#also I think they have a really high pain tolerance. so the throat thing happened once and they just kinda grunted and let him do his thing

[redhotarsenic]

I think J’ihwu and Valantinez fuck nasty. Like. Blood splattering everywhere. Lots of snarling and growling. Like they hate each other’s guts (they don’t in reality they care about each other very much but Valantinez refuses to admit it out loud cuz it’s embarrassing.)

[neiptune]

we do fall before we rise

cw: 1.4k wc, female reader, mentions of blood, mentions of injuries/bruising, mentions of slight harassment, friends to lovers, draken is a big dumb soft idiot, miscommunication my beloved. sponsored by @acidsbeats, thank you so much for trusting me with this and contributing to @ficsforgaza!

There’s no reason why Draken would be there, at your friend’s house, in the middle of the night. Something cold and unwelcome would be clawing at your stomach from the inside if you didn’t know how close they’ve always been, Mikey’s sister practically his sister too, the same way Manjiro is his brother.

“What?” crude bluntness shakes you from the numbness, stiffened limbs gaining their mobility once more.

“Where’s Emma?” is the only thing you can bring yourself to ask, tone matching his for good measure. It requires a whole lot of effort not to focus on his busted lip, dark circles underneath eyes that once didn’t bore into yours with such coldness.

“In Roppongi, out for the night”

He’s not asking you to come in but you’re not particularly inclined to leave either, the paper bag in your hands weighing exceptionally heavy.

“Why…”

“I needed a place to stay for a few days. Is the interrogation over?”

Only a few weeks prior to this awkwardly bitter encounter, you would’ve taken his face in your hands and inquired about the dried blood on his swollen bottom lip. Hell, maybe he would’ve come to you. Asked to be taken care of and of course you would’ve obliged, the way you have so many times throughout the years, ever since high school.

But now? Now he’s looking at you like you’re a stranger, someone he’d barely tolerate to share a room with. It makes your blood boil.

“Fuck off, Ryuguji” you push past him and make your way inside an apartment that’s a little yours as well, a safe space that has witnessed your highs and so many of your lows. Including the most recent one.

He may be acting childish but Ken knows better than to protest against your presence there: Emma’s home is your home. He’s the intruder.

“I’m just here to return some clothes” your pitch is as casual as it can be, hoping he’ll keep his distance while you quickly empty the bag of its content. They’re not really Emma’s, they’re yours. But you can’t really fix a laundry with blood-stained clothes at your place, with a nosy roommate, can you? No matter whether the blood is yours or not.

Unfortunately, he decides to quietly follow you to the bathroom, if for genuine curiosity or lack of faith it’s impossible to tell. What you also couldn’t tell, is how stupidly full your friend’s washing machine is: certainly enough for you to drop the white shirt to the floor while desperately attempting to push it in alongside your shorts.

“No, leave it-” it’s wishful thinking, really, the idea that he’d actually listen to you for a change. Draken crouches down to pick the shirt up for you (kindness? Eagerness for you to simply be done and leave?) only to then crumple it in his stupidly gigantic fist.

“Is this… what the fuck happened?”

“None of your business anymore” you snatch the shirt away, heat crawling from the base of your throat to your face as you shove it inside the washer and slam the door shut.

“Are you hurt?” the urgency in his voice makes you look up, mouth a thin, bitter line.

“I’m not”

There’s a storm brewing behind that all too familiar stare, indecision palpable as eyes you miss so badly roam across your features, explore with fierce attentiveness should they find any sign of pain or discomfort in your own stare. But then they reluctantly wander elsewhere, focus on the rest of your frame to make sure you’re not lying. And sure enough, there she is: an imperceptible shadow peeking from underneath long sleeves rolled up for practicality, teasing your right forearm. He doesn’t recognize the shape, can’t quite place it among all the other contours he has mapped out throughout the years. It’s not a mole, definitely not a birthmark. Then what…?

Your panic as you scramble to pull down your sleeve once more sets his instincts ablaze. You know Ken’s hands: they’re big, rough, often cold, capable of great destruction and outstanding tenderness when away from prying eyes. They’re something in between when they grab your arm, force the sleeve up fully as far as it can go, take a look at the bruise. At the threatening outline of fingers he wishes to snap in half.

“Who did this to you?” it’s low, guttural, eyes burning with a fury his tone doesn’t really match. For your sake, as always.

“It’s nothing” you attempt to tame a flame that poses the risk of becoming wildfire “I handled it”

“You handled what exactly?”

“I told you, it’s no-”

“Answer the goddamn question!”

“You’re hurting me, Ken!”

He inhales sharply, eases the hold over your arm immediately. The bruise looks back at him, mocks him, a sour reminder of what he’s always known: you’re a target. An easy one, that is. Your friendship, your loyalty, have always brought more burdens on your shoulders than benefits. Fuck. Who? How many? What did they want? Was it about Mikey, about him?

“Please tell me” he tries to control himself, fingers now closed around your wrist barely kept from quivering.

You sigh, defeated.

“This guy started bothering me on my way home, grabbed me a bit too forcefully. Wouldn’t take no for an answer. So I made good use of the self defense lessons you and Mikey gave me and Emma in high school. Happy now?”

Draken’s shoulder slump.

“The blood on your shirt…”

“Wasn’t mine”

Oh.

The small relief expanding in his chest like oil spreading out over water isn’t enough to satiate the rage. Daily dangers, regular small fucking threats finding you while you wander out in the world on your own. Without him. Because of his dumb fears, blind selfishness and…

“Now you can go back to pretending I don’t exist” your wrist slips easily out of his softer grasp but you can’t predict the way he grabs you by the jaw, forces you to look at him instead of spinning out of his hold.

“Don’t say that ever again”

“Then don’t suddenly act like you give a shit” you bark “it’s been months, Ken. You haven’t talked to me in months”

“I don’t allow myself to give a shit” he’s so close you can smell the expensive cologne he’s been using religiously ever since you gifted one bottle to him.

“What is that even supposed to mean? You were drunk out of your mind and kissed me at Mikey’s birthday party, so what? Is the regret weighing so heavy on you our entire friendship has to be fucking erased?”

“You were drunk enough to kiss me back, I barely had two beers!”

“I didn’t even get to drink, dumbass!”

He pauses, quietly letting the implications of what you have both just admitted sink in.

Draken’s heart hasn’t at all hardened despite all he’s been through. On the contrary: his heart is so tender it needs extra protection, walls and watchmen granting it a shield solid enough to take a few blows from time to time. Yours, however? That was one blow he wasn’t ready to take. Avoiding his best friend felt wrong, yet easier than admitting dangerous feelings that could have ruined one of the few, truly valuable things in his life.

“I think” he says quietly, lets go of your jaw and breathes in your scent, thankful as ever that you didn't run out of the bathroom right away “I’ve been an asshole. I’m sorry”

“Yes, you have been an asshole” frustration stings at the corners of your eyes “couldn’t even tell me you hated kissing me, no, you just had to disappear like a fucking child who-”

“I’m in love with you” the few strands of fair hair he leaves loose frame his handsome face perfectly “have been for a while, probably. Didn’t want to drag you into the mess so I gave you some space. Guess I could’ve handled it better”

You stand still, muscles frozen as you search for the hint of a lie, of travesty, in his softer gaze. All you find is weary sincerity. Suddenly, the memory of all the years spent side by side explodes in your chest like fireworks, warm and powerful. He’s your person, since forever.

“I’m sorry” Draken repets, a plea more than an apology “I understand if there’s someone else or if it’s too late or-”

You take his hand.

“There’s never been anyone else, idiot”

There never could've been.

[meenawrites]

Neytiri and Spider

As part of my Spider brainrot, I can't help but keep thinking his relationship to Neytiri. 

While I wholeheartedly disagree with Neytiri's treatment of Spider throughout his life, seeing as he was a CHILD and not responsible for anything that happened to her or her people, I GET IT. Spider is a physical manifestation of Neytiri's trauma, a trauma trigger if you will. And he's around her and her family as long as possible every day, and her kids are always with him. It must be hard to watch considering everything she's gone through with the loss of her sister, her father, the destruction of her home. I can't get behind her attitude towards Spider but I understand it. 

I have to think though that Neytiri has to have SOME self-awareness of Spider not actually being responsible for her trauma, and just being a kid. I think if she had no awareness whatsoever, she would have absolutely forbade him to play with her kids or even get near the Na'vi at all. I'm sure she could do it. But I think the part of her brain that could still think clearly about Spider through her cloud of hatred was the one to concede to Jake about Spider playing with her kids and allowing him close by. Especially later when the RDA returns, I'm sure her trauma was re-triggered and it had to have soured her tolerance of Spider, but we still see him at High Camp interacting with the kids and touching their ikrans as they dismount after the attack on the train. I think she's too deeply affected by what she has been through and has not really had time to process it, so tolerance and leniency is all she feels she can offer Spider during his life. 

But she clearly didn't tolerate him enough to go back for him when he got captured by the RDA (neither did Jake but that's for another post). In my mind, I think she saw her family in danger, prioritized, and decided Spider wasn't one of her priorities. Which again is understandable given her experiences but still wrong towards a child. 

But the moment in the movie that really gets me thinking hard on Neytiri's relation to Spider is the moment on the boat when she has a knife to his throat. Again, a horrible thing to do to Spider for so many reasons, but I GET IT. Kiri was being held at knifepoint, she'd just lost the child that made her a mother, and she wasn't about to lose her second. I think Neytiri had every intention of going through with her threat if Quarritch didn't release Kiri. I really do. We all know that Neytiri is as ruthless as she is passionate and loving, and I really think that in that state of rage and grief and fear, she would have killed Spider had Kiri not been returned to her. 

But then she cuts Spider's chest, and I am very tempted to think that that action, actually drawing Spider's blood, was somewhat of a wakeup call for her in that 'what was she doing threatening a child? A child who's known her all his life?' But she can't back down yet because Kiri hasn't been released. The reason I think she had this kind of light bulb moment upon cutting him is because of the fact that she pushes Spider BEHIND HER when Kiri is released. She could have easily been rid of this presence in her life that is a constant reminder of her pain and loss, could have just surrendered him to Quarritch, but she decides instead to push him behind her protectively. In my mind, I think it's maybe an inkling of Neytiri's motherly instinct kicking in, that no matter her distaste for the kid, he was still a child, and she would never hand over a child to the demon himself. I also think that the shock of actually hurting Spider made her really LISTEN to Spider and Kiri begging for each other's lives, and realize that if she did this, Kiri would never forgive her, Spider had no care for himself in the face of Kiri's danger, and she would have committed a crime so great Eywa wouldn't forgive her for it. 

That is to me, how I view that moment on the boat. I think that Neytiri and Spider's relationship is very interesting because of how loaded it is, and I really hope that subsequent movies actually develop their relationship in an interesting direction instead of a flat continuation of her hatred for him. Their relationship has the potential to be incredibly nuanced and tender if given the chance and developed properly. I hope that this moment and Neteyam's death become some sort of catalyst for her to re-examine her relationship with Spider and what she has put him through. Like, the realization that this boy is only a year older than Neteyam who died in a war he was too young to fight in and that Spider is also too young to fight in and be responsible for is what I want to happen. I also see them finding some alliance in the fact that they would both do anything for Kiri. 

Essentially, I want Neytiri to come to SEE Spider. I think that if James Cameron doesn't do that in the next movies, it's a dishonor to Neytiri's character and he would be making her into a flat character, which she most certainly is not. 

[danafeelingsick]

Hello! It's me again, the one who asked permission to write somwthing based off your art!

Lemme ask you something real quick!

Tristamp Vash's been around for about 150 years, do you think he ever got sick during this time?

If he has never been sick in his life, do you think his plant powers would make it even worse?

Can you imagine him feeling sick/nauseous for the first time and not understanding what is happening with his body?

I dont know why, I can see his powers making him suffer a little more with what to Meryl is something normal

hi there! thanks so much for your interest. i'm honored some of my art inspired you (˶◜ᵕ◝˶) hope this ramble down here made any sense though:

i think maybe yes. even though I love the trope of a non-human sickie experiencing nausea for the first time, i feel like tristamp vash needing to eat and sleep leaves him very vulnerable to picking up a stomach bug or eating something bad. we already know '98 and trimax both get sick, i think trimax vash even had a chapter where he was sick and feverish (but it didn't go into detail sadly). and when that happens he probably gets very sick for several days, and has to deal with that all by himself. or maybe he returns to Home for help.

but if you'd rather go the route of he never got sick before and the first time happens around Meryl, Wolfwood and Roberto, then you can also excuse it by him being around humans for long enough got him sick (he picked up something off them). i mean, do scenarios like that even need an explanation?

going into light spoilers for tri/gun stam/pede here!

ooh, and i totally can imagine him experiencing nausea for the first time. he doesn't notice the first symptoms since he has a good tolerance for pain, but internal pain he doesn't know the cause is a new one. so he ignores the shivers, the discomfort, but that stomach-sinking feeling every now and then he can't really place it. and when he starts to feel queasy it's such a foreign feeling he can't help but get anxious, not knowing what's wrong. it evolves to a point where he is dizzy, he so feels bad, he feels heavy, gross and slimy and he just needs to sit down and try to collect himself, and maybe keep himself from crying.

or he could just not get sick that often because his body probably knows how to deal with it, or he isn't as susceptible to illness. it has to be something very gnarly to get him actually sick, like exhaustion and lack of care, some made-up bug only plants get.

about his plant anatomy when sick: aside from the glowing patterns showing up if he's too weak to surpress them, maybe they show up exactly where it hurts (maybe they light a trail from his belly all the way up to his throat when he's about to puke 😳). vash being a plant (this is my own interpretation and do remember i am fairly dumb with those things) means he can transform his energy into other things, although it's something he can't quite control, so when he's sick these processes get all twisted. he probably produces a lot of heat and gets super high fevers, like could burn – not really burn but make it uncomfortable to the touch – someone if they try to hold him for too long. he can't handle food at all, so giving him soup is just so he'll have something to vomit because that won't stay down, and he won't really be able to digest it. maybe those black vines come out of his limbs too, but those either don't last long or he won't let anyone see them. and i feel like Vash could influence the smaller life-forms around him when he's sick, so they often quarantined him back in Home so it wouldn't damage the flora there, or maybe all of the worms would avoid him if he was in the desert, he probably avoided the citys too, just in case whatever he had was contagious.

it's all down hill from there. he doesn't really know how to hold in his vomit, or what nausea even feels like, so when he starts gagging and feeling like his belly is trying to turn itself out, the fear finally gets to him.

i feel like he would be very guilty and apologetic about vomiting once he knows what it is exactly. he doesn't need as much food as humans do, resources are scarce, but he does feel hunger and thirst, and it still feel wrong about wasting anything.

ooo rant over

[prismuffin]

Hello! I hope youre doing well, could I request a one-shot for Miles Morales.

-Miles just starts to attend Visions and Reader immediately takes him under their wing (bonus if reader is taller). And they like to fluster him and get him out of troubling situation, standing up for him when others that about him.

-eventually Miles asks why Reader was so nice from the beginning and without even hesitating their like "You're cute and akward, just my type" or something along those lines?

A/n: OOO I LOVE THIS IDEA!!! Reader is also depicted to be taller than Miles!! I literally changed the title like 3 times istg I have no clue what to name this so it has two titles

Protection / Confession

Miles Morales x gn!reader

( summary: you'd taken a liking to the new kid, Miles, and decided to take him under your wing )

Warnings?: some light bullying, reader having mad w rizz

!-!more under the cut!-!

You were a very well known person in Visions Academy. Not only for your high IQ but also for your kind and charming personality. You were chill and not as stuck up as some people in Visions, you were a breath of fresh air. Specifically the breath Miles needed when he felt like he was drowning in stress and expectations. You had told him he shouldn’t worry about what others are thinking and that he should just do his own thing at his own pace and man did he need to hear that. You showed him around school and the dorms and even let him sit with you and your friends during lunch. You were technically his first friend in Vision and you made him think that staying wouldn’t be too bad. Obviously he immediately took a liking to you and luckily you seemed to do the same for him, though he isn’t really sure why. Hell, the first time you ever met Miles he was attempting to smooth talk a hall monitor so that he didn't get in trouble for dashing through the halls. He wasn't very convincing though and you had decided to step in to save the day, and it’s been history ever since.

Every now and then Miles would find himself in trouble and almost every time, you were there to pull him out of it. Like now, where Miles finds himself cornered in a hallway with two high schoolers that look like they shouldn’t be in high school anymore. He let out a nervous chuckle as he stared up at the two guys. “Hey, maybe we can just talk this one out?” He smiles nervously and one of the guys scoffed “Not a chance.” The guy reeled his fist back and Miles closed his eyes and braced for pain but instead he felt nothing. He peaked out of one eyes and saw you standing there with the guys fist in your hand. “Hey let’s not resort to violence guys, it’s not cool.” You raised your brow at them as they both hesitated on what to do next. “Or do you want me to go get a supervisor and tell them about what’s happening here?” You continued. Both guys glanced at each other and Miles couldn’t help but smirk at the situation. “I’m sure you’d get suspended for this, maybe even expelled,” you shook your head and tsked. “You guys should know Visions has no tolerance when it comes to violence.” Miles watched as the guy who was going to punch him ripped his hand from yours before glaring and storming away, his friend following right after him. You watched them both disappear down the hallways before turning your attention to Miles, who was crouched on the ground watching the guys walk away.

You cleared your throat and his eyes immediately shot to yours. A sheepish smile graced his face and your stoic expression turned into a smirk as you nose laughed and shook your head at him. You held out your hand for him to take, which he did, and you lifted him off the ground. "So, mind telling me what you did this time?" You asked, looking down at Miles who was scratching the side of his head and looking to the side. "Not really.." You hummed and placed your hand on his head, leaning down to his height. Realistically you weren't that much taller than Miles but you loved to act like he was so much shorter than you. "How many more times are you gonna pick a fight with guys two times your size." "I wasn't picking a fight!" His eyebrows furrowed, "and they weren't two times my size!" He removed your hand from his head but didn't let go of it afterwards.

He bit the inside of his lip and started messing with your fingers, his expression softening. "Sorry," he mumbled and you blinked for a moment as his words rendered in your brain. "For what?" He shrugged and smiled though there wasn't any emotion behind it. His eyes darted around for a second before he sighed. "I just- you're always getting me out of stuff like that." He chuckled and quickly let go of your hand as if he just realized he'd been holding it. "oh.." You thought for a moment before smiling.

"Miles." He looked up at you, "It's fine man, you don't have to apologize or anything." "But doesn't it get annoying?" You shook your head, "Miles, it's fine I swear I don't mind helping you and sticking up for you whenever people talk about you," You gestured with your head towards the direction the two guys went, "or when they try and get physical with you." Miles couldn't help but smile at your words. "You don't think I could handle them?" Miles raised an eyebrow with a smirk on his face and you laughed. "Even if I thought you could," You grabbed his chin, "I wouldn't be able to live with myself if your pretty face got all scratched up." You talked in a baby voice and chuckled as Miles' eyes widened. "Pretty?" He spoke loud and quick as if what he said just shot out of his mouth. You let go of his chin, "oh yeah why do you think I've been protecting you so much?" You stood up straight and stretched, "You were so cute when I first saw you, standing there all awkward like you are now." You rested your head on your arms and looked at him through the corner of your eye. "The first time I ever saw you my first thought was about how you looked like my type." You smirked and dropped your arms, turning fully towards him. "Then I saw you in the hallway that day trying to talk yourself out of a referral and I just had to help out." You stuck your hands in your pocket as you watched Miles process everything in his brain. He watched your every move with wide eyes and after a beat of silence you just sighed with a smile and started walking down the hallway. "Wait!" You heard Miles scurrying up to you. "So this- Are you- I'm-" He stopped talking and took a shaky breath. "Did you just confess to me? Was that a confession?" He asked and you shrugged. "Do you want it to be?" Another silence fell over the both of you. "..Yeah..." He said and your smile grew. "Then yes, it was a confession." He smiled at you, "I guess that this means it's my turn to confess now?" You nodded, "Yes, that would be ideal."

----!----

Thanks for reading! Have a great day/night!!

My requests are OPEN so feel free to request anything! Just make sure you check out my Request Info!

Masterlist

[m-jelly]

Hii I hope its okay if I make a request :) Something with Levi and the reader where she has a very high pain tolerance and never notices when she’s hurt so Levi is protective of her and always patches her up

Worry.

Pairing: Levi x Fem!Reader

Genre and tags: Canon AU, fluff, romance, being a couple, baker reader, post-war Levi.

Concept: You often get burns, bruises or cuts at work and do not even notice because of your high pain tolerance. Your husband, Levi, worries a lot about you because you're the only person he loves that he has left in his life. He takes care of your wounds and worries often.

Taglist: @ladycheesington @levisbrat25 @skittlelover69 @li-anne @nyxiieluna @nbinairyn @strawberrybunny123 @notgoodforlife @galactict3a @demonsimp6

You put a tea towel over your hand and yanked the oven open before grabbing the tray with the towel. You hurried over to the side and placed it down. "Fresh bread out of the oven! Got a mix for you lot! Working on pizza next!" You tossed the towel onto your shoulder and hurried to the next counter and began rolling the dough out. "How we looking on the sauce honey?"

Levi gazed at you with great love and awe at how amazing you were and how beautiful your baked treats were, along with a fantastic team behind you. He gulped hard and looked at his sauce. He'd been sat behind a counter so he could rest his leg. All he did was make sauces for all kinds of treats.

Levi nodded shyly in response to you. "Yes. I uh...I think it's good."

You hurried over to him and taste-tested it. "Mm, delicious as always honey." You kissed Levi and hummed. "You're also delicious."

He blushed a little. "You too." He took your hand and gazed at your wedding ring. He frowned a little when he noticed the back of your arm had a red mark. "You've been burned."

You looked down at the mark. "I have? Oh, I have."

"You need to tend to this."

You looked at your shop to see you weren't busy and you had plenty of staff available. "All right."

