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astrobolical · 1 year ago

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To make you forget, if only for a while

How the kings (Satan, Mammon, Leviathan, Beelzebub) alleviate your fears and worries, at least for a little while— as best they can, and in their own unique ways.

I love the utter filth that comes from this game, but sometimes a little fluff is welcome, too. If this does okay, I may see about doing some of the other devils as well.

Also yes, I do fully believe that there’s no way Leviathan doesn’t have a larger source of water in his home— his bathtub just being his favourite— it’s not as though he’s going out to find any.

Oh, and I went with “Bell” as Beelzebub’s nickname, as it’s what Mammon calls him in Chapter 3.

Content Warnings: Mildly Suggestive (Mostly Beelzebub), devil behaviours, brief mentions of alcohol, brief & mild mentions of depression, (lightly described) anxiety

Reader: Gender Neutral

Your voice had fallen silent, trailing behind the trio in front of you— and Satan cursed himself as he came to realize far too slowly that you’d withdrawn. His steps slowed, turning his head to see just what had garnered your attention… but was left with a foul taste in his mouth as he discerned what exactly it was. Your eyes were gazing down a street visible from where you were, seeing the frantic devils working tirelessly to restore or save their homes and businesses. Fires were being quelled, devils saved from rubble— trying their best to survive. Satan knew, however, that you weren’t simply watching, he could see how your eyes watered, bordering on tears, as you walked helplessly along.

In your racing mind Satan knew that you were blaming yourself entirely, allowing yourself to wallow and drown in the guilt that had begun to eat away. The look in your solemn eyes told him everything— it was a darkness he was all too familiar with, one that gripped him often, one that was difficult to escape from, especially alone. He wanted to stop, to tell you that none of this was your burden to bear, that not a single citizen of Gehenna would ever blame you. You hadn’t asked for any of this, hadn’t wished for an angel and Satan himself to whisk you away into chaos.

Yet all the same he knew those doubts and worries would not be easily assuaged, that your mind would inevitably take his words and discard them as if they were worth nothing. No matter how sincere they may be.

No, Satan knew that words were simply not enough, not for this— not for the gravity of the weight you felt on your shoulders as you looked out into the destruction and havoc. Instead, he decided, quite quickly, on another course of action that always helped him when he needed it the most.

His pace halted entirely, not having to wait long before you bumped carelessly into his back, not realizing he’d come to a full stop in your stupor.

“Satan?” You questioned, breaking free from whatever thoughts had held you. “Did something happen?” You glanced towards Sitri, as if trying to see if he’d heard someone approaching, or trouble nearby, but he shook his head.

“No,” He placed his hand atop your head, smoothing your hair out gently. “Nothing’s changed… I just think we need a break.”

You pouted, studying his eyes and expression. “A break? I’m fine…” You lied through your teeth— he’d already learned your little human quirks, at least partially.

Your protests, however, went unlistened to, and you were given no more time to voice your concerns. Satan pulled you close, holding you around your waist as he had so many times before and started down an unfamiliar alleyway. Not once did he look back to ensure your companions were following, knowing that they, too, completely understood the situation— you however, felt lost.

He led you, primarily, through the alleys and side streets you hadn’t yet seen, keeping away from the carnage you’d been surrounded by. His pace was quick, determined, keeping you against him as he trekked. You couldn’t quite grasp the sudden change of plans and direction, but your trust in Satan allowed you to relax and follow him as best you could (though you were sure without his arm around you, you’d have stumbled multiple times already). You knew that Satan would never harm you, not intentionally.

And, as expected, your intuition was correct and your trust well placed. There was not a single sign of danger where you now found yourself. In fact, it appeared more like a safe haven, mostly left untouched by the chaos that the angels had wreaked upon Gehenna.

It reminded you of the bar that you’d stopped in to rest before, though even more lively. It was larger, decorated with more lavish designs and furniture. Within were dozens of devils, relaxing and laughing with one another— and each and every one rejoiced when their king came through the door. Shouts and hollers, an energetic flurry of motion as they led your ragtag group further into the depths of the building. Not once did Satan release his hold on you.

It warmed your heart to see how joyous his people were just to see him. Though, it alarmed you quite readily when their joy, energy, and questions were also turned towards you. They offered everyone drinks, began to loudly tell you all manner of stories from their lives here in Hell. It as a flurry of motion, of attention and an infectiously rambunctious attitude— a wonderful and welcome feeling, compared to the ghastly reminders just outside.

Satan and Sitri — and even Ppyong— joined in on the revelry, encouraging the energies around them and rallying the morale. Unlike the last visit to a bar that you’d had, this time it was simply for fun and leisure. Satan kept you steady on his lap throughout the whole affair, hand idly massaging your sides or your thigh. You could feel his gaze on you every now and then, though each time you glanced back you were met with a shockingly gentle smile, and encouragement to pay more attention to his people.

He kept any grabby hands at bay, and a few were sent flying with a well-placed kick upon their weaker frames— though this did little to quell them, if anything it had only added to their adoration. Though you noted that with each attempt to get just a little too close to you, his hold would grow a little tighter, he’d pull you more fully into his lap and against him with a snarl.

You hadn’t laughed as much as you did then in what felt like your entire life— hadn’t met so many new faces, or heard such crazy tales, each one more absurd than the last. You leaned back into Satan, nestling yourself close to his warmth and comfort. When he turned to glance your way you stole a kiss from his parted lips— choosing to ignore the whoops and calls of the others in the room— and caught him off guard.

His eyes were wide as you leaned towards his ear. “Thank you,” You murmured, so quiet you were sure that only he (and perhaps Sitri) could hear. “For bringing me here, Satan.” You knew how much he cared for the denizens of Gehenna, how much he treasured and valued each and every one of them. And you’d realized that’s exactly why he’d brought you to such a place, at such a dire time.

In your moment of heartbreak and darkness, he’d brought you to them. To a place you were sure he’d probably often escaped to himself when his mind spiraled and he couldn’t quell it alone. He was showing you that these devils could be your safe space as well, your light out of the darkness that plagued your heart.

His people were his respite, and now they were yours as well.

This king of Hell had done so much for you, in such a short time… saved you more times than you cared to count— so you allowed yourself to enjoy his, and his people’s, company well into the night. Until the drinks finally slowed, and he’d ushered you to a place to rest on the upper floor. It was then that he returned the kiss you’d stolen earlier, with fervour, as if imploring you to realize that you were never alone in this.

He was alarmed— his gut telling him something was amiss, even if he wasn’t quite sure what it may be. Mammon knew only that it had to do with that faraway look within your eyes, almost as if you were looking through the brilliant gold around you rather than at it— it was not admiration, not his coveted greed, it was nothing. Mammon couldn’t understand why you weren’t pleased with your surroundings, or what all you may be thinking… just that he didn’t like it.

He wanted you to look around and desire it, to want the world despite knowing that it was already yours, as he was. He loved to see your eyes alight with a fiery passion, your heart just as full… but somehow you had fallen far, right under his nose. A human folly, he was certain, and not one he had ever encountered. Yet this? This he did not want, he did not covet this new experience, this new emotion. He wanted to be rid of it.

Mammon lifted you with ease, and without warning, breaking your senseless focus immediately, drawing you towards him effortlessly. You clung to him in surprise, steadying yourself though you knew that to Mammon you weighed nothing— he’d proven that already. You wound your arms around his neck, legs finding purchase on his hips, exclaiming his name in your surprise. His strength always amazed you— then again, he was simply amazing overall.

His silence continued as he pressed a warm kiss against your forehead, holding you close with one arm, while pulling your head closer with the other before it settled on your cheek. Your face flushed pink, dumbfounded at the gentle touches he’d graced you with.

His deep voice rumbled as he spoke, and pressed against him as you were you couldn’t help but shiver at the feeling of the vibrations. “What is bothering you, MC?” He questioned, eyes that looked like molten gold peering into yours with concern.

You stared back, silent, unsure how to answer— or if you even should. You worried your lower lip with your teeth as you pondered, not missing the way his eyes flicked downwards at the motion, how he held you a little more tightly. “Nothing,” you finally relented, though accompanied by a forced smile that didn’t quite meet your eyes. “I’m alright.”

Mammon did not know doubt, or lies— you knew that your words alone would calm him, come as a reassurance that there was nothing to worry over. And you told yourself that you would do better to keep your worries hidden. A white lie, you decided, was the better way to go.

Even if the weight of all the events thus far was pressing down around you, exerting more pressure with each new battle you found yourself surrounded by.

Yet, despite your reassurance, Mammon’s brows furrowed, and he shook his head. “…While I do not know—or even understand— doubt, MC, I know that there is something wrong. I just know.”

He looked pained as his eyes bore into yours, unyielding as he studied your expressions. His grip became a little tighter as he sighed. “Can you not trust me?”

The question made your breath hitch, and you shook your head rapidly. “I trust you!” You reassured, your heart wrenching at his assumption. Of course you trusted Mammon— with everything in you, you did. You just didn’t want to burden him with your worries, your fears, and your guilt. You’d buried it so deeply within you throughout your journey that you’d thought that maybe you’d somehow escaped it… but it had consumed you the moment you’d finally attempted to rest, comforted by the massive devil’s presence. “I do. It’s just… it’s nothing, really. I’m just worrying over everything that’s happening here in Hell— if Satan hadn't saved me…”

His eyes widened, and his forehead bunted against your own. “Never think that way, MC. Nothing here is your fault— and there is no devil in Hell that thinks that it is.”

“Everyone is ecstatic that you’re here— even more than when they see me!” He continued, placing slow, soft kisses on your face between each breath.

You knew he was right, deep down. That if it hadn’t been you, another descendent of Solomon could have just as easily ignited it all. It wasn’t your burden to bear, just as much as it wasn’t Mammon’s. Whatever happened to God — the event that had earned the angel’s ire— was still a mystery.

You sighed, your eyes glossy as you looked up at him once more. “I know, I know. I’m sorry.”

“No need for apologies.” He straightened again, adjusting his grip on your bottom. “Just tell me when these thoughts plague you, and I will reassure you of every worry— I am yours, after all. You have me at your side to deal with whatever you feel you can’t. You are the only being to ever have this, the only one I’ll ever give it to.”

He grinned, sharp canines glinting in the light that shone into the room from the elegant (yet gaudy) golden windows, and you couldn’t help but smile— genuinely, this time. “Thanks, Mammon. I’ll keep that in mind.” It was strange, you thought, that he could so easily clear your mind with his promises alone… but when you looked at him, it also wasn’t hard to see why. He was powerful, confident— and he so proudly declared himself yours it was difficult to not believe him, to rely on him. “Aren’t you getting tired of holding me up, though?”

Your attempt to change the subject earned you a hearty laugh, that shook you in his arms. “Never!” As if taking your words as a challenge he tossed you upwards before catching you just as effortlessly, before securing you once again against him. “And if you don’t believe me, I’ll parade you around Tartaros to prove it.”

“Please, don’t!” You laughed, though you could see that he was absolutely considering his own words. “Mammon!”

“It would do you well to go out— and you can still rest as long as you’re in my arms.” You hit his chest, grumbling about how impossible he was— but there was little you could do to stop him from walking out the door, with you still held close. Though, despite your protests, you really didn’t mind— Mammon was right, seeing the devils of Tartaros going about their daily lives, seeing their smiling faces as they saw their king, and you… it really would do you good.

And, though you didn’t give him the pleasure of telling him, being held by Mammon was the safest place you felt you could be. Untouchable, secure, and comforted by his warmth.

Even if it was still a bit embarrassing.

Your mind was elsewhere, lost deep within unwanted thoughts that forced their way through despite any efforts to hinder them. Leviathan, in a way, couldn’t fault you for it— you were only human, and your entire world had been upturned and threatened. But Leviathan himself was at your side, seated just an arms length away— could you not even consider him a worthy distraction? Surely his presence alone should earn your gaze, at least? Yet your eyes were staring at the floor, your brows furrowed.

It irked him, stirring feelings in his heart that made his eyes narrow and fists clench— especially when he wondered just what it was you would finally use to alleviate whatever thoughts you were unable to escape. Whoever, or whatever, it may have been, even if imaginary, made envy seep through him.

Had he not proven he would go to great lengths for you already, without question? He’d even gone outside of the sanctity of his home for you, protected you from angels at the cost of his own wellbeing.

He sucked in a breath, steadying himself from whatever spiral he himself had nearly fallen into— now was not the time, not when he could simply take your attention for himself and eliminate the threats from the equation altogether. Motioning with lithe fingers, ropes quickly fell from the inky darkness of the ceiling above, entangling you despite your surprised protest. At least you’d called his name in your alarm.

The ropes dragged you closer to him— surprisingly gentle— and you wondered what his plan was, recalling just how pleasurable it could be to be bound before this devil king. Yet only your jaw was slowly traced by a singular long finger, no further touches gracing your skin. Instead his pale eyes met yours, contemplative. He did not seem exceptionally angry or upset, in fact he appeared oddly calm for having called on his favoured ability.

And then he stood, sighing, leaving you where you were. “Come, then.” He spoke, a chill running through your spine— from suspense or anticipation, you weren’t sure. Yet despite ordering you to follow, he hadn’t intended to give you a choice to begin with, the strong ropes moving you for him, just behind (but so, so careful not to damage your frail, human skin).

He spoke nothing of where he was taking you, barely acknowledging that you were with him at all. At times his intense gaze met yours, as if checking on your wellbeing — though you surmised it was to ensure your attention was on him, as he wanted.

Any complaints you had, though, died on your tongue the moment he opened large double doors with a wave of his hand, and you were greeted with a marvelous sight that you couldn’t quite comprehend.

Within it was not quite the same castle-like structures you’d come to know, it was somehow more cavernous while still retaining its elegance. In the center was a pool, of sorts, though if you were to describe it properly it was more akin to a man-made (devil-made?) lake within the confines of Leviathan’s estate. The water’s surface was reflecting all across the walls and every item it could reach, creating a beautiful, moving pattern that was hard to tear your eyes away from.

You wondered if you should really feel as surprised as you do, that he had such a place tucked away, being as fond of water as Leviathan was.

“Very few have been here, Child of Solomon. I don’t allow it.” He spoke bluntly, those agile fingers motioning for your freedom (and oh, you knew what else those hands could do). “But,” He continued, turning to face you. “It appears you need something to distract you. Come.”

His hand extended towards you, waiting impatiently for you to take it, and despite your surprise and tentativeness you did just that. He led you towards the waters, still fully clothed and unperturbed. “Wait— shouldn’t I get a bathing suit, or something?”

He stopped, a quizzical look upon his beautiful features. “If you must worry about your clothes, just remove them.” As if assuming you would do just that he released your hand as quickly as he’d taken it, stepping into the water without waiting any longer for you to decide.

It wasn’t hard to see he belonged there, his pale skin practically glowing in an ethereal light. Soon enough he vanished into the depths, only to resurface a ways away, floating lazily despite the weight of his clothing.

Hastily you joined him, donning only your undergarments (not quite as confident within such deep waters while being weighed down). Yet when his hands were on you you knew that even if you even began to sink towards the bottom, he’d keep you afloat with ease. “You’re only the second outside of myself I’ve allowed in here.”

“…Why?” You murmured, enjoying the feel of the small, cool waves on your skin.

“Because it’s mine.” A simple answer, blunt as always. “But … so are you. So I don’t mind you being here, as long as your attention is on me, MC.”

Your heart felt warm as you realized how much you meant to him— that he would break his own comforts for your own, in a way. Even if it was borne from wanting your attention only on him and nothing else. “Sorry, Leviathan,” You murmured, pressing a kiss to his cheek, which met with a strong hand pulling you closer to him. “For being so distracted before. Thank you for showing me this.”

He hummed in response, more taken with your body in his arms than with your gratitude— though you could very easily see he enjoyed it.

He’d succeeded in claiming your attention, keeping it upon himself with ease now that you were reminded that not everything in your situation was a bad thing. That you had devils like Leviathan at your side, and that they would do anything to assist you. Leviathan, who so rarely let others in but who opened himself to you without thought or hesitance.

Even if Leviathan’s needy hands barely gave you a moment’s rest, itching for your touch at every turn. You’d give him everything he wanted— how could you deny him, after all?

The room felt as though it was nearly split down the center as Beelzebub glanced around— on one side was the chatter and planning, a tense atmosphere of grumbling devils attempting to decide what to do… on the other, was you. Around you was quiet, abnormally so— the devils had let you be, he supposed it was to give you time to breathe and catch up with everything that had transpired.

Yet to Beelzebub, you simply looked pitiful, too sad for his liking. Your eyes were staring blankly out the window, sitting idly and unmoving on the sill. Yet you weren’t really looking at anything, your eyes barely moving even when there was an outburst on the other side of the room, or a bird flew by your window.

