cry into his chest, tears seeping into his clothes, “That doesn’t give me a reason to yell at you. I’m so sorry”

“I forgive you. I’m just happy you’re back again”, he whimpers. Being in your father’s arms floods you with a comforting calm. “Dad?”, your voice is barely a whisper, “Are you happy? With your date I mean”

Bruce presses a kiss on your head, “I am”, he answers, “I really am”.”That makes me happy too. Do I know them?” A loud sigh leaves his mouth, “You do. And I promise you I would have told you sooner, but I wanted to make sure this works out before I drag you into this”

“You’re scaring me, dad”, you whisper, pulling out of the hug slightly, “Who is it?” Bruce’s big hands grasp your elbows gently, his face swollen from his crying, “It’s Tony” your eyes widen, “You’re dating Tony Stark?” The tone of your voice is unbelieving, as if he told you he is dating Bigfoot. “The one and only, billionaire, genius, playboy, philanthropist”, the voice of the mentioned man rips you out of your trance and you blink.

Taking a step back, you shake your head in disbelief, “This is insane. For how long has this been going on?”, you question, but then stop, “No, you don’t have to tell me. Really. I’m just glad you’re happy dad”

Bruce smiles at you, the skin near his eyes crinkling. Tony takes a step towards you, some warm and thick clothes in his hands, “You should probably change. I asked F.R.I.D.A.Y to heat up the bathroom for you”. You accept the familiar clothing and force a weak smile on your face, “Thank you, Tones. I’m really exhausted, I’ll probably go right to sleep” Your father hugs you once more, “I love you, Shona”.”I love you too, dad”

Tony was right, the ensuite is comfortably warm, just perfect to thaw your body. The jumper is big and soft, just like the thermo leggings you pull over your legs. You use the loo and brush your teeth before you retreat into the bedroom. Your father is already sitting there and once he sees you he lifts your weighted blanket so you can slip right under. The feel of your bed makes you relax immediately, letting your eyes fall close.

“Shona, you know I could never forget your mother, right? She was an incredible woman, so confident and sure of herself. I always admired that about her. Aarohi was my first love, you know?

Once I saw her, dark circles under her eyes, dirty work clothes and all, I knew that she would be the one for me. And she was, for such a long time. She gave me the best gift I could have ever asked for. You, of course.”, his voice sounds far away.

“And even now that she is gone my heart still beats faster when I think of her. But it does so when I think of Tony too. He doesn’t show it that often, but he is very caring. He helped me through hard times, always staying by my side. A real sweet guy. He takes good care of me”, Bruce smiles, but when he looks down at you, you’re already asleep.

He leans down and presses a kiss to your forehead, “Sleep well, Shona. I love you” With a last loving look he stands up and heads for the door quietly, turning off the light on his way.

“No, you have to dress up a little. Come on, it’s Valentine’s Day”, you sit on Bruce’s bed, giggling at your father who is currently in a horrendous pair of underwear, a half opened button-up on his torso. “At least put on some slacks, a pair of nice suit pants” He turns to you, an anxious look on his face, “I don’t know what to do”

You jump up, gracefully landing on your feet, “Don't worry, daddy, I’ve got you” You eye the closet critically, taking out pieces that you deem worthy, “You’ll look good in blue”. The navy slacks with the matching blazer look expensive, perfect for a date with a billionaire. “Button-up, buttercup”, you tease and present your choice to Bruce.

“I guess I’ll try it on, Thank you, Shona, for everything. My hair has never been this pretty”, his deep voice is already less anxious. “Well, duh”, you retort playfully, “Once you stop sweating it stops being greasy. Now, put on the suit” You point into the direction of the mirror and then skip out of the room.

All of a sudden the elevator door opens and Tony walks in. He wears a dark suit, his typical glasses sat right on his nose, “Good afternoon, kiddo”, he grins, one of his hands holding a beautiful bouquet of flowers, “Where’s Daddy-O?” You raise your eyebrows and pretend to widen your collar, “Wardrobe malfunction”, you whisper.

Tony’s mouth takes on an ‘O’-shape and he nods in understanding. He shifts his weight from one foot to another. Is he actually nervous? The sound of footsteps behind you sound through the room and you turn around to see your father come out of the room. The suit hugs his body nicely, almost making him look like he’s glowing with confidence. “Woah, Bruce, you look-”, Tony pauses to gesture at the other man in astonishment, “really handsome”.

“My dad’s a real catch, nothing new”, you chime in, smirking. “Y/n!”, Bruce hisses, but Tony shushes him, smiling, “No she’s right” Bruce walks closer to the man until he holds out the flowers, “For the prettiest man” After saying these words, Tony looks at you, mouthing “You did not see that”, to which you raise your hands in surrender.

Your father takes the bouquet, “I’ll just put them in a vase. Thank you”, But before he can move you snatch the flowers, “I’ll do it, you two head out” Tony smiles at you appreciatively, “You heard the woman, let’s go” Bruce takes the man’s hand with a blush and grins coyly.

“Goodbye, Shona, take care”, he mentions before following his date out the door. “Goodbye, have fun!” Once the lock clicks you put the flowers into some water and smile. This is a weird adjustment, but you’re ready to compromise. Your father has tried everything to make you happy, so you will do the same. And if that means accepting his relationship, you’ll have no problem achieving it.