Levi carefully stood up before limping with you your little office. He grabbed the med kit and sighed. "You should have run it under the tap."

"I didn't realise I'd burned myself. Sorry Levi, I'll be more careful."

He rubbed burn cream into your burn. "It doesn't look too bad, but this is the second one this month."

You nibbled your lip. "It is, isn't it? Levi, I'm sorry."

He held your hands and smiled. "Don't be sorry, okay?" He kissed them lightly and sighed. "You've always had a high pain tolerance. I guess it's just...after the war...it's harder for me. I've lost so many and I just can't...I...I can't lose you."

You knelt before your husband and smiled at him. "You won't lose me. A few little cuts, burns and bruises here and there won't kill me. I understand though and I'm sorry." You leaned up and kissed him. "I'm really sorry."

Levi welled up and let the tears roll down his cheeks. "It's not your fault. I just...I miss them all and I love you so desperately. I don't think I can live without you. My life is over if you go."

You wiped Levi's tears. "So is mine, my love." You choked on your words. "You..." You cleared your throat. "When the rumbling happened..." You wrapped your arms around Levi and held him. "I love you so fucking much. I love you, Levi. I promise I'll be more careful."

He squeezed you tightly. "Thank you." He smiled when you released him. "Can we go shopping after work?"

You nodded. "Of course, there something you need?"

He blushed a little. "Yeah."

You hummed a laugh. "You wanna stay in here for a while?"

He shook his head. "N-No. I umm...I'm okay." He stood up and sighed. "Maybe just one kiss."

You walked up to Levi and held his hips. "Happy to." You kissed him and moaned in delight. "Love you."

"Love you too."

You and Levi worked together to make nice small pizzas, sweet bread and other baked treats as your staff served and updated you on things you needed to make. At the end of the day, you both locked up and made your way home.

Levi limped to a shop and stopped outside. "I'm going to go in. Wait here."

You smiled softly. "Sure." You looked around the town and waved at some of the locals. You turned to the shop as Levi walked out. "All good?"

Levi nodded and limped with you home. "I got everything I needed."

"I'm glad." You opened the house and let Levi in first. You yawned a bit as you slipped your shoes off. "I'll get the kettle on and make us a pot."

"I-I'll do that." He gave you a bag as he blushed hard. "You open this while I make the tea."

You sat down and opened the bag and saw there was a cute pair of oven gloves. You knew he spent some money on this and it touched your heart. You adored the little hearts on it and felt a flutter within your chest. You gazed up at Levi as he returned to you and smiled sweetly at him.

Levi blushed as he put the tray down on the table. "S-So, what d-do you think?"

You waited for him to sit next to you on the sofa before hugging him tightly and kissing his cheek over and over. "Thank you. I adore it. You take such good care of me."

Levi smiled and hugged you back. "I'm glad you like them. They'll be safer than a tea towel, right?"

You nodded. "This will reduce the burns I get. Thank you so much."

Levi kissed you and moaned against your lips. "My cute brat. I'll always protect you."

[books-and-catears]

Hey, Hey, Hey! It’s been a minute but I didn’t wanna spam ya with requests while you have life stuff to deal with ☺️

This is similar to my Savage!MC ask but the brothers reacting to MC snapping at them and defending Mammon before calling the brothers out whenever they go too hard on him. Let’s be real, Mammon just acts on his sin and gets punished but when Lucifer’s a prick and threatens MC; crickets.

When Beel eats everything and damn near causes everyone to starve as well as threw a tantrum and nearly injured MC over custard;everyone turns a blind eye.

Levi guilt trips and whine over the smallest things but says the worst insults to Mammon and tried to kill MC over TSL.

Asmo acts like he’s above everyone and prefers to tend to his looks than help others (such as during the castle tour) but he gets no scolding.

Belphie routinely harasses Luci with Satan (who loses his temper) AND they all either threatened/killed MC but should Mammon do anything, he’s the worst. Even though Mammon:

- Never threatened MC

- Does shit for his brothers when asked (he may joke of needing a grimm but he’s an Avatar of greed and still gets the job done)

- Is very loyal to them

- And is a good brother to take falls for them. He knows how to sacrifice for them and the slightest inconvenience gets him thrown under the bus

These guys ain’t shit and I wouldn’t wanna be around them until they learn how to treat him better and equally work on their flaws rather than rip on Mammon, who’s a whole ass victim despite being the second strongest brother who takes it because he genuinely loves his brothers yet gets shit on by them so much.

Ooh this savage MC has nothing but heart eyes for Mammon and it's adorable. Right this one is going to be angsty and it's going to sting. I'm doing this in a short story instead of a headcannon cause it just seems right that way. Hope that's okay?

It was just another one of those days Mammon tried to steal his brothers stuff and sell it again. Another day of being upside down and being laughed at. Normally he wouldn't care - it was the usual routine. But something seemed off this time.

"Mammon.. are you okay?" You approach him. He was rubbing his shoulders and arms as if to comfort the pain. He looked more tired and pained than usual.

"Ah I'm alright MC. Just the same old ya know?" He laughed. It sounded hollow yet it pierced your heart.

Enough. Enough of this. You weren't going to stand by and watch this happen again.

"You should rest." You place an arm on his shoulder and take him to his room. Making sure he's asleep, you leave. You have some problematic demons to deal with it.

"Ah MC? What brings you here? You seem rather disturbed." He asks as you storm into his study, fuming with anger.

"You tell me, you sadistic peacock." You had lost all sense of self-preservation and normalcy. Just echoing the rage in your brain.

"Excuse me?" Lucifer said, half-amused, half-shocked.

"Either you stop treating Mammon this way or I will make your life hell." You grit your teeth.

"I already have my brothers doing that what more will you do MC? Besides Mammon had it coming. He went stealing Levi's and Asmo's things again." Lucifer said nonchalantly.

"What do expect from the Avatar of Greed? He's just acting how he's cursed to. Just like the rest of you, nicompoops. Stop listening through the door and come inside." You said loudly.

The other brothers were still in the corridor nearby overhearing the whole thing. You could hear them gasp loudly at your boldness and scutter inside one by one.

"Now let me elaborate, so you rotten cucumbers understand me clearly." You cleared your throat.

Leviathan

"This little snake in tried to kill me because I may have known a little bit more about his favourite anime than him. Where's his punishment?" You point at Levi.

"MC I'm sorry...I couldn't help it was too new to me." Levi started. "But Mammon keeps stealing my things how is that fair-"

"And you keep throwing us into new kinds of disasters with your game hoarding problem."

"If you're still mad about the TSL incident I swear I take it all back-"

"Shut up snake, we know the reason. You're the Avatar of Envy. Getting jealous is your whole point. So you didn't get punished. Moving on..." Your finger now points to Satan. "This wild cat."

Satan

"He also threatened me cause I didn't want to make a pact with him. And when he actually flies off his handle, he wrecks his room and half the house down."

Satan seemed like he wanted to say something but he scowled and looked away.

"However I won't be too hard on him, cause he tries to keep his thing in check. And the whole reason he even has Wrath is because of Lucifer. So I get your hate towards Lucifer, but Mammon doesn't deserve any of it."

"MC you know I can't tolerate stupidity-" He grumbled.

"Oh must be hard looking in the mirror then, with all your failed pranks. And speaking of mirrors, this over- perfumed mannequin." You turn to Asmo.

Asmodeus

"How have I possibly hurt anyone MC? You know I stand for Love too right?" Asmo said, batting his pretty little eyes.

"For someone who stands for LOVE, if you can even call it that," You make a disgusted face, "You surely love making a mockery out of your elder brother and revel in his misery, you over- perfumed potato."

"But I never cause problems do I? Why must I be punished just for standing by?"

"Your high and mighty sense of worth is an illusion you live in. You dress up pretty and act social to validate yourself, trying to conceal the ugliness within. Truly you are nothing but Lust. Also you're the reason we almost got eaten by a giant snake." You shake your head. "Now speaking of eating..."

Beelzebub

"This giant food vaccum." You point to Beel. "He tried to eat me over a custard. Like excuse me? There's still plenty of food outside? And let's not forget that week we all had to eat cup ramen for a week cause he finished the whole pantry."

Beel softly muttered and apology and looked down.

"He even ate the walls and pillars once! Surely those renovations cost way more than however much Mammon steals? Where's his punishment?!"

"MC enough. He's sorry already." Beel's twin spoke up. You glared at him and smiled. "Don't worry I saved the best for last."

Belphegor

"This lazy murderous cow." You walk up to him slowly. "Not only does everyone have to your chores - you love causing chaos."

Belphie laughed, "That I do. But that's only with Lucifer. What else did I do?"

"Oh you want me to go there? I surely will." You say with a sting in your eye. "In your plan to avenge your sister, you killed what was left of her in the first timeline. And your brothers just stood by and watched. Where's your penance, you murder hornet?"

Belphie's eyes grew wide. Everyone looked shocked and uncomfortable. You never brought this up before now.

"But why bother asking you about it. I should be asking the ultimate punisher of this family." You turn to Lucifer.

Lucifer

"Ah! If it isn't Diavolo's pet dog! How is your master today? Does he treat you the way you treat Mammon? Is that why you come here to take your revenge on your little brother instead? Tell me Lucifer does Diavolo punish you then?"

"MC, I understand you maybe upset but you are crossing a line here." Lucifer stood up with a gutteral growl.

"Sit doggie. I didn't ask for you yet." You commanded. Lucifer sat back down as with great force. He stared at you flummoxed.

"Did you forget about the pacts already, you pompous goat? You have threatened and tried to kill me more than anyone else in this family so congratulations! I will use my pacts way more generously now." You mock bowed in gratitude.

"You might win in a fight against him but let me tell you this..." You stared back at the others.

"Mammon is the second strongest in this family. If he wanted to - if he REALLY wanted to, all of you would be turned to dust. He is stronger than all of you - but he hides it. He supresses his powers and his anger because he loves you too much. How could he ever hurt his little brothers?" You felt tears in your eyes at this point.

"AND THIS IS HOW YOU REPAY HIM? He's only acting on his sin! Just like the rest of you! Why must he be singled out and mocked at? I won't allow it. Never again."

"If you hurt Mammon again, I swear you will have to face me. And before you think you have a chance against me, do remember the pacts you all happily made with me I will not hesitate to use them against you dysfunctional lot-"

"MC... Stop." You felt Mammon hug you from behind.

"Mammon? I thought you were asleep." You say looking back at him. His tears were misty but his smile more full.

"And I thought I was supposed to protect ya, human! And you're out here protecting me..." Mammon trailed off and held you closer.

"We can protect each other."

[five-rivers]

Wings

Good people grew wings.

How wings grew, why they grew, and the exact criteria for being a good person, were unclear. Science had discovered many things over the years, but human wings remained a mystery and the closest thing to real magic the average person would ever know about. Even so, this one point, that you had to be good to grow wings, was agreed upon by virtually everyone.

You had to be good.

Saintlike, even. Literally. If a person had wings, even teeny tiny ones, and was even vaguely Catholic, they were almost certain to be sainted shortly after their death.

This was why Danny was sure there had to be some kind of mistake. That this had to be a prank. Or a trick. Or even the result of some weird ghost power Danny didn’t know about.

Not that he thought he was a bad person. He tried his best! But he was well aware of his many, many flaws. Some might say that was the first step to working on them, except… He did not do that.

Which was yet another sign that the small, downy lumps growing very painfully out his back couldn’t be real.

He didn’t deserve this.

(A sentiment he meant in many ways. Primarily the obvious one, but he also didn’t want to have to deal with two new limbs on top of everything else in his life.)

(Like, he’d just gotten used to having a tail, and the tail wasn’t a permanent addition. Or even an addition, really. It was more of an exchange. Two legs for one tail.)

He inhaled shakily and turned away from the mirror. His face was pale and drawn. Dark circles were painted under his eyes. Slightly pink scars from the fight with Skulker last night stood out on his skin. They’d fade in a few days.

Hopefully, so would the little bumps on his back. If not…

His knuckles went white on the counter. At some points in history, it had been dangerous to have wings grow in out of nowhere. People would wonder why. And if that why wasn’t compatible with what the local government wanted, if what they were doing was good but illegal, well… But the point was, some people had taken rather extreme measures to avoid being caught.

Like cutting off their wings.

Nausea rose in Danny’s throat at the notion of cutting off any part of his body. He could do it. He had access to enough sharp things and had a high enough pain tolerance. Plus, he could turn certain body parts intangible, to get a better angle on—

He turned to the toilet and threw up.

The article he’d read on the internet had said that, sometimes, wings growing in disrupted the other functions of the body. Hormonal imbalance.

Wings might be magic. This experience? Not so much.

Then, when did radical changes to his person ever happen painlessly for him? The Accident, the Accident Remix, his ice powers, puberty in general…

Yeah.

He shuddered and reached for the lever.

Maybe they’d be small. Size depended on how good you were. At least, that was the prevailing theory. Since he shouldn’t have his at all, they should be small. Tiny. Hopefully. Hidable. Something he could keep under his shirt. Something no one would notice. Something that wouldn’t be investigated, wouldn’t be questioned.

Oh, god, what if they showed up on Phantom as well? That would be a nightmare. Most ghost hunters and occultists didn’t even think ghosts had feelings. One showing up with wings would make them furious. They’d be convinced that he was faking. That he was trying to capitalize on how people thought of wings to make himself look better.

Oh, geez, and that wasn’t even getting into how they’d interact with his suit, which repaired any damage done to it every time he transformed.

He shifted, rings sparking over him, and reached around his ribs to touch his back. Which still had two very sensitive lumps.

.

“Danny,” said Jazz, sitting on the edge of her bed and steepling her hands, “how many times have you saved Amity Park?”

Danny frowned. “What does that have to do with anything?”

She pressed her fingers to her lips. “Okay. How about how many times you’ve saved the planet?”

Danny shrugged.

“Don’t you think that might, I don’t know, contribute to the present situation?”

“That’s—I don’t—Jazz, I live here. Of course, I’m going to protect the place I live.” He started pacing back and forth.

Jazz stared up at him. “Are you sure that’s what going on? Really?”

“Yes?”

Jazz stood up and put both her hands on Danny’s shoulders. “Danny. You’re a good person.”

“I’m not, though.”

“Okay. Tell me why you think you aren’t a good person.”

“Bad future ring a bell?” replied Danny acerbically.

“You mean the future that never happened.”

“I wasgoing to cheat on that test.”

Jazz inhaled deeply, then sighed. “Cheating on a test does not make you a bad person.”

“I destroyed the world.”

“No, you didn’t,” said Jazz. “last time I checked, the world was just fine. And wasn’t Dan half Vlad anyway?”

“It was still my fault,” mumbled Danny.

“Maybe,” allowed Jazz, “but that doesn’t mean you aren’t a good person, doing good things. Also, you wouldn’t be the first person to grow wings even though you did something bad earlier. Everyone does bad things.”

“Like who?” mumbled Danny.

“Uh,” said Jazz, “I haven’t exactly prepared a list. Um. Oscar Schindler. Like, by all accounts he was kind of terrible right up until, you know.”

Danny sighed and extracted himself from Jazz’s grip. “How am I supposed to hide them, anyway?”

“Well, if they stay small, you should be able to just cover them up. I wouldn’t recommend binding them, that’ll deform the bones. But if they get bigger… Can’t you just keep them invisible and intangible?”

“No,” said Danny, after a beat of time staring at Jazz to make sure she wasn’t joking. “I can’t hold onto either of those for that long. Especially not in human form.”

“Well,” said Jazz. She ran a hand through her hair. “In that case… You might not be able to hide them.”

Danny closed his eyes. “I hope they stay small.”

But he had a feeling they wouldn’t.

[trixree]

ObiMaul -

Body, remember not only how much you were loved,

not only the beds on which you lay,

but also those desires which for you

plainly glowed in the eyes,

and trembled in the voice -- and some

chance obstacle made them futile.

Now that all belongs to the past,

it is almost as if you had yielded

to those desires too -- remember,

how they glowed, in the eyes looking at you;

how they trembled in the voice, for you, remember, body.

- Constantine P. Cavafy

Maul spends quite a lot of time looking at Obi-Wan like he's stupid.

Obi-Wan misplaces his keys to the apartment and Maul's eyes give him an unspoken: really? Obi-Wan doesn't notice the little smear of honey left on the kitchen counter from his tea and Maul makes an unnecessary amount of eye-contact while cleaning the spill: look at the idiocy I am tolerating from you. Obi-Wan calls Maul's favorite jacket gaudy and Maul shoots him a scathing look that communicates, in short: I will not be taking fashion advice from a man whose wardrobe is a study on different shades of beige.

There is a great diversity in the ways that Maul can communicate with only his eyes that Obi-Wan is an idiot. Which is, in part, why the present moment is so jarring.

Obi-Wan is not used to Maul looking at him like this.

It isn't uncommon for Maul to come back to the apartment injured. Coruscants' underground fighting circuit is not exactly a pinnacle of ethical conduct and honor in combat. Maul's years training as a Sith-assassin-that-almost-was have left him with a talent for combat that is nearly unmatched. He's skilled in a lot of things--things Obi-Wan never really expected him to be skilled at when he fished him out of a popular area for body-dumping in Coruscant's lowers. Maul can cook, Maul can write brilliantly, and Maul is fantastic with machines of all kinds. And yet, Maul still insists on making his living by fighting.

He is sprawled out on the couch, a study of muscle in red and black. It is hard to see bruising on a zabrak as boldly patterned as Maul, but Obi-Wan knows how a person in pain carries themselves. Maul is laid out on the couch like every possible position is painful, and when Obi-Wan comes out of his room--it isn't really his; this safe-house has long since become Maul's home more than it is Obi-Wan's anything, other than a reliable base for some of his undercover work. When Maul looks at him, there is something different in his expression.

Pain, yes. Surprise to see Obi-Wan, yes. And something else, too. If Obi-Wan didn't know any better, he'd say it was, well.

Wanting.

Obi-Wan clears his throat. "What happened to you?" he says, a bit awkward.

Maul scoffs at him, somehow managing to seem haughty while reclining on a bag of frozen peas. "Make an educated guess," he drawls.

"Anything broken?"

Maul grunts, noncommital. He hasn't once looked away from Obi-Wan. There is pain in his eyes, yes, and underneath the surprise of having seen Obi-Wan when he wasn't expected there's... Is it relief?

"Did you take anything?"

Maul waves his hand in the direction of the coffee table where indeed there lies a prescription bottle of pain killers, cap off. When Obi-Wan turns the bottle over, he sees it's a rather high dose, too.

Perhaps that's it. The look in Maul's eyes is inebriation. Obi-Wan hadn't recognized it because he's never seen Maul take anything outside of those early days when Obi-Wan had just saved his life and Maul wasn't sure whether or not he wanted to kill him about it. He hadn't known enough about Maul back then to categorize his different looks beyond murderous and extra murderous.

They were both so young. They hadn't known much of anything.

Obi-Wan sits gingerly in the small, vacant space at the end of the couch where Maul's feet don't quite reach. The look instensifies.

What do you want from me? Obi-Wan thinks, pinned under the unusual stare. What is it you're trying to tell me?

Obi-Wan places a hand on Maul's bare ankle. At the very least, if Maul reacts with anger, the unfamiliar look will certainly change into something Obi-Wan knows. They will return to equal ground. All hail the status quo!

Maul's eyes close with a soft, hardly there hum of sound. He stretches like a tooka, feet pushing into Obi-Wan's space.

On any other being, it would be a demand. Comfort me. Touch me. I want your hands. On Maul, it is a mystery. Uncharted territory. Drug-fuelled mania, or desires free from inhibitions? Obi-Wan doesn't know.

Obi-Wan takes Maul's feet into his lap and is pleased to find that he is not kicked. Instead, Maul hums again, head lolling on the arm-rest of the couch, peas crinkling as he shifts, and goes still.

Obi-Wan places both hands around his ankles and settles in for a long night.

[rightsockjin]

Summary: Your best friend of your near entire life has been a total asshat to you ever since you started to casually date which didn't seem super fair to you since he did the exact same thing and you were nothing but supportive! It just sucks that you two are growing apart over a coping mechanism that you adopted to distract yourself from your overwhelming crush on said idiot. If only he knew. Wait- did you say that OUT LOUD?

Rating: M (What isn't on this blog?)

Genre: Maybe a little angst? Smut for sure tho.

Word count: 8003

Warnings: Thongs, sex, lewd thoughts, erections, physical pushing, raw dogging, cream pie, mentions of giving head, a looooooottt of swearing, mentions of slut shaming. Oh right- oppa kink and little splashes of korean as well.

yeo-chin= girlfriend

nam-chin= boyfriend

halmoni= grandma

apa=to hurt

aya=expression to express pain equivalent to 'ow'

Author’s note: HI EVERYONE! We are somewhat back!! So sorry for the long wait for content. Things have been insane and we’ve been working on a much- much longer fic for this blog which will involve all of the boys! It’s a long story but this hit me like a truck yesterday and it was initially meant to be a reaction but I couldn’t stop writing… so it’s 7k and the other boys will get their own version of this prompt “best friend is jealous of the attention you give to guys” thing. Starting once again with the one and only Yoongi! Hope y’all enjoy:)

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

“You know it’s funny, I don’t remember asking,” Yoongi said virulently, his attention centered solely on his phone as he scrolled through instagram... or twitter... or maybe it was tinder. Your heart sank. You had been excited that this guy- Woojin- had given you attention. He was good looking by a lot of standards and it had boosted your confidence significantly. Of course, you wanted to share that excitement with your best friend. Rejecting someone that good looking always made you feel really powerful and attractive but you had barely shown him Woojin’s picture and commented on how attractive he was before your so called best friend had brushed you off and went back to his solitude and avoidance.

You had noticed that something was off for a while now but hadn’t commented on anything to avoid any conflicts but this was ridiculous. You had constantly listened to the stories of how girls would trickle in like water for him. He seemed to be going out with someone new every two weeks.