Clearly, despite what the others may think, you didn’t need time to yourself to breathe. In fact, it seemed as though leaving you to your own devices was only making things worse in that little human mind of yours. And, being who he is, Beelzebub was more than willing to bend the rules and expectations just to make you smile again.

He could sense Bael’s cautious yet curious gaze on his back— unwilling to believe that his king would simply sit idly. And he wasn’t wrong, really. Yet Beelzebub didn’t do anything immediately, instead standing and making his way over towards you rather languidly, lazily as though he just wanted to banter with you—despite being told to leave you be.

You didn’t react to his approach, or even seem to hear his intentionally loud footsteps, utterly lost in whatever thoughts were plaguing you. If this were another time, or he were any other devil, it may have been concerning how unaware you were of your surroundings in an unfamiliar environment— even if it was safe.

However, he was not another devil, and was still Beelzebub. He looked at this, instead, like an opportunity he simply couldn’t let go of and let pass by. In one swift motion you were hoisted upwards, a garbled noise of surprise escaping you as you were thrown over a strong shoulder. His hand kept you steady, lying comfortably on your lower back (if a little lower than necessary). Instinctively you reached out to grip anything you could to ground yourself, hands clinging to whatever you could reach on him. You knew that no matter how irresponsible Beelzebub may be, he would never drop you, but it was still difficult to settle when you’re quite literally thrown like a sack of potatoes.

“Let’s go out and play, MC.” His voice was a purr, adjusting you quickly before the others could react and taking off out the door with a surprising burst of speed— you hadn’t even known he could move that quickly!

There was chaos behind you near immediately, and you could see the others— particularly Bael— preparing to stop their quick-footed king from escaping, especially with you in tow. However, as much as the efforts were doubled by your presence, they were also incredibly hindered, not wanting to harm you in any way while attempting to stop the ever-troublesome man.

“Bell!” You protested, though he could hear your insincerity within your voice, a bubble of laughter escaping you at the audacity of the unanticipated situation you’d found yourself in. “Where are we even going?!”

The gloom that had surrounded you already began to crumble, and he laughed as he replied. “Somewhere fun!” He didn’t elaborate, however, as he dealt with the devils in his way, deftly outmaneuvering them.

Looking back once more, you couldn’t help but pity Bael, seeing now what it was he dealt with, but at the same time you were thankful for Beelzebub and his free spirited nature. You’d forgotten that, though the situation was incredibly serious, you were still allowed to have fun.

Almost as quickly as it had begun, the chaos came to a close, Beelzebub successful in his escape, and you now safely hugged within his arms after he’d set your feet back down securely to the ground. His grin was positively infectious as you took a step back from him, and you had to stifle your laughter. “There!” He exclaimed, fixing your hair idly as he spoke. “Now, let’s find someplace fun to waste some time in. Let’s let loose, MC.”

Grasping your hand he pulled you along through the streets, searching out a familiar haunt that would be filling in with devils soon. He didn’t pay mind to the confused looks he got along the way, loudly talking with you all the while. He didn’t let you rest until you’d arrived at wherever it was that he’d thought of.

The rooms were dimly lit, but there was a well-stocked bar at the far end of the largest one, the music blaring from speakers already despite guests just beginning to filter in. It wasn’t terribly large, more quaint than you’d expected for Beelzebub, but it was clear he was a common sight there, as no one batted an eye in his direction as he led you further in.

You clung to him as the crowd steadily grew, unwilling to be parted from your guide— and it wasn’t as though you disliked touching Beelzebub, either. There were certainly no complaints from him, either, as his hands groped and prodded your body in return. It wasn’t long before he led you to the dance floor, where his hands explored more boldly, front pressed against your back as you swayed to the music.

You knew it didn’t matter if you were any good at dancing, Beelzebub simply wanted you to lose yourself to the music, and more importantly with him.

It wasn’t difficult to persuade you, letting his body guide your movements, losing yourself to his touch and the vibrations in your body from the sounds around you and the mesmerizing lights.

You could hear his praises when his hot breath ghosted by the shell of your ear, sharp teeth toying with the cartilage. His lips finding your neck, his hands dipping lower— it was so easy to lose yourself with Beelzebub, that your worries melted away. Not even the inevitable repercussions that were to come from your escape could bother you.

You were thankful for how carefree the king who held you was, that he’d decided to encourage it within you, too.

Though you weren’t sure how long you were among those on the dance floor before Beelzebub inevitably led you towards the dark bathroom, your bodies barely parted for a moment. You locked the door behind the two of you, opting to lose yourself to him in another way, even if someone heard you.

#what in hell is bad #whb #prettybusy what in “hell” is bad?#whb Satan #whb leviathan #whb mammon #whb beelzebub #whb Satan x reader #whb leviathan x reader #whb mammon x reader #whb Beelzebub x reader #whb x reader #what in hell is bad x reader #~take time to relax #the brain rot is so real #is it bad I want to write for Gabriel?

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chlix · 1 year ago

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to do what i can do

pairing: seungmin x f!reader

genre: fluff, light angst

word count: 6.1k

warnings: insecurity, light angst, exactly three (3) uses of "y/n"

synopsis: after a conversation with hyunjin's girlfriend, you grow worried that you aren't putting enough work and attention into your relationship. seungmin dissuades you of this idea immediately.

a/n: literally never done this before so sorry if this formatting isn't standard. also ignore any spelling errors pls <3

Seungmin kisses you goodbye every morning. It’s like clockwork: he puts on his shoes, pours his coffee in a mug, kisses you goodbye, and is out the door. Both of you are routine-oriented people. You like schedules and organized silverware drawers. Ever since you first got together, Seungmin has been kissing you goodbye whenever you part ways, and nearly a year later that hasn’t changed. It’s sweet that he always remembers, and the fact that it’s practiced doesn’t make it feel any less sincere.

This morning is more of the same. You get up before him, as always, and put the coffee on. You check your emails while your breakfast cooks. Seungmin emerges just as the food is done (too late to actually eat it, as always) and goes to get his coat and shoes from the door. He loops back around to put his coffee in the cup you washed the previous night and leans down to where you’re sitting at the table to kiss you lightly on the lips. It’s so rote as to be unnotable, but it makes you smile anyway, your day instantly brighter.

“I love you,” you call after him, as you always do, and Seungmin waves as he leaves, throwing a “Be safe!” over his shoulder. And then the door closes, and you’re alone.

In a few minutes, you’ll go to work at your office job. Later, you’ll come home and make dinner. At some point in the day, Seungmin will text you to let you know if he’ll be coming home or not, so that you’ll know if you need to make one portion or two. You normally make two anyway, and just leave the second wrapped up in the fridge. If worst comes to worst, you don’t mind eating the leftovers. It’s far more horrible in your mind to not have food ready for him when he is home. It’s not that Seungmin expects food from you. He’s expressed multiple times that he can buy food on his way home. But you like cooking for him, and lately you don’t get much chance because he’s so busy. You want things to be perfect when he’s home because the time you get together is precious. You’re not obsessive about it, or anything. You’re not “playing housewife” as your friends sometimes say. It’s not a crime to want to take care of your boyfriend.

Right now is a bit of a hectic period, and you haven’t seen him much for a while. You were surprised he even had the time to come home the previous night, although of course you were grateful. When he does come home, he gives you his undivided attention, like you’re the only person on earth. It makes the wait worth it. And he kisses you goodbye every morning because he loves you, and you can feel it on your lips all day, and it assuages the loneliness you might otherwise feel.

Today you have lunch with Ahrin, Hyunjin’s girlfriend. You have good relationships with the partners of all the boys, but you’re a bit closer to Ahrin, maybe because you two are so similar. Ahrin is quieter than the other women, and is more content to observe rather than participate. She’s witty and sharp-tongued, but still kind, and has a gentleness to her that makes her easy to open up to. She calls you up and complains she hasn’t seen you in a while and asks to have a meal with you that afternoon. You haven’t been feeling work very much, and you do miss her, so you agree to take a late lunch and meet her a cafe near your office.

Ahrin is radiant as always, and you make small talk about your families before devolving into complaining about mundanities: annoyances at work and the price of fruit at the supermarket. As you’re speaking, you notice Ahrin is wearing a dainty gold necklace that you don’t recognize, and cut yourself off to ask about it.

“Oh, this? It’s Cartier. Hyunjin bought it for me,” she says, bringing a hand up to touch the small pendant like she’d forgotten she was wearing it. “He’s on this kick about couple’s jewelry.”

“It’s beautiful,” you say, and you mean it. It suits Ahrin’s softness and sophistication. He may have bought it because it was Cartier, but he clearly put some thought into it besides the designer label.

“Thank you,” she says, genuinely pleased. “I try to wear something he bought me whenever I go visit him.”

“Are you going to see him today?”

“I just come from there, actually. He took my credit card in his wallet, so I had to go get it back.”

“Oldest trick in the book,” you say.

Ahrin rolls her eyes. “I know. But it’ll work every time. I can’t help that I need it to go about my day.”

She doesn’t sound the least bit bothered. Ahrin and Hyunjin have been together for two years, and it’s a trick he’s pulled ever since they started living together, the “accidentally taking one of Ahrin’s things to work.” You’ve asked her before why she doesn’t confront him about it, but she says that she thinks it’s cute how he keeps coming up with excuses to see her, and anyway, she also likes having excuses to see him.

You also think it’s cute, if in a more wistful way. Seungmin is organized to a T, and he’s never needed you to bring him something he’s forgotten or vice versa. In fact, you can’t remember if you’ve ever visited him at work at all. You don’t think it’s that strange, though. It’s not like he’s made a habit of showing up to your workplace. Also, you likely wouldn’t have the time even if he’d offered. It does dampen your mood a bit though, especially as Seungmin texts you in the middle of your conversation that he in fact, would not be coming home today, meaning you would have to eat dinner alone tonight.

Ahrin notices the dip in your mood as you set your phone back on the table.

“Bad news?” she asks.

You swipe the notification away.

“It’s nothing. Seungmin just texting me about how busy they are.”

Ahrin hums in understanding. “Well, what can you do. At least it’s not as crazy as it was a few months ago.”

“Isn’t it?” You’ve been seeing less of Seungmin than you had in ages, and you’d assumed it was because their schedules had been bordering on unbearable lately. But Ahrin looks confused at your question.

“I don’t think so. Busier than last month, yeah. But they’re not filming anything right now, so the schedule isn’t as rigid. Seungmin hasn’t talked to you about this?”

You feel embarrassed, somehow. “He doesn’t talk about work much when he’s with me. He likes to keep it separate.”

“That makes sense. You should ask him to share his schedule with you, though. What if you need him and you don’t know where he is, or when he’ll answer?”

“I know where he’s at, generally. He tells me if he’s traveling. I just don’t know the minutiae.”

“You’re allowed to know. You should, for your own peace of mind.”

It’s not that it hadn’t occurred to you to ask. Seungmin told you his whereabouts if you questioned him, and he even volunteered information every once in a while, so you hadn’t thought much of it. And you didn’t suspect him of cheating on you ever in a million years. You knew he had other hobbies and friends as well- a whole life outside you that you weren’t privy to and didn’t need to be. But was it possible you were being a bit too aloof about your boyfriends daily habits? Why didn’t he share what he was doing, if he wasn’t at work? Why didn’t you know?

“I’ll ask him,” you say. “You’re right.”

Ahrin smiles encouragingly, and the topic is dropped for other matters. The odd feeling in your stomach doesn’t settle, though, and by the time you’ve finished your day and sat down to eat dinner, you realize you’ve unfortunately lost your appetite.

Seungmin calls you the next day to say he’ll be staying at the dorm for several days, and you tell him okay, thanks for telling me, I love you, goodbye. After you hang up the phone, you berate yourself for not asking more questions. You’re his girlfriend. You should be care that he’s leaving you alone for days at a time, you think as you drive to work. Maybe he’d been waiting for you to ask what he’d be doing or pester him for spoilers about the group’s upcoming plans. Maybe he wanted you to pout and whine about missing him and beg him to come home. You’d never done any of those things before, but maybe you should be. Maybe he’d called you hoping you would do those things and had hung up the phone disappointed.

The central problem of dating an idol is always a scarcity of time. They’re always busy, and because they’re always busy, you as a partner need to have a life outside them that is full and fulfilling, and sometimes those two schedules conflict. You can go long stretches without spending meaningful time together, and it’s hard to cope with, especially when they’re within driving distance of you, but still inaccessible. You know, though, that a scarcity of time does not always mean a scarcity of attention. You’ve seen it in Ahrin and Hyunjin, in the Cartier necklace and the missing credit card, that Hyunjin thinks about Ahrin all the time, and Ahrin knows that he does, is thinking of him just as much if not more. She can languish in the thought that even if Hyunjin is not with her, he desperately wishes he was, and when she wears his necklaces and bracelets and $500 hair clips, Hyunjin knows she is also desperately thinking about him.

You and Seungmin don’t have a system like that. Seungmin isn’t in the habit of buying you expensive gifts, for starters. He’s frugal with his money, hyperaware that one day his youth and fame will fade, and he won’t have such extravagant income. You’re similarly pragmatic, and you’ve never resented him for this. And that’s not to say he never spends money on you. He buys you flowers and takes you on expensive dates. He bought you a new laptop and headphones without you saying anything, and your closet is full of fancy dresses that are each tied to a high class outing you’ve been on. For each one, he’d bought himself a shirt and jacket to match. But those aren’t things you wear every day to show off. They’re for special occasions, specific memories. There’s nothing you wear or carry daily that marks you as ‘his.’

And honestly, you’ve never really thought about yourself that way. You and Seungmin are together, and you live together (by whatever measure your living arrangements currently count as), but you’ve never longed to be “branded” in a way befitting a pair of earrings or an oversized sweater. You wear his clothes at home, but never out. You don’t feel the need to show up to his practices and recording sessions. You’ve never even asked if you were allowed. If Seungmin bought you a Cartier necklace, you aren’t totally sure you would wear it.

It hits you like a freight train when you put it all together: You don’t care enough about Seungmin. You’re comfortable with him, you feel like you love him, but you don’t care about him the way you’re supposed to care about him. You’re not involved enough. But then, the same goes for him too, doesn’t it? He knows what you do for work, but he rarely asks you about anything other than a cursory how was your day? He doesn’t pester you for anything, doesn’t ask you to visit him or stay up for him when he comes home late. Aren’t those things that he should expect from you as a girlfriend? Why doesn’t he care that you’re so obviously neglecting him? When he kisses you goodbye in the morning, is that because he misses you, or is that just a habit formed over these past months, a meaningless part of the morning ritual he couldn’t resist if he tried?

You feel caught in a lurch, unsure what to do now. Seungmin deserves better than you, clearly. He deserves a girlfriend who actually gives a fuck about his life. But maybe, if you start making up for it now, he’ll forgive the past few months of you being so terrible. He’ll realize that you are an attentive girlfriend, and that you do care about him and that you love him, and you can prove it, you swear, it took you a while to realize what was wrong but you’ve got it all straightened out now.

You can change. You can fix this. You know you can.

-/-

The next time Seungmin comes home, you wake up first the next morning, like always. You go to put the coffee on, and you make breakfast, and you check your emails. Seungmin comes out, walks past you to his shoes and coat, and doubles back to get his morning coffee.

“Busy day today?” you ask.

Seungmin freezes in his movements, caught off guard by your question. He recovers quickly enough, and answers. “Not particularly. Vocal practice, some other things.”

“Oh, good. Do you think you’ll be home today then?”

Seungmin turns to face you, his cup abandoned on the counter, unfilled. “Is everything alright?”

“What?”

“Is something wrong? Do we need to talk?”

Oh god, it’s worse than you thought. Asking if he’s going to be home to eat dinner is enough for him to think something is amiss. Have you truly never asked him that before?

“Everything’s fine. It would just be nice to eat dinner with you, is all.”

Seungmin relaxes. He leans down to kiss you, but it lingers longer than normal, as if he’s savoring the touch, your attention. “I’ll do my best,” he promises. “I love you. Have a nice day.”

You absolutely blossom under his affection, the verbosity atypical for so early in the morning.

“I love you too. Be safe.”

“I always am,” he says, and presses another peck to your lips before pulling away. He finishes pouring his coffee, grabs his coat, and waves as he leaves. You sit at the table, vibrating with satisfaction. You’re doing it, you’re giving him what he needs. Maybe all hope isn’t lost for you two just yet.