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[royadventures]

april 6th, 2022--12:56am and successfully told my neighbour to be quiet in full korean

previous log

we left off on april 3rd, when i was at gongcha !! i went to daiso afterwards to get cleaning supplies for my toilet ;-; they had kf94 masks on sale so i also bought those !

i stopped by a gs25 for some food. i bought a triangle gimbap and a really luxurious salad :> it had pumpkin in there !

my hands full, i somehow hobbled home and ate before heading to the ihwadong art village. do you remember when T and i first went to Hongdae with Dami, got lost on our way home and saw an incredible view? yeah, i went back there to properly explore !! while at that time, it seemed like that area and home were so far, i discovered that taking the stairs to the left of our goshiwon all the way up takes you right to the art village ! it's literally just a 5 minute walk !!

i snapped some photos, went down a path i hadn't seen before and enjoyed the views. walking a little further led me to some viewing points--they were packed with people because the weather was nice ! i didn't like that though :( so i quickly left. but! i discovered public exercising equipment that was of very high quality. there was even a hula hoop, hand sanitizer and a little roof/shelter for cover from the rain !! a lot of elderly people were using it so i don't think i ever will :")

after that, i went to the café T and i had seen before with the hanging lights. turns out, the concept is based on a museum-like structure. you pay ₩7,000 for a drink and access to the whole area, which consists of 3 'houses'.

it was freezing cold, there was major wind chill, but of course my obnoxious self had to get an iced matcha latte and sit outside for an hour watching the sunset. all the people who came outside quickly left within minutes, except for this one middle-aged man who was taking photos.

after the sun set and i got up to go inside, he approached me. he told me he took some photos of me and asked if i wanted them. i was super touched!! so i agreed and he sent them to me via kakaotalk.

as i was looking around the houses, i entered the kitchen museum. i took the stairs up, thinking there would be more things to see but in reality, it was a private, closed off space with only one table. a couple were sat there. one of them asked me if i'm alone, and i said yes. he asked me to join them, and i did!

Mar was from spain, an exvhange student who extended her stay, while Hyuk was korean! i asked them both where they were from at first, and Hyuk apologized for not looking like bts, since i wasn't able to tell that he's korean. i swear it wasn't that though.. i never want to assume anyone's background !

we talked for half an hour before i had to leave to go see T see hyehwa station (the big/main street near our house). they were super friendly and the conversation never ran dry !

on my way to T, i was feeling super happy. a day spent alone turned out to be lovely yet again...

T was in daiso, doing some shopping. when she was done, we went to karaoke. once again, they had trouble understanding our names and just said they would call us over.

it was fun !! we went home after that ^-^

april 4th, after classes, i went with T to a coffee bean, where she was meeting some groupmates for a presentation. coffee bean is way too pricey >:O ₩6,000 for a small jeju matcha latte that was too sweet...

the people in her group were nice ! they were able to quickly wrap things up and we headed home !!

we walked around nearby our house for a bit, near art box and 10 x 10 (stationary stores) to kill time so we'd be hungry and could eat nearby. we ate at abiko (?) curry and it was so good. i had a chicken set! it was scrumptious !!

that's when we called it a day ^-^

april 5th was Haruto day !!!!!!! so after class, we went to scope out some cupsleeve events with T's friend who took us to the Jihoon cafes last time. i meant T and her friend at cafe ruar, where T's friend was finishing up an online class. i had a choco latte and it was so good. it had nutella in there and i ascended to heaven !

the Haruto events we went to were so cute !! it boosted my mood! i love Haruto !!!!!!!!!!!!!

we then ate at a baked chicken place on Hongdae's busking street (did i mention we were in Hongdae, again? you prolly figured it out though, right?). T has been wanting to go there. we got a boneless fried chicken (IT WAS SO JUICY THO) and a rosé tteokbokki (tasted like tteokbokki but way more cheesy).

after that, we headed home !!

april 6th was a chill day. after class, i was feeling super drained, sleepy, and tired, so i rushed home and went to my favourite gongcha (near hyehwa!). they always play Eric Nam songs, from his newest album, so i love it !

there, i had a super successful studying session. i tried a jeju matcha smoothie with chocolate and it was insanely good. i think i prefer getting smoothies here but you can't really control the ice level in your drinks here? so they give you a ton and it ruins the drink for me :(

i then headed home and waited around for T to get home from a café date with her new friends so we could eat together ! when she got back, we rushed to find a place and found fun beer... something T.T part of the name was fun beer ! and then i forget the rest :<

even though beer is in the name, it specializes in pizza ! we bought this pastry pizza and honey garlic chicken,, it was pricey but insanely good. the pastry pizza dough was literally pastry bread. it was sweet and crispy/crumbly.. so good. the inside of the pizza was pasta! literal pasta !!!! with the pasta sauce and everything. the combo sounds weird but it was heaven. the chicken was so good too, but very saucy.

the server complimented me on my korean even though i didn't say much... but i was still proud :D

we went home and slept, being so tired. but... at 12am........ there were sounds coming from T's old room. i woke up scared, wondering why people were laughing in a room that's meant to be empty. i recognized one of the voices as someone my housemates and i call the 'goshiman'. he's the manager who we're all lowkey scared of because he's weird and rude. he was in T's old room, most likely with his girlfriend, talking up a storm. i was mad. i hit the cliset door and my desk loudly with my fist to show that he needed to quiet down, but i was ignored. then, after contemplating it a lot, i went to knock on the door. first time, no answer. second time, goshiman opens the door while quivering and hunched down.

in korean, i told him that it was too loud and that i have a class tomorrow. he mumbled an apology and closed the door.

then, it was dead quiet ! just the way we like it ^-^ i basked in the silence and eventually fell asleep :D

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