It wasn’t fair that you had to put up with his annoying descriptions of how beautiful these girls were while you sat and gave him your undivided attention as your heart slowly chipped and broke with each new conquest of his. Especially when each girl was so different from who you were. At first, you thought that maybe you were annoyed by this simply because it was hurtful to think he didn’t at least think you were pretty. It wasn’t long after that that you realized that it hurt you when he went out with women who were your polar opposite because it meant that he would never date you.

This had been shocking in itself. You had known Yoongi for your entire life, or at least a good portion of it, and you had always seen him as a brother. Your oppa in the least sexual or boyfriend-y form possible, but when you looked at him now… he was looking a lot more like well- an oppa.

Your mouth opened and closed like a fish. His words stung more than you would like to admit. Whenever Yoongi got this snippy, you liked to equal him in snip and double him in sass, never showing how vulnerable his disinterest made you feel, but this time, it felt like he had punched you in the chest with all his force and told you you were ugly to boot.

You didn’t want to cry in front of him either. He’d make fun of you. Last time you had cried, he’d awkwardly pat you on the head and quickly changed the very serious topic of your parents' relationship with yours to something totally different and not even a little relevant to helping you feel better. Given, that had been years ago and he’d never been very good at comforting you nor had he so much as expressed his support of you. Not since that one time when you had broken your wrist and he’d promptly pushed the girl who had been the culprit off the swing set thus getting himself suspended for a week and a half when you were both in elementary school.

But this… this was just cruel. It was ugly. It made you look at your “best friend” in a light that was not so shiny and pristine. He’d changed so much since then. He’d pulled away from you since then and you hadn’t even noticed. Or maybe you had and had just ignored it. Maybe you’d hoped if you didn’t mention it, that it would go away and he would come back full force with one of his dumb dances and pretty smiles. Maybe you hoped he’d realize soon what you had realized in your early twenties.

You loved him. And not the brotherly love that you had always had for him, no, you, Y/N, were very much in love with your best friend. Which made this whole situation so much worse.

When you said nothing, Yoongi briefly glanced up at you from his seemingly important phone conversation with most likely another of his soon to be dates only to look back down.

“What? Cat got your tongue? No snippy rebuttal? You’re not gonna chew me out for being mean to you again?”

His face was illuminated by the blue lights of his screen; he had it at the near darkest setting and his eyes were squinted to see it better. Something that had always annoyed you because you knew it was only hurting his vision.

You swallowed the lump in your throat. When that didn’t help, you cleared it, accidentally catching his attention. He clicked his phone off and looked over at you as if ready to argue but something in your face must have given away your inner turmoil because his hard features softened and his lips fell slightly open.

“Are you crying?”

No. Of course you weren’t crying. You never cried. Not ever. But then your cheeks were wet and the onslaught of emotion seemed to burst. How far had you fallen for this indefinitely cold man that his sarcasm made you fall in hysterics? Far it seemed. Too far.

You angrily wiped the tears away from your burning skin and crossed your arms over your chest. The hoodie you had stolen from him earlier that day felt like sandpaper against your skin as opposed to the comfort you’d initially felt when slipping over your head and smelling the fresh scent of his cologne clinging to it.

You felt him shift on the couch to face you fully, out of the corner of your eye, you could see his features had turned worried, alarmed even but you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him nor care. Too little too late.

“Hey, Y/N, I’m sorry.”

The words hung in the still air like a wrong note played in a symphony. It made your head spin and ache.

You didn’t dare speak. It would only give away how truly hurt you were by his words and actions. You didn’t want to be around him anymore.

Abruptly, you stood up and yanked the hoodie from your body. The tank you had on pulled up slightly showing the skin of your belly. It was lopsided, you noted when you looked down and saw that one side was pulled over and under your bra and the other was too high on your chest but you didn’t really care.

Yoongi watched you with conflict evident in his eyes, if only you would turn to see. He hadn’t meant to offend you. He’d only been trying to keep you at arms length. You had also been going out with multiple guys, telling him how good looking and tall they all were. Most of these men were also built like rocks and he himself was toned at best. Contrary to what you thought, Yoongi had come to the realization that he’d been in love with you since you were kids. He did not tolerate when anyone made you feel like shit, and, being a very mature kid, he’d told his mother quite early on that he would marry you someday. Of course, she’d only chastised him and told him that he couldn’t possibly know what love was nor could he force you to marry him, but he was adamant.

He’d stopped telling her about it after that though, and instead of telling you how he felt, he’d opted instead to watch over you and make sure nothing happened. So when in high school, you had started to date and it had not been him whom you had chosen, he’d made sure to keep the sorry excuse of a man you had chosen in line. That was… until the incident.

Yoongi would never forgive himself for not being there. For not stopping the bastard who thought he owned you. He’d never forgive the idiot either and if you hadn’t stopped him, he would have killed him with his bare fists then stuffed his own socks in his mouth.

It was then that Yoongi realized that you deserved better than him, and at the same time, no one was worthy of you. It was a strange dynamic. He’d never once approved of your dates, but had decided to start dating other women because, let's face it, he was a guy and he’d like to have children someday but not even in his wildest dreams could he think that you would ever settle for him. Someone who’d failed you as your self imposed protector.

Not that you knew any of that. You didn’t know that Yoongi often teamed up with your other best friend, your girl best friend to scope out your dates once you’d left. You’d almost caught them once as well and it had been by pure luck and the hair of a very out of place clown that both of them had escaped your wrath that night. You also didn’t notice that after you had fully broken up with that first asshole, he’d threatened to beat him to a pulp if he so much as breathed in your direction once more and later, he’d threatened ‘asshole’ two and three with the same things.

But then your dates had gotten taller and stronger and much harder to intimidate. He’d once made the mistake of threatening a casual date that you’d set up who was at least a solid half foot taller than him and he’d been laughed out of the restaurant only to find out later that the jerk had forced a kiss on you.

No, Yoongi’s days as your protector had dwindled and left him feeling half of the man he’d already thought he was and so his only defense, his only way to keep you safe- though now that he was watching tears well in your eyes he wondered what logic he’d used to justify this behavior- was to be the asshole himself and teach you how to deal with them on a first hand basis.

He hated himself for making you cry. He hated that you looked so dejected and hurt and like you never wanted to speak another word to him again. He hated that your shoulders slumped and that your pretty eyelashes were coated in wet tears and it was all on him.

“You know what,” you finally managed to say with some semblance of calm under the storm that was brewing in the irises he’d so loved, “I think we’ve grown apart a little too much. Maybe we should just- cut our losses and,” you heaved a deep breath, trying to keep yourself calm, “stop seeing each other.”

Were you breaking up with him? How were you even going to break up with him if you weren’t even dating? Yoongi’s heart sank into the pit of his stomach. He had tunnel vision. All he could see was you and the way that you seemed to pull yourself up from the ground, rebuilding before his eyes.

“Stop see-what? Are you demented?”

Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Was that all he was capable of being? Wrong. Incorrect. Inexact. Erroneous. Mistaken. He was plain stupid for the words he’d let slip but there was no taking them back now.

You let your eyes widen as you wiped more of your furiously falling tears from your skin. You turned to face him, your shirt fixed and covering you exactly how it should and your features set and intentional.

“What’s the point? You clearly don’t want to be around me anymore and I’m tired of being berated every time I mention a guy. You’re the most unsupportive friend I have and that’s because I’ve known you the longest. If you don’t want to be my friend just say so instead of slut shaming me and bullying me every chance you get you asshat.”

“Asshat,” he chuckled, crossing his sleeve-covered arms over his toned chest, “real clever, Y/N. Is that all you got, kid? You never were one for words were you? Why don’t you just sock me instead?”

Oh you were considering it. He seemed so unbothered by the prospect of losing you that you realized maybe you had already lost him and hadn’t realized. You had dealt with your fair share of jerks in your life, but you had always counted on Yoongi to be your hope. He’d shown you that there were men in the world that seemed to care about women. Men who could love you even when you felt unlovable, unworthy, but here he was, proving to you once again that all men were the same evil and vile creatures, incapable of love or kindness if they weren’t getting their dicks wet.

“You’d like that wouldn’t you? Then you could go around saying that I’m a crazy bitch. You know what? Fuck you Min Yoongi. I hope you get well and royally fucked.” You yelled, grabbing the tote bag you’d brought over from your apartment and stomping to the door.

“Fuck you too,” he yelled, following you to the door. He caught you at the landing strip, prying on your chunky sneakers with a bit of difficulty, your house slippers, the ones he’d bought you, lay haphazardly nearby.

“And fuck all of those asshole guys you keep bringing home. Better yet, I hope you don’t fuck them.”

You turned your head up to look at him, confusion and disgust written all over your face.

“What the fuck do my dates had to do with what a fucking jerk you are?”

Choosing to ignore your question, he focused instead on your insult, “A jerk, am I? Well you’re a bitch. How do you like that?”

He didn’t know why he was insulting you. He didn’t think you were actually a bitch, but the anger on your face made him feel better.

It was followed by near instant regret as you drew yourself up to your full height and looked at him with pure venom in your gaze.

“I’m a bitch?”

“Yeah,” he breathed, trying to keep his shoulders square, but you were scary when angry and he’d never fared well in fights with you.

“I’m the bitch?”

“You heard me!”

You balled your fists at your sides, your eyebrows connected in the center and your breathing was heavy. He knew better than to use the B-word.

“You’re a piece of shit.” It was low but your voice carried and hit all of the bones in his body before it hit his heart and burrowed deep in the wounds he’d stitched up but pulled open multiple times over the years that pertain only to you.

“You are a sorry excuse of a man,” you growled, pushing him by the chest. Somewhere in the back of your mind you noted that it felt really firm and stronger than before.

“You’re an ass, Min Yoongi,” you continued, giving him another push so that he stumbled slightly back into the living room of his apartment once again.

“You low life,” another push, closer to the couch, “weak minded,” you shoved him, he sidestepped the glass coffee table where your untouched coffee mugs still rested, probably cold by now, “son of a bitch, fucking baby, involved sorry excuse of a man-” He fell onto the cough. Your vision was red.

“You already used that insult.” Was all he said as you stood over him, your chest heaved with the exertion of trying to keep yourself from slapping the now blank expression from his face.

A slew of incomprehensible noises escaped from your lips as words completely left your brain. Damn him. Damn this idiot of a man that you were in love with. He could go to hell for all you cared and you hoped that the devil himself ripped his testicles off and served them on a platter with some kimchi and fried rice.

“Okay first of all- ow,” The asshole said, pulling you back to reality and not your fictitious rework where Yoongi was now sitting at the end of a long table being force fed his own balls, “And second…”

You held your breath. Fear ran down your spine. You hadn’t meant to say that out loud-

“You-you’re in love with me?”

Well… he got his wish, you were royally fucked. Instantly, you tried to back track. Your mind kept replaying in your head what you had said and tried to correct itself but you couldn’t think of anything that could possibly absolve you.

“Like a brother,” you said finally, your voice shaky and thin.

Yoongi only blinked up at you. What you said was bullshit and he knew it. You knew it too.

“You’re in love with me… like a brother?”

“Oppa,” you clarified as if that would somehow make more sense, and it did kind of, but it didn’t absolve you at all. In fact, this only made a smile tug at his lips, his pearly teeth suddenly on display, blinding. You fought the smile that threatened to pull at yours too. It was always hard because his smile was so contagious.

Yoongi stood. He was less than an inch away from your own body. You felt small, meek. You’d misstepped this big game of chess you seemed to be playing. He was going to make fun of you. He’d never let you live it down. You liked him.

“You like me,” as if he had read your mind, he echoed your thoughts, or maybe you had spoken that out loud as well.

“No I don’t,” you argued, taking a step back just so you could have some space to breathe.

“Oh yeah you do,” Yoongi argued, his smile so wide you were sure it would hurt the muscles in his cheeks

“No,” you said again, not really thinking anything you said at this point would convince him otherwise. The son of a bitch was stubborn.

“Admit it,” he said, closing the distance between you again, his neck craned down to look directly at your face.

“I don’t like you!” You tried to take another step back but the coffee table knocked your feet out from under you. You fell onto it knocking Yoongi’s mug of coffee over. The black decaf liquid seeped into your shorts.

Yoongi’s rusty laugh was pried from his throat as he watched your face contort. He was having the time of his life, it seemed. Good for him.

“Stop laughing at me,” you groaned, your cheeks red. You were practically sweating from how feverish you felt.

It was like you hadn’t spoken. Your shorts were wet and made you feel sticky. In a fit of anger, like a child throwing a tantrum, you unbuttoned the denim and ripped them from your legs. This shut Yoongi up instantly. With the soiled fabric, you cleaned up the liquid before it fell onto the light grey carpet.

Yoongi stilled as his eyes traveled up and down your long legs.The way you were twisting, he could see the back of your left thigh up to where it met your ass- your bare ass. You were wearing a thong.

God help him, he was rapidly getting hard. He forced his eyes away from you, his walls being pulled back up at seeing you naked. Well partially so. He pushed his hands into his oversized hoodie and made sure that it covered his front. The last thing he needed was for you to see.

But then you turned and pulled your legs together, your thighs squishing attractively. What he wouldn’t give to be choked by those thighs.

“Let me wash those for you,” he said tightly, pulling a hand from his hoodie to take the soiled shorts, the hem of the fabric pulled up enough for you to see exactly what he’d been trying to hide.

Yoongi had a hard on. You weren’t sure why exactly you were surprised. You were attractive, that much you knew, but you never really expected for your best friend to see you in that way. In fact, you were pretty sure that you’d been in your underwear in front of him before and he hadn’t even given you a second glance, but there was the evidence. And God was there a lot of evidence.

Slowly, you handed him the shorts. His hand grabbed them tightly, avoiding touching any part of your hand with his. Then, after a slight pause, he turned on his heels and walked towards the kitchen to put the shorts into the washer.

You’d called him oppa. You rarely called him oppa and it had hypersensitized him to the word coming from your lips. Other girls called him oppa sometimes and it had no effect on him but there he was, stiff as a board and it had something to do with you calling him oppa and your state of undress. Fuck. He was fucked. So fucked.

At least he wished he could be… But no. He pushed those thoughts from his head as he threw in some nice scented soaps into the wash and clicked it to life. He shut his eyes, trying to think of anything that would drain the blood from his member- halmeoni maybe?- but your voluptuous ass kept intruding, giving his halmeoni some nice curves that messed with her wrinkled face. He shook his head once more and decided he’d just have to hide his boner until it went away, or go beat one out in the restroom really quick.

He grabbed a pair of his clean sweat pants from the drying rack to give to you, just so you would be comfortable, he told himself, not because the thought of your naked butt in them made him unspeakably horny.

But when he got back to the living room, what he found was not you, covering yourself with a pillow like he’d expected, but you, only in your thong- fuck did it have to be a thong?- and your bra. Your shirt was nowhere to be seen.

“Fuck me,” he groaned, burring his head in his hands and turning away from you.

“I mean, if you ask nicely enough that can be arranged,” you answered rather boldly. There was no way for him to know that you were quaking in fear for his rejection.

Yoongi’s dick twitched in his sweats.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he said under his breath as his heart beat faster. He felt like he was having a whole heart attack. He patted his chest, hoping to calm it down knowing it was useless.

Should he go for it? You had just admitted accidentally that you did have feelings for him and you were clearly propositioning him. Should he just-

He turned around, back to face you, determination paining his expression. Still on the coffee table, your legs were spread open, only covered by the thin sliver of fabric that your thong allotted. You were a little cold, but all of that melted away when you saw the way that Yoongi’s eyes roamed your exposed body, then stopped abruptly to meet your own.

He was in front of you in seconds, his longer legs carried him farther and faster than you had anticipated. Then he was pulling you to stand. You wobbled on your legs but one of his arms found its way around your waist. His free hand came up and held your jaw with two fingers on either side of your face, squishing your lips together slightly. His hot, heavy member pressed against your stomach through his sweats. He was so close that you could smell the coffee on his breath and the fading smell of his cologne you loved so much. All you wanted was to grind against him but you were held too tightly.

“You never know when to shut up do you?” But he didn’t let you answer. He crashed his soft lips onto yours, his hold on your jaw ached but you didn’t care. There was a passion in his kiss that you hadn’t expected, subtly dwindling to something more like tenderness, and the kiss continued. His lips dragged against yours delicately, pinching your top one with both of his. Small breaths came out of his nose, whistling softly against your cheek. You timed your breaths with his, high on the feeling of finally being kissed, coveted by him. Was it real? Was this actually happening?

Your brain suddenly caught up with your body. The rightness that came with the way he was kissing you, like he couldn’t get enough of you, like he needed you to properly breathe, was like nothing you could have imagined.

The hand on your waist was drawing small circles where the elastic of your thong rested, his index finger casually hooked onto and under pulling lightly. You pressed yourself tighter than he had you against his erection. He groaned, his mouth opening and his tongue suddenly darting out to taste. He pulled your jaw open, granting himself entrance and exploring your mouth.

You moaned, a sound so sensuous and wanton that Yoongi felt that he could cum just from those sounds alone. He wanted more. He wanted you to sing his praises as he fucked into you and caressed your chest. He wanted you to drool around his cock and to have your sweet mouth wrapped tight around it. He wanted to feel you gag at his girth and he wanted to pull at your hair. But most of all, he wanted to kiss you, just like how he was at that moment. He wanted to kiss you until he’d taken your soul from your body and replaced it with his own. He wanted to kiss you until he could erase every trace of all of the men who’d hurt you and made you doubt that you were worthy and wanted. Yoongi wanted to kiss his love into you no matter how long he had to do it. If he was locked in a room with you for months, so be it.

But your hand had found its way between your bodies and was slowly coming down to his hips. Suddenly, he realized what he was doing and panicked. He hadn’t gotten your consent. He hadn’t asked you if it was okay for him to kiss you or to hook his fingers on your thong. As stupid as it sounded, even to Yoongi himself, he needed to make sure that you wanted this to happen, even as your hand had found the outline of his cock and you had started to trace the outline of it over the fabric-

“Tell me to stop,” he gasped, ripping himself away from you. The hand around your waist was now on your shoulder to keep you at enough distance so that his brain could function and wasn’t clouded by the horniness he was feeling.

“Wha…?” You slurred, your eyes were glazed over and your body was completely relaxed.

“Tell me to stop,” he repeated, fighting his every instinct to push your mouth open and have you suck on his thumb before he pushed you onto your knees to suck him off, “and I will.”

His eyelids were heavy and he was sweating slightly. He was so hard that it hurt and the circles you were drawing on his penis were not helping at keeping him at bay. He knew if he looked down, there would be a stain of precum on his sweats.

“I don’t want you to stop,” you whispered, leaning in and kissing his jaw before you nibbled and kissed down his taught neck.

“Fuck.”

“I want you to fuck me.” You licked a thick swipe up his jugular, “I want you.”

“Then admit it,” Yoongi heard himself say. He was just as surprised as you were to hear those words from his lips, “admit that you like me.”

You pulled away then, dropping both your arms in exasperation, “Are you fucking kidding me? I’m in my underwear, stroking your cock and you want me to stroke your ego too? Un-fucking-believeable. You’re a dumb ass.”

You rolled your eyes and flicked his forehead.

“Aya, apa~” he groaned, rubbing his head, the dynamic that you were used to suddenly restored.

“Yeah? Great! I’m glad that it hurt! I hope it hurts really bad you jerk. Then maybe you’ll understand what it was like for me to listen to you go on and on about all the girls you went out with every fucking week. In fact-”

“Aya! What the fuck? Stop flicking me,” he nearly screamed, clutching the tip of his nose.

“Make me.”

Big mistake. Yoongi didn’t take your dare lightly. His eyes darkened then he leaned down and picked you up. You squeaked, wrapping your legs around his waist as he walked you to his room. His hands cupped your butt fairly comfortably, like this was something you did often. He kicked the door open and threw you on the bed.

“You think I wasn’t hurt as well?” He asked, clasping a hand around your neck and lightly pressing his fingers against your skin.

“You think I like knowing that everywhere we go, men are watching you, coveting you the way I do? You think it isn’t torture when you go out and I don’t hear from you until the next day?”

He pushed you up against his pillow. The duvet was already all messed up under your body. He was between your legs, pressing himself into your core. Fuck, you wanted him. You wanted him all the way inside you. He wanted nothing more than to do the same but he had to make sure you knew first.

“You think it was easy being in love with you when you wanted nothing from me but friendship?”

Your eyes softened. Yoongi was in love with you too? When?

“Since we were kids,” he answered. Again you had spoken without meaning to. “I always knew it was you, Y/N. It was only ever you.”

But something wasn’t adding up. You fought your rising feelings of elation. You wanted to understand what he was saying. If he had liked you since you were kids then why had he never asked you out? Why become the serial dater he’d become? But he’d never had a girlfriend, you reminded yourself. He’d only ever “dated” and then dropped these women. You always assumed he was screwing them all.

Yoongi became sheepish then. “I uh… I did have sex with some of them but-” and the hurt in your eyes would be enough to kill him,” it was only at the start. I thought that if i had sex with other people I’d stop chasing after you. But it didn’t work… I haven’t slept with anyone since junior year of college.”

Your eyes widened. “College?”

He nodded, his pale cheeks blushing prettily.

“They just...were never you… and then I thought if I pushed you away that would help but that only made us estranged and-”

You pushed yourself up and shut him up with a kiss. He was over thinking and you could talk about all that later.

“You’re an idiot,” you started and he rolled his eyes, “but if you don’t fuck me right now, I’m going to do it myself.”

Yoongi’s eyes rolled into his head and he thrust lightly into your wet center.

“Talk after?”

“As long as you want,” you agreed, already pushing at his sweats. Yoongi sat up and pulled his hoodie and shirt off in one fell swoop, then, at the speed of lightning, pulled off his sweats, leaving him in his boxers.

After a moment of hesitation, he pulled his boxers off as well and then he was naked before you. Your mouth went dry. He was big. You could tell just by looking at him that he would stretch you good and you wanted so badly for him to pin you down and have his way with you.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.”