Your sky-high mood follows you to work, and the day keeps getting better with the discovery of cupcakes in the break room. One of your coworkers’ kids just had a birthday, and they had way too much food left over. You take one back to your desk to nibble on while you work, and even the mundanity of your daily tasks can’t bring you down from how well this day is turning out. Around midmorning, it occurs to you that this is the perfect opportunity to do something else nice for Seungmin by bringing him cupcakes. They’re not filming, which means they’re not on diets, so he can handle a bit of sugar and frosting, especially if it’s a gift from you. You borrow a container from the staff kitchen to carry some cupcakes and decide to defer your own lunch to deliver them across the city.

When you get to the JYPE building, though, you realize you have no idea what to do. You’re fairly sure you’re allowed access; the other girlfriends pop in and out all the time. But it’s possible no one here recognizes you, since this is the first time you’ve shown your face around here.

Being spontaneous is cute and quirky, but standing around lost and embarrassed grows tiring within seconds. You give up and decide to text Seungmin.

Are you busy?, you send, standing awkwardly by the door and hoping security doesn’t throw you out. Thankfully, he responds quickly.

Not super. Do you need to call?

Actually I’m in the lobby of your building. Can you come down?

Typing, and then a pause. Then more typing. Eventually the message comes through.

Ok.

You can’t decode that at all. It strikes you for the first time that you may be bothering him by driving over here. You did ask if he was busy, though. And it stood to reason that if you had time for a 5-minute phone call, he had time to come downstairs and accept the gift you’d brought him. It isn’t intrusive. This is what people do for each other when they care about each other.

It only takes a few minutes for Seungmin to round the corner into the lobby. His face is creased in concern, even worse than he’d looked this morning, and he’s walking at a brisk pace to stand right in front of you.

“Hey,” he says. “What’s going on?”

You don’t know how to respond to his intensity, so you just hold out the container towards him. “I brought you cupcakes.”

Seungmin’s eyebrows furrow in utter confusion. “You…made cupcakes?”

“I didn’t make them. A coworker brought them in. But I remember you saying you liked cupcakes, and I had a free minute, so I thought I’d bring them over before they got finished.”

Seungmin accepts the box gingerly, as though it contains a nest of wild hornets, or lit sticks of dynamite. “You drove all the way over here to give this to me?”

Your doubts go from an inkling to a full-on tumult. “Yes, I did. I was just thinking of you…I thought you might like something sweet.”

You don’t mean to look dismayed, but Seungmin must clue-in to the fact that this isn’t the reaction you were hoping for. He shifts the box to one hand and laces your fingers together with his other.

“Thank you for thinking of me,” he says. “But you don’t need to go out of your way to bring me things.”

“It’s not out of my way. I had time.”

“Let me rephrase. You shouldn’t expend your lunch hour to bring me food. When are you going to eat now?”

“I’ll stay an extra half hour. It’s fine.”

Seungmin clearly isn’t satisfied with this. He tugs lightly on your arm, bidding you to follow, and you do, unsure of what else to do.

He takes you up a floor, and down a hallway to what seems to be a regular employee break room, where he gestures for you to sit down at one of the tables. You do, and he walks over to the fridge to get bottled water and brings back one for you, along with napkins and a knife from the drawer next to the fridge.

“If you aren’t going to eat lunch, you might as well share your spoils with me,” Seungmin says. He opens the container and takes out one of the cupcakes (and they are huge, to be honest, you kind of can’t believe they’re from a kid’s birthday party) and cuts it in half.

“Pick a side,” he says, and you do, and he carefully picks it up and lays it on a paper towel before sliding it towards you. He takes the other half, and you pick your desserts apart with your fingers. Seungmin tells an anecdote about Jeongin from their vocal lesson that morning. It’s…nice. You’re just spending time with your boyfriend, a quick stolen minute in the midst of your busy lives. The frosting is sickeningly sweet, and you find yourself reaching for the bottle of water without even thinking of it, and only later preen at the realization that Seungmin knew you would need to wash the artificial taste out and had brought you water preemptively. He knows you well enough to identify if something would suit your palette with only a glance.

Both of you don’t have much time to spare, so after fifteen minutes you wipe off your hands and clean off the table.

“I’ll bring the rest of these back upstairs,” he says. “They won’t last ten minutes once the others see them.”

“That’s fine. That’s what I was hoping for, actually.”

“And here I thought you brought these only for me,” he says, but his lips are curled up, teasing. He kisses you goodbye, like always, lips sugary-sweet and soft as cotton-candy. “Thank you for stopping by. I’ll see you tonight.”

Your heart grows three sizes. You’re on cloud nine. “Anytime,” you say.

That night you try very hard not to be an absolute freak about dinner. You cook nearly every day, so the cooking itself isn’t that special, but for some reason your usual rotation doesn’t feel good enough. Seungmin is coming home for the second day in a row, and you don’t want to reuse ingredients, or phone it in when you’d specifically asked him to come home. At the same time, a five-course meal is definitely doing way too much. You stop by the store on the way home and scan the shelves, before wrestling yourself into a compromise and getting ingredients for a meal you both enjoy, but you’re normally too lazy to bother after a long day at work. It’s nothing fancy, just time-consuming, but you’re in such high spirits that the labor doesn’t even feel harrowing.

Seungmin gets home a few minutes before you’re properly done, with the pot on the stove ticking down steadily as you wash dishes and spoons. Seungmin greets you as he walks in but vanishes quickly down the hall to shower and change into inside clothes. By the time he reappears, you’re all but done, and you’ve never been more satisfied with yourself as you dish the food into two bowls and set them on the table. Sure, maybe it’s “playing housewife” a little bit, but you don’t even care. If playing housewife is this rewarding, you might have to start doing it more often.

Seungmin raises his eyes as the dinner you prepared.

“Didn’t you complain that this is hard to make?” he asks. You shrug.

“Felt like cooking today,” is all you say. “No biggie.”

Seungmin sits down at the table, pushes his plate to the side, and looks directly at you. “Y/n. What’s going on?”

Anxiety shoots through you. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Yes, you do. I’m not oblivious. You’ve been acting off all day.”

“Off?”

“Visiting me at the company? Cooking this fancy dinner? It’s not like you at all.”

“That’s not me being ‘off.’ I just missed you, that’s all.”

“Have I not been paying enough attention to you? Is that why?”

“No! I mean, you have. There is no ‘why’. Am I not allowed to miss my boyfriend?”

Seungmin looks distinctly unimpressed. “Nice try. Wanna go again?”

All your good humor from earlier is dissolving into your soup. “You’re mocking me.”

“I’m not mocking you.”

“I was trying to do something nice for you. I just wanted to spend time with you today. Is that so wrong?”

“It’s not wrong. It’s just unusual for you. When you told me you showed up at the company, I thought something horrible had happened, because you never visited me before.”

“And that doesn’t bother you?”

“What doesn’t?”

“That I never visit.”

“Why would that bother me?”

All your anxieties are simmering near the top, threatening to boil over. “Because the other members’ girlfriends visit all the time. I know they do. They have security clearance and everything. But I never do. I don’t even know where you are most days if I wanted to visit you.”

Seungmin frowns. “You’re busy. You have a job you’re at all day, same as me. Some of the other members’ girlfriends work less or have other things going on.”

“Maybe that’s the problem,” you mutter. “Maybe I have too much going on.”

Seungmin looks hesitant at this. “If you feel you need to cut back, I’ll support you.”

“Is that what you want? Do you think I should work less?”

“No, I don’t. That’s not my decision anyway.”

“But I just…” You’re cracking, you know you are, you can hear it in your voice- “I just want to be there for you more. I want to be attentive.”

“You are attentive. You’re there for me all the time.”

“I’m not!” It bursts out of you more violently than even you expected. Seungmin is taken aback, eyes widening as you finally break. “I’m so aloof towards you, it’s awful. I never know where you are, or what you’re doing. I never ask you to come home to me. I don’t stay up for you. I don’t visit you. Other girlfriends have bracelets or necklaces they wear for their boyfriends, and I don’t do any of that. No one would even know we were dating, based on how we are now.” You suck in a breath, reminding yourself to stay calm. “I just don’t even know what you get out of being with me. I don’t do anything I’m supposed to do, and you keep letting me get away with it. And I thought if I changed, and I started trying harder, maybe I could fix it before you realize that I don’t deserve you.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, humiliation and sadness making you feel dizzy and hot. Now that you’ve said it all out, it sounds ridiculous. It’s not as if you could fix a behavioral pattern with one good day. If your relationship really is rotten through, all you’ve done is draw attention to the problem and made it even worse. Contrasted with how you acted today, the past eleven months must seem downright hollow.

Seungmin sighs. “Y/n, look at me, please.”

You open your eyes and are horrified to see Seungmin looking absolutely mournful where he sits across the table. He looks so aggrieved, so weighed down, and a horrible rock forms in the pit of your stomach.

“First of all,” he says. “I don’t ever want to hear you say again that you don’t deserve me. It’s not true, and I won’t have you putting yourself down like that. You don’t decide what I deserve, I do. And I’ve decided you’re exactly what I want.”

You blink, confused at the turn of events. It’s a very Seungmin thing to say, yes, but in this situation, you didn’t expect him to double down on it so earnestly.

“Second of all, you’re not aloof towards me. I know you love me, and you care for me in your own ways. I also know you have a life outside of me that keeps you busy. I’m grateful for that. I would feel horrible if you spent a significant amount of your day just waiting around for me when we both know I can’t always be there.”

“That’s different,” you can’t help but interject. “You’re an idol. You can’t help that you’re busy.”

“You can’t help being busy either. Being an idol isn’t any more important than any other job. You have responsibilities too.”

You deflate, sagging in your chair. He takes this as license to continue.

“Third, I didn’t think you were the type to wear jewelry every day. If you want me to get you something, I can do that. I just didn’t want you to feel pressured to wear something just because I bought it and it was expensive. Someday, if we get married, you’ll wear my ring, and that’ll be enough for me.”

He’s right. You don’t usually wear jewelry every day, and you would feel bad about not wearing something he’d specifically bought you as a gift. You’re starting to feel more and more foolish as this conversation continues.

Thankfully, his itemized list ends there, and he leans forward, dark eyes fixed on yours. He doesn’t look angry, or upset, just focused. Leave it to Seungmin to mind-map his way through a relationship crisis.

“Can you tell me what brought this on? It’s unlike you to be insecure. If I’ve done something to make you think you’re not good enough for me, I’d like to know so that I can change my behavior.”

You let out a long breath, giving up the fight in the face of Seungmin’s rationality.

“I had lunch with Ahrin the other day. I was complaining about how you’re so busy these days, I rarely see you. Ahrin said you guys actually haven’t been that busy. It made me realize I don’t actually know your schedule, like what you do all day, much less outside of work. And I also realized part of the reason I haven’t seen you much is because I never ask to see you. You have no reason to spend time with me when it seems like I don’t even want you around.” Your voice trails off as you continue, shame sticking the words in your throat.

Seungmin hums, thinking. He lifts his hand up and stretches it toward you, your sign to extend your own hand so he can lace your fingers together. You oblige, and the contact settles you a bit.

“I have never thought for one second that you didn’t want me around. I don’t take offense to you not knowing my schedule either. I know I don’t talk about work much. It might be a flaw of mine.”

“Hyunjin is always playing these little games with Ahrin to get her to come see him. But I’ve always felt that you’d prefer I stay away when you’re working.”

Seungmin hesitates again. “That might be right. That’s not because I don’t love spending time with you, though. It’s the opposite.”

“I…don’t follow.”

“Whatever you believe, the other members’ partners don’t really come around all that much, but when they do come around, it’s not really a big event. They’re just spectators. Like when Ahrin visits us at practice, it’s easy for Hyunjin to pretend she’s not there and keep working. I couldn’t do that. If you were in the room with me, I don’t think I could be as focused as I normally am. I’d be distracted because all my attention would be on you and how you’re doing. That’s why I’ve never encouraged you to visit.”

A small hysterical part of you wants to twist his words somehow, to start a fight about him calling you a ‘distraction’ and all it implies, but you know what he meant. It’s a fairly big admission he’s given, that he couldn’t keep control of himself if you were in his eyeline. It’s…unexpectedly flattering.

“I fluster you that badly?” you ask, half-teasing, half-curious. But Seungmin answers you dead serious.

“Embarrassingly so. When I went back upstairs with the cupcakes, Minho-hyung didn’t give me a second to breathe before commenting on it.”

You find yourself grinning. “Really?”

“Don’t laugh at me. It’s unkind.”

“I’m not laughing,” you say, even though you definitely are. Seungmin rolls his eyes, but there’s no heat or embarrassment in them.

“You could at least be sorry about it.”

“I’m very sorry that I got you bullied by your bandmates,” you say dutifully. “I promise I will do my best not to place you in such a compromising position again.”

“You can visit me if you want,” Seungmin rebuffs. “I can take a little teasing if you really want to see me. My point is just that you shouldn’t feel like you have to because the other girlfriends do.”

“Okay.” You nod, then venture out into the part of the conversation you’ve been avoiding. “If that’s all true, why do you stay away so often? It’s okay if you just have other things to do, but why do you let me think you’re at work if you aren’t?”

You aren’t sure what he’s going to say to this. You believe in his loyalty, always, and you don’t think he truly intended to lie to you, but you still can’t figure out who’s to blame here, and how this miscommunication has persisted between you for so long.

To your surprise, Seungmin’s ears flare red. His grip tightens on your hand, like he’s fighting himself, but you can tell he answers you honestly when he says,

“I was worried I was imposing on you.”

You blink. “Imposing?”

Seungmin is no longer meeting your eyes, his gaze lowered to the table. “Like I said, I don’t want you to constantly be waiting around for me. I don’t want you to get used to having me around, and then when I go on tour, or get busy with activities, you feel my absence stronger. Then, when I come back, I become an inconvenience as you try to fit me into your life again. It’s hard, and it’s unfair. I thought it would be easier to try to keep the same level of involvement all the time, so that you didn’t miss me too badly when I was gone, and I didn’t annoy you too much when I came back.”

You hardly let him finish his sentence before you say, “That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard. You keep your attention from me so that I won’t miss you later? How does that make any sense? I miss you regardless. That’s the point of being in a relationship.”

Seungmin winces, and you decide to dial back your indignance. He’d spoken to you evenly, and you could do the same for him.

“Sorry. I just meant that you shouldn’t keep yourself away from me in an effort to spare my feelings. I know what I signed up for when we started dating. I know some times will be easier than others. I appreciate your efforts to mitigate that, but this isn’t the way. You being gone so often is all the more reason to be overt and intense when we do have time together. It’s fine to not want to spend all your free time with me, but don’t ever think wanting to be around me is imposing, or hurting me in some way, because it’s not.”

Seungmin looks properly chastised. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I’ll be around more.”

“And I’ll ask for you more. We both need to stop holding ourselves and each other back.” You let out a little laugh. “We’re acting like it’s embarrassing to be in love or something.”

“Hyunjin said the same thing to me once.”

“Hyunjin is smart in exactly one area,” you acquiesce. “Ahrin is a lucky girl.”

“Comparison is the thief of joy,” Seungmin mutters. You lean forward over your cold dinner and press a kiss to Seungmin’s cheek.

“I didn’t say she was luckier than me.”

You both grin.

-/-

Next week, Monday. You wake up at your usual time, put on coffee, make breakfast. You clear your entire inbox because fuck the sales department, they can say whatever they need to say in the meeting this afternoon. You set your phone down and enjoy the warmth of the tea you brewed and watch the sun come up outside your living room window.

Seungmin gets up, gets his shoes and coat, and doubles back around.

“Good morning,” you say.

“Good morning.”

“Busy day?”

“Nope. I’m free after lunch.”

“Lucky. I have an awful meeting from two to four.”

“You’ll do fine,” Seungmin says. “Sales isn’t the boss of you.”

“They actually are,” you groan, and Seungmin laughs at your dismay. He kisses you goodbye, tells you to be safe. You tell him you love him. The front door opens and closes.

At around 1pm, your phone buzzes with a text.

Are you busy?

Eh. Why?

I’m in your lobby.

No way.

You grab your security pass and head towards the elevators, watching every floor tick down until it lets you out on the ground floor. Seungmin is sitting in a chair in reception, holding a white cardboard box. When he sees you approach him, he grins and holds it up.

“Got time for cupcakes?”

Your smile is so wide it’s splitting your face in half. “Follow me. The break room is on the fourth floor.”

-/-

“I didn’t even know you knew what building I work in.”

“I looked it up on NAVER.”

“Of course you did.”

“Why reinvent the wheel when someone invented the iPhone, y/n.”

#skz x reader #stray kids x reader #seungmin x reader #seungmin fluff #seungmin angst #skz imagines #skz x you #skz x y/n #seungmin x y/n #seungmin x you #skz hurt/comfort

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not-neverland06 · 4 months ago

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Only Have Eyes for You

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Series Masterlist

Cooper Howard x fem!reader, The Ghoul x fem!reader Summary: He found you, again, you should be expecting it at this point. The only problem is there’s still a Deathclaw lurking around outside the station. You’re stuck with him and the bodies of the ghoul you kill in a desolate gas station.

“God, Coop, this is delicious.” She moans around the fork and takes another bite of dinner. He clenches his fork a little tighter, trying not to stare too obviously at the way her lips wrap around the metal. He feels like a lech, watching her reactions so eagerly. He also feels like she might be playing this whole thing up to screw with him.

He’s a good cook, but he’s not that good. She glances up at him, red lips tilted up into a mischievous smirk. He lets out a rough sigh, shoulders slumping forward as he shakes his head and digs into his own meal. Of course she was messing with him.

She lets out a little laugh, “Sorry, couldn’t resist. You’re so easy to rile up.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he tries to sound stern, but he can’t mask his own smile. “Keep it up and I won’t be cooking for you anymore.” He points the fork at her, an attempt at being intimidating, but he can’t keep the act up when she laughs.

She’s enchanting, everything about her. The way she sits, eats, talks. He could just watch her all day and never be bored. Everything about her seems to be designed to tempt him. He knows he shouldn’t be thinking like this, it’s wrong. But he finds that thoughts like these are becoming easier to live with everyday.

There’s always a cop out or an excuse that assuages his guilt in the moment. Of course, that night, when he puts Janey to sleep and lies next to his wife, that’s when everything comes crashing down. But when he’s with her, it’s like they’re in their own world.

There’s no one here to answer to. No responsibilities to worry about or deadlines to meet. He can take off the celebrity mask and just be himself around her. Her presence is freeing. She approaches everything in life with such self-assuredness that he feels more confident around her.

Sometimes, after a particularly bad day or a rough fight with Barb, he imagines what life would be like with her. If he’d never been a movie star. If he’d never fought in that war. If he’d just met her before everything changed. Maybe they’d have a ranch, out in the middle of nowhere with no one and nothing around them.

It would just be the two of them together, maybe some chickens, definitely Roosevelt. The thought always makes him smile. Then he remembers what reality actually looks like. The war, the stardom, his family, it’s who he is. It’s so deeply ingrained into him that he doesn’t even know who he would be without it.

“Oh,” she looks up from her plate and glances over at the record player. Cooper takes the chance to look at her, really look at her. The candlelight gives her a youthful glow. Her lips are eased into a gentle smile, expression soft and open. It’s the most relaxed he’s seen her in a while. She’s been so tense lately, it’s why he offered to make her dinner.

Now, the tension has melted from her shoulders. It looks like the light’s gone back on in her eyes. Hell, he’d practically invited her on a date, he doesn’t know why he’s surprised by how happy she looks. They’re eating a dinner he made by candlelight with I Only Have Eyes for You playing in the background.

He’s not sure he could have made this any more romantic. “I love this song,” she whispers. She glances back over at him. It’s a brief look, fleeting and gone as quick as it comes. But he knows what she’s thinking, because he’s thinking the same thing.

They speak with their eyes, their looks, it’s become a secret language between the two of them. It’s full of fleeting touches and longing gazes and it’s always quicker than he wants. There was a yearning in her eyes that he knows is reflected in his own. The desire to act on their desires.

For tonight, only tonight he reasons, he’s going to do what he wants. The world will melt away and he’ll give into the fantasies. They’ll go back to their usual tomorrow, but tonight, tonight is for the two of them and no one else.

He stands up from his seat and she glances up at him, eyes wide and a furrow in her brow. “Come on darling,” he whispers. If he speaks too loudly the spell will end and they’ll sober up, realize what they’re doing. He holds out his hand to her and she looks at it for a moment. Fleeting touches, it’s all they know, tonight that changes.

She doesn’t smile, simply slides her hand into his and nods. Acceptance of what they’re doing. Her palm is warm against his, smooth and when she squeezes his hand it takes everything in him not to just bring her into his chest. But he has to be slow, savor this while it lasts. Tomorrow it ends. He can’t let this moment be rushed. He helps her to her feet and leads her into the open space of his living room.

When he comes to a stop she finally takes her eyes off her heels and looks at him. He swears the stars are in her eyes, they lure him in and keep him captive in their hold. He never wants to look away from her.

Her hand slowly glides up his arm. Her fingers brush against the nape of his neck from where she lazily drapes her forearm over his shoulder. He smiles at her, heart racing a bit when she gives him her gorgeous smile in return. They sway slightly as his arm wraps around her waist and his free hand takes her other one.

She scoffs in amusement when she notices the way he keeps them apart. There’s a ridiculous amount of space between the two of them. He’s afraid if he pulls her any closer he’ll lose the last thread of sanity he has.

She takes the final step, slotting her feet between his, their chests pushed up together. For a moment, he worries that she can feel how quickly his heart is beating. It processed slowly that it’s her own pulse he’s feeling. She’s just as affected by him as he is by her.

She gives him one last look before she leans her head against his shoulder. He mourns the loss of her eyes for a moment before he closes his own and leans into her. He forgets where he is, lets himself get lost in the moment. They're not even dancing, merely moving together.

He’s not sure how many songs they sway to, how long they stand joined together. He doesn’t care. He doesn’t know whether they’re still in his house or have somehow danced their way into the backyard. He only has eyes for her.

You hold your hands up, trying your best to placate him. Cooper just gives you a mean smirk, his head tilted in contemplation as he looks at Lucy. Her eyes are wide as she stares down the barrel of his gun. “Cooper-”

He pulls back the hammer and your mouth clamps shut. You have no way of knowing what he’s going to do. Maybe if this was two hundred years ago you might. But this man before you is a stranger.

Your heart leaps to your throat and you have to stop yourself from lunging forward when he grabs at Lucy. In a split second the gun is pointed at you and his arm is tightly wrapped around her neck. Lucy wheezes, hands desperately clawing at Cooper’s arms.

You’re crouched on the ground, hackles raised like a feral animal. There’s a throbbing pain radiating from where he shot you. Were it not for Lucy’s medkit you would have bled out. If the wound wasn’t crippling you right now, you would have already shoved your knife through his neck. Again.

“Up,” he commands with a jerky upward motion of his gun. Your eyes dart to Lucy’s. They’re rounded with concern and she shakes her head as much as he allows. You can’t run, your brains would be splattered across dusty linoleum before you breached the door. You have no choice but to comply with his commands.

He smiles, seeming to come to the same realization as you. His eyes rove over you, lightening with satisfaction as he catches sight of the blood covering the entirety of your right leg. Then they happen upon the head dangling from your hand. “Well, well, well, look what we have here. Three for the price of one backstabbing bitch.”

Your face screws up in a sardonic smile and you toss the head to his feet, “Take it. Leave us the hell alone and just take the bounty.” Lucy squeaks but her face is turning purple from the grip he has around her throat. She’s got no room to protest against this. Either you give up the head or he kills you both. You don’t see yourself getting out of this one.

To your chagrin Cooper simply shakes his head. He tucks the gun back into its holster and you track the movement carefully. He reaches behind himself, pulling out his rope and roughly placing it in Lucy’s hands. With a loud gasp she’s released from his hold and shoved forward. You grunt, hands reaching up to brace her as she crashes into you. She pants into your shoulder, rubbing her throat with a wheeze as she catches her breath.

Cooper’s eyes are cold, devoid of anything except a detached boredom as he watches you both. “Tie her up.”

Lucy looks over her shoulder, voice cracking and painful to listen to. “What?” You can barely hear her, you’re not sure how Cooper manages to understand what she’s saying. But he does, he doesn’t say anything else. He leans back, arms hanging relaxed by his side as he nods once more from the rope in her hands to you.

Your hands tighten to the point of creaking pain in your knuckles as Lucy slowly shifts away from you. Her own grip on the frayed rope is shaking, hands trembling as her cool fingers wrap around your wrists. You don’t let your eyes leave Cooper. You take in the smug look on his face and let it fuel your hatred for him further. He might think he’s got you now, but the second you’re fully healed you’re going to kill him. Permanently this time.

There’s a little tsk from Cooper and Lucy glances back at him, hands still hovering over your wrists. He shakes his head and nods upwards. Her lips part, brows narrowed in confusion as her hands slowly make their way higher up your body. Over your forearms, past your elbows, and grazing against your biceps. He’s only satisfied when her hands are placed loosely around your neck. “Leash her,” the command is a rough growl that has panicked shivers crawling down your spine. There’s contempt dripping from his voice, nothing but hate as he barely even looks at you.

Lucy mouths an apology but you just shake your head. You don’t need her apologies, you just need this to be over. You need him to turn his back so you can both make a run for it. Craning your neck forward, Lucy slips the loop over your head. She tries not to irritate the bruise that is already around your throat from your last run in with him but it's unavoidable. Your jaw clenches, teeth grinding together as you try not to focus on the burning chafe of rope against your skin.

Something wet nudges against your hand and your stare breaks away from Cooper. The back of your palm is sticky with something slimy and you grimace as you glance down. There’s a sharp yip from the hound beside you. She’s nudging relentlessly against the hand holding the head, like she’s trying to take it from you. Your fingers bury deeper into the hair and you jerk back, forgetting momentarily about the rope and hissing when it tears at the fragile skin.

Cooper stomps forward, the spurs on his boots sounding like jingling omens of doom. He grabs at the rope and with a hard tug you stumble towards him. Your chin lands on his chest, the bone digging uncomfortably into his sternum. You glare up at him and he’s already grinning down at you. The yellow of his teeth looks particularly putrid tonight.

His hand is rough as it grasps your wrist. The skin hardened and calloused from hundreds of years of being under the nuclear sun. Your breath catches slightly when it finds its way around the base of your neck. His touch is almost gentle as his fingers skate across your collarbones. It catches you off guard, lips parting with a surprised gasp as they travel deftly up your neck.

You expect him to squeeze so you take a deep breath. His smile ticks up, grin widening at the action. His head tilts slightly as he takes you in, eyes roving up and down your form. This is odd, this feeling. There’s a flutter in your stomach, a recognizable ache in your chest when you see the way he’s looking at you.

Your eyes are locked, something old and familiar swimming in both of them. You used to be ashamed of this feeling he brought up in you. He was a married man after all and you were just his lying assistant. You were never supposed to be attracted to him. You’re certainly not supposed to be attracted to him when he looks like this. But despite how much he’s changed, he’s still got that Cooper Howard charm.

He doesn’t drag you forward roughly. He guides you further into him, tilting your chin up and leering down at you with that angry grin. His hand glides around the back of your neck-

The head drops to the ground with a wet thud as your hands fly to the rope on your neck. He’s grabbed the back of it, tightening it so hard you’re sure you felt your eyes pop out. The smile on his face is gone, instead it’s replaced by an intensely concentrated look. His eyes are boring into your own, taking in every twitch and gasp as he watches you struggle for breath.

You dig at your neck, feeling warm wet blood bubble under your nails the more you rip at the rope. Your fingers go cold and your tongue swells as the pressure in your face increases until you think the skin will burst. The eye contact doesn’t break between you, darkly intimate as he takes in every detail of your slow death by his hand.

The world around you is muffled like you’re underwater. The blood rushing around in your head as your brain throbs. Vaguely, you can hear Lucy shouting and the dog barking. But Cooper never takes his eyes off of you. He’s undeterred by Lucy hitting and slapping at him with her own fatigued arms. It’s only when a loud roar off in the distance rattles the floor of the station that he lets you go.

Your legs give out but you don’t get a chance to sink to the floor. A firm arm wraps around your waist and keeps you clutched to his chest. You have no choice but to hold onto him, nails digging into the leather of his duster as you catch your breath. “Alright,” he mutters, voice low as he speaks into your ear. “Catch your breath, sweetheart.” For a moment you can pretend he’s comforting you. That he wasn’t the one who just tried to kill you.

He doesn’t let the fantasy last long. “It’s only going to get worse from here.”

You’d cry if you weren’t so exhausted. “Please,” Lucy croaks from behind you. “What do you want from us?” You try to slip away from him while she speaks. But you still don’t have great control over your faculties. Your feet just slide uselessly against the floor as he keeps you strapped to him like an iron band.

“You,” he spits the word out like an insult. “Well, I don’t want nothing from you, little lady. It’s her I want.” You don’t have to look up to know that he’s talking about you. It’s clear enough from the way he tugs a little at your rope. You whimper at the twinge of pain and he chuckles. You glance up enough to see him look down at the head, frowning slightly as he considers it. “Although, that bounty right there is a bit of a bonus.”

Lucy shakes her head, ponytail waving around wildly. She holds up her hands, starting towards it. The dog lunges forward and Lucy stumbles back with a frightened yelp. “Please,” she looks up at Cooper, eyes pleading. “I need that head to save my father.” You would sigh if breathing didn’t hurt right now. There was no getting him to sympathize with her.

“Your father?” Cooper questions, voice almost sounding sympathetic. Lucy nods, lips pouted and eyes wide with a beg for mercy. He huffs, a sneer marring his lips. “Well that’s just too bad,” he mocks. Lucy doesn’t seem to pick up on the sarcasm in his words, though, so he makes himself a little more clear. “I don’t give a fuck about your father, darling.”

Before anyone can say anything else there’s another loud roar, this time much closer than the last one. Cooper tenses up around you, arm tightening and eyes darting over to the closed metal door of the shop. Finally, he releases you.

Your legs are still wobbly, you manage to stay standing for a second before they give out. They fold under you like a crumbling card tower and your body jolts roughly against the floor. Lucy skirts around the growling dog, still guarding her master’s head, and kneels beside you.

Cooper opens the door, he pops his head outside for a second. You and Lucy share a look but it’s barely a minute later before he darts back inside and slams the door behind him. Without a word he drags a large metal shelf in front of the door and blocks it off.

You and Lucy watch as he does it to the other doors as well. His face doesn’t give away much but you can tell from the hunch of his shoulders that whatever he saw had scared the hell out of him. You don’t know what time Deathclaw’s like to hunt but you figure it’s probably about now. You would enjoy the idea of something frightening Cooper if it didn’t scare you ten times worse.

Cooper looks over at the two of you and frowns like it’s your fault you're all stuck here. “Settle in, ladies, it’s going to be a long night.”

He managed to find a half rotted couch in one of the rooms, it’s not very comfortable. But it’s better than the floor. It’s certainly better than being tied up to a counter, which is exactly where you are. You keep shifting around, picking at the dried blood on your pants. He can’t deny the satisfaction it brought him to see how uncomfortable you are sitting in your own blood.

Your little friend is still hovering around you. He hadn’t really had to worry about tying Lucy up, she refuses to leave your side. Lucy keeps fussing about the wound on your neck. Everytime she tries to take the rope off all he has to do is clear his throat and she’s pale with fear.

The dog is curled up by him, resting on top of her owner’s head. It’s creepy, her attachment to that damn thing. She should be able to smell the death on him. Though, with the men he used to work for, he’s sure that she doesn’t know any other smell.

He didn’t bother questioning them about the dead ghouls in the shop. He’d just made them drag the bodies into the empty refrigerators to hopefully keep the smell locked away. It didn’t take a genius to put two and two together. You’d had a bloody crowbar in your hand when he’d ambushed you.

He catches your eye from where he rests on the couch. It’s hard to believe you’re such a ruthless little killer considering how pathetic you look right now. Your expression is sour, eyes set with thinly veiled hatred. You can glower all you want, he’s not gonna pretend he didn’t see the want in your eyes earlier. You might be angry now, but you still want him all the same. It’s gonna make breaking you so much sweeter.

Lucy happens to catch the look and she frowns at what she must think is familiarity. He tilts his hat over his eyes, deciding he might as well try and sleep now. They won’t be leaving this place until the Deathclaw lurking around outside goes back to its den.

“Do you know him?” He attempts to drown out their conversation but its hard. They’re in ridiculously tight quarters and as much as he wishes he was alone right now, he’s not. He could always just toss Lucy out the door, use her as a distraction for the Deathclaw. Sadly, she does have some use about her.

Clearly she knows her way around a gun and a medkit. She’s resilient, he’s sure even if he did toss her out she’d still bounce back somehow. Besides, she’s keeping her friend calm and docile. He needs them both to keep each other under control.

A light hum, “Used too.”

Lucy’s voice is incredulous, she almost sounds betrayed. “How is that possible?”

He opens his eyes just enough to see yours widen. Your face pales like you’d just realized the mistake you made. He doubts Lucy actually knows much about the vaults she lives in. He’s sure that, just as you always did, you’re still keeping Vault-Tec’s secrets.

Instead of answering the question you try to deflect. “Come on, he might be missing a nose and have a real shitty fucking attitude.” He can’t help but snort at the anger in your voice. Like you have any right to be angry at him. “But you don’t recognize your favorite little mascot?”