“Really? Cause that would be really helpful on days when I’m home alone-”

“Wha-no!”

You chuckled and lay down on your back, making sure that your legs were spread wide for him to have his fill. Like a moth to a flame, he was between your thighs, his tongue licking at the wet fabric.

He moaned against your covered lips, sucking up the arousal that clung to your underwear.

“Fuck, Yoongi yes,” you said without meaning to say much at all. You unclasped your bra and threw it somewhere in the room. You could look for it later. This caught his attention. He thrust his naked dick into the mattress, needing some sort of stimulation.

“Damn it… fuck, if I wasn’t so desperate to be inside you, I swear I could get you off with just my mouth all day, Y/N.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you waved off, gesturing for him to come up to your face, he did so without question, “Hurry up, I’m dying. Please.”

“Are you begging?” Yoongi’s lips curled lightly, teasingly,

“Do you want to get your dick wet or not?” He kissed the wrinkle between your eyebrows lightly.

“Yeah, can I take these off?” he hooked a finger on the elastic of your thong, pulling it a little higher than he probably should have. It was an old pair. You heard rather than saw the stitching on it pull apart and then the thing was hanging limply from Yoongi’s fingers, his expression shocked.

“Yoongi!”

“What? I didn’t do it on purpose!”

“For fuck’s sake! That was my favorite thong!”

“Well, clearly it was cheap,” he countered, throwing it across the room somewhere too.

You groaned, shifting slightly under him. His dick nuzzled between your wet lips. His mouth dropped open and a pleasured grunt escaped his lips.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he rut against your wetness, hitting your clit lightly, far too lightly, “you are so wet. God, this should be illegal.”

“Y-Yoongi… more,” he reached down between you two and found your sensitive nub without much hassle. It was like he knew your body already. Your body twitched under him and he circled the bundle of nerves for a couple of seconds. The noises falling from your lips were heaven on earth and Yoongi realized you were his new favorite song.

He gave your clit one rough stroke, ripping a small gasp from your throat. He gathered some of your slick with two practiced fingers and brought it up to eye level. It caught the low light of his room from the window, the smell enough to threaten to send him over the edge.

“Jesus Christ that’s hot.” Then he smeared it all over his penis and gave himself two rough pumps.

“Can I-”

“Yes.”

“You don’t even know what I’m asking-”

“Don’t care. Just do it. Yes.” You said angrily, pulling him closer and closer, his toned chest flush against yours.

“Have you been working out?” You asked, breaking the intense way he was staring into your eyes, his smile pulled wide over his gums.

He shrugged but clearly was glad that you’d noticed, “Namjoon and Jungkook convinced me to join them in the gym. It’s no big deal.”

“But your arms,” you complimented, squeezing his bicep. He flexed it lightly for you. You blushed when you realized exactly what you were doing.

“It’s just a little muscle,” he commented offhandedly.

The conversation lulled, he smiled down at you, and you up at him. He kissed the tip of your nose.

“So can I put it i-”

“I already said yes.”

“In your ass?”

“Ew no!”

Yoongi laughed loudly, “see this is why you can’t say yes to something without knowing what you’re agreeing to.”

“Shut up and put it in the right hole,” you groaned, then for good measure, “oppa.” It was a joke. You thought it was a joke, but something lit up in his pupils as two measly syllables rolled off your tongue and hit his eardrums. You felt his skin prickle under your touch and his member twitched against your folds.

Like a deer caught in headlights, you looked up at the handsome man. His eyes had narrowed as well as darkened. He looked absolutely ravenous and you wanted him to eat you up.

“Say that again.” He commanded as he pushed the head of his massive, and now that you could properly feel it, you knew that you had been right, cock at the entrance of your lower lips.

“O-oppa?” you questioned, astounded that the simple word that he’d no doubt heard his whole life had this effect on him.

“That’s right yeo-chin,” he growled, his voice gruff and harsh as he pushed lightly into you. His dick opened you painfully, perfectly.

“Yeo-chin?” You ask through the explosion of pleasure between your thighs.

“Is that okay?” He asked, suddenly looking really vulnerable and scared. You reached up, stroking his cheek lightly with your knuckles.

“Oh honey,” you trailed off, bumping his nose against yours before you pulled back abruptly, “If you want me to be your girlfriend, you have to ask me properly.”

Yoongi sighed, his smile telling you he expected as much and wasn’t hurt, “Talk after?” He asked again.

“As much as you want,” you reiterated.

And then he was pushing into you once again, surprising you because you could have sworn you had been full before but inch after inch, he pushed into your awaiting hole, filling all the emptiness you’d felt your whole life until his balls tapped your ass softly.

His face was contorted in pure ecstasy. At least from your perspective. Yoongi, in all truth, was trying his hardest not to blow his load into you already. He couldn’t believe his luck. He was inside you. He’d waited his whole life for this and he was finally inside you.

You wiped a bead of sweat from his temple and playfully licked his lips. He grunted against you, holding himself up by the forearms. Suddenly, he was really grateful that he had started to work out and that Jungkook had him doing three minute planks for fun. He’d have to thank him later, even if he did complain a whole lot.

“Can-can I move?” Yoongi gasped. Your walls fluttered around his member as if welcoming it home with soft caresses. You were so warm, maybe hot, he wasn’t sure, but you were tight and wet and all the good things in the world.

You only breathed, feeling so unbelievably full. It felt like he had pushed in all the way to your throat. You were no size queen, really, you weren’t, but if this is what they were going on about, you understood.

“Y/N,” he panted, his body begging him to move, “please.”

“Are-are you begging?” You giggled mirroring what he’d asked you before.

“Yes.” Without hesitation, he admitted, “Please… please…”

Well fuck. How could you say no? You nodded fervently, all mirth erased from your expression as he pulled out slowly, your juices squelched as your lower muscles tried to keep him in.

“Gah- ash-Y/N… you’re so tight.”

You only moaned in response, the head of his cock was still in you, stretching you to the point you didn’t think anyone could fully make you feel this way again.

“You’re so big,” you complimented scratching at his back. His muscles rippled under your touch.

He pushed back in, still torturously slow. It felt like you were being split in half. You felt like Olaf in the first frozen movie after he got stabbed by an icicle.

“Yoongi,” you gasped as he pulled out again at the same speed, his face screwed up in concentration.

“Oppa,” he growled into your ear, kissing roughly at your skin.

“Oppa,” you agreed, though it wasn’t your favorite word, he seemed to be getting of fairly

well so you let it slide, “move faster.”

“You sure?” He asked.

You nodded, knowing it was probably going to hurt but you wanted to feel him and you wanted him to cum.

“Yes.”

He didn’t need to be told again; he drew back, once again leaving only the mushroom tip inside you once again, and then he thrust. Hard. You nearly choked as he pumped himself over and over again hitting the nerves in your vagina. The slap of skin against yours was loud in the empty room, only accompanied by your moans and his pants and grunts. Your names mixed in every once in a while, your lips kissing any and all the skin that you could possibly reach. He licked at your lips and sucked bruises onto your neck, your chest. He wanted to mark all of you. He wanted to make sure you knew who you belonged to… as soon as he asked you right after he finished up.

This idea itself spurred him on, to thrust faster, deeper. He wanted to finish and make sure that you finished too, not quickly but soon. He wanted to talk. He wanted to make sure that you were in the same place.

So he reached between you both again, his fingers blindly found your clitoris and began to rub abstract shapes into it. Your back arched off the bed, your hair and boobs bounced with each thrust, his balls slapping against your ass. You were seeing white, your mouth wide open in a silent ‘o’. You were so close. So so close.

“Come, Yeo-chin,” he whispered against your temple, and though you weren’t technically his, the title sent you over the edge along with his fingers and the deep thrusts that hit your cervix.

“Oppa,” you groaned, your face screwed up.

That did it for Yoongi. His fingers on your clit stuttered along with his hips. His thrusts became erratic and he hit the sides of your walls. You squeezed around him as he over stimulated you through your orgasm.

“One more time… say it one more time,” he begged.

You complied, whispering it into his ear, it was cut slightly by a particularly pleasurable thrust. Yoongi felt pure euphoria fill his blood as his hips paused, then buried deep into your hole. Ropes of hot cum shot into you, filling you.

Yoongi panted heavily over you, his head resting on your shoulder as he struggled to keep himself up. You were breathing heavily as well, your nipples brushed against his chest. You were sensitive. You hissed.

“You can lay down,” the words had barely left your lips before he had let his weight settle on top of you. A smile crossed your face as his hands tangled in your hair and stroked it lightly. You wrapped him up in a hug, wanting him to stay like this for a while. It was nice to feel him so close.

After a couple of minutes of both of you just recovering and your breathing getting much harder, like a wrestler, you tapped Yoongi twice.

“I’m out,” you joked, “can’t breathe.”

With what looked like a lot of effort, he pushed himself up and off you, pulling out of your suddenly. The cum inside of your vagina gushed out.

You made a face as you felt it drip onto his sheets. Yoongi watched it ooze out of you, not really caring where it was going. He looked mesmerized. He reached out as if to swipe at the cum on your lower lips but you grabbed his wrist before he could.

“We talk now,” you sighed, a bit calmer than before but still a bit worried.

“Now?” He looked so vulnerable again, like he was a scared child. He lay on his side, resting his head on his elbow. He looked down at you, waiting for you to take the reins, the way you always did but this time, you didn’t know where to begin.

Yoongi cleared his throat looking around uncomfortably. When you said nothing, his mind had started to race.

“So… do you… want to be my girlfriend, or are we friends with benefits level right now? Ow!”

You’d smacked his shoulder, not hard at all but he was dramatic and you knew that. He frowned at you, his lips tempting you into another kiss that could lead to something more once again. You were already feeling a little turned on again just looking at the results of his recent gym trips.

“So no to yeo-chin then?”

“Yoongi!”

“Don’t you mean Oppa?”

You smiled up at him, a teasing glint in your gaze, “I didn’t know you had an oppa kink. This whole time, I was right to refuse to call you oppa. I knew you looked way too happy whenever I called you that!”

Yoongi scrunched his nose and looked away, “I don’t! It’s just… when you say it.” He admitted waving a hand as if to bat away your inquisitive and teasing stare.

Not really knowing how to answer that, you chose instead to answer his previous question.

“Nam-chin,” you ran a finger down the center of his pecks, tracing all the light visible muscles that made you want to get off on just riding his chest. Yoongi tensed under your touch. He seemed frozen.

“Did you just call me nam-chin?” You, for once, were not embarrassed. You smiled brightly, happy that the title finally had a head to sit on.

“Is that okay?”

Yoongi pulled you close, his arms wrapped tightly around you, his heart beat erratically in his chest, singing to yours. To its credit, your heart synced and harmonized almost instantly. He smelled like pure sex and fresh water. He buried your face into his bare skin, listening to his song. After all these years, after all the tiptoeing and fear, you were finally where you belonged.

“Of course it is,” he paused, kissing the top of your head a couple of times, “yeo-chin.” This time, the word made a shiver roll down your spine. Arousal began to pool between your sticky thighs once more and if the third leg on your stomach was anything to go by, he was as well.

“Can- can we take a shower?” you asked him, biting your lips and pushing your chest against his suggestively.

He smirked, his mouth watered at the thought of taking you in the shower. He could almost hear your moans echoing in his wet room as he sat you down and ate you out until the water ran cold. Easy clean up even.

“Yes.” he breathed, connecting his lips to yours. You kissed for a while, your lips meshing together lovingly. Yoongi was a good kisser, you realized. He was a good lay as well. And he was cute to boot. Suddenly, he pulled away and picked you up bridal style and walked you to his restroom. He once again kicked the door open to avoid using his hands and walked you through, but this time instead of throwing you down, he set you on the toilet, him on his knees between your pushed open legs.

“I hope you don’t have any plans,” he said, kissing up your thighs and pulling you close to the edge, “because I have all the time in the world and I’m really, really thirsty.”

He ran two fingers over your abused center, collecting his cum and your new arousal. Sure, there were still a lot of things to talk about between you two. Yoongi still wasn’t sure if you fully understood the depth of his feelings nor was he sure if you simply liked him and the slip of the L-word was nothing more than that. A slip. But like he’d said, he had all the time in the world to ask and all the time to make sure he earned you and your trust. He would do anything he could to prove it and some day he would be.

But for now, he was royally fucked by the sinful sounds that escaped your pretty lips and he wanted nothing more than to just enjoy.

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

Masterlist -in case you want to read more....

I hope yall enjoyed it and that this is a good come back after our roast session from permission to dance:)

[odos-bucket]

In Which Each of Bruce’s Kids Come Out to Him

and then he comes out to them

Dick

They’re working on opposite sides of the coffee table in one of the manor’s more habitable sitting room’s. It’s become a regular part of their weekday routine: Bruce finishes up whatever office work he has to do, while Dick does his homework, and talks about his day. Usually there are snacks involved. A parenting book Bruce had read recommended trying to get their work done together. It’s a good way to keep connected with their increasingly busy schedules.

“So anyways…” Dick’s story is starting to slow down a little bit, and the shift in tone has Bruce glancing up from his paperwork. “I should probably tell you, since, well, everyone knows at school now.” His voice is still conversational, and relaxed, but a little distracted.

Bruce shifts him his full attention.

“See, what happened was Cameron Josephs in my third period biology class came to school with nail polish on today, which I noticed with my clever detective skills, and promptly dismissed as unimportant, and everyone else noticed with their nosy pre-teen skills, and promptly lost their shi- I mean, minds over. And that was Mrs. Horton’s class, and she has absolutely no control over her students, so it sort of became this whole big thing. Kids were making fun of him, and other kids were yelling at them to knock it off, and he was just trying to do his work, but the rest of the class got into a big fight. And then Brad Cormick- he’s on my basketball team- made a homophobic joke, and we were sitting at the same table, and I could tell that he wanted me to laugh at it. So I told him to shut up, and said that I was bisexual, not that any of it really had anything to do with anything else that was going on, but it did get him to shut up, which was good. Except that I think it may have been because I have more friends than Cameron does, which is totally unfair, and everyone should just be nice to everyone else no matter what, but also I guess not really the point… The point is, yeah, I’m bi. Oh, also frog dissection got moved to tomorrow because one kid threw up.”

Dick takes a deep breath (finally) and a long sip of his juice, before immediately returning to doodling athletic stick figures in the margins of his algebra homework.

Bruce studies him for a moment, trying to figure out what kind of response is expected of him, what would be helpful for Dick to hear. He’s really not very good at this kind of thing.

He’s saved from the risk of putting his foot in his mouth when the science class story continues.

“Are frogs really that gross? I don’t think they are. But I guess our basement is filled with guano, so maybe my tolerance is heightened by regular exposure to the substance most frequently equated with insanity.”

Dick hadn’t seemed nervous before coming out, or relieved after. And if he’s not going to make it into a big deal then neither is Bruce, even if a part of him feels pleasantly warmed by the casual show of trust.

Jason

Bruce loves picking up his kids from school. It’s not something that his schedule allows him to do very often, and Jason- as Dick had been before him- always seems pleasantly surprised to see him. It’s a little thing in the grand scheme, but it’s just nice, normal. And he would never say it out loud- he’s not sure why, he knows he should- but he cherishes the little bit of extra time spent with his boys.

But today Jason isn’t happy to see him.

Bruce pulls up to the curb, and only has to scan the crowd of teenagers for a few seconds before spotting him. He’s on a bench with another student, their shoulders pressed together despite wide swaths of free space available on either side of them. Jason’s pointing out something in a textbook, while the other boy plays with his free hand.

Bruce pulls slightly to the side to let another car drive around him, figuring he’ll give Jason a few minutes to finish up, and notice that Bruce is there, rather than call out and risk embarrassing him.

It’s not even a full minute before they make eye contact across the lot, and immediately something in Jason’s expression changes. His eyes go wide and startled, his posture suddenly tightened. In one fast motion he shuts his book with both hands, muttering something to his friend as he practically throws himself off the bench.

Now feeling on high alert, Bruce sweeps an intense gaze over the school yard for anything that could have upset his son. He doesn’t manage to spot anything before Jason arrives at the car and pulls himself into the backseat (where he never sits, unless the front is already occupied). He starts talking before Bruce can ask what’s wrong.

“That wasn’t what it looked like!”

Bruce frowns, and looks over both Jason and the area in front of the school in an attempt to identify something that isn’t like how it looks.

“He just-“ Jason flinches, seemingly realizing something wrong with whatever he’d been about to say, and cuts himself off with a sharp breath. “I mean-“

Feeling lost is by no means a new part of parenthood for Bruce, and he’s sure it’s something he’ll experience many more times going forward. But, god, he really hates not understanding what’s going on, not knowing what to do, and he doubts that he’ll ever get used to it.

“Jason,” he tries. “Slow down.”

“Yes, sir,” Jason answers automatically. “Sorry.”

It’s been over a year since Jason’s called him ‘sir’ and the sudden reintroduction of the honorific sends a cold chill down Bruce’s spine. For a second they just stare at each other, with what Bruce is pretty sure are matching expressions of partially concealed horror.

“Jason,” he says more quietly.

“I know,” Jason interrupts. “I’m sorry. Please-“ He stops himself, covering his mouth before he can finish the thought, and then just as quickly lowering the hand back to his lap.

Another silence follows, short but harrowing. Then finally Bruce makes a rare admission

“I have no idea what’s happening right now.”

Jason stares at him, and the wider his eyes get the younger he looks, and the more Bruce wants to scoop him up into his arms. But he just waits, and tries not to look too expectant.

“I-I was holding hands with Derek,” Jason breaths out.

“…Alright?” He’s heard that name before. Jason doesn’t have as many friends at school as Dick had, so they’re a little easier to keep track of, even if Bruce has only ever met any of them in passing. “Is this someone you’re worried I’ll embarrass you in front of?” He asks after a brief pause.

Jason keeps staring at him, expression crinkling as his breathing grows erratic.

Bruce finds himself automatically exaggerating his own inhales and exhales, resting the side of one hand against his sternum, to remind Jason of some of their breathing exercises.

“That’s it, chum,” he says as he sees it slowly begin to work. “Everything’s okay.” For all he knows- or doesn’t know- right now it might not even be true, but dammit for his kid he will make everything okay.

“Everything’s okay,” Jason obediently echoes.

Bruce takes his hand off his chest, and starts to reach towards him. But Jason flinches away from him, not as violently as he had back when they were still new to each others’ lives, but it’s enough to make Bruce feel sick. He can practically feel the wrongness of it squeezing his heart into shards as he slowly withdraws his arm back into the front seat. He had truly thought that they had gotten past this.

“I’m sorry, Jay,” he says softly, a small concession to the part of himself that wants to beg his son’s forgiveness for whatever he’s done to make him afraid. “I’m so sorry.”

Jason’s not looking at him anymore. His head is down, and his gaze is fixed on his knees.

Bruce hesitates.

“I’ll never hurt you.” It’s a reassurance he had thought they were past the point of needing, but if they aren’t he’ll say it as many times as he has to. “Never.”

“Are you mad?”

“Is there something particular that I’m supposed to be mad about?” Bruce asks carefully.

“... That I was holding hands with a guy,” Jason elaborates, after a steadying breath.

Oh, Bruce is an idiot. What kind of detective is he if he can’t even- He cuts himself off, realizing he can’t wait too long to respond to that.

“Of course not. That’s what this is about?”

“I never meant for you to find out,” is the response he gets. And doesn’t that just hurt like hell to hear?

“That you like boys?” Bruce confirms.

“And girls, both. But I didn’t know what you’d think, so I figured if I couldn’t be sure it was better to keep it to myself.”

Bruce closes his eyes, taking a second to calm his own breathing.

“I never want you to feel like that,” he says. “About anything. I’m sorry I didn’t make that clear. I love you, Jaylad, that isn’t contingent on anything.”

I wish I could have protected you from whatever it was that made you feel like this was something you had to hide. He doesn’t say it.

Jason is finally looking at him again, gaze thoughtful and careful. A long moment passes, before he surprises- and momentarily terrifies- Bruce by getting out of the car. But before he can react to that, Jason’s climbing into the passenger seat, and after a second of hesitation, leaning into Bruce’s side.

“Okay,” he says quietly, sounding a little choked up.

Bruce puts an arm around his shoulders. The closeness is a balm after the pain of having his son flinch away from him.

Tim

Tim isn’t supposed to come over today. His parents are in town, and Bruce had made a point of hiding his reluctance when he’d given Robin the week off, chastising himself for the empty nest syndrome he has no right to be experiencing- at least in regards to this particular child.

So he’s surprised when he hears Alfred’s throat clear, and looks up to see both Alfred and Tim lingering in the doorway to his office. It would be odd to see him here at this time of day even if they had been planning to go on patrol; sunset is still a few hours off.

Bruce immediately has a bad feeling. He knows it’s commonplace for the Drakes to disappear unexpectedly partway through whatever length of time they were meant to be spending at home. As Batman it’s made his life easier numerous times. As a parent it’s beyond his comprehension. If he still had his boys at home- but he can’t think about that, not without breaking down, and if Tim’s just been abandoned that’s the last thing he needs.

As he approaches the door, Alfred’s pointed look, and Tim’s vacant expression confirm that he’s right to be concerned.

“Tim.” He keeps his voice neutral. “I wasn’t expecting to see you today.”

He picks up on Alfred’s glare a fraction of a second too late to realize that he’s said the wrong thing.

“I’m sorry.” There’s something miserable in Tim’s voice, that makes Bruce want to bundle him up in a blanket. Before he can assure him that he has nothing to apologize for, Alfred cuts in.

“I told Master Tim that he’s welcome to stay with us for as long as he needs.”

Bruce nods automatically, looking down at Tim, who’s glassy expression looks a million miles away.

“Tim,” he says gently, eventually drawing the boy’s gaze, but feeling disconcerted by how delayed the response is.

Alfred leaves with a comment about putting a kettle on for tea, closing the door firmly but softly behind him. The sound it makes as it pulls all the way shut still makes Tim twitch.