He sneers at the mocking tone. When he glances back up you’ve got a smug little smile on your face. You’re not looking at Lucy, you’re already staring at him. Waiting for him to explode.

Well, one thing hasn’t changed. You still know how to get under his skin. But he’ll be damned if he lets you know just how much you piss him off. He doesn’t give you the satisfaction of his reaction, he just closes his eyes again and imagines all the different ways he wants to torture you.

“What do you mean?”

“You should ask him for an autograph Lucy, it’s our very own Vault Boy.” He pictures sliding his knife under your skin and peeling while you shriek. “Isn't that right, Cooper?” He sees himself shooting Bud and Barb and you, over and over again. The same little fantasies that got him through the first years of the fallout.

Lucy is undeterred by your deflection. She keeps her eyes trained on you both. Her brows are drawn in, mouth set in a firm line. “You two know each other.” You don’t answer, eyes darting away from his and settling on the floor. Lucy sinks back against the counter and sighs. “That’s why you never loved Norm.”

Norm? He tilts his head up, taking in the affronted look on your face. Your head whips back towards her, “Lucy-” she cuts you off.

“Him?” She motions towards him, voice incredulous and almost hurt. Who the fuck is Norm? You lower your head, like you’re ashamed. He wonders if it’s because you got caught or just because you were ever with him. “He’s so much better than my brother?” She keeps going, voice reaching a pitch of anger as she prods at you.

He’s surprised by how quickly she connected the dots. He hadn’t thought she would be so perceptive. He’s sure that little show you gave her earlier when he had his hand around your neck probably gave you away.

“In my defense,” you hiss back, “he used to have a fucking nose.”

You know she’s struggling with this. The idea that you could have ever loved the ghoul. But, she doesn’t understand just how different he had been when you’d known him. She only knows this cannibalistic sadist without a kind bone in his body.

Lucy is staring at you with something close to hate in her eyes. You can’t really blame her. So far he’d beat you both down and taken you hostage. You both know it’s only going to get worse. And now she thinks that you loved him, which is true. You think she might believe you still have feelings for him, which, despite your earlier display, is not true.

She also knows now that you precede everything before the fallout. You’re sure she’s trying to put together how that works and right now you need to distract her with whatever you’ve got to keep her from figuring out the truth.

“He was different,” you try, voice soft and pleading.

She just shakes her head, turning away from you. “Norm deserved better,” she whispers and you frown. It hurts, the way she says it. Like you aren’t good enough for him. You cared for Norm as best you could but you weren’t going to apologize for not being in love with him. You can’t control who you love and who just can’t.

She would never know the man you loved and the thought hurt more than you cared to admit. “Who the fuck is Norm?” You and Lucy both leap apart, not expecting to hear his voice. You share a hesitant glance with each other.

Cooper stands over you, expression expectant and hard. You try to shake your head, but she’s already answering, “Her husband,” she spits the words out like a threat. You recognize the tone, the same one you used to hear pre-war. Like if he keeps bugging you, your husband is going to come kick his ass.

But this isn’t some asshole hitting on you in a bar. And Norm isn’t exactly a fighter. Cooper seems to realize that too because he steps back and fixes you with an odd look. You brace yourself, for anger or disgust, anything. You’re not prepared for the way he laughs, hands on his knees and whole body shaking with it. You frown, almost offended by his display.

What the hell was that supposed to mean?

You’ve never seen him laugh like this.

Lucy gives you a scared glance before scooting closer to you. “That’s rich,” he sighs, wiping a tear from his eyes and shaking his head. “Married in the fucking apocalypse, how goddamn ridiculous.” He doesn’t sound amused anymore. There’s venom in his tone. His eyes narrow down on you and you shrink further into yourself, thigh throbbing painfully.

He walks back to the couch, throwing himself down and tugging the hat over his eyes. “Feel bad for the poor bastard,” he mutters, the words feel hateful. But everything about him now is tainted with anger and hate.

Lucy, realizing he isn’t going to bother you both anymore fixes you with one more angry look before moving away from you. She settles against the refrigerators. She’d rather sit near dead ghouls than be near you.

Your head falls forward with defeat, chin tucking into your chest with a rough sigh. You’re sure it wouldn’t take much longer for her to discover just who you really are and what you do for Vault-Tec. She’s smart, she’s going to figure it out soon. And when she does she’s not going to be interested in your company anymore.

Once that happens, well, Cooper’s got nothing left to leverage against you.

“You cooked?” The astonishment in Norm’s voice has you rolling your eyes.

“Don’t sound so surprised. I am capable of some wifely duties,” you send him a playful grin and he offers up a brief chuckle. “Your dad’s coming over,” you admit. You turn your back to him, placing a fork beside the plate you're setting. You can practically feel the tension that settles over him at the announcement.

Hank’s visits never really go the way that he wants. Or the way you want. He’s the overseer before he’s an old friend and especially before he’s a father. At least to Norm. He’s always been a little sweeter on Lucy. You’ve never really figured out if it’s because she embraces her role in the vault so much better than Norm. Or if it’s because she reminds him of her mother.

You, personally, never got to meet Lucy’s mom. You only heard stories about her. Norm was too young to really remember her, but Lucy always loves to talk about how kind of a woman she was. You don’t know the real story of how she died, but you know the shit Betty and Hank pedal isn’t the truth.

You try to avoid the topic of parents in your home as much as you can. It’s a sensitive subject for Norm. It’s why you’d been putting off telling Norm about Hank coming over. But you put it off so much, you’ve had no choice but to spring it on him. It’s better like this, honestly. He always weasels his way out of these dinners. Then you’re stuck awkwardly fielding Hank’s questions about your marriage with his son.

It’s not really fun to talk to the guy you used to get drinks with about creating a child with his kid.

“You didn't tell me,” Norm doesn’t sound angry. He never gets angry with you. He just seems resigned. Resigned to accepting that he’s in a marriage he never wanted. Resigned in the fact that he hates the vault he lives in, the jobs he works, that he’ll never truly be satisfied. Your husband can be a sad man sometimes.

You wish you could be what he needed you to be. Wish you could love him the way you should, but you can’t. As much as you try. He knows it’s forced and he doesn’t want to pretend he’s okay with being second choice in your heart.

“I’m sorry, but you always manage to get out of these things. Then I’m stuck awkwardly talking about sperm count and his and Lucy’s book club.”

Usually Norm just huffs and accepts his fate. Instead, he fixes you with an odd look. It’s that assessing gaze he gets sometimes that makes you feel like he’s looking straight into your core and seeing the rot there. He walks around you, grabbing a plate and finishing up setting the table. “You know,” he starts and you tense up.

You pretend to be busy mixing the mash potatoes so you don’t have to look at him. Your anxieties are always evident on your face, you don’t need him to pick you apart right now. “My dad seems a lot more comfortable with you than he does me. Sometimes,” you risk a glance and he shakes his head. He seems like he’s talking more to himself than you. “Sometimes,” he starts again, “it seems like you two know each other.”

Your breath catches and you’re pretty sure your heart stops beating for a solid minute. He’s still muttering to himself, not looking at you or really even processing what he’s saying, but you’re worried he’s figured you out. It’s illogical and impossible. You could easily explain your bond with Hank away. But it doesn’t make you feel any better about having to lie to him.

You’re quite literally saved by the bell as your doorbell buzzes and Hank’s voice calls out a chipper, “Hello!” Norm puts down the last glass, gives you a strained smile, and turns to get the door. You take in a deep breath and slump over the counter for a second.

You had this foolish idea in your head that the last person you would ever have to lie to would be Cooper. That once you got down into the vaults you wouldn’t have to keep lying to the people you care about. You could finally rid yourself of the constant anxiety and stress of the upkeep of your lies.

You should have known better.

Hank walks in with Norm, the two of them chatting about Norm’s new janitorial job. Norm is less than enthused and Hank is worried about the lack of enthusiasm. “Cleaning toilets is a very important role here, son. I’m proud of you.” At least he tries.

Norm sits his dad at the table and walks into the kitchen. You give him a smile and finish pouring the potatoes onto the dish of food. You hope he doesn’t notice how strained your look is. If he does, he has the decency not to mention it.

He only offers you a brief smile in return, a secret message in his look. It’s tense, the same as yours, but this is simply a request to play interference between him and his dad tonight. You huff a laugh and nod, he gives you a relieved look and grabs the pitcher of lemonade from beside you.

You watch him walk back to the table. His back is turned as he pours drinks for all of you. You’re reminded of a different dinner you had a long time ago. Not for the first time you look at Norm and wish he was someone else.

You screw your eyes shut, turning your back on him and glancing down at the food in front of you. He deserves better than you.

You take in a deep breath and pick up the dish full of your dinner tonight. You straighten out your shoulders and turn towards the men waiting for you with your most practiced smile. “Who’s hungry?”

#Cooper howard x reader #the ghoul x reader #fallout x reader #fallout tv series #fallout prime #the ghoul #cooper howard #Cooper howard x you #the ghoul x you #the ghoul x fem!reader #cooper howard x fem!reader

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illdowhatiwantthanks · 7 months ago

Text

Postpartum

Amelia Shepherd x fem!reader Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI (NSFW), sex, oral sex, hella eating out, fingering, etc., mentions of anatomy/body parts, some explicit language, post-pregnancy times (please let me know if I've left anything out!) Word Count: 2.0k

Summary: You're six weeks postpartum, and your doctor has cleared you for sex, but you're worried that it might not be the same anymore. Amelia assuages all of your worries. 😉

Request Info: This was requested by an anonymous user, but the request itself accidentally got deleted! The user also requested that the reader be an ortho surgeon and a third twisted sister. Whoever you are, I hope you find this, and I'm so sorry to have lost your original request!

“You’re good to go,” your OBGYN declared, finishing up your 6-weeks postpartum checkup.

You raised your eyebrows at her. “As in, good to go?”

She laughed. “Good to go, as in cleared to resume any and all sexual activity as you feel ready for it.”

You nodded and repeated it to yourself. “Good to go…”

But as you left Grey-Sloan, making a quick stop at the ortho unit to say hello to the nurses and the other attendings, you couldn’t help but wonder if you really were good to go. Sure, you missed sex with Amelia. You missed her body, missed connecting with her in that way, but you were also so self-conscious. You hadn’t had any major tears or anything, but you had shoved a human head out of your vagina less than two months ago. It was bound to be different down there. It felt different. What if sex didn’t feel good anymore? What if it never did? Or, even worse, what if it looked or felt different for Amelia, and she didn’t like sleeping with you anymore?

You decided to text Meredith and Cristina about it, as you so often did about any and everything.

Y/N: You guys I’ve been cleared for sex

M: Yay!

C: Good for you bitch

Y/N: I’m kinda scared tho…

M: Aw, why?

Y/N: Does it hurt after? Or like idk was Derek weirded out?

C: It feels like I could have been left out of this conversation

M: Shut up Cristina we’re being supportive! And no Y/N it didn’t hurt. You just have to take it slow and do what feels good at the time. And stop if it doesn’t feel good.

C: You don’t have a dick to deal with so you should be okay

M: CRISTINA

Y/N: I mean tbh we have several

M: Ew she’s my sister I didn’t need to know that…

C: I need to know more…

You shook your head and smiled. You decided that you might as well try, if Amelia was up for it. And there was no question that Amelia was up for it. She’d powered through like a champ, but before this, the longest you’d gone without having sex was two weeks and that was only because you’d been brought in as a specialist on a case at another hospital.

When you walked into the apartment, everything was quiet–a rarity at your house these days. You crept through the rooms, looking for Amelia and Pippa, and finally found them in the nursery. Amelia held Pippa to her chest, bouncing her softly as she slept, little chubby cheeks pressing out like she was blowing bubbles.

You placed a hand on Amelia’s back and kissed her on the cheek. You nodded toward Pippa, eyebrows scrunched.

“I just can’t bring myself to put her down,” Amelia whispered. “How was your appointment?”

“Good.”

Amelia stared pointedly at you. “Good good?”

You nodded, smirking.

If Pippa had not been tiny and fragile, Amelia would have tossed her into the crib like a football.

She placed the baby gently on her back in the crib, then crashed into you with the force of a tidal wave–or six weeks of no sex.

She pushed you into the hallway wall, shutting Pippa’s door behind her, and pressed into you, her mouth and hands desperate. She ran her tongue up and down your neck and back to your mouth and yanked your shirt over your head. God, you’d missed this. You’d missed her. Even though she’d been right here next to you the whole time. She groaned as she pushed herself into you, and you smiled into her kiss.

At this rate, Amelia would be finished before you even had a chance to make it to the bed.

“No, no!” she whined as you pulled away, her blue eyes pleading desperately with you.

“Come to bed, Amy,” you teased, taking her by the hand and leading her to the bedroom.

You gently removed her clothes and pushed her onto the bed. “You first,” you said.

She grabbed at your face hungrily as you leaned over her, kissing you with all the fervor of someone who’s love has been lost at sea for several years. She gasped and arched her back as your hand grazed over her clit.

You couldn’t help but smile at how needy she was, her hips bucking into your hand as you held it still, cupping her heat.

“Y/N, don’t fucking tease me,” she scolded, her voice stuttering. “It’s been way too long for that.”

“Oh, you don’t like that?” you said, smug. It was not often that Amelia was this powerless in bed. Usually it was the other way around, so you were enjoying this moment.

She grabbed your face, rough, and then soft as she ran her hand through your hair. “Just finish me already so I can get inside you.” She pulled your face closer, her breath hot in your ear as she whispered. “I’ve missed the taste of you.”

You’d never switched gears faster. No more power trips, just getting Amelia off as quickly as possible.

You kissed and licked your way down her body, intoxicated by the way she pushed into you and pulled you closer. By the time you reached her center, she was panting and glistening and you knew it'd only be a matter of minutes before she was absolute putty.

You pressed soft kisses into her inner thighs, then closer and closer until she was nearly bursting with the want of you, so that when you finally, finally, wrapped your mouth around her clit, she nearly lost her mind. You held her hips in place as she moaned, licking your way through her, around her, inside of her until she was shaking in your arms, hips rolling to meet your tongue. And for the final touch, you slipped two of your fingers inside of her, curling down and around, just how you knew she liked it. Her hands were gripping your hair so hard you thought might pull it out. “Y/N!” she gasped, her breath coming out in short, sharp moans as she came on your fingers. You smiled as you buried your face in her, guiding her through her high and back down again.

“Holy shit,” she breathed, her chest still heaving.

“Good?” you asked, already knowing the answer, as you wiped your mouth.

She nodded, still struggling to catch her breath. “Give me a second.”

You lay down next to her, feeling wildly pleased with yourself, especially when Amelia rolled over on top of you and pressed her mouth into yours, moaning as she tasted herself on your lips.

But as she worked her way down your body, anxiety shot through you.

You grabbed her hand. “Amy, wait…”

She looked up at you, concerned.

“You don’t have to,” you said, avoiding her eyes.

“I know I don’t,” she replied, still looking at you curiously. “I want to. I’ve wanted to for months.”

“I think…” you stuttered. “I think I’d really rather you didn’t.”

Amelia’s eyebrows furrowed. “Hey,” she said, laying down next to you and propping herself up on her elbow so she could see your face. “What’s going on?”

“I’m just not ready.”

“That’s fine, but you seemed super ready about two minutes ago.”

You didn’t respond, fiddling with an edge of your comforter.

“Y/N,” she said, brushing your hair behind your ear. “Tell me what’s going on in that pretty head please.”

She took your hand and you played with her fingers for a moment before answering.

“I’m scared you won't like it.”

Amelia looked genuinely shocked. “You’re what now?”

“I got messed up down there,” you mumbled. “What if it’s not like normal for you?”

“Oh, babe,” she said, caressing your face. “You’re not messed up. You could never be messed up. You’re you and I love you. I love all of you.”

You stayed quiet.

“Honey,” she continued, more emphatic now. “Your body made a whole human. A human that is sleeping in the bedroom down the hallway. A beautiful, precious human that I love with all my heart and hope with all my heart stays asleep for a while so that I can get in there. She had her time. It's my fucking turn."

You couldn’t help but giggle a bit.

“Listen,” she ranted, excited that your mood was brightening and trying to make you laugh more. “I’m like the Lewis and Clark of vaginas, okay? The wilderness must be explored. I gotta get in there and get the lay of the land. And it might be new, right?”

You nodded, grinning and blushing.

“But new doesn’t mean bad. Lots of times new means better. So just… let me do my exploring, okay?”

“Okay,” you acquiesced.

Amelia was gentler with this attempt, slow and steady and worshipful as she moved down your body, taking her time especially at the place where your uterus still bulged, where new stretch marks had drawn their way across your abdomen. And when she got to your center, she was gentle there, too, mindful of your anxiety, mindful that it might take your body more time than usual to warm up.

She was loving and slow and obsessive, sighing with pleasure as she placed kisses along the inside of your thighs, on your clit, all over you. Amelia’s careful touch had washed away most of your anxiety, leaving behind your flushed face, the shuddering of your body each time her skin met yours.

And when finally, finally, she had you wet and whimpering, she dove in like a woman starved.

“Amy,” you breathed, lightly holding her head in your hands as you threw your own head back, your hips rising to meet her. You could feel her smile against you.

“You want more?” she asked, and you knew she meant, Do you want fingers or a strap or a toy or anything like that?

You shook your head. “No, just–” Your breath caught in your throat, replaced by a moan as the knot in your lower abdomen tightened. “Just keep going.”

If there was one thing about Amelia, it was that she could eat you out forever. You’d been afraid that would change, but clearly your fears had been unfounded. She was insatiable.

“Amy–” you exclaimed, arching your back as your body approached the edge. You couldn’t even get the words out, just “Amy” over and over.

She reached up to grasp one of your hands in hers as you fell apart around her, Amelia lapping up every last bit of you.

You breathed heavily, watching as Amelia emerged from between your thighs, grinning like an idiot, her face an absolute mess.

You laughed as she wiped her face. “I take it your expedition went well?”

“God!” she exclaimed, flopping down beside you. “I missed you.”

“We literally have not been apart for weeks.”

“Okay, well, then I missed your vagina.”

You giggled, rolling over a bit to kiss her on the cheek. “You’re a dork.”

“Yeah, but I’m your dork,” Amelia retorted, pulling you in for another heated kiss.

You were interrupted then by a loud, crinkly wail through the baby monitor.

Amelia groaned, but you could see a smile creeping in. She stood and stretched. “I’ll go get her.”

“Amelia!” you hissed, throwing a pillow at her. “You can't bring her in here! We’re naked, and it smells like sex!”

“She’s six weeks old! She won’t remember!” Amelia nodded at you. “Go take a shower. Relax. Then we can switch. It's almost time to feed her anyway.”

You lay in bed a moment longer, waiting to hear Amelia on the baby monitor.

“Hello!” she cooed, her voice crackling through the speaker as Pippa continued to cry. “Hi, pretty girl! Oh, I know. I know. You want Mama? Let’s go see her. Oh, you love your mama, don’t you? Mommy does, too.”

You smiled, your heart full as you listened.

“We loooooove Mama, don’t we? Yes, we do. We love her so much.”

#amelia shepherd #amelia shepherd x reader #amelia shepherd x fem!reader #amelia shepherd drabble #amelia shepherd fluff #amelia shepherd smut #amelia shepherd one shot #amelia shepherd fanfic #grey's anatomy #grey's anatomy fanfic

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libraryofgage · 20 days ago

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PJO Steddie Eight

One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Seven

This series was line-jumped on ko-fi! Thank you for the ko-fis <3

To learn more about line-jumping, please refer to this post

Anyway, another series was also line-jumped and I'm hoping to have that one posted by this time next week as long as life doesn't take me out lmao

as always, if you see any typos, no you didn't :^)

-----

Steve is an awful, horrible, terrible person. Not only did he kiss Eddie without making sure it was okay, but he even spent the entire fight before that wrapping lightning around Eddie. He even let his control slip enough to shock Eddie when he was too distracted by lips and teeth and tongue. Worst of all, he can't stop thinking about it, his fingers twitching every so often with the urge to find Eddie and kiss him until they're both stupid.

What's he supposed to do in this situation? Talk to Eddie like he's an emotionally mature person capable of communicating his thoughts and feelings? Steve would laugh at the thought if he weren't so busy sulking by the lake.

It's a nice night for a sulk. The moon is full, its reflection wavering in the water that gently laps against the shore. He can barely hear the victory celebration around the bonfire, singing and laughter and joyful white noise drifting through the trees behind him. Steve lets it wash over him, his chin on his knees as he stares blankly at the water and tries to figure out what he's doing with his life.

“I gotta admit, that is some impressive sulking.”

Steve jolts, twisting around to see a man in cut-off shorts and a crop top lounging on a boulder next to him. The man looks chiseled, but not overly buff, with his arms being the most defined. His skin is a deep brown, and his smile is blinding. He appeared out of nowhere, and if that didn't give away his godliness, the bow and heart-tipped arrows would have.

“Eros,” Steve says, forcing his shoulders to relax. “What are you doing here?”

“Not even a hello? Am I not pretty enough for you right now?” Eros asks.

“Hello, Eros. What are you doing here?”

That earns him a laugh, the sound lingering in Steve's ears and trying to worm its way into his brain. “Fair enough,” Eros says, idly twirling one of his arrows between his fingers. “I’m here on my mother’s behalf, actually.”

Steve tenses, studying Eros with renewed suspicion. “What does Aphrodite want?” he asks.

“You know Mother and her wagers,” Eros replies, shrugging when he meets Steve’s gaze. “She’s sent me to make sure she wins it. Her wager, that is. The one about you and a certain son of Hermes.”

That does absolutely nothing to assuage Steve’s worries. In fact, it makes them stronger. He pushes himself up, brushing pebbles and dirt off his jeans. “I hope you’re not planning to use your arrows.”

Eros blinks, looking from Steve to the arrow he’s been twirling. And then he laughs again, nearly doubling over. “No, no, I wouldn’t waste an arrow on you two. Puh-lease, Sparky, give me a little more credit than that.”

“Sparky?”

“Isn’t it fitting?” Eros asks, flashing a shit-eating grin that still manages to come off as charming. Steve would call it impish and mischievous, if someone asked him. Thankfully, nobody is. “Anyway, no, consider this more of a friendly nudge so Mother doesn’t throw a fit.”

“What are you even trying to nudge me about?” Steve asks. He thinks he’s lost the plot somewhere between Eros showing up and getting called Sparky.

Eros sighs and looks up at the sky like the stars will help him. “I usually enjoy watching people dance around each other, but I’d greatly appreciate it if you and Eddie could start dancing with each other now. Preferably starting tonight. Selene has given you a particularly beautiful moon to work with, you know.”

Steve looks up at the moon for less than a second, but that’s more than enough for Eros to be gone by the time he looks back. He sighs, frowning at the vacant boulder.

He isn’t stupid. He knows what Eros was getting at. The thought is just terrifying, is all. He doesn’t trust himself to not hurt Eddie. Just being around Eddie makes his fingertips buzz with energy, and his control has slipped more in the past few weeks than ever before. Eddie might say he doesn’t mind or that he trusts Steve, but the problem is that Steve doesn’t trust himself.

That fact just frustrates him more. He frowns, runs a hand through his hair, and sits down on the boulder. Steve would love to just throw caution to the wind. He’d love to just hope for the best and hold Eddie’s hand and not worry about things. But that’s not the kind of person he is. Steve does what’s best for those around him, he works himself into a frenzy thinking about their safety, and doesn’t hesitate to sacrifice himself in the process.

It’s probably not healthy, but it’s kept him and the kids alive and mostly happy, and that’s what really matters.

Right?

Right.

But gods is that tiring. Maybe...maybe he can be a tiny bit selfish. He won't throw caution to the wind, but maybe he can test the waters. And if nothing explodes on him, he can see where it goes.

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

Eddie is almost impressed by how well Steve can avoid a person when he puts his mind to it. He hasn’t seen a glimpse of the other boy since he ran off. And it’s not for lack of trying, either. Eddie has practically scoured the camp from top to bottom as everyone else helped set up the Victory Bonfire.

He ultimately decides that searching like this is pointless, so he finds a scrap of paper in his tent and folds it into an airplane. He writes Steve’s name on one wing and doodles a guitar and bat on the other before sending it flying. It’s not the flashiest power a demigod can receive from their parent, but Eddie has never been happier to have it as he follows.

The paper airplane leads him past the huge bonfire, skirts around the woods, and really starts to pick up speed as it gets closer to the lake. A wave of relief surges through Eddie when he sees a familiar figure past the tree line. Before the plane can zoom onto the rocky beach, Eddie snatches it from the air and shoves it into his pocket.

Steve is sitting on a boulder by the lake, knees pulled up to his chest as he stares out at the water. For a moment, Eddie gets the feeling he’d like to just sink into the water and disappear for a while. Maybe it wouldn’t be a bad idea if Steve was a Poseidon kid, but he’s more likely to drown than find peace as a son of Zeus.

Eddie hesitates, wondering if he should interrupt, when Steve looks over his shoulder at him and says, “Hey.”

That’s all the invitation Eddie needs for tension to drain from his shoulders as he walks over. “Hey,” he says, climbing the rock to sit next to Steve. They’re not close enough for their shoulders to brush, but a small lean is all it would take. “You’re missing out on some legendary s’mores at the bonfire.”

Steve snorts, propping his chin on his knees. He’s silent for a few seconds before whispering, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, Stevie, I’m fine,” Eddie promises, leaning forward so he can get a better look at Steve’s expression. His eyebrows are pulled together, and Eddie has to suppress the urge to rub his thumb over the wrinkle that forms between them. “You didn’t actually hurt me, you know.”

“You were surrounded by lightning, Eddie,” Steve says, frowning at him. “You probably have a burn somewhere you can’t see. It couldn’t have been good for your heart, either.”

No, it probably wasn’t good for Eddie’s heart, but not for the reason Steve is worrying about. Eddie got too excited fighting with Steve; the lightning that crackled and arched between them made his adrenaline surge. For the first time, he actually enjoyed combat instead of dreading it.

“Well, let’s check,” he says, sliding off the boulder. Before Steve can question him, he shrugs off his vest and yanks his shirt over his head. He holds his arms out to the side and looks at Steve expectantly. “Go ahead.”

A few seconds pass before Steve gets off the rock and moves to stand behind him. Eddie can feel Steve’s eyes passing over every inch of his back, searching meticulously for any signs of lightning-related injury. When a few silent minutes pass without finding anything, Steve stands in front of him to continue his search.

Eddie gets to watch him in return this time. Steve’s lips press together when he’s concentrating, his eyebrows twitching and shifting with whatever thoughts are passing through his head. He stands with one hand on his hip, the other hovering as though he wants to brush his fingers across any suspected bruises.

“See?” Eddie says, “All good. You didn’t hurt me, Stevie.”

A few seconds pass before Steve slowly exhales and nods, tension draining from his shoulders. “What about your heart?” he asks, glancing at Eddie’s chest.

It’s such a perfect invitation, isn’t it? Eddie would be a fool to not take advantage, right? He’s not always the smoothest demigod in camp, but even he can see the perfect moment in front of him.

He grins and takes Steve’s hand, bringing it to his chest. He places Steve’s palm over his heart. “What do you think?” he asks.

Steve frowns, tilting his head slightly. “Your heart is beating faster,” he says, looking up with concern clear in his eyes.

“That’s not because of lightning, sweetheart.”

Eddie feels the exact moment Steve understands what he means. It’s the moment his control slips just enough for a tiny spark to pass from palm to chest. It makes Eddie’s skin prickle as he grins.

“Sorry,” Steve whispers, trying to pull his hand away.

Eddie holds tighter, stepping closer until Steve is leaning against the boulder with nowhere to go. “I like when you shock me. It doesn’t hurt. It tingles, but it doesn’t hurt. In fact, it felt good when you kissed me,” he says.

“I’m sorry about that, too,” Steve says, grimacing as he looks at the lake over Eddie’s shoulder. “I didn’t…I should’ve asked.”

“That’s okay,” Eddie tells him, leaning in until their noses are almost brushing.

“Seriously?”

“Yeah, Stevie. In case you couldn’t tell by now, I like like you. Since the moment I saw you, really.”

Steve blinks, and then he starts laughing. “Really? Like like? What, are we in middle school?” he asks.

“You can’t knock the simplicity of the middle school confession, sweetheart. It’s got no room for misunderstanding.”

With an amused eye roll, Steve says, “Sure, if you say so.” He’s still smiling, his gaze focused on Eddie now instead of the lake. A faint blush has colored his cheeks. “In that case, I like like you, too.”

Eddie grins. “Does that mean I can kiss you now?”

In answer, Steve places his free hand on Eddie’s shoulder and tugs him the last few inches closer. Their lips connect, a tiny static shock passing between them and making Eddie shudder. He pushes closer before Steve can pull away, trapping Steve’s hand between them and bracing himself on the boulder.

The kiss starts and stays slow, a gentle push and pull. Eddie would be happy if it never ended, but Steve pulls away after a few seconds. "You're sure?" he asks.

"Yeah, Stevie, I'm sure," Eddie promises, studying him for a moment before pulling back and leading Steve away from the boulder. "Wanna dance?"

"There's no music," Steve says.

"Who cares?" Eddie asks, tugging Steve closer. He watches Steve glance up at the moon, hesitating for a few seconds before nodding. "Just follow my lead."

Steve smiles, letting Eddie lead him along the beach, dancing to music he can't hear.

------

Tag List

@mugloversonly, @mentallyundone, @hairdryerducks-blog, @carriethesaint, @lunabyrd,

@weekend-dreamer7, @farfaras, @littlelady03, @my-tears-are-becoming-a-sea20, @mogami13,

@a-little-unsteddie, @itsall-taken, @queenie-ofthe-void, @tinyplanet95, @littlebluejane,

@hangoversandhandgrenades, @rabbitwhoeatsstars, @bisexualdisastersworld, @steddieinthesun, @paintgonewrong,

@sadcanadianwinter, @deehellcat, @blanketlicker, @angrydonutdestiny, @booksareportal,

@fallingchemicaldiscos, @am-i-obssed-probably, @anne-bennett-cosplayer, @estrellami-1, @fandomcartographer,

@steddie-as-they-go, @cris-wants-a-word, @potato-of-the-lord, @plasticcrotches, @enigmahaze,

@melodymeddler, @lololol-1234, @sageclipse, @steddiehyperfixation, @livelaughlexa,

@genderless-spoon, @swimmingbirdrunningrock, @r0binscript, @thelittleclare, @blondie1006,

@bxnghy

#steddie #steddie fic #semi divine steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #pjo au #percy jackson au #stranger things #my writing

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theloveinc · 2 years ago

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bakugo x reader - you have a fussy baby

(warnings: ooc, you have a baby and are called mama. no mention of pregnancy. written in bed)

There’s a part of Bakugo that always gets a little bit nervous when you call. A growing fear, one that’s not always the most reasonable, as he’s long since learned to stop guessing what it is he’ll have to answer to.

Usually, his worry is assuaged immediately by the chirp of your sweet voice, more often than not calling to ask about groceries, or the timing of his arrival home, or even just to say, “hey, sweetie. How are you?”

But as of late, with the stress of multiple new realities on his hands, the playing catchup of his returning back to work, it’s been—

“Katsuki,” your voice trembles on the receiver, the fuss of your hands practically audible too, “thank god. I’m so sorry, but—“

You whimper, there’s a wail, and his gut clenches, veins turning cold as ice with adrenaline like any and every other time he prepares, quicker than you know, to catch a villain.

“Fuck, babe?” his voice is raspy with the crack of worry, his eyes flitting about as if the crime is in front of him, the offender just across the line of the dark, moon-lit horizon. “Are you okay? Are you safe—“

You interrupt.

“I just can’t get him to sleep. I-I’ve tried everything,” there’s a hiccup from somewhere close by, the baby on your shoulder most likely, “but he’s not going down. I don’t know what to do anymore. He’s clean, he’s changed, he ate almost everything I had—“

“Hey,” he says sternly, dad-like, in a way you’ve almost never heard from him, and you halt. Bakugo looks around the empty streets he’s walking, the evening sky of a warm spring having now receded into chill. “I’ll be there quick, okay?”

And just as soon, he calls Kirishima to let him know he’s deviating from the patrol route.

Your son relaxes in his arms almost as soon as you set him down. Still in uniform, a sheen of sweat and dirt coating his body, he must smell like something comforting to the little babe as he stops crying just as fast, smacking his little lips into the sweaty shirt he now lays on.

You part from them, letting Bakugo take charge, the anxious tears stopped but still streaked down your cheeks, illuminated where you finally allow yourself to sit on the handsome blue armchair by the crib.

“Fussy shit,” Bakugo complains quietly, tearing one little snort of a giggle out of you as you gaze upon the two of them and wipe your nose, and at the same time, he gazes down at the baby with your eyes. “Wanted to make your mama cry, huh?”

“I’m sorry,” you say, sinking down into soft plush, “I’m so sorry I panicked, made you come all this way for nothing.”

“Stop apologizing, baby. ‘S not nothing,” he replies. “You needed help, and that’s what I’m here for. I’m”—he almost says fuckin’ Dynamight, pausing to look at you when he changes his mind—“dad. I’m dad.”