“Do you want to sit down?” Bruce offers.

Tim stumbles a bit on his way to the couch. He’s so out of it; He won’t be patrolling tonight, even if his schedule’s suddenly open for it. Bruce sits down on the other side.

“Are they gone again?” He asks, trusting fully that the vaguely worded question will be completely understood.

There’s a worrying delay before Tim shakes his head, giving Bruce ample time to wish for Alfred back before he can register the response enough to be surprised by it.

“So...“ he begins uncertainly, before being cut off.

“I’m sorry,” Tim says again. “I don’t mean to be a bother.”

“You aren’t a bother, Tim.”

The- admittedly somewhat monotone- assurance just gets him a shrug.

“Can you tell me what happened?” He tries.

“Do I have to?” Tim asks after a long silence. “Can’t I just stay here?”

Bruce frowns.

“Of course you can stay here. But I think I really need to know what’s going on.”

Tim stares at him, eyes shining, mouth opening and closing several times before he speaks.

“Can I- Alfred says I can tell you something, and you won’t get mad?”

“Well, that depends on what it is,” Bruce says, thinking back on every time a robin has had something to tell him, but first wanted confirmation that he wouldn’t be angry.

Tim seems to shrink at his words, his breath catching audibly as he curls in on himself. Fuck, Bruce is bad at this.

“What do you have to tell me?” He asks.

“Well now I don’t know if I want to!” It almost comes out as a yell, strained by the sound of held back tears, and Bruce is a little taken aback.

“I’ll probably find out at some point,” he reasons.

There’s a beat of silence, and then Tim chokes on something that sounds like a suppressed sob.

No, no, no no. This isn’t supposed to happen. Bruce reaches out for him in an awkward and hastily aborted movement.

“I can’t,” Tim says after a minutes, tears streaking over his pale cheeks. “If you don’t-“ His voice catches. “I need you to let me stay here.”

Bruce’s heart hurts as he scooches a little closer, reaching out to rest a hand- hopefully not too awkwardly- on Tim’s shoulder.

“Of course you can stay here,” he reiterates. “I told you you could stay here. Even if I’m mad at you you can stay here. If you-“ He searches for a moment. “-Took the batmobile out on a joyride, and drove it into the harbor, I’ll be mad at you, but you’ll still have a place here. One will never have anything to do with the other.”

Tim makes a noise that’s over too quickly for Bruce to be able to tell if it had been a laugh, or just more crying.

“Did Jason do that?” He asks in a hoarse voice.

“Dick,” Bruce corrects.

This time Tim definitely snorts, which has Bruce smiling in spite of himself.

“Did you do something worse than that?” He asks.

It’s meant to be a joke, but Tim makes an unhappy face at the question.

“I- no!” He says, defensive, but confident. “I didn’t do anything wrong!”

Bruce gives his shoulder a squeeze before releasing it.

“Then why would I be mad at you?”

The humor that had begun to make its way into Tim’s expression disappears again, and Bruce curses himself.

“Mom and Dad were mad,” he says quietly.

Bruce scowls. He tries pretty hard not to let his dislike of Jack and Janet show around Tim- though he’s long suspected the young detective can tell- but it’s harder to hide sometimes than others.

“You said they were still home,” he remembers. “Tim, did they kick you out?” He does his best to keep the anger out of his voice.

And then he finds himself doing his best to keep the anger off of his face when it takes Tim a moment to answer the question.

“I don’t think forever,” he says uncertainly. “Just- They said they needed time to think about it, to d-decide what to do.”

The slight stutter puts him over the age, and fury starts to trickle into Bruce’s voice.

“To think about what?” He demands. Hell, that place is more Tim’s home than it is theirs. They have absolutely no right to ask him to leave! And where the hell do they expect him to go? Bruce forces himself to clench his jaw, and take deep breaths.

“...I’m gay,” Tim finally says.

Bruce stares at him for the second that it takes for the words to register, and connect back to the rest of the conversation.

“That’s it?”

He’s wincing at himself before the question is all the way out of his mouth, immediately convinced that he’s said the wrong thing again. But then, to his immense relief, he realizes that Tim has started laughing. It isn’t deep, or sustained. His voice is still a little weak, and his eyes are still a little red. But he’s definitely laughing, and Bruce realizes vaguely that a robin laughing is still his favorite sound in the world.

“That’s it,” Tim confirms, on the tail end of his laugh.

“Oh, Tim.”

Bruce doesn’t give himself a chance to second guess the motion before he pulls the boy into a hug, satisfied that it was the right course of action when he feels Tim melt against him.

“Of course I’m not mad, of course I’m not mad,” he repeats like a mantra. “I’m sorry I let you think I would be. You’re right, you didn’t do anything wrong.”

A few seconds pass, and he realizes there’s a wet patch at his shoulder where Tim’s face is buried. Bruce freezes, totally unsure of what he’s done wrong this time.

“I’m sorry,” Tim breaths out. “I- thank you. Thank you! I don’t know what I would have done if- I- I don’t want to be alone!”

“Not alone,” Bruce promises. “You’re not alone. It’s okay. You’re going to be okay.”

Tim presses closer, and Bruce takes it as a cue to tighten his hold.

Alfred finds them like that a few minutes later, Tim curled up in his arms, while Bruce cycles through reassurances. The look they exchange is enough to confirm that they’re both thinking the same thing: this kid is ours.

Cass

One day Cass hangs a little pride flag up on her door. Later in the week when she catches Bruce glancing at it, she comes up to him, gives the flag a meaningful nod, before just saying, “Girls!” in a happy voice, giving him a hug, and disappearing down the hall.

Damian

Bruce can identify every member of his family by their knock, but Damian’s is particularly distinctive. Not just because it tends to come from a lower part of the door, but because Damian has cultivated a strong knock, the way businessmen cultivate a strong handshake. It’s a very confident and determined sound, that he often finds himself stifling a smile at, knowing that that isn’t at all the intended reaction.

“Come in,” he calls, and there’s no pause before Damian strides into his office, confident as ever. When he speaks however, the undercurrents of his voice tell a different story.

“Father, there is something I wish to discuss with you.” There are a few hesitations, that don’t quite manage to turn into stutters in his voice, ones it’s unlikely anyone outside of their family would notice.

Bruce doesn’t comment on them, just nods for Damian to sit down and continue.

His legs don’t fully reach the floor. Something else that Bruce has learned not to let himself smile at.

“Grayson says…” he begins confidently, before trailing off.

Bruce just raises an eyebrow for him to continue, not feeling like he has enough information to put anything together from at the moment.

“Richard says,” Damian continues more carefully. “He came out to you as bisexual when he was around my age?”

Bruce nods. He has a feeling that he knows where this is going this time.

“He did.”

“He said that you were okay with it?”

Bruce nods again.

“Dick is my son. My love for him isn’t conditional, certainly not on that. There’s nothing wrong with not being straight.”

Damian had broached the topic using Dick as a proxy, so Bruce had followed his lead and assumed that Damian would know to automatically apply the assurance to himself. But Damian’s face just falls into a puzzled frown.

“So why…” he begins, before changing track. “Richard isn’t your biological son.”

Bruce frowns back.

“Damian, you know that doesn’t make a difference to me. I don’t love your siblings any less because they’re not-”

“I know,” Damian cuts in. “It isn’t about loving us differently.” He says it very matter of factly. “I have the ability to carry on your bloodline, whereas they do not.”

“That ability isn’t an obligation,” Bruce says, wondering why his kids never seem to be able to just worry about normal things. “And it’s certainly not something that you need to be thinking about at thirteen years old.”

Damian nods slowly, staring down at the desk with a look of intense concentration, before slowly raising his gaze to Bruce.

“Mother and Grandfather said that you wouldn’t like it, if I wasn’t interested in girls,” he says quietly.

Bruce sighs. of-fucking-course they did. He gets up from his chair, and moves around the desk to kneel in front of Damian.

“Well they’re wrong,” he says simply. “And they had no right to lead you to believe that it would make any difference to me. Just like I don’t love your siblings any less, my love for you is no more conditional. Understand?”

It takes a moment, but Damian nods.

“All right. In which case, I suppose... I’m gay.”

“And I’m proud of you,” Bruce says, before pulling his son into a hug.

Bruce

Bruce looks at his assembled family, and begins to feel a strange sense of trepidation tickling at the edge of his consciousness.

They’re all here. Trying to get the whole family together all at once is like pulling teeth. But he told them it was important, and they all came. There have been plenty of points over the course of the years when that wouldn’t have happened. And even though they’ve all been pretty settled with each other for a while now, he never wants to take for granted having his whole family together- not that he thinks the part of him that only seems to settle when he has all of his children within arm’s reach would let him.

The comfort of having them all be together is overwhelming, but the trepidation is still there, just like it probably always will be any time he manages to round up the courage for anything resembling feelings talk.

They’re all in one of the living rooms, sprawled in a comfortable half circle across various couches and chairs.

“There’s something I wanted to tell you all,” Bruce starts to say.

“Are you dying?” Stephanie asks casually.

Beside her, Cass freezes, looking horrified.

“I’m not dying,” Bruce says quickly.

At the same time Steph rubs a hand up and down Cass’s arm and assures her she was kidding.

“Not like he’d tell us if he was,” Dick says.

He knows it’s meant to be a joke, just like Stephanie’s question had been, but it still sends a chill through him. Mostly because he can’t say for sure that Dick is totally wrong; it’s the kind of thing he easily could have kept to himself. But then he sees the uncertain frown that Damian is giving him, and Cass’s wide, anxious eyes, and decides that he has to be wrong.

“I’m not dying,” he repeats, reaching out for Tim who’s sitting closest to him, and who’s been staring very intently at the floor since the topic came up.

Tim leans into the touch without shifting his position.

“And I would tell you,” he adds seriously, feeling absolutely wracked with guilt over the fact that up until this moment he doesn’t know if he would’ve been able to claim that with any certainty.

“I swear, if there’s anything wrong with me, all of you will know as soon as possible.” By the time it comes out of his mouth, he knows he means it with total certainty.

“I think we’re all pretty tuned into the fact that there’s something wrong with you,” Jason offers, and the tension in the room breaks.

Bruce smiles despite himself. That was agonizing. Compared to that getting on with the conversation he’d previously been so apprehensive to have will be a relief.

“What did you want to tell us?” Duke asks.

“It can be… difficult for me to articulate what it means to me whenever one of you trusts me enough to share something about yourself. I thought that I owed it to all of you to return the favor, and share a… recent discovery of mine.” He stumbles through it as awkwardly as he’d expected to.

“This is weird,” Stephanie stage whispers.

“I’m bisexual,” Bruce admits.

“Bruce!” Dick says excitedly.

“Unacceptable,” Jason cuts in. “We already have enough of that nonsense in this house!”

Tim kicks him in the side.

“Well, seeing as it’s an option, I for one prefer the idea of you pursuing romantic entanglements that bear no risk of resulting in pregnancy.”

“Noted, Damian.”

“I’m happy for you, B,” Tim says. “It can be hard figuring yourself out.”

“Thank you, Tim.”

“Is that it?” Duke asks. “I mean, not that it’s not a big deal- and I’m happy for you too by the way- it’s just that most of our family meetings involve addressing some kind of crisis.”

“That’s it,” Bruce admits.

“Perhaps- seeing as we’re all here anyways- we could take this opportunity to have dinner together as a family for once,” Alfred offers.

[tundrainafrica]

Title: Are you having nightmares?

Summary:  

"Levi, are you having nightmares?" Hange's tone was more serious. Her brown furrowed,

"I'm fine."

“Well…” Hange hummed. “You can have nightmares and still be fine right?”

“No. I don’t think you can.” Levi kept his own message subtle. He glared right at her. 

One hand on her chest, Hange seemed to have gotten the message. “Me?”

“Now that we’re on the topic of nightmares. Are you having nightmares?”

Levi and Hange seem to be having nightmares and Levi tries to get to the bottom of it. 

Written for Levihan Week 2021, Day 5: Fairytale

Link: AO3

Notes:

@levihanweek Day 5: Fairytale

I don't know if this is still accepted because it's also so late but I really am hellbent on completing the prompts. I'm still recovering from jetlag and the ten day quarantine and the domestic verse prompts are really just me dealing with some major baby fever.

Hange had a unique way of hiding her true feelings. She was an open book yet an enigma with the exact same breath. And she had always been one, Levi had known her long enough to be sure. The fact that there were so many parts of her he still didn't understand, despite having known her for almost half his life, had been particularly glaring the past few weeks.

Or maybe, Levi was just thinking too far into it.

Levi could have sworn though that something just wasn't right. He had the heavy eye bags, the unshakeable fatigue of almost sleepless nights. In the mornings, he had the bombardment of bustling sounds and soft lights which seemed to contrast annoyingly with his own discomforts.

"Levi, you okay?" Hange asked over a plate of breakfast eggs and basket of bread. Her mood, her approach towards him were just like those of every other morning before.

But Levi had seen too much to be able to stomach it too easily. No, are you okay? He would have liked to ask.

Hange though seemed more occupied with mixing her eggs and rice than with observing whatever expression was on Levi's face (which he could have sworn were heavier than usual) and the sluggish way he was navigating his breakfast.

Without warning, her attention shifted to him, abruptly enough to make Levi jump. "Levi?" Hange waved one hand over his face.

He was lucid enough to see that coming at least. He leaned away from Hange’s touch. "I'm fine. I should be asking you the same thing."

"Hm?" Hange cocked her head innocently to one side. "I'm fine too."

Does your throat burn? Are your eyes swollen? Just a quick look and a quick listen and Levi was sure, Hange was fine, perfectly healthy.

The ordeal every single damn night though was telling another story. And Levi was starting to doubt his own memories. Had he been dreaming?

Loud screams. Fatigue shouldn't have been this vivid if they had just been dreams. Just to be sure of it, Levi pinched himself.

His high pain tolerance, his nonchalance with pain turned out to be an utter inconvenience. Pinching himself had done nothing to wake him up.

It wasn't a dream right? He turned to his son propped on a high chair, still too young to be of any use in that little game of dream versus reality.

"Levi?" Hange asked.

"Yes? What?" If there was anything loud enough to have pulled him out and into reality, it had been his own voice.

"I said I'm leaving for work now."

"See you," Levi mustered weakly.

That day, he didn't accompany Hange to the front door.

***

For his age, Luke had a good handle of words, enough to express the most simple desires. Reading and Comprehension-wise, he was miles ahead for his age bracket and Levi attributed to the time Hange had dedicated to reading to the young boy. If Levi were to be completely honest though, he didn't think a child who barely brushed past the age of one should have been playing more than reading.

Still, there was a convenient pile in the living room right next to the bookshelf. When Levi gathered them in his arms and started to reorganize them on the bookshelf, he found himself the victim of one of his son's whims.

Luke appeared next to him then, pulled at one of the covers with a dragon on it and held it in front of Levi.

"You want me to read it?" Levi asked.

Luke didn't nod but the glimmer in his wide-eyed eyes was enough of an affirmation.

Levi was painfully free not in a hurry to do anything in particular and for once, he didn't have much of a reason to tell Luke 'to wait until dark, until mommy comes home.' In that brief moment, in that silent conversation between father and son, Levi started to notice, he had never read that book to Luke and he wondered why the hell he had never bothered to.

You're his father. Levi scolded himself as he caved into the large pleading eyes of his son.

He settled on the sofa, then he plopped his son right next to him. He held the young boy’s small delicate head onto his lap. Snug and settled, he started to feel for the pages of the book. His eyes landed on the front page for just a second, taking in the red dragon smack at the center.

With nothing else to think about, Levi became a little more aware of the sawdust in his mouth. He was prone to getting so easily self conscious of his voice and he had a strange desire to please his one year old son. He had seen Hange read that book to Luke so many times before.

At that age apparently, most kids seemed to get attached to certain books and that was Luke's favorite. But despite the long hours he spent with the boy, Levi was still a stranger to the plot of the book.

So he started slowly. “Once upon a time, there was a red dragon that lived on top of the hill…”

His voice was naturally soft and Levi suspected as he saw the eyes of his son flutter, that his tone may have been too monotonous.

He started to hear Hange’s voice in his head. She had a way of speaking with a natural cadence. She had a melody, a distinct up and down, then a cadenza to it which probably made the whole reading process a little more engaging for the young boy. Although Levi had never picked up what the story was about, he did immerse himself in whatever melody Hange seemed to sing every time she read aloud.

Levi tried, but he couldn't seem to replicate it. Around the third page, the boy’s breaths evened out, he lay limp on Levi’s lap. They never got past the part where the young dragon left his village in search of his new power.

Levi wasn’t too interested in the plot anyway. One hand cradling his son's head, the other propping his knees up, Levi carried him into the bedroom and tucked him into bed, not giving a second thought about the storybook beyond the need to put it neatly back on the shelf.

***

It didn’t happen everyday but Levi could have sworn, it happened at least thrice a week.

He wasn't good at making accurate estimates though, especially sicne those nights happened too quickly. They happened in blurs. And during those nights, Levi was too busy slipping his hands in between her sides and her arms and he pulled her closer.

The few nights before that, he attempted to wake her but whatever possessed Hange seemed to overpower her. He would try to wake her but it never proved successful. Hange was dead asleep every damn night it happened. Overtime, Levi learned to just play silently, be a good and patient partner and get her through whatever that strange recurring nightmare was.

That consisted of loud nights, screams, short breaths and the occasional long one. Hange let out screams, howls, something Levi had sworn he had never even heard of, even in the middle of the battlefield, bombarded by death after death.

Occasionally, Levi heard a crack in her voice in between screams, followed by some ragged breaths.

It soon became routine and Levi could only do so much. Eventually, her screams deadened into murmurs, then a tranquil silence. Without the trashing, Levi would tighten his embrace. When the sun started to rise, Hange would look back at him and ask him if he were okay. During those moments, Levi was certain, the worst was over. If he were lucky, he had time to fall back to sleep.

One particular morning, when Levi came to his senses again, Hange had turned on her side, her face inches away from him.

She seemed peaceful, calm and just a little amused. Her brown eyes wide, the crinkle and her dimples just a little deeper. She chuckled lightly. “You can let go now.”

***

It was the weekend and Hange was reading that damn book to Luke again.

“Oh no! What happened to the dragon!” Hange asked in mock horror.

"Mommy! What happened?"

“I don't know...” Hange muttered, with over exaggerated confusion. She never gave Luke any freebies when it came to simple questions.

The two were curled up on the sofa again and Levi was in the middle of reorganizing the books on the shelf, and occasionally eavesdropping. When in the middle of doing something as complex as solving his own puzzles in the house, he couldn’t focus on too many things at once.

He did however, pick up the few times Luke roared followed by a laugh from Hange.

“There! That’s it,” Hange said. “The dragon got a new special power…” She was a bundle of pride. She prattled on for a few minutes longer after that.

Having lived with her for years and having worked with her for many years before that, Levi had gotten accustomed to just tuning her out. And everyday he was getting better at tuning his own son when he was starting to sound like Hange when he ranted.

Luke was screaming too, and Hange was laughing. Within the walls of their small apartment, the sounds echoed, bouncing off the walls. Then they rang in his ears.

Levi probably lasted a second, before he gathered the books and started thinking up an excuse for an escape. “I’m going out to the balcony. It’s dirty,” Levi said, his voice a little out of his control.

“Sure!” Hange had stopped her laughs and her and her storytelling only long enough for that, and somehow, that had Levi’s blood slightly seething. He spun around quickly taking in the balcony just outside.

There were unwelcome visitors but for the first time, Levi was welcoming them. And for the first time, Levi was thankful some birds had made a toilet out of the balcony.

At least there was some excuse to clean and leave those two alone.

***

It was one of those nights again. And it just so happened that it had only been a few hours since that lazy afternoon cleaning bird turd on the balcony. Never would Levi have thought that he’d miss the lazy part of that day, even if it involved a pile of birdshit.

If it meant Hange would just stop screaming, if it meant not having to process the weight, the stress, the prickle at his neck.

There was a ringing in his ears. It reverberated. The pain, the discomfort or maybe just the heart wrenching sound was making his eyes water.

Hange was screaming again. It was as loud as every other day before. Levi slipped his hand underneath Hange's side, one under her her free arm, positioned his hands right under her chest and pulled her close. He gritted his teeth. He let out breaths, stayed stiff as she trashed under his grasp.

"I'm here," he murmured. He shushed her soothingly but she probably wouldn't hear it over the sound of her own screams or under the trappings of sleep. Just in case, he buried his face on her neck. He took in her strong scent and willed himself to hold on, and if his body and the sounds allow him any asleep then so will it. If they didn't, so be it.

By some piece of magic or miracle, time moved quickly. He could have dozed off for a second. And maybe Hange had calmed down.

The first sound he processed was the song of the morning birds then the soft even breathing next to him.

A few minutes of flitting in and out of sleep later, Hange spoke up. "Levi…” She struggled weakly out of his embrace. “I have to go to work."

***

"Levi, are you having nightmares?" Hange's tone was more serious. Her brown furrowed, her eyes narrowed. She could have been worried or Levi could have just been another one of her experiments. Most likely, both.

Her own question did have Levi thinking. He could have sworn Hange had been the one having nightmares. Maybe her screams at night were just his own nightmares. Hange had a tendency of playing with his mind though so he stuck with less cooperative answer. "I'm fine."

“Well…” Hange hummed. “You can have nightmares and still be fine right?”

“No. I don’t think you can.” Levi kept his own message subtle. He glared right at her.

One hand on her chest, Hange seemed to have gotten the message. “Me?”

“Now that we’re on the topic of nightmares. Are you having nightmares?”

Hange looked up at the ceiling, seeming deep in thought. “Not really…Why are you asking that?”

Did he tell Hange he had dreams she was screaming? Was that something he should have been worried about? When too many questions were running through his head, Levi chose to bend down and focus on his breakfast, use that brief reprieve as some opportunity to organize his thoughts, maybe find a way to explain the screaming, the need to comfort her in his dreams and then the impulse to hold her close.