You smile weakly, and he approaches, dipping down on one knee to let you give your finally sleeping baby one last goodnight kiss, your fingers gently curling his blonde bangs away from his forehead.

“Just needed your daddy, I guess. Right, little boy?”

Bakugo can’t help but smirk, pulling back carefully to gently put the baby in his crib. He whines as he goes down, stretching his little limbs out now that the swaddle has been discarded… and though he notices the way your fingers tighten into themselves in worry as you watch, he settles back into sleep almost immediately, barely a pause in between to confirm it.

In the new silence, you finally whisper. “You gotta go back? To work?”

“I’ll get Denki over here in an hour,” Bakugo nods, also whispering; the sound that comes out unfamiliarly quiet, but not all that unpleasant as he steps and turns back to you, one hand reaching out to smooth down the hairs on your neck. “He’ll let you rest. You got it til then, or should I wait with you?”

You wave him off, still seeming tired but already calm enough to turn on the night light and pick up the book you started way back when, maybe even before becoming a mom. “I’ll be okay.”

“Don’t be afraid to ask for help again though, mama,” he leans down to give you your goodnight kiss before he finally has to go, reminding you of all the trust he has for you, too. “We’re all here to help.”

#Bakugou x reader #Bakugo #uhhhhh a draft I found #kinda #I added a lot #I wanted to write #I miss it #I’m lazy tho so no tags #can’t even remember what I wanted to say #but I hope it’s okay #will edit later if it needs it… lmk any typos #kids tw #caitie post #gen

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leth-writes · 3 months ago

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Homelander x supe! Reader

Homelander x supe reader

Homelander really excels with a supe reader, for the primary reason that he doesn’t have to worry about seriously hurting you. While he can seriously injure other supes, it’s a lot harder for him to kill them accidentally. I think this enables him, at least in the beginning of the relationship, to relinquish that sense of control and really let himself sink into your dynamic, letting it flourish without constant monitoring.

If you’re a strong supe, almost on his level, I can see the relationship having a slightly rockier beginning. He has a massive superiority complex, and clearly struggles with hiding his insecurities under his beliefs of being the best, a god among men. You’d have to be completely uninterested in besting him for the relationship to flourish. It doesn’t mean you have to tone down your strength, just don't get into a competition to prove you’re ‘better’ and it’ll be fine.

However, as the insecurities are soothed in your relationship, you can begin truly using your abilities to the fullest. At this point, feel free to challenge him to a friendly competition and totally kick his ass. He thinks it’s hot to see your muscles working as you concentrate. There’s a 50% chance he gets so distracted staring at your ass that he loses in the first couple of seconds.

I can imagine the two of you meeting at Vought headquarters, maybe there’s some new investors he’s being required to meet and he sees you out of the corner of his eye, chatting to Madeline.

At first, he’s so jealous he’s ready to laser your head off. However, he takes his time talking to you after Madeline introduces you, and really enjoys your nonchalance. You don’t treat him like Homelander, Savior of America, but you don’t despise him, either. This is probably because you aren’t aware of the totality of his actions, but there’s also a possibility you just genuinely don’t care; reader’s choice.

From that point on, he loves showing off to you, trying to prove his stress and impress you so you’ll worship him like the others. It’s a sense of necessity, like he’s trying to assuage his insecurities by getting this random supe to admire him. Yet, you hold your own in a sparring match and it tilts his world on its axis: you’re like him.

Basically uses you like a surrogate to work through his childhood trauma, ensuring you aren’t exposed to any of the hard decisions and often actions he’s forced to deal with every single day. You get taken off of active patrolling and are mainly just a figurehead, but as Homelander’s significant other, you enjoy a popularity not yet seen by any other supe.

You’ll be relegated to PR campaigns, especially as Vought realizes you boost Homelander’s image and really put a positive spin on the company, distracting from any disasters.

It helps your record is spotless, there’s nothing for anyone to dig into.

Homelander eventually is able to truly let down his sky high walls, explaining his past in heaving sobs as you run your fingers through his hair. From there, you’re basically together for life, I don’t think he’d let you leave.

#homelander x reader #the boys x reader #the boys imagine #homelander imagine #lethwrites

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nekrosdolly · 11 months ago

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another wesker brain rot blurb (18+)

cw; unhinged wesker thanks to uroboros, uroboros injections and mentions, canon compliant with the events leading up to re5, husband wesker, objectification if you squint, temperature differences (he is an icicle personified sorry guys), domesticated wesker, fingering, non-specified reader genitalia.

pet names (reader received): my dear, dearest, little dove

husband albert wesker ♡ ︎♡ ︎♡

husband wesker, who, thanks to uroboros, has a heightened sense of smell. since starting his injections, he's been obsessed with how you smell- your shampoo, your cologne/perfume, any lotions you'd use. even the scent of your skin without any product added is addictive.

husband wesker, who cooks for you despite his developing lack of appetite. he knows you need to eat and truthfully, he enjoys cooking. he never got to experience he domestics of having a homelife, what with his whole life being Umbrella ever since he was born. learning to cook is definitely stressful at first and he's not good to begin with- he's a scientist, not a chef. truthfully, he burns a lot of things at first, but you're a good sport and you help him along. he is embarrassed the first few times, even if he doesn't outright say it you can tell by the way the tips of his ears turn pink and how his lip twitches.

husband wesker, who comes up from behind when you're least expecting it and slides his hand to the small of your back, dipping his head down to kiss your hair, secretly marveling at how good you smell. he adores how soft your hair is too. how loud your heart beats in your chest when he moves his hand to your hip, when he murmurs in your ear, "you are divine, my dear."

husband wesker, who, despite losing his humanity, knows to treat you with care. though his primal instincts have begun to take over, he's careful with you as he's always been. though his eyes have turned red, his pupils to slits, he looks at you with adoration. his touches are never violent- he's become gentler since taking doses of Uroboros. he treats you less like your own person and more like a prize to hang on a wall. everything you do makes his heart, beating or otherwise, swell with pride. his blood roars in his ears at the most innocent of touches from you.

husband wesker, who was never one for kisses before Uroboros, now kisses you like his life depends on it. always handsy and needs you near for him to focus, otherwise he's worried about what you're doing and who you might be with. he knows you'd never rat him out- you love him just as much as he loves you, after all- but he can't help the thought that someone is manipulating you. someone that isn't him, and that hurts. he has no reason to be jealous

husband wesker, who never blows up your phone, but takes to periods of the cold shoulder until you finally get him to tell you what's wrong. his rage is calm with you. he'll make you sit in his lap while he tells you what's wrong, only for you to soothe him and assuage his fears. you know he's coming from a good place, even if his methods are a bit odd. his hands never leave you as he talks, finding comfort in stroking your hair or your cheek, even rubbing circles on the meat of your hips. without his gloves, his fingers are just as cold as ever, even through layers of clothing.

husband wesker, who's gentle with you during sex because if he's not, he might seriously injure you. his grip on your hips is deadly, but other than that, he's a saint. he whispers praises while he fingers your fluttering entrance, his fingers slick with your come and lube. "you're taking my fingers so well, little dove. can you take another? just one more for me, dearest?"

you'll nod, a quiet moan leaving you when he adds a third finger- they're long and on the thicker side, helping to stretch you open in preparation while also hitting that spot that makes you go limp. he kisses your neck, down to your collarbone, where he leaves lovebites and admittedly very dark hickeys. your nails digging into his arm brings him back from his thoughts, and he watches you come undone from his fingers for the second time. this was supposed to prep you, but he loves how you look with his fingers buried within you.

#albert wesker x reader #writing #uroboros #albert wesker fluff #albert wesker smut #albert wesker fanfic #resident evil #resident evil fanfiction #reader insert #gn reader #bunnystalker ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡#bunny's blurbs✧˖ °

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meaningofaeons · 1 year ago

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-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈ backbiting

⊹ character(s) - alhaitham, kaveh ⊹ word count - 1.1k ⊹ notes - gn!reader, fluff, jealousy, reader is part of the matra (alhaitham), reader is an akademiya lecturer/professor (kaveh), petname usage in kaveh's

⊹ katze's 500 follower writing cat-baret

ANON I HOPE UR SEEING THIS SORRY AGAIN FOR DELETING YOUR RQ!!! I hope I remembered it right and I hope you enjoy! also sorry if haitham is ooc it's my first time writing him! (ﾐዎ ﻌ ዎﾐ)ﾉ

⊹ Kaveh

Kaveh was pouting.

Not necessarily an uncommon occurrence from your lover, but you digress. He was clearly upset, and you weren't willing to let him stew in it any longer.

You approached him from his seated position at one of the desks in your lecture hall, sitting down in front of him to draw his attention. He always did like sitting in on some of your classes, but it seemed today's events had put him into a sour mood.

He grumbled a bit, cheek squishing into his palm as he looked away. As much as you wanted to assuage his worries with no shadow to your intentions, you couldn't deny how adorable he looked in this moment.

"My light, are you going to mope forever? What's got you down?"

"Pet names can't get you out of this one! I'm still mad!"

You reached out, pinching his cheek much to his abject annoyance. He swatted half-heartedly at your hand, holding his aching face once you finally let go.

You smiled just a bit.

"Was it because of Ardashir?"

"So you know his name, too, then," he mumbled quietly.

"Mm, so that is what it's about."

"Take this seriously!" Kaveh pouted, laying on the dramatics a bit thick. "I mean, does he not know that we're together?! He was all over you! I nearly leapt out of my seat when he tried to wrap his arm around your shoulder!"

You recalled that Ardashir did not, in fact, try to wrap an arm around your shoulder. He had stopped by to drop off a few course materials you had asked to borrow, nothing more. He was a tad closer and laid the flattery on a bit thicker than usual, however, so you could hardly blame your lover for getting upset.

Next time you saw him, you'd be sure to let him know to cool it. For now, you kept your attention on your boyfriend, brushing his blonde hair behind his ear comfortingly.

"Well, despite your fame, honey, I don't think most people in Sumeru care too much for who's dating who unless it interferes with or benefits their academics."

Kaveh turned away, still sulking. Your smile widened just a tad at that—he always got that way when he knew you were right, but given his stubborn nature, he could never fully relent victory in an argument to you or anyone else.

"I'll give him a stern talking to next time I see him, and I'll be sure to mention our relationship."

The blonde kept his eyes firmly trained on the wall, but you could see the way his sullen expression eased up.

"Or, better yet, we can 'bump into him' on our way to my next class. Holding hands and all. Let him see the competition he's got so he can reevaluate his chances."

As much as he tried to fight it, Kaveh smiled for just a moment, and you giggled lightly. He puffed out his cheeks, however, trying to hide his delight.

"Well, okay! I suppose that'll have to do for now."

"And I'll treat you to a drink tonight, too."

This time, your lover leaned into your hand, staring up at you cutely.

"You're so good to me... Sorry for getting upset."

You only kissed his forehead lightly, admiring the flush of pink adorning his pale cheeks.

"I'd do anything for you."

⊹ Alhaitham

Alhaitham does not get jealous.

He doesn't see the point in caring about who you talk to and what their intentions are. You both said you'd stay true to one another when you began dating, and he trusts you.

He doesn't participate in needless gossip or malice just because someone flirted with you a bit.

Well, not usually.

"That man isn't part of the Matra."

He says it factually, his voice cool just as it usually is. But after spending enough time with him, you can detect the barest hint of an edge in his tone.

You turn around to greet your lover, giving him a small smile.

"Ah, him? No, no. He's not."

"He's been spending a lot of time around your stations."

You giggle a bit.

"How would you know? Do you also spend a lot of time around my patrol routes?"

"Yes."

Right, Alhaitham was a difficult one to tease as always. Always so upfront and straightforward.

"I like to make sure you're doing okay, so I stop by now and then between work hours."

You smile again, patting his arm.

There was one way you could tease him effectively, though. And so, you continued to address his words for what they were at face-value—simple observations of someone you happened to speak to often.

"That's sweet of you. If I weren't so stretched thin across Sumeru City, I'd be visiting your office way more, too."

You noticed the twitch of Alhaitham's lips as you skirted around the topic of the man that just walked away once more.

Did he relinquish his dignity and just ask? Ask why that same guy kept loitering around you like a bothersome fly?

No. Alhaitham does not get jealous.

He won't entertain the situation, and he certainly won't entertain the slight smirk on your lips, the amusement you're surely gleaning from his shifting back and forth—

"So what's his excuse?"

Fuck.

"I think this is the only thing you're not as blunt as you'd like to be on, 'Haitham," you chuckled lightly, hugging his arm. His expression didn't change much, but he did grumble some such under his breath, his brow furrowing a bit. "Are you jealous?"

"There's no reason to be jealous, because when we agreed to start dating—"

"Yes, yes, I know there's no reason for you to be. He's only a colleague, after all, an acquaintance at best." You raised your own brow. "But I'm asking if you're jealous, not a reason to be."

"He was very close to you. Does he not know we're together?"

You beam, reaching up to pinch his cheek. He swats you away quickly, glaring half-heartedly, so you deign to take hold of his hand instead.

"Can you make time to come earlier tomorrow? If he sees me on the arm of the Akademiya's Scribe, I'm sure he'll be reluctant to push his luck any further. And besides, I'd been having a hard time trying to reject his advances anyhow. He's quite persistent."

Although annoyed at the notion that the man from earlier was bothering you in the slightest, Alhaitham seemed pleased all the same with your solution, brushing your hair out of your eyes with one hand while the other squeezes your hand.

"I think I can make time. No, I will make time."

You leaned into your boyfriend, chuckling again.

"Well, gee. Maybe I should get more men to flirt with me if it means you'll come rushing at my beck and call—"

The hand clasped around your own squeezed just a bit too tight, and you jolted.

"Ack— kidding! Of course I'm kidding! 'Haitham, ease up!"

#alhaitham x reader #al haitham x reader #kaveh x reader #alhaitham #kaveh #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin #genshin impact #katze's cat baret #katze's 500 follower special #katze's cat cafe

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sobbingsapphic102 · 5 months ago

Text

Black Letter Day

Word count: 1155

A/N: I stole the title “Black Letter Day” from the Cardigans.

Mother Miranda x Reader

You sit on a brown roll-arm sofa and read a frustratingly descriptive book that you had been putting off for ages. It’s critically acclaimed and a “classic”, but why describe the pattern of the wallpaper for 5 pages? The fact you woke up later than usual and the weather being gloomy didn’t aid you in feeling good or energized.

You hear footsteps, creaking loudly and slowly, in your direction. You turn your head and see your father, holding an envelope. Hope fills your body, like water filling a glass, nearly overflowing. Could it be a letter from Miranda?

You left Romania to visit family at home, much to Miranda’s dismay, and have been staying with them for two weeks since. You hadn’t seen them for a few months. As a way to assuage their stress and worries, you came to visit. From the moment you had told her you were leaving, she had been cold, distant. You hoped this was a letter from her.

“Just checked the mailbox and there’s an envelope addressed to you. No return address on it though, do you want me to throw it away—“ He gets cut off by you jumping off the sofa and snatching it away from him, “—oh, okay.”

You smile sheepishly, “Sorry, but I think I know who it’s from.” You don’t waste a second ripping the envelope open. You pause, as your father is still in the room, and give him a pointed look. He exasperatedly sighs, and leaves. Without closing the door.

When you finally open the envelope, you’re met with a creased, and faintly yellowed piece of paper. Despite that, the quality is much better than the average printer paper you have. It’s thicker and textured. You run your fingers along the rough edges.

On the top right corner of the letter, is Miranda’s name, an unfamiliar address, and the date on which the letter was written. 6 days ago. You sit down before reading the scrawl, written using the black fountain pen she so loves.

To my dearest,

I have been thinking of you from the minute you left Romania. I should not have been so detached from you; I regret it deeply now. I have been waiting for a letter from you, but I now know it will not be received unless I apologize.

What have you been doing with your family? Hopefully, your time spent at home isn’t as pointless as mine here. No suitable vessels have been found. My false children are growing restless and bicker with each other relentlessly in our family meetings. Especially Heisenberg and Dimitrescu. Their arguments are migraine-inducing, to put it mildly. I know you would have enjoyed the banter. Everything else in the village is well.

Have you been reading the medical books I lent you? I expect you to have. You must understand I will not tolerate your antics and so-called “pranks” in the laboratory any longer. I need you as a competent assistant and not a distraction.

Overlooking that, your presence in the laboratory is missed. I now realize how much I have neglected you, my sweet, and when you soon arrive I will be sure to make it up to you.

I nearly forgot to ask you, how will you get back? It’s a treacherous path back here, you may want me to fetch you. Write soon.

Forever yours,

Miranda

After giggling like a schoolgirl, you realize you haven’t been reading up on the books she let you borrow and you have no idea how to get back. It was Miranda who had embraced you in her wings and mystically brought you to her home, and it was Miranda who brought you to the airport.

Also, how the hell are you meant to finish those books that weigh more than bricks on a mini vacation?!?

Ignoring the stress coiling inside of you, you re-read the parts where she wrote how she missed you and the part where she called you “my sweet”. She sounded so lovely in the letter, you thought. As much as you want to, you couldn’t make fun of Miranda. She’d never do anything this cute ever again!

You languidly walk to your desk to begin writing a letter. It’s wooden, and vintage, with large drawers on the left and right and thin drawers underneath the surface. After ransacking the room, you find an adequate piece of paper and an envelope to match. You pick up the nicest pen you have write your name along with the date on the top right corner to mirror what Miranda did, and begin the letter.

Dear Miranda,

Your apology is accepted.

My time at home has been great! I went shopping and to restaurants with my friends and family. I’m reading this boring book right now (because I’ve definitely finished reading the books you gave me). Wish you had written what Dimitrescu and Heisenberg said, it would’ve been a much more enjoyable read than whatever I’m currently reading.

I miss you lots as well. I even had a dream about you! Don’t make that dirty. We were hanging out on a playground from my elementary school. We just stayed on the swings though.

My transportation is a good point to bring up. Will you do that teleportation thing with me with your wings, from the airport? Please? (I’m 100% not saying this because I want a hug, no way.)

I’m coming back in 15 days, on a Saturday. I’ll pick a day flight because I hate sleeping in planes, I get so sick. It’ll be a long flight unfortunately, so I’ll take a plane at 8 am and be there around 6 pm. Is that alright? Pick me up then?

Lots of love,

Y/N

You skim over the letter, disregarding the contrast between your letters. Gingerly putting the paper in the envelope to avoid creases, you then seal the envelope off using a glue stick. You admire your handiwork for a brief moment. You grab the pen from earlier and write her first name and the unknown address she had provided. As you write, you remember the need for a stamp.

Back in Romania, the Duke would’ve had this covered! A jog to him would’ve gotten you the stamp and another two useless items that he’d goad you into buying.

After yelling for your dad to get you a stamp, you place it in the top right corner and give it to him.

“Seriously? You’re a grown-up now, go mail it yourself.” Your dad says.

“Please!” You plead, “I’m too tired to go, please please plea—“

“Okay fine!” He exclaims, before taking the letter from you and getting dressed to go to the post office.

“Thank you!” You call after him, but he doesn’t acknowledge it. With a shrug, you go back to your room and lay in bed, underneath a cozy blanket, eagerly anticipating a letter back.

#mother miranda #mother miranda x reader #resident evil village #resident evil #resident evil 8 #resident lover #fanfic #ao3

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writefightandflightclub · 1 year ago

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It’s a sick fic (Marc takes care of reader)! I’m in bed with pesky sniffles today, so naturally my mind is wandering to these things. Not proofed / elaborated bc of the aforementioned. Also, Marc was the obvious choice for comfort today because this morning I read @astroboots’ wonderful period sex with Marc fic! So, he was on the brain and I definitely have to acknowledge that fic had a large part in spawning this. I strongly suggest you read CiCi’s fic, in fact, and ignore this one 😝 (see my last reblog if you’d like to check it out).

Warnings: painkiller mentions; reader is ill. Comfort from Marc.

You’re sick in bed.

Marc’s all worried. Has been dabbing your forehead with a damp cloth, hovering around as you dozed and timing out your rounds of painkillers.

When you stir again this time, from the sticky haze of a fever dream - and not in a good way - Marc is poised on the lip of bed, all DeNiro brow, crumpled up in concern until his eyebrows knit together and his puppy dog eyes shine beneath.

Even in this state he stirs something deep between your loins; not that you’d be in any position to act on it.

“Marc,” you croak softly, forcing a thin smile, but it does little to assuage his worry.

“Heyyyy, Shortcake,” he says softly, forcing a smile up until his eyes crinkle with the effort of it. “How are you doing?”

You pop your lower lip, feeling a little sorry for yourself. “Still quite bleugh.”

His face tightens with pain, and you feel a pang of guilt for not downplaying it more. He does worry something rotten about you.

He dips forward, his Magen David pooling against your chest. Providing a pleasant, cooling shock against your tacky skin. You feel Marc’s lips softly brush your forehead with a kiss. “Well, I’ve got something for ya.”

Your eyes tick to the clock in confusion. “Already had the medicine. Not time yet,” you argue weakly, in a babyfied voice.

He smiles softly, and this time it is not forced - it’s hard for him to hold it back. “Not that kind of medicine. Here, I’ll show you.”

He scoops your hands up gently into his, and they feel rough and sturdy against you. You don’t know where he’s going with this, but you don’t really have the strength to argue either; however, luckily, you trust him implicitly, and you know he won’t lead you wrong.

“I’m not supposed t’ do this. Told Khonshu it was an emergency. Ground the bastard down eventually.”

“Wha-?”

“Ssshhh. Don’t worry, baby girl. I got you, huh?”

You stop protesting and you nod weakly, as Marc holds his hands more firmly around yours.

Then, in a flash, Khonshu’s suit begins to wind around him, bandages curling and snaking around his thick, sturdy frame. His eyes glowing white like the celestial glisten of the moon.

Next though, as he holds you, you watch in silent awe as the bandages unwind from his forearms. As they wrap around you, snaking gently up and around your arms. It kinda tickles.

Ah. Suddenly it makes sense to you.

The healing suit.

You shake your head softly, and you try to release your grip on Marc’s hands, suddenly full of worry. Won’t he get in trouble with the bird for a stunt like this? For sharing his power; with you of all people?

“B-but Marc. This isn’t an emergency,” you rationalise. “I’m fine. It’ll just take me a little longer to heal, all on my own.”

Marc looks at you softly. Intently. “Shortcake. You not feeling well? Trust me. That’s an emergency to me.” He strokes his loosely bound thumb over the ridges of your knuckles. “I can do this for you. Please. Would you let me do this?”

Damn.

Who are you to say no to those shining, puppy dog eyes? To Marc’s pure, unfettered devotion?

Except….

“But your wounds, Marc! You need the suit more than I do.” You survey his collection of grazes from his latest bout with a foe.

He looks at you though, slow and steady still, and all your reservations melt away. You see it in his face. He’s hurting; sure. But more so because you are hurting, and you think this can heal him too.

“I’m fine,” he repeats with a lazy uptick at the corner of his mouth. “Just scratches. It’ll just take a little longer to heal. All on my own.”

He has you beat there. You both want the best for each other. Would do anything to take away one another’s pain. It’s all you want.

You clasp his hands tightly in yours, heart overcome with love, and you softly concede, the bandages wrapping more steadily up you arms with your permission granted, until you and he are intertwined - in more ways than one. “Okay, Marc. Get me all better - and then I’ll take care of you, alright?”

He smiles. Shifts on the bed until his warm frame is spooning you, all safe, bandages loosening and tightening to accommodate your shifts. He kisses the back of your neck. Whispers warmly into your skin. “Got yourself a deal, Shortcake.”

You hum softly with relief. You’re not sure whether it’s the bandages, or just Marc; but you sure as hell feel better already.

#Marc Spector x reader #moon knight x reader #might delete later

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hummingbee-o0o · 3 months ago

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Picking Lint off the Sofa

“You’ve been cleaning more than me for the past three days.”

Daniel swipes the microfibre cloth over the spotless table one more time and refuses to accept what Armand’s just said.

“Look, this is important to me,” he says instead, then gives the table another spritz of cleaning liquid.

“I know that,” Armand says from where he’s lounging on the sofa, tablet in his hands, wearing only obscenely expensive silk boxers and an open, plum-violet robe dripping off his body. “Which is why I’m not stepping in, per your request. Also, there’s no need to use detergents with microfibres; the multi-stranded fibre structure—”

“Are you on Wikipedia again?”

“No, Minecraft.” Armand shows off the screen proudly, like a kid with macaroni art.

“Looks great, babe.”

“Thank you.”

“I’ve been a shit father, you know that. They deserved so much fucking better, they still do, but they still worry about me. That’s… I can’t waste that, Armand.”

“I’m sure you won’t, beloved.”

Daniel wipes the cleaning liquid off the table, polishes around the edges.

“I mean, we’re gonna officially put me in the ground in a couple years, so I just want to give them at least a few half-decent memories with me, for fuck’s sake! But now they think I’ve got dementia because I’m writing gay vampire erotica and shacking up with a twink who’s a third my age. They also probably think I’m using again, because I definitely act high during interviews. Fuck, I am high, just on human fucking blood instead of crack or heroin. What am I supposed to do here?”

Armand looks at him steadily with those large, amber eyes.

“That’s been clean for the past five minutes.”

---

The sight of Daniel assiduously cleaning is, frankly, disturbing.

Firstly, it’s unnatural: it’s a sign that something is deeply wrong in Daniel Molloy’s world if he suddenly concerns himself with tidiness.

And secondly, he’s terrible at it. Armand loves him unceasingly and rapaciously, but he really thinks no love could be so blind as to claim Daniel is any good at cleaning. Not even his.

Of course, he’s very well aware what’s causing his beloved so much distress: his daughters are supposed to come over for a visit. They’ve reached out, concerned about Daniel’s recent and very public behaviour, and they both agreed to come over to ‘catch up’.

“I think it’s nice,” Armand points out while Daniel rearranges the sofa cushions for the eighth time.

“It’s not nice, Armand, it’s a goddamn wellness check.”

“And your daughters caring about your wellness is not nice because…?”

“Because I’ll have to explain why I’m acting like I’m using or demented or both without making them call an ambulance to give me a stroke eval.”

There’s a game Armand sometimes likes to play: keep prodding and see at which point Daniel will realise he’s being funny on purpose.

“I could easily alter the memories of anyone called to examine you.”

“Sweetheart, you’re not helping.”

Oh, Armand is very well aware of that. He was told not to, wasn’t he. Therefore, he issues another prod.

“This might actually be a good way to assuage your daughters’ concerns.”

“Jesus Christ, please don’t do this.”

Armand is on what he believes people call ‘a roll’ these days.

(Read the whole thing on AO3)

#IwtV #armandaniel #IwtV fic #Armand #Daniel Molloy #o0o writes #damn forgot to post this last night

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jamiethebee · 5 months ago

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(In which I spiral down a rabbit hole with Midoriya that has little to do with @codenamesazanka 's original post that started this (x). FYI I sorta separated Deku/Izuku to indicate Deku as the hero and Izuku as the person outside of heroics.)

I started thinking about this post again (see the link above) and how Deku doesn’t really understand that non-perfect or sanitized victims exist AND still need to be saved and not by destruction. (The "maybe killing someone does save them" thing is a great way to assuage guilt but it's a stupid copout.) Deku (hero) and more importantly Izuku (person) doesn’t really understand that though because he WAS a “perfect” victim. Midoriya stayed quiet and inconspicuous and didn’t make a fuss about the bullying or discrimination he faced, he just kept his head down and hoped that something would change without any real effort on his part. And if he had died as a result from the bullying he would’ve been hailed as an unfortunate victim (of who? or what? Don’t worry - isn’t his death so tragic? oh well now on to our next news story -), so any critique of society and the individuals who reinforce the status quo don’t actually have to do anything. I know there’s more nuance here and lot of cultural things happening with this all but I’m not gonna dig into that right now.

Moving on! Quite frankly the boy didn’t live long enough to get out of his childish mindset and get some “righteous" anger at the wrongdoings and failings of society. All Might came along when he was still starry eyed and hopeful to lift Midoriya out of the trajectory of his life and Izuku never had any time to get to the point where he comes to terms with the hurt caused society’s rejection of his self and get angry about it. As such, he can’t understand the league. It probably doesn’t even occur to him that he's missing that understanding because for him it worked out - he got the attention and support to be able to escape the circumstances of his birth/quirklessness and to leave the box (deku) that society shoved him in. Twice and Toga never had that support – they both lived how they needed to in order to survive in a world not meant for them until they broke down. (Maybe that's why Vigilante Deku AUs were so popular back in the day - they speedran Midoriya past the hopeful kid stage and to a point where a lot of the fanbase was in their own lives - seeing the issues in the world and wanting to affect change.)

Izuku, for all that he claims to want to connect to the villains, hasn’t given enough thought or empathy to understand how continuing to live a life where you don’t fit in with society can be deeply hurtful as well as the emotional repercussions of having unchangeable parts about yourself be reviled. This isn’t to say Izuku had it easy - of course Izuku went through hardships but.... there’s a big difference between living through stuff as a kid and finding a way out of it vs living through that, growing up, maturing, and in turn looking critically at society. But I can’t bring myself to fault Midoriya for those exact reasons because he's just a kid. He doesn’t have the perspective to see outside of himself – at least not for the villains. Because that seems to be too far of a stretch for him? But Todoroki was close enough to Izuku’s mindset for him to help back in the sports festival arc. I also acknowledge that he's a teenager and IS capable of critical thinking, but from what we've seen, his schools have never actually made the students examine the world they live in - which is a different skill from quirk analysis or historical or literary analysis or the various writing exercises that students go through.

(Believe me – you can have the brightest kid but, most of the time, unless you point out the shortcomings of their mindsets, it won’t occur to them to look further. (Not necessarily assuming that they’re wrong, but rather that their consideration of life is not as expansive as it should be. Especially for a kid wanting to be the greatest hero and save everyone.) For example: many abled bodied people don’t realize how inaccessible places can be until someone brings it up to them or they find themselves in that situation (like a temporary crutch or wheelchair). It’s through no fault of the able bodied person that they weren’t aware enough to consider it in the first place, but what they do once they realize physical accessibility is an issue, is on them.) Back to the point – hero society never calls attention to it’s own shortcomings despite the proof quite obviously existing and the people within society don’t seem to spare much thought either. The adults who have seen more of these instances are then of course more culpable in this than the kids who haven't.

So, Midoriya was also failed by society (cough all might cough) as well, but he chose the hero path - to save people. We see him starting to consider the deeper issues in his talk with Uraraka, and the few times he “tries” to talk to various villains shows that he is aware enough of underlying issues - which makes it his duty as a hero to do something about it. In that way, he is at fault. He chose a profession to devote his life to that should require this of him. And through his hero work, Midoriya has seen the problems in society and yet he’s chosen to turn away from them (and by problems/them I’m referring to the villains “too far gone to save” and the issues they represent).

(Sorry Midoriya, but considering we’re nearing the end and you haven’t shown any growth in this area….. I am faulting you for metaphorically pushing your head in the sand. I do want to be wrong though. I really want the kid to prove me wrong.)

And he’s able to turn away from them guilt free, in part, because he’s gotten the proverbial thumbs up by his classmates that it’s ok and that they’ll just be better and be model minority heroes and that will fix the problem! Because they’re positive representation! Or something? If you can put your mind to it that will fix things! Just try harder! Again, very idealistic but they are kids, so it comes with the territory. (Horikoshi didn’t have to make them unquestionably right in that approach though. Toga and Uraraka coming together for the win! The Shoji and Spinner match up not so much.)

Overall, there’s something about how Deku still fit into society's boxes in an acceptable way and never truly faced what existing outside of "acceptability" was like. Don’t get me wrong it’s tough to live in the mha world as a quirkless person and of course it has its problems and restrictions, but that’s still a box that society provides for, even if the society in question doesn’t like it.

And I'm not saying that Izuku had to live through a terrible life to understand the villains! Just that, he has the capacity to look outside himself and be empathetic, but the application of it is lacking, despite knowing there’s problems, despite having LIVED with some of those problems. Extrapolate, boy!!!! You don't need empathy to reach out to others but the whole compassionate/kind Midoriya thing has been touted since the beginning! So I want to see it!

(Not sure how much sense this will make to people, but there’s a maturity that comes about with either time or certain circumstances that can be hard to grasp unless you’ve lived through it. And quite frankly, Midoriya hasn’t. He went from a perfect/acceptable victim to the top tier of society (heroes).)

(Basically: Midoriya never **matured in the restrictive environment he grew up in and can't emotionally connect with the league who did, because of that. Instead he seems to have internalized the "if they were better" or "if they were truly good" then there wouldn't be a problem because just look at his classmater!, so villains being villains is their own fault and no one else is culpable.)

**centers on the idea that someone starts off as hopeful in regards to their discriminated position in life and over time matures to understand how society supports that discrimination and come to terms with the hurt that it's caused them personally (and in this case to fight back against it)

also, if you made it this far, i'm just having a fun time reading codenamesazanka's posts about the latest chapters

#my hero academia #bnha #the bee talks #i promise i have nothing against midoriya! but there's a lot of build up with him that's gone nowhere currently....#having thoughts