He stayed mum for a second too long.

“Might be late for work! See you later.” She was out the door before Levi could even process what the hell had happened.

***

Levi was stuck with Luke again. While still reflecting on Hange’s strange behavior, he would have preferred to be alone.

Children though were a piece of work twenty four seven. He fed the kid, bathed him, dressed him and when he thought it was over, Luke suddenly asked him to read that damn book again.

Three pages into it, it didn’t look like Luke was going to fall asleep anytime soon.

“Keep reading daddy!”

No. Levi was tempted to say it out loud. It was easy not to give into temptation though. There were too many things he could occupy himself with.

Like what’s supposed to happen next? Levi thought to himself. There was something about the dragon going on a journey to discover his true powers. Then his trusty fairy friend coming along with him. It was difficult to do everything at once: read aloud, take in the drawings in the picture book, watch Luke while the young boy pranced around the room and while doing all that, making sense of the plot.

So when Luke asked some question about the story, Levi would just answer ‘yes.’ Once or twice, Luke called told him he was wrong. At the least, Levi was grateful that his son was smart enough to comprehend the plot of a book Hange had read to him endlessly.

A few more pages until the end, and Luke started to roar. The sound bounced on the walls, flew across the room and somehow, Levi found himself jumping at the sound. What the fuck.

Luke was much faster than Levi then. The young boy was skipping around the living room faster, then he started to march, his strides wider. He screamed louder.

“Daddy, do you see the fireball?”

What. Levi raised his eyebrows and nodded. He didn’t see a fireball but he could at make the playtime a little funner for the young boy.

“If I scream louder… it gets bigger!” Then he roared again, louder. He bent forward, pointed his ass back as if that had done anything to make it louder.

He was a toddler. How much louder could he get?

“Do you see the fire?”

Levi nodded. “Yes.” No, he didn't see a fire. It didn't seem right either to kill a toddler's imagination.

“Daddy scream too!”

Levi didn’t concede at first.

But Luke was persistent. “Please!”

He couldn’t bring himself to say no either. He took in a deep inhale, opened his mouth then let out an exhale.

He tried to put some voice into it. He could have sworn he did. Then he started to think, maybe he didn’t.

Luke’s disappointed pout was evidence enough. “Mommy was louder than that..”

***

“Hange, I finished that book.” The words came out of his mouth before he could even why he had decided to say it in the first place. Late at night, during a bout of silence, with his partner being a generally laid back person, Levi didn't think too much anyway about watching his mouth.

Hange looked up at him, the tea cup stopped just inches from her mouth. “Which book?”

“The one you’d read to Luke.”

“Which one?”

“The fairytale book.”

“Which one?”

”The one with the dragon,” Levi said. He sat in front of her with a huff, shaking away the trappings of sleep. It had been a notably exhausting day and it was just one of those few nights that Levi was considering retiring to bed a little bit past midnight.

”Ah yeah, that’s Luke’s favorite.” Hange cupped her tea cup a little tighter, a playful grin on her lips.”It’s fun reading it huh?

Levi didn’t bother to answer that question.“It's an annoying book. Especially if you consider the fact that towards the end, our child starts roaring.”

“Hey, it’s an inspiring story and I think it can teach kids a lot,” Hange said defensively. “A dragon on a quest to find his true powers, defeats a lot of his enemies and he finds out, the fire has been in him all along and all he has to do is let out a loud scream!"

Levi put one hand up instinctively when he spotted Hange taking a deep breath. "You seem invested.."

Hange shrugged. "Well, when you read it enough times, you start dreaming about it."

The key word was ‘dream.’ Soon after, Levi had managed to figure it out for himself. “Wait, wait. You're dreaming about…”

“Being the dragon,” Hange said matter-of-factly. “Like those dreams where I go on that journey, and I meet the wizard and he tells me, the power has been with me all along. And all I have to do is---”

“The power has been with me all along!” The dragon became excited. He inhaled… Then let out a long loud scream.

That was around the time Luke had started screaming. Levi didn’t memorize the story but he was still at least certain enough of that development.

“So in that dream… did you…Scream?” Levi asked.

Hange snapped her fingers excitedly. “Of course, In the story, that’s the only way to breathe the fire right?” she asked, as if she had assumed that Levi had read that book thoroughly.

Levi paused for a moment, and attempted to recall those excruciating episodes. In retrospect, it was easier to notice, Hange’s screams that night weren’t what anyone would have called bloodcurdling.

“Those were pretty vivid dreams…” Hange recounted.

“Very vivid dreams?” Levi corrected. Just like my dreams of you screaming. He had little to no energy though to amend his own response. The more Hange talked about the story, the more excited she seemed. The more she talked about the fire power and the indispensable scream, the more Levi was convinced that her own dreams weren’t a scream.

It all ended with some final confirmation with a soft scream from Hange, similar to the same roar Luke would do in the living room.. When Hange was mimicking the motions of breathing fire that night, it rang heavy, it seemed desperate as if she was running away from something. With the right frame of thought and the right hints, Levi could have sworn Hange had been laughing in between screams.

Laughing. Then screaming, like she was breathing fire. “Hange, how vivid are those dreams?”

“Very vivid.”

“Like...”

“Like…” Hange hummed. “I really remember screaming... Or at least in my dreams. Why?”

“Nothing.”

“You've been having nightmares too right?”

“Well it turns out they weren’t fucking dreams,” Levi grumbled.

“What?” Hange blinked, a confused look on her face.

Levi pushed the chair back and stood up. “Let’s go back to bed.”

“Hey, I’m not yet done drinking.”

“Then hurry up. I’m going to bed.”

That was an empty threat. Levi wouldnt’t have left Hange or retired without cleaning out the tea cups and saucers on the table.

And it looked like Hange saw through it. She smirked playfully. “You serious? You're sleeping this early?”

His eyelids heavy, his mouth trembling in frustration, Levi gathered his own saucer then Hange's. "I haven't been sleeping well these past few nights."

"You're really having nightmares huh? You wanna talk about it?"

"After I've slept enough," Levi said coldly as he brought the dishes to the sink. “We can talk in the morning.”

Hange was persistent. "But you might sleep better if you talk about it right? It doesn't make any sense that you're going to bed and you're gonna risk dreaming about it again."

"I'm. not. having. nightmares." Levi raised his voice over the sound of the water running and the sound of the scrubbing of saucers and cups. "I just said I'm not sleeping well."

There was a pregnant pause. "You wanna see a doctor?" Hange asked hesitantly.

"No. I'm fine," Levi said.

"If we don't talk about this, we won't be able to find a way to fix it." Hange was annoyingly matter-of-fact about it.

But then, Hange usually got the hint. Both of them could usually talk in hints and details more than in actual conclusions and they would also stumble upon some sort of resolution. Maybe the truth was just so farfetched, or maybe Levi's own speculation was just too out of this world that Hange hadn't figured it out for herself.

Then he lost confidence in his speculation. If a genius like couldn't figure it out, then maybe it wasn't true? "Maybe you wanna try not reading that book first?"

"The dragon book?" Hange asked, Of course it was the dragon book. Hange seemed to be stalling and late at night, she seemed to have caught the exhaustion that had been plaguing Levi.

"Yes, that damn fairytale you've been reading to Luke."

Hange looked up, seeming deep in thought. It looked like with time, she was able to put two and two together. A few seconds later, she spoke up. "Am I... screaming in my sleep?"

The cups and saucers cleaned. Levi put them on the tray to dry, looked back at Hange and nodded slowly.

"And that's why you've been holding me in the mornings," Hange continued, a look of utter comprehension in her face. She could have been explaining a new discovery to one of the government officials.

"Yes," Levi answered, his tone firm. Hange's own revelation had been enough to take some of the weight off Levi's shoulders. "Let's go to the room."

When they had settled on the bed, turned off the lights, Hange was still speaking. She was sitting up on her side of the bed and she didn't look like she was in a hurry to sleep any time soon. "And that's why you've been looking so tired lately. God, Levi I was so worried about you too."

Levi mumbled something but he didn't bother to figure out what. He was in and out of sleep already. It was Hange and her loud domineering voice which still managed to tear into that in between state.

"What now?" Hange asked. "If I sleep now..."

"Sleep..." Levi murmured.

She got that part at least. "If I sleep, I'm gonna end up screaming again."

"Baby steps, don't read that damn book." Levi mumbled louder and he hoped it was clear enough for her to understand.

"But Luke---"

"Sleep."

"Levi..."

"Sleep."

Hange could have protested for a few more moments after that but Levi didn't remember the rest of it. The next time he awoke was almost an hour later, once again to loud screams then ragged breaths. To an excuse to slip his arms around her once again and bring her closer to him in one tight hug.

"Baby steps," he whispered just to himself. Baby steps.

[applepi-1]

He's afraid of hurting you

Tsukishima x Y/n

Terushima x y/n

Atsumu x y/n

Warnings: fluff

Mentions of rape on Atusma's part.... sorry :(

Also I do request…

-596 words-

You and Tsuki have been friends for as long as you remember, it's always been you, Tsukishima, and Yamaguchi. Always. But somehow you fell for the tall salty dino-loving jerk. You guys did everything together and you were the only other person he tolerated. When you met the team people asked Yamaguchi if you guys were dating, both laughing until you saw Tsukishima. You ran to him and began to bug him, much to everyone's shock (except Yama) when the tall boy smiled softly down at you.

Tsukishima also fell for you, but... he was scared, he covered his feelings with salty comments, but with you he could never, you were his soft spot. He always admired the way you smiled, laugh, or the face you make when you were concentrated or were nervous. He finds it adorable, but he won't tell you that. He'll tease you about how your face looks, but you'd laugh it off.

So, come to both of your surprises when you confess. It was a normal Tuesday, except it was just you two walking home, since Yamaguchi was sick. "Hey, Tsuki, can I be honest with you?" You asked once y'all reached your house.

"Would you rather lie?"

"No, god no... but uh, I like you..." You nervously messed with your fingers. You felt as if your heart was hitting your ribcage as hard as Oikawa serves a ball. Tsukishima felt as if he was dreaming, feeling his stomach twist and his heard dance. But... still fear ate at the boy.

"I like you too..." You smiled immediately. "But I can't be with you." And immediately faded.

"What...?" What kind of confession it that, he began to panic as he saw tears form.

"It's not that I don't want to be, Y/n, trust me, I do... but..." The words got stuck in his throat, he's not used to being this vulnerable. "I-I'm scared..." Your eyes grew at how soft his voice was, he was biting his lip so he didn't show his feelings.

"W-Why...?" You watch him tug on his jersey, the showers were down so none of the players thought of changing.

"I... I don't want to hurt you..."

"Is this about, E/n?" You asked, talking about the bitch who left Tsukishima for her best friend. He said something uncalled for, but that didn't give her the right to cheat and blame Tsukishima.

"Maybe... no, this is about how I'm not good in relationships, the last one I was in, she cheated on because of what I said to her... I.."

"I would never." You finished his sentence making him look at you. "Tsuki, you guys got into an argument, big deal. Couples argue you salty dino." Tsukishima surpassed a laugh as you continued, "It did not give her the right to cheat because you called her out for flirting with that idiot she cheated on you with. I know you loved her, but... I'm not her. If we fight, I'll sit in front of you despite your harsh words. Just like I always do. The only guy I want to flirt with or have my attention is you." He looked down at you and felt his shoulders drop.

"R-Really?" You grabbed his face and smiled.

"I'm willing to do this if you are..." He looked down at you before wrapping his arms around you, you sighed into him, wrapping your arms around his neck.

"I don't deserve you... I love you so much, Y/n..." You smiled leaning into your best friend, your now boyfriend.

"I love you too, Tsuki."

-751 words-

You sighed into your seat, watching your best friend flirt up a storm with someone else. Kazuma Bobata knew of your feelings, and of the feelings of #1, Yūji Terushima. He sighed and sat next to you, placing a hand on your shoulder making you jump and look away from your crush. "Oh, Kazuma. Hi." He just gave you a look, you furred your brows, what crawled up his ass? "Everything good, Kaz?"

"No, our friend is hurting you." You raised your brows. "Don't deny it, I'm not stupid." He said once he saw you about to open your mouth, you sighed and looked down.

"How long...?"

"Since we met." I sighed again resting my head in my hands.

"What do I do...?"

"Confess you, idiot." You looked up to him immediately, Terushima looked in your direction hearing Kazuma call you an idiot.

"What, no?!" You didn't mean to yell but you did, your best friend left the girl standing there confused as he walked over to you, seeing you laugh a little.

"Everything okay, Y/n?"

"Huh?" Your face reddens hoping he didn't hear Kazuma say something about confessing.

"I'm trying to get her to confess to her crush." You immediately whipped your head to Kazuma.

"Dude!" You slapped his arm, Terushima felt his heartbreak, wincing a little, but it went unnoticed to you both.

"How about you practice on Terushima?"

"What..... /////-/////" Both of you blushed and looked at Kazuma who knew exactly what he was doing.

"Yeah, it'll help you both, Terushima needs to confess to his crush as well." Terushima so badly wanted to hit his friend, but he was right.

"Oh... I..."

"Fine." You looked at your friend in shock, "I... I-I'll help." His heart tugged and winced at his words, as long as your happy, right...? You blinked a couple times...

"Uh... okay...? U-Um, w-when...?"

"After school..."

--

You sighed into your bed, looking at your best friend's eyes. Sighing this is difficult, think of him as someone else. "Okay. Okay. I like you, a lot, and I can't believe I'm saying this, but I do. I have since we were running on the playground laying at how stupid a kid looked, and... I like you despite you flirting with every girl you see..." As you continued to list why you liked him with your eyes closed, Terushima felt a smile form on his face, you like him? Once you finished and opened your eyes and saw he was smiling... it that a good sign, then you remembered. "Right... uh, your turn to... p-practice your c-confession..." It hurt you to say practice, you wish this was real.

"Oh... uh, right... Look, I like you so much, but... I don't think it'd work." What?

"Dude, horrible confession, what are you trying to do? Hurt her, make her happy, and confused?"

"Shut up and let me finish." You sighed and punched his shoulder, indicating your listening. "I like you a lot, but... I don't want to be the one hurting you in the end, Y/n... I can't do that. Not to you. I hate myself for letting my ex walk away because I chose to flirt with someone else. But with you... I... I can't do that... It pains me to flirt with other girls when the only girl I want to flirt with is you... But it won't last, I'll fuck up eventually." Congrats, Terushima, you made me happy, sad, and confused.

"I... I'm sorry... what the fuck gives you the right to have this all one-sided." His eyes widen a little, he should've known you had something to say. "So what your ex left, I'm not them, Teru. I like you, hell I fell in love with you and I trust you. If you fuck up and flirt with someone we'll talk it out, not just call it quits, or if you feel the need to flirt with someone, pretend not to know me, and flirt up a storm you dumbass." He laughed a little grabbing your face, but you weren't done. "I love you, you, I know you like me, Teru... but, I love you, and I love all your mistakes, I mean, I stuck around this far haven't I...? Doesn't that mean something... Hm." He cut your rambling off pressing his lips firmly to yours.

"You talk too much." He kissed you again, this time you shivered as the coldness of his tongue ring hit your lip. "I love you. God, I love you."

-959 words-

Atsumu knew giving you a spare key to his house was foolish. But he wanted to make sure you knew you were welcome, when you reached his house it was 2 in the am, and you needed your best friend more than anything. You took out your spare key and opened his door, jumping when you see Osamu in the kitchen. "Ah, welcome home, Y/n." You laughed shutting the door quietly behind you.

"H-Hi... O-Osamu..." He looked over in your direction immediately noticing the way your voice went high and the way you choked on your words.

"Y-Y/n... did something happen?" You pulled your hand over your mouth, keeping your sobs quiet, Osamu immediately dashed to you, leaving what he was doing in the kitchen. "Oi... ya okay?" You shooked your head as he wrapped his arms around you, letting you sob into his chest. "Talk to me, Y/n..." Osamu was like your big brother, he knows of your feelings toward his twin.

"I... I went on a date..." He sat you down on the couch, giving you some room. "I... H-he... took me to a cafe... and after we ate and stuff... I felt... d-dizzy... and... I c-couldn't stop him..." Atsuma walked down feeling thirsty when he heard your voice, he stopped on the stairs looking at you. "H-How do I... tell A-Atsumu...?" He watched as his brother kissed your head and brought you into his chest.

"Do you want me to tell him...?" He watched as you shook your head. "Just... be honest with him." Atsumu sniffed the air and spoke.

"Is something burning...?" You turn your attention to the other twin. Osamu immediately got up and ran to the kitchen. Atsumu looked at you and noticed how you wouldn't meet his eyes. "Y/n...?" He couldn't help but think you were crying and asking for advice on how to tell him something, he thinks you're seeing his brother, and don't know how to tell him. But boy is he far off.

"I... I need to talk to you... Osamu k-knows a-already..." He looked down at you confused, taking his brother's spot next to you.

"Y/n..." He wants to tell you he knows, but something about your face is saying to wait.

"I... I... I c-can't..." You buried your face into his chest, he was taken back but immediately hugged you. "I... I don't know why I can't... tell you... the words just... won't come out..." He furred his brows, hoping his misreading things.

"It's just me, Y/n." You broke down more, that's the thing, you didn't even want to go on a date, but, you wanted to get rid of your feelings for the blonde twin. You know he'd never like you, but he does. He really does.

"T-That's the p-point..." Osamu came back in and tapped your shoulder.

"I-I don't know much, about ya s-situation, but, here..." You grabbed the water from him and smiled lightly, that confirmed it, he was misreading things.

"Y/n...?" You looked down at your cup.

"Hey, just tell him what you told me."

"Okay..." He furred his brows and sighed.

"Y/n-"

"I was raped." You blurted out cutting Atsumu off... out of all things. He never expected that, Osamu sat there rubbing your shoulder.

"You... what...?"

"She went on a date, got dizzy after..." Atsumu sat closer to you, pulling you into his chest, rubbing your back softly.

"I..." The words got stuck in his throat. "I... will y-you be able to... sleep...?" You laughed at how careful he's being.

"C-Can I stay, w-with you... tonight...?"

"Ya guys can take the guest room, so ya can talk privately, and not annoy me." You both laughed, Atsumu helped you stand before leading you to the bed.

"Ya can take the bed." You gave him a look.

"I, uh, please don't make me sleep alone." He looked at you and sighed.

"I won't," He rubbed your arms gently. He laid over the covers as you laid under, you laughed. "What?"

"I don't bite." He laughed getting under the covers. He watched as you closed your eyes, scooting a little closer. "You can close your eyes and try to sleep you know."

"Sorry, I might not be able to sleep. I usually sleep without a shirt."

"Oh. Then take your shirt off, ya goof." He froze for a second, but slowly sat up, slipping his shirt over his head. He laid back down resting on his back. "Better?"

"Yeah." You nuzzled closer sighing a little.

"Uh, Tsumu, can uh, can you hold me..." He looked at you and saw how you weren't meeting his eyes.

"Come here," you nuzzled your head into his chest letting his arm drape over your shoulder, rubbing it softly, you let out a shaky breath. "Better?"

"Hm, thank you... Tsumu." He squeezed you in response. Once he felt your body get heavier, he kissed your head.

"I'd do anything for ya, I love ya, ya idiot. But... I don't want to hurt ya..." You smiled slightly before looking up making Atsumu turn a deep red. "I thought ya were asleep."

"Eh, but for the record, I love you too... to be honest, I went on the date because... I thought you didn't like me so..."

"Hm, so it's my fault." You sat up immediately as he looked like he was about to cry.

"No, god no."

"If I would have grown a pair, and told you how I felt... none of this would have happened."

"And I wouldn't be here, laying next to you." You traced your fingers over his abs, "I wouldn't be touching you like this." You leaned down pecking his lips. "Kissing you."

"No, no, we'd still do that." You both laugh cuddling into each other. "I love ya."

"I love you too. And you could never hurt me."

[thedistantdusk]

Invisible Stranger

Written for @clarensjoy‘s Hinny Fic Fest! Prompt #28: “Just... talk to me. Please.” Thanks to Ina for the quick beta :D Summary:  When Ginny Weasley is eleven years old, Tom Riddle changes the course of her life. But she’s only eleven, so she doesn’t see it at first.  TW: Coded/implied assault. Mild smut (later excerpts).  ________________________________________________________ When Ginny Weasley is eleven years old, Tom Riddle changes the course of her life. 

But she’s only eleven, so she doesn’t see it at first. 

All she knows is that Tom talks to her when she’s lonely, although to say they merely talk would be a staggering understatement. She hears his voice more than anyone else’s. She sees his face when she sleeps. She cries to him, bonds with him, pines with him. She thinks of him so often — regardless of if they’re actually talking — that it doesn’t even occur to her that some of these thoughts might not be her own. 

She doesn’t even realize he’s entered her until it’s too late. Until he’s done it. Until he’s made her do things… shameful things. Things she’d been embarrassed to report to her parents. She knows full well she’d only be met with reprimands for making herself vulnerable in the first place. 

When she tries to ask her brothers for help, a tiny part of her is happy they don’t. How can she possibly explain this without feeling a hot, aching brand of shame deep in her soul? She’d have to answer some ghastly questions, ones that would make the whole situation even harder to believe. The thought of taking Veritaserum makes her shudder; she’d have to admit — perhaps to a Ministry stranger — that she did enjoy parts of this. 

She’d have to watch even more of her agency slip away, right in front of her eyes, as her body betrayed her yet again. The mere thought of the sort of mortifying confession that might slide off her tongue is enough to shut her up… enough to keep her from being even more persistent. 

Ginny just lies awake at night and grasps at the straws in her spinning mind until her head pounds from the exertion of trying. She’s desperate to remember something — anything — from the swaths of time that just disappeared. She eventually reaches the conclusion that perhaps she’s forgetting on purpose; perhaps she’s protecting herself. 

She just hopes and prays that the memories won’t slam into her sometime in the future with the force of a freight train.

She ultimately decides it’s a blessing, really, that she doesn’t get help. After all, she’s spent eleven years trying to convince everyone that she’s not a baby. It would be the worst kind of setback to ask for help now, just as she’s gained some independence. 

When she chucks the diary in the toilet, she’s confident she’s handled it herself. Her mother wouldn’t be thrilled that her only daughter found herself in this situation, but Ginny likes to think she’d be proud of her resourcefulness. Proud of her only daughter, who’s finally taken control. 

Still, Ginny keeps her head down, keeps her face impassive, keeps her cloak pulled tightly to hide the deepest blush of regret that crawls up her chest whenever she thinks of Tom.

Then the worst possible thing happens: Harry gets ahold of the diary. The second she sees it with his books, she can almost hear the entire world crumbling beneath her feet. 

She only has a single thought: No. She can’t let him. She can’t let Harry, of all people, have open access to the thoughts that have plagued her for months. The thoughts (the lurid, inappropriate thoughts) that she’s had about him. 

So she steals up to Harry’s room and snatches it back, her heart pounding in her throat. She’s long past the point of needing the diary itself to hear Tom’s voice, but seizing it again — letting him inside of her again — doesn’t exactly help. 

Because right from the off, this time is different. The diary hums against her fingers, throbbing in her palm; Tom hasn’t said a word, but she knows he’s going to punish her. She lets out a strangled choke, her eyes rolling back in her head. He’s going to make her regret her little stunt of chucking him in the toilet, isn’t he? Yes. He’s going to make her rue the stupid, impulsive part of her that thought she’d find a way out.  

Her last thought as she loses consciousness is that maybe death will end it. Maybe in death, she’ll truly be free.

Ginny doesn’t die, though — and to her surprise, she can’t even hear Tom when she wakes in the Chamber. All she knows is that Harry’s there. And Ron. And… Lockhart? Seriously? 

Shit, maybe it would’ve been better if she died. Then she wouldn’t have to endure the remnants of this mortifying, twisted nightmare. Then maybe she wouldn’t have to sit there and sob as Dumbledore and McGonagall explain this to her parents. 

She just lets the tears flow as her father yells, as her mother makes incredulous sounds. With every intonation and raised voice, a single word thumps against her skull: Weak.

Weak. Weak. Weak. 

She’s weak. 

But at least for now, she’s alone in her own mind. At least for now, it won’t happen again… not like it has. In retrospect, she reckons she should’ve known better to think he’d ever truly left. Because Tom Riddle has already become her past, present, and future. She just doesn’t know it yet. _______________

Tom takes a different form during her second and third years at Hogwarts. He isn’t entering her or forcing her to do things or beguiling her with his charm and feigned interest, but he’s there nonetheless. He’s dancing, taunting her in the edges of her periphery… crawling in when the weather changes and everything grows cold and dark. Whenever she does poorly on an exam — especially in the winter months, the anniversaries of when things went from Vaguely Bad to Horrifically Bad — she swears she can feel his sneering lips pressed to her neck as his high-pitched cackle resonates in her brain. 

“You’re a baby,” he jeers, his face split into a predatory grin. “I can’t wait to see how else you fail.” 

When Ginny catches a glimpse of the way Harry peers at Cho, Tom only reinforces how she’ll never compare. “Look at her,” he taunts, and Ginny can almost see the leer curling his lips. “She’s poised and beautiful and perfect. She looks like a woman. Why would Harry ever want a girl?” 

And he says it so much — and Ginny thinks it so much — that she starts to believe it. He’ll never want her, will he? It’s clear Harry likes girls, women, who don’t need rescuing. Why would he want someone who’s been tainted with darkness? 

So Ginny moves on… slowly. She finds strength in other ways. She uses quidditch to regain trust in her own body, the trust she had before Tom made her question her own muscles and movements. 

She even dates, as she feels a normal teenager would. Not that she breathes a word about Tom to any of her potential suitors. She knows they couldn’t handle it; most boys couldn’t, not that she blames them. She knows untainted boys would respond like her friends have: by awkwardly clearing their throats through a whispered, “Oh” or a strangled, “I’m so sorry.” Then they’d treat her like she’s made of glass, and it would ruin things. 

Because if there’s one thing she won’t tolerate, it’s someone making her feel weak. Weak gets you in trouble; weak ruins your life and makes you undesirable. No matter how much Tom loves to bother her in winter, she’ll never let anyone see the resulting weakness.

_______________

Ginny considers herself fortunate, really, that Tom doesn’t outwardly come up when she ends things with Dean. It’s an accomplishment that she escapes from that relationship relatively unscathed. Her darkness didn’t accidentally show itself or lay there, sprawling and naked, for him to pick apart. 

It’s different with Harry, of course. She knows it will be from the second he kisses her in the common room. He’s the first one who doesn’t need to see her in a mask of normalcy and constant contentment. He’s the first one who understands that she’s not asking for an apology or reassurance when she accidentally drops a sad piece of her backstory into a casual conversation. 

On the few occasions when she does say things like that (because, again, she doesn’t have to watch her words with him) Harry just holds her closer, her ear pressed to his beating heart, as he runs his calloused fingers through her hair. 

And Ginny thinks, for once in her life, that perhaps there’s an unspoken value in sharing that sort of darkness. 

_______________

She tells Harry the full details of Tom pretty soon after they start shagging. She knows the war’s over; she knows they’ve kind of won. She also knows a well-adjusted person would have left this bit behind… but she reckons neither of them will ever be well-adjusted, really. They’re the sort of couple who cries when they hear I love you but remains stone-faced at funerals of their friends. For Harry especially, she knows that love presents as something that makes him feel uncomfortably warm, almost smothered. It can be a prickly, painful, cloying sensation… one he doesn’t always know how to respond to. With everyone else, he’s afraid of saying the wrong thing. Of seeming either too flippant or too mindful. 

But as their bodies connect, as they rock together in the dying sunlight, his fingers digging into her hips as he pulses inside her, he doesn’t have to pretend, either. 

Harry’s angry when she tells him… but not with her. He’s angry Tom ever made her feel that way. He’s especially angry with the worst of what Tom said: that on the off-chance Harry did want her, he’d only want her for sex. 

Harry brings it up several months after her initial admission.

“You know what I think about a lot?” he slurs, his finger tracing the curve of her breast as she lies naked beside him. 

She quirks a brow; no, but it doesn’t seem like a rhetorical question. 

Harry sighs, flopping over to his back. “I mean, I know it’s horrible and everything,” he allows, raising his hand in warning, “but seriously, I can’t help but be confused that Tom thought I’d be good enough at sex to use anyone for anything in the first place!”

There’s a moment of silence. 

And then Ginny cackles, shaking her head against the threadbare pillow in her bedroom. Harry joins her, pressing her against his side.

“I’m glad we’re both fucked up,” she says, when the giggles subside. “I reckon normal people are boring.” 

“Probably,” Harry agrees, his hand unconsciously toying with her hair. “Guess normal isn’t really my type, though.”

“Oh, so you prefer funny and traumatized?”

Harry smirks. “I prefer you.”

_______________

Tom doesn’t come back in full force until she falls pregnant the first time. 

Maybe it’s because they hadn’t planned on this— and regardless of how misty-eyed and excited Harry is, they definitely hadn’t planned on it. 

Maybe it’s because she’s certain it’s a boy, which carries certain burdens as the son of the Chosen One.

Maybe it’s because she’s feeling a similar loss of control, like her body isn’t her own. 

But mostly, she reckons, it’s because she’s plagued with the near-constant thought that she’s doing something wrong. 

She had a glass of wine before she found out (strike one, Bad Mum). She trips on her trainers and lands on her bum (very, very Bad Mum). She starts spotting at 12 weeks after she goes for the only jog of her entire pregnancy (horrifically Bad Mum; utterly unfit to raise a child). 

And all of this spins around in her head, faster and faster and faster, until she sees Tom’s face again one night. “You’re fat now,” he mocks, his voice a cruel whisper that slithers into the space between slumber and consciousness. “The nerve of you, thinking you’d do something so selfish as staying in shape at a time like this. I can’t wait to see Harry’s face when you tell him you’ve lost the ba—“

She bolts upright in bed, her heart pounding, and throws the blankets off to peer between her thighs. A ragged chuckle of relief escapes her lips. Nothing. There’s nothing, the baby’s fine, and—

“Ginny?” 

Shit.

She bites her lip and turns to Harry. He’s peering at her, his expression exhausted but alert. She hates that look, she really does; it reminds her too much of when he’d woken from his own dreams, right after the war. 

“A nightmare,” she whispers, brushing his hair from his eyes. “Only a nightmare. Go back to sleep.”

Harry sighs and grips her hand. He knows better. “Just... talk to me. Please. You don’t even have—“

“—It’s Tom,” she cut across, biting her lip. She feels guilty enough for waking Harry when he’s got work tomorrow; she’d better make it quick. “It’s just… stupid pregnancy shit, taking the form of Tom. Or maybe it just is Tom, somehow. I don’t really know.”

She throws her hands in the air before settling back against the headboard. And then, in a small voice: “He just… he’s so great at making me feel stupid.” 

There’s a beat. 

Harry reaches up to cup her cheek; she leans into the warmth, unsure if she’s finding more comfort in the familiarity or the gesture itself. 

“Well,” he says slowly; she can tell from his tone that he’s biting his lip, even if she can’t see it in the darkness. “You’re not stupid. But it’s also not stupid that he still makes you feel like that sometimes. Does that… make any sense?”

Her lips twitch in a soft smile. “It does. It makes sense. I just... I hate feeling weak.”

Harry chuckles and pulls her against him. She sighs into the crook of his neck, her eyelashes fluttering against his skin. 

“I could use a lot of words to describe you, darling.” His fingers dance on the gentle swell of her belly; he always sounds so pleased when he touches her, especially here, like he can’t help but feel chuffed that he’s actually knocked her up. “But I’m afraid that weak doesn’t make the cut.” 

Ginny giggles. “I’ll just have to settle for mad, I reckon,” she manages through a yawn. What is it about his bloody heartbeat that always settles her?

“Mad it is,” he agrees, kissing her forehead.

_______________

“It’s him again, isn’t it.” 

It’s not a question. But if it were, the answer would be obvious. 

Ginny’s staring out the window, her whole body poised and anxious. Every fiber of her being is taut. If she had a bit more self-awareness, she might compare herself to a hunting dog who’s just sensed a pheasant. 

But self-awareness is the furthest thing from her mind. Not when she’s worried about her babies. And she’s worried about all of her babies, yes — but there’s something especially triggering about the involvement of her little girl. Her only girl. Her girl, who’s exactly the same age as she was, right when—

“He’s here!” 

Ginny scarcely hears the words leave her lips as Pig flies through the air and into their open window. Safe. She hasn’t even read the letter yet, but she can tell from Lily’s messy scrawl across the parchment, from the agreed upon symbol of a tiny dragon, printed in the corner, that she’s safe.

Ginny has to draw a deep breath to stop herself from bawling with relief.

“Told you she’d be fine,” Harry murmurs, wrapping an arm around her waist. He rests his chin on the crown of her head as Ginny rips the letter open, nonetheless desperate for the proof she knows she’ll flnd. Desperate for confirmation that her baby’s made it to school all right. Desperate to know another little girl — her little girl — won’t find herself violated and alone. 

Ginny reads the letter through a veil of tears and presses it to her chest when she’s done. Safe. Her baby’s safe. 

A few minutes later, she turns to Harry with an apologetic shrug, brushing the tears from her eyes. “Ready for dinner?” she asks, gesturing towards the door. “Or did you want to stay inside all day and mope about having an empty house for the first time in ages?” 

Harry rolls his eyes, but a smile plays at his lips. He mutters something under his breath that distinctly sounds like not sure which of us was doing the moping, darling. 

But Ginny’s happy to ignore that as she links her arm in his. She’s pleased to go to dinner and drink too much and laugh too loudly. It’s just another reminder of what she has… and how she almost didn’t have it, at all. 

Because while Tom Riddle might be her past, present, and future, Ginny will do everything in her power to ensure he never defines another little girl’s life like that. 

Ever again.

[jtrbluv]

resolutely, yours. | kth

summary: When your best-friend slash pain-in-your-ass, Kim Seokjin, drags you to a New Year’s Eve party that you didn’t want to go to in the first place, what better way is there to pass the time than to stay sober and watch all your classmates go berserk? Well, that is until Kim Taehyung steps into the picture, of course.

pairing: taehyung x reader

genre: fluff

word count: 2.7k+

warnings: profanity, slight alcohol consumption, implied drug usage (two words only, i swear), college party antics should say enough

A/N: first fic of the year! W O O! this was supposed to be for tae’s birthday but i guess it’s fitting since it is the new year. a special thanks to miss mei @sugacouture for her likeness and @koushiningg aka the eternal hypewoman. this fic (drabble) is rly short but i do have a lot coming up in store! for now, hope u enjoy and happy new year everyone!

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You are going to murder Kim Seokjin.

The spiked punch that fills your red solo cup up to its brim has been waiting to be quaffed down for thirty-seven minutes now. Roughly five minutes before that, Seokjin had somehow managed to drag you through the front doors of the fraternity party he’s been wanting you to accompany him to for weeks now.

And it only takes ten minutes for the proclaimed party animal and people-person, Kim Seokjin, to vanish from your side. He leaves you to fend for yourself in a jungle full of plastered college students—priorities at the moment are to either drink so much liquid regret that they can’t even remember their own names, or to find someone to make out with when the clock strikes at midnight. From simple observation, you notice that most, if not everyone here, fall under both categories.

Well, the exception being you, of course.

One thing to note is that you actually do have a decent tolerance for alcohol. You were no stranger to it, and it would serve as a dutiful companion to you when times called for it. Like last week after your last final that you knew you fucking bombed.

However, the humidity of the room due to the accumulation of bodies that left little to no room for fresh air, in addition to the strong stench of alcohol mixed with sweat mixed with God knows what, just was not the ideal place for you to get wasted. It didn’t stand close in comparison to drinking with a solid group of close friends, or by yourself in the comfort of your bed while a shitty rom-com plays in the background on your laptop.

The atmosphere is suffocating all of your senses— tears pricking at the corners of your eyes due to the strong odor of the room, the curled front pieces of your hair dampening and sticking to your temples, your mouth and throat dry as the Sahara Desert because, of fucking course, there is absolutely no water to be seen.

The small black dress and heels that Seokjin forced you to wear was worsening the situation greatly—your legs practically glued stuck to the stool you were sitting on, leading to ugly red marks and stinging skin if you tried to stand up.

You could not take being inside any longer. Instead of passing out from being piss drunk, you were almost adamant that you were going to pass out from the grueling mix of heat exhaustion and secondhand high.

Your grip on the solo cup significantly tightens, nearly crushing the plastic in half. You quickly stand up from the stool you were sitting in, the sensation akin to getting your legs waxed as you take a deep inhale through your nose, mentally preparing yourself to dive into this sea of financially obligated, depressed monsters.

Peculiarly, you manage to shove your way through a good chunk of the mass, your eyes set on the door that leads towards the balcony. Your ankles almost completely give into your weight a concerning number of times, and if it wasn’t for all of the arms of oblivious partygoers that you had clung onto for dear life, you probably wouldn’t be able to stand on your own two feet by now.

Solely occupied with trying to navigate your way through the crowd, you don’t even realize that someone bumped into you and spilled your drink all over your dress until you reach the balcony. The cold, night breeze passes over your body, leaving chills on the huge wet patch on your dress. The one goddamn time your dress sees the light of day, you just so happen to find a way to ruin it.

“Fucking hell!” You holler into the vacant balcony, your hands coming up to carefully poke at the wet patch on your dress. You wince as the soaked, freezing fabric comes in contact with your bare stomach. Angry, you chug down the rest of the drink inside your cup and chuck it off the balcony, too enraged to even react to its strong taste.

Shivering, you walk deeper onto the balcony, cradling yourself and staring at your shoes, a string of curses spewing from your lips. You scold yourself for not bringing a jacket while simultaneously plotting your revenge against Seokjin. A pair of black loafers intrude your vision, accompanied by a husky voice that calls out to you,

“Oh shit, are you okay?”

Your head shoots up, your eyes meeting the ones of the man standing in front of you. He towers above you significantly despite you wearing heels. His eyes are only a tad obscured by the soft, brown curls of his hair, perfectly styled and gelled to have that ‘purposefully messy’ look. The only difference being that models stood no chance against him when he was the blueprint himself. The black button up he’s clad in exquisitely accentuates every crevice of his lean, chiseled body. And his eyes that were already alluring on their own, were adorn with hazel-colored contacts that you swear you could stare at for hours upon hours. He is so otherworldly beautiful, you temporarily forget to breathe.

And you also forget that you are just staring at him, and he is staring back at you with a smile.

Times like this is when you wish you were at least a little buzzed. Sober ‘you’ is way too socially inept to fend for themself sadly. “O-oh i’m fine, someone just spilled their drink on me.”

Maybe it’s the way the moon sits behind him and casts a halo-like glow around his figure or how he’s just been staring straight into your eyes this whole time, like it’s second nature whilst you can only hold eye contact with him for two seconds before instinctively shying away. To say that his presence frightened you was an understatement. You were about to take cover and hide under the patio table like a five-year-old if he kept looking at you like that.

He blinks, his mouth stretching into a wide grin, rectangular-shaped and having the ability to ease your nerves. He places his drink on a patio table, dusting his hands on his pants, “Here, I’ll get you some napkins, just stay here.”

Stunned, it isn’t until he leaves that you yell out to him as he steps back inside the chaos, “Thank you!”

You carefully sit down on a patio chair, your arms still wrapped around your shivering torso while you try to breathe warm air into your cupped hands.

The man steps out onto the balcony minutes later, his fists full of paper towels as he hands them to you. “Here you go.”

You graciously take them, blotting your dress with the paper towels, your nose scrunching at the scent of alcohol that you had no choice but to inhale. “Thank you so much, really.” You say— still very much shocked to know that chivalry isn't quite dead yet. “It’s Taehyung, right?”

He nods, “Yeah, and you’re Y/N?

Your pause, your hand hovering over your dress as you look up and nod with a forced smile, “No but really, thank you. You didn’t have to.”

“Don’t worry about it, I’m sorry that it happened in the first place,” he says apologetically, as if it was his fault, “it seems like everyone’s already out of their minds, and it isn’t even midnight yet.”

“Hey, don’t apologize,” you assure him, which seems to work because his eyes soften a bit, “besides, I guess it’s my fault for coming here in the first place. I knew something like this was gonna happen and now here I am, smelling like cheap, convenience store vodka.”

He chuckles, and you swear you’ve never been so elated to make someone laugh until now, “I somehow managed to beat the crowd. I’ve literally just been standing out here by myself for a good hour now.”

You sigh in envy, “Must be nice.”

“Too bad you couldn’t make it, it’s been awfully quiet up here.” He says, pivoting on his heel to look at the rest of the empty balcony.

Your eyes trail to the commotion inside the house, the crowd still going strong, “Are we really the only sober ones here?”

He shakes his head, “Nah, we’re just the only ones stupid enough to show up at a college party on New Year’s Eve, expecting to have a good time sober while everyone’s getting plastered.”

The unexpected truth pill causes you to enter a fit of laughter, small clouds of air leaving your mouth every time you exhale. He laughs along with you. “Yeah we are pretty stupid, I do admit.” You concur, while rubbing at your arms that were covered in goosebumps.

“Do you want my jacket?” He asks you while pointing to the black blazer that’s slung on top of the chair next to you.

You wrinkle your nose, “Are you sure?”

“Yes, before I put it on you myself,” he giggles with a roll of his eyes.

Shaking your head, you grab the blazer and wrap it around your shoulders. You stand up from your seat and turn towards him, brow quirked. “A-are you not cold? It’s fucking freezing out here.”

“I’m fine, I swear,” he counters, reaching out to help you slip your arms into his huge jacket sleeves, “I’m also not wearing a sleeveless dress.” He teases, eyeing you up and down as he takes in how oversized his jacket is on you. He thinks it looks much better when you’re wearing it, but he won’t tell you that.

“Right…” you drag out, following his footsteps as he motions you to follow him towards the edge of the balcony.

You two stand next to each other, leaning against the edge, arms nearly brushing against one another.

“So Taehyung, what brings you here in the first place?” You ask, knowing that he seems just as displeased to be here as much as you are.

“I got dragged here by a friend, Park Jimin, in particular.” He responds with a frown, “I have no idea where the fuck he is now, he literally left me as soon as we got here.”

Turning towards him incredulously, your brows raise and the corner of your lip curls into a smirk, “You don’t say.”

Confused, but also curious about the expression painted across your face, he quirks a brow, “Hm?”

You close your mouth, crossing your arms tighter around yourself, “I got dragged here by a friend too. Kim Seokjin. That asshole left me as soon as we got here too.”

He steps back, scoffing in disbelief, “Wow, we really just got stood up by our own friends.” Taehyung proclaims into the vacant balcony, for both him and you— the thought of it sounding even more pathetic after being said out loud.

“They’re pretty goddamn close to losing that title now.” You quip, shaking your head in dismay.

His head rocks back, a lively laugh leaving his lips due to your comment which makes you smile at the fact that you are even able to make him laugh like this.

“Damn it Y/N, you should’ve came out sooner, we could’ve been having a good time out here.” He tells you with a pout as his laughter starts to dwindle.

Sighing heavily, you too, feel regretful about the missed opportunity, “I really should have.”

He nudges you with his elbow, “At least you’re here now.”

The bass-boosted music from inside the house ceases, the room becoming momentarily quieter while someone bellows out, “Hey look, it’s the countdown!”

Everyone’s focus shifts towards the gigantic flat screen TV that hung above the fireplace, making you realize where the fraternity funds truly go to. You and Taehyung exchange glances before shrugging and moving closer to all the commotion since it was New Year’s Eve, above all.

He leans against the doorframe and you stay close to his side, the number ten flashing brightly on the screen—the crowd’s shouts getting louder as it reaches the final ten seconds of the year.

Instead of shouting out the numbers with the rest of the mass, you and Taehyung are simply witnessing it all fold out in silence.

“EIGHT!”

‘You got any New Year’s resolutions?!” You nudge him while attempting to yell over the noise.

His head whips towards you, “Me?!”

“SEVEN!”

Your brows furrow, “Does it look like I’m talking to anyone else?!”

His mouth splits into a grin once more, folding over in laughter just enough to meet eye-to-eye with you.

“SIX!”

“I mean! I didn’t have one originally!”

The crease in your brows dissipate, “Well, what changed?!”

“FIVE!”

His head tilts to the side, “I came here!”

You mirror his head tilt, confused as ever, “Um, so you wanna go to more parties next year?!”

“FOUR!”

He slaps a palm against his forehead, “From what you know about me, does it look like I like parties?!”

“How the hell would I know?!”

His jaw drops, “Y/N—!”

“THREE!”

“—I wanna get to know you better Y/N!”

Your jaw drops as well, “What?! Me?!”

“TWO!”

“Is there any other Y/N standing in front of me?!”

“I– oh...”

“ONE! HAPPY NEW YEAR!” The crowd shouts together in unison despite all being under the influence. A confetti cannon erupts, flying around the room and falling into people’s hair as the mass starts to split into pairs, all partaking in the traditional New Year’s kiss that you personally haven’t had much luck in participating in yourself.

You rip your gaze away to look at Taehyung. He smiles, pulling a piece of confetti out of hair, making your cheeks flush. “Happy New Year, Y/N.”

“Happy New Year, Taehyung.”

The small amount of alcohol you consumed when you first stepped foot onto the balcony leaves you slightly buzzed. Just enough to leave you with the right amount of courage to vouch for the nickname.

You take a daring step towards the man in front of you, “I also have a resolution of my own, Taehyung.”

He takes an even more daring step towards you, having the audacity to lean down— your faces only inches apart. “And what is that, may I ask?”

Grabbing onto the collar of his shirt, you close the gap in between the two of you, locking your lips with his. The kiss isn’t short enough to be a peck but isn’t long enough to be considered making out. You pull away enough to be able to see his face, “Is to get to know you better too.”

He chuckles, “Y/N, your lips taste like spiked punch.”

Pouting, you bump your forehead into his, “All I drank was whatever you saw me have at the balcony, I swear.”

He pecks your nose, your frown immediately wiping away as he does so, “I trust you.”

You smile, giving him a peck on the mouth, “As you should.”

“I’d kiss you again, but you probably can’t stand being here any longer. Let’s get out of here.” He tells you, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

You slide your arm onto his, interlocking his fingers with your own, “I think you’ve already completed your resolution Taehyung. You seem to know me so well already.”

Pushing through the crowd, he hooks an arm onto your waist while he shoves a path for you two to get through, “Too bad I don’t know where you wanna go though.”

You hum, thinking for a moment before your grumbling stomach answers for you, “I’m hungry, let’s go grab burgers or something.”

You don’t see the way Taehyung is fondly staring at you because you’re too busy trying to open the front door. At last, you manage to pry it open, stepping back outside while Taehyung’s holding you in his arms. It’s not that cold this time.

Taehyung’s hands land on both of your shoulders— turning you around to face him as he swiftly latches his lips onto yours. You stumble back, but his hand is quick to support you as he kisses you deeply. You kiss him back, letting your fingers curl around the curls of his hair.

He pulls back this time, letting his forehead rest on yours, “Y/N, I think you are the one that’s completed your resolution. How the hell did you know that I fucking love burgers?”

-

-

MASTERLIST

[unnecessarywriting]

Tolerate It (Part 2) - Harry Potter x Reader

A/N: So this is a little long, like 3x as long as part 1, but you know things happen! I hope you all like it and thank you for the love on part 1. Warning, it is a little angsty, but it gets fluffy at the end. Remember to send in requests!! Enjoy!

ALSO Italics are flashbacks!!!!

Part 1

Tolerate It (Part 2)

~ Your Morning ~

The night was spent with shots of firewhiskey and tears. There was nothing that could really prepare you for the feeling in your chest. Your body was convulsing from the sheer torment you had put it through. Luckily, you had someone who was there for you, but it didn’t make the pain ache any less.

When you woke up in the morning, your head ached from the alcohol and the crying. Your face was puffy from crying relentlessly, and your throat was sore from the inevitable coughing that comes with an intense session of tears and wails. Even your lungs were tired from all of the hyperventilating. You grabbed the shirt on your body pulling it to your nose, but much to your surprise you weren’t too familiar with the scent. That was when you acknowledged that your friend let you sleep in hers. When was the last time that you weren't wearing Harry’s shirts? These thoughts needed to leave you. You deserved to move on and be celebrated for everything that you are.

You made breakfast for your friend, and now roommate. She thanked you and complimented your cooking skills. It felt foreign to feel recognized for something so mundane. She offered to clean up, which you graciously accepted. You changed into some of her clothes so that you could go to work. You had managed to take half the day off, but the distraction from, well, let’s just refer to him as he-who-shall-not-be-named. Ironic right? Our hell has been killed, and yet a new one arises in his place. I would never have thought that he would become mine. 

All throughout your shift, you tried to keep your focus on work. “Be productive” became your mantra. Eventually, however, your time at work came to a close, and you knew that you had to get your things. You apparated and appeared in front of your old front door. Cautiously, you opened it. You knew he would be at work, but a small piece of you hoped that he would be moping around, waiting for your return. When you found nothing but silence, you couldn’t tell if you were relieved or disappointed. 

You knew how much time you had to gather everything you owned, but you didn’t want to risk him coming home and finding you, so you rushed. With everything packed up, you took a look around. The place looked quite empty. When you two had moved in, a lot of the decorating was your own doing. You wanted it to feel warm and inviting, despite who you had felt living there. Now, it looked like how the place felt. Your eyes glanced into the kitchen and you saw the dishes, piled high in the sink. Of course, he probably thought that you would come back and have them done. You scoffed and grabbed your things. When you arrived at your new place, you took everything you could and put it into your room. Emotionally, you were drained, so when you felt your eyes closing, you knew that your day had ended. 

~ Harry’s Morning ~

After you left, Harry stayed at the table. He pushed the food around his plate until his stomach warned him to finally eat. He was lost in his angry thoughts. Who were you to accuse him of such stupidity. He loved you, and he knew that he made it clear to you all of the time. You were just being obnoxious and clingy. You would get over it and all would return to normal. That night, he piled the dishes into the sink and walked into his study. He scribbled a letter to Ginny, where he explained how you walked out on him, and how you accused him of such atrocious behavior. Afterwards, he went to bed, feeling slightly colder than normal. 

The following morning, he was greeted by a chill. He looked over and saw your side of the bed unslept in. Of course you didn’t return in the middle of the night. He walked out into the kitchen expecting to see you there, but he was greeted with silence. The room smelt of the dinner you cooked the night before. He rolled his eyes to himself, and began to make breakfast. As he placed the bacon on the pan, the scent brought him back to one morning at Grimmauld Place.

“Harry!” You exclaimed as Harry hugged you. “I’m trying to cook. Leave me be!” You giggled.

“But I can help. I used to cook all the time for the Dursley’s. Then we can be done quicker and spend more time together.” His smile was so bright, and his tone remained mischievous. 

“Precisely Harry. You don’t have to be a slave anymore. Let me do this for you.” You turned around in his embrace after flipping the bacon. “Besides, after we are done with school, I’m gonna cook breakfast for you every morning just to show you how much I love you.” As you finished that sentence, you booped his nose and turned back to your cooking. Harry just smiled into the crook of your neck, fantasizing about his life with you.

After you finally managed to kick him out of the kitchen, he caught sight of his godfather, who offered a knowing smile.

“You know Harry, she’s a keeper.” Harry nodded in response, and turned around to watch you work.

“She sure is Sirius.”

You had kept your word. Every morning that you were together, you cooked breakfast for him. He ate in silence, like he did while he was with you, except this time, it felt different, almost eerie. He piled the rest of the dishes into the sink and finished getting ready for work. He wasn’t missing any of his shirts. That was unusual. He apparated to his job, trying not to think too much. 

“Hey mate.You look awfully tired today.” Ron was too joyful for his taste.

“Didn’t sleep well.” Was all he said. 

By lunch time, Ron had figured out that something was wrong. He had seen his friend when he was tired. Something was bothering him, and his irritable behavior was starting to piss him off.

“You gonna tell me what’s wrong, or are you gonna continue acting like a prat?” Ron always had a way of getting the truth out of him.

“Y/N left last night.” Harry huffed.

“Whatever happened, I’m sure she’ll be back. She loves you.”

“Loved seems more accurate. She said I've been neglecting her.” As Harry spoke, it seemed like he became angrier with every word. “She accused me of not loving her or appreciating her, and then she walked out.”

“Harry, is it possible that she was right? Those feelings don’t just come out of nowhere. I mean the other night at Mum’s, you didn’t really look pleased to have her around. Maybe you should go and talk to her.” Ron thought he was being reasonable with his words. He wanted to side with his friend, but he was worried about you. You had been friends at school, and after the war, you had stopped talking to him and Hermione. He hadn’t seen you a lot recently, and he couldn’t but be concerned with you behavior the other night. You used to be bright and bubbly.

“All I’m saying Harry, is that Ron is reasonable about his fear of spiders, although you can be a bit of a scaredy cat,” you joked while nudging Ron. 

“Y/N I am not. Any fear I have is reasonable. Plus you didn’t see how big those spiders were. Plus I was 12. Even Fang was scared.”

“Yeah, and Fang is a scaredy cat too. Ask Hagrid. Now,” you jumped up from your spot and grabbed his fork, “admit that you’re a scaredy cat, and I’ll give you back your fork.”

“This isn’t funny. I’m very brave. I’m in Gryffindor.” You started to wander away from the table, giggles spilling from your lips. “Y/N, please c’mon. I’m hungry. Oh, fine! I’m a scaredy cat, okay? Terrified of giant spiders. Is that what you wanted? Now give me my fork back.” By the end, he was yelling in the great hall, and you were laughing uncontrollably at his desperate confession. You handed him his fork and continued to giggle.

“Brave sure, but you are pretty dumb Ron. There was another fork right there,” you said pointing to where he was sitting a moment before. Harry and Hermione just facepalmed at their friends’ shenanigans.

Your silent behavior was unlike you, and he knew there was something going on, but he didn’t get the chance to ask you about it. Harry left the conversation, frustrated with his friend, and he returned to his job. He needed to get his mind off of what you said the night before. 

On his return home, he half expected you to be back, waiting for him to come home so you could talk through things. He was met with a cold emptiness. Your things were gone. He rushed into your bedroom, and saw that half of the room was bare. There wasn’t an ounce of you left to grasp onto. He realized that you weren’t just in a fight. You were gone, and it was all his fault. He put his head down on what used to be your pillow. Your perfume was light, but the slightest whiff let him feel you. He hadn’t felt you in so long. You’ve always been there, but he wasn’t close enough to you to get the scent. You were right. He had been neglecting you. His tears began to fall as he held onto the only bit of you he had left.

“Look at what I bought! This is going to be perfect Harry.”

“Darling, you’ve done too much.”

“How dare you? This is so very important. When people come over, they need to be welcomed. They need to be in awe over how amazing I am at decorating. This is our place Harry! It needs to be perfect.” He was aware of how serious you were which made him smile to himself. You could be a lot to handle sometimes, but that’s what he loved about you.

“As long as you’re here with me, it will be perfect.” He nuzzled into you and breathed in the beautiful scent you omitted. You really were perfect.

Are perfect. You are perfect, and he just let you walk out the door. Worse than that, he allowed you to think less of yourself. He’s been through a lot of heartbreak and pain, but this was worse. Hell, he even died, but this was worse. He stayed in bed the rest of the night. He couldn’t bring himself to eat. Eventually, he fell asleep.

~ Your Response ~

You were doing better than you expected. You weren’t happy by any means, in fact you still cried yourself to sleep, but you were better. You worked your regular schedule, and you really put everything you could into your work. Your roommate was great, although you knew she would be. You two were friends. You still hadn’t fully unpacked yet. It felt as if you did, it would really be over, and you weren’t ready to let go just yet.

One morning, you felt that you needed to go out and do something productive. So, you went to Diagon Alley. You owe yourself a little shopping spree, and maybe you would get a gift for your roommate to thank her for allowing you to move in on such short notice. You had made your way through different stores. You found yourself outside a bookstore. You smiled at it, but it felt bittersweet.

“Is there a reason we need more books? C’mon dear, you aren’t Hermione. You don’t need to compete for who has more books. We barely have space for them.” Harry never understood why you wanted to buy all of these books.

“There is a very good reason Harry. I just haven’t told you yet.” You continued looking through the shelves, trying to find a book that jumped out at you and told you that it was a must read. 

“What do I have to do to find out?” He was watching you in awe.

“Find a book you want, and I mean really want. I don’t want you just picking up some random book. And then, I’ll be ready to tell you.” He took the challenge and began looking for the book. After about twenty minutes, he returned back to you, book in hand. You looked at it and smiled at him.

“So, why are we buying these?” You laughed and walked to the counter to check out.

“I said I would be ready to tell you. I never said that I would.” Harry playfully rolled his eyes and followed after you.

You never did get to tell him your reasoning for buying all of those books. A shame really, but now that you two aren’t together, they don’t mean anything. You sighed and walked to get some ice cream.

“Y/N?” You turned in the direction of the voice. A part of you wanted to just leave her standing there, but you knew that she would be persistent.

“How can I help you Ginny?” You tried to sound polite, but you were bitter.

“How are you? Harry told me about your fight.” Of course he told her.

“I’m fine. Now if you don’t mind, I was gonna get some ice cream and get home.” Except, it wasn’t home to you.

“Well, I was gonna get some ice cream too, so let’s get some together. It’s my treat.” You didn’t want to eat with her, but free ice cream was not something you were about to pass up. You nodded your head in response. You both ordered your ice cream, and took a seat outside. 

“I heard Harry’s side, but I think he left some things out. I was talking to Ron, and he said that you looked like you were going through something before your fight. We’re all worried about you two. I know that I may have overstepped a little bit, and I’m sorry, but you two are perfect for each other. I don’t think that I can handle being what came between you two.” You scoffed. She wasn’t at fault. Sure she was a part of why you were mad, but it wasn’t her fault that Harry stopped loving you.

“Listen Ginny, I don’t want you to feel like this is your fault, because it isn’t. Harry stopped caring about me a long time ago, and I finally realized it. I gave him everything, and he brushed me off. He was just dealing with me being there. I left because I deserve to be happy. I may not be there yet, but I can’t go back to be treated like a maid.” She seemed to understand. The two of you talked a little longer about how you were, her life, and her family. Eventually, you parted ways. You felt a little better knowing that she didn’t find you selfish or crazy. 

That night, you two didn’t cry yourself to sleep. You were still sad, but there were no more tears.

You were awoken to a familiar owl at your window. You grabbed the letter and opened it.

 Dear Y/N,

I know you hate me, but I think we should talk. There are things I need to say, but mostly, 

I need to apologize. In person. Please come back. Tonight, 7:30.

Love,

Harry

~ Harry’s Response ~

Harry was miserable. His days at work were unproductive. Ron was concerned, but he didn’t know what to do. He had never seen his best friend this distraught. He was beginning to look like Sirius did when he escaped from Azkaban. Harry would come home and whimper at the lack of you in his home. It used to be your home. The place was a mess. If you had seen it, you would probably scold him for being so irresponsible. 

It was a Saturday. He had nothing to do but sit around at home. He walked into his study, and found the pile of books in the closet. You complained that he had the study to himself, so you stole the closet from him claiming that you deserved it. He complied. Since you left, he hadn’t opened it. He was terrified of what it could possibly be, but his hand continued to the knob. Inside were all of your books. You kept buying more whenever you two would make your way to Diagon Alley. He never found out why you bought them, but he still wondered. He opened a few of them, and recognized your handwriting in the margins. They mostly consisted of your reactions to things that you read, or even just cute doodles that matched the story. 

He held a couple of them to his chest as he thought of you. He didn’t know how long he was sitting there. He was only interrupted by the call of his name. He reluctantly got up and looked for the owner of the voice.

‘Blimey Harry. You’ve destroyed this place.” Ron was there. Of course. Ginny stood beside him, looking disappointed.

“Harry, we need to talk about Y/N. You’ve been insufferable without her, and she’s struggling too,” Ginny stated. 

“How do you know how she’s doing?” Harry was really worried. 

“Ginny met with her today at Diagon Alley. Harry, when was the last time you cleaned at all? This place  is absolutely disgusting.” Ron winced at the sight of the kitchen.

“Harry, I’m gonna cut right down to it. You need to talk to her. You are killing yourself over your mistakes, and she is struggling to deal with how you treated her. Merlin, Harry, how could you let her down. Did you know that she really believes that you stopped loving her? The damage you’ve caused is almost irreversible, but I think you both need to talk. If not to sort things out, then to give you both closure.” Ginny had a point.

“I don’t even know how to talk to her. I don’t want her to see me like this either.”

“Mate, we don’t want to see you like this either, but we can fix that,” Ron exclaimed.

“She said that she is living with a Y/F/N.” Harry’s eyes lit up. He knew where that was.

“Harry, you are going to shower, and we are gonna start cleaning up this,” he motioned to the room, “and then you are gonna tell her to meet you here tomorrow night. It’s the least you could do,” Ron finished with a hopeful look. Harry nodded and retreated to the bathroom.

~ Together at Last ~

You were nervous to say the least, but you gathered yourself and apparated to the place you once called home. You knocked on the door. It felt foriegn, but you didn’t feel like you could just enter a place you no longer lived. You heard rustling from behind the door, and what you thought was a curse. Then the door opened, and you saw a slightly disheveled Harry smiling awkwardly at you. You returned the smile but stayed where you were standing.

‘Oh, come in.” He moved out of the way and closed the door after you. There was a smell in the house that you could only describe as burnt food.

“I’m sorry, I was trying to cook for you, but I think I lost that ability, and well, it’s not entirely edible. I ordered a pizza a little while ago. It should be here any minute.” Almost as if on cue, there was another knock at the door. He rushed to get it, while you stood observing the place. It was clean, but it looked dark and empty. 

You both walked over to the table where he placed the pizza. You sat down cautiously and eyed all of his clumsy motions. He was reminding you of how he was in school. Completely unaware of how to act in front of a woman. It was kind of funny, but you couldn’t bring yourself to smile. When he sat down, he looked up at you with a nervous glint in his eyes.

“I guess I should start by apologizing. I have a lot to say, so I ask that you allow me to speak this time. First of all, I am an idiot for so many reasons. The things I said to you that night were cruel and unreasonable, and I cannot put in words how sorry I am. You were right. I have no excuse for the way I treated you. I’ve been thinking, a lot actually, about us. I need you to know that I have never stopped loving you.”

“Harry-” you began.

“Let me finish please. You are the greatest thing to ever happen to me, and losing you broke me. I need you in my life, not as a caretaker, but as my equal. I need you by my side because you make life so much better. I don’t know what happened, but as cliché as it sounds, I realized just how much I need you and love you after you left. I know you waited so long for me, and I did nothing but push you aside. I’m promising you now, if you take me back, and you come home to me, then I will spend the rest of my life making it up to you. I will show you everyday how much I love you more than anything. So please darling, come home.” His eyes were glossing, and you could tell that he was being honest. It’s been a long time since you’ve seen him this vulnerable.

“Harry, I hoped everyday that you would stop being cold, and would turn to me and confess just how much you love me. It never happened. I want to be with you because I love you, but I can’t help but be scared that you will resort back to your old ways. I don’t think I can take being someone that is underappreciated and unloved. I need time.” You were being honest with him. You couldn’t afford to push your feelings aside anymore. 

“Will you take me back? I want to start fresh, but I want you here.” His desperation was clear.

“Okay, but I need things to be slow for a while. I don’t trust you, but I love you.” He jumped up from his seat and walked over to you. His arms wrapped around your body. It had been so long since you were in his arms. Your scent made him sigh in relief, while his warmth let you relax into the embrace. This is what you had waited for. It had been so long, but it had been worth it. 

The following day, you both had taken the day off from work to move you back in and spend quality time together. You had stayed the night wrapped up in his arms. It was the best night of sleep either of you had gotten in far too long. You wrote to your roommate that morning telling her that you were moving out, but you promised to pay your part of the rent until she found a new roommate. She understood and was happy that you figured things out with the love of your life. 

You woke up before Harry, as per usual, and walked into the kitchen to start making breakfast. When Harry woke up, he was worried because you were no longer in bed beside him. He got up and walked into the kitchen to see you over by the stove. He smiled and found himself behind you, his arms on your waist. 

“Good morning love,” he said, sleep still heavy in his face. You smirked and kept cooking.

“You know, I would cook for you, but-” he started.

“But, you would burn down the place, and quite frankly, I don’t have any faith in your cooking abilities. Plus, I promised you breakfast every morning while we are together. I don’t like to break my promises.” You felt his smile grow in your neck.

The rest of the day consisted of Harry being glued to your hip. He missed you so much, and he didn’t want to spend any time away from you. After you had moved all of your things back into your home, you collapsed onto the couch from exhaustion. Harry sat next to you and wrapped his arms around your body. 

“Can I ask you a question?” You smiled at him.

“You just did, but go ahead,” you joked.

“The books in the closet. Why do we have so many of them?”

“Oh those? Well, I wanted to have something to give to our future children. Something I could share just between us. I know it’s kinda dumb, but I’d like to think that our kids would like to have that bond. Maybe even make it into a family tradition that they bring to their kids.” You said this with a slight blush forming.

“I think it’s brilliant. Remind me that we need to get some more.”

“Why is that?”

“Well, our children should have some from both of us, don’t you think?” You laughed and nuzzled closer into his body.

“I love you so much Y/N and don’t ever let me forget it.” He placed a kiss on the top of your head, and tightened his hold on your body. He would never let you go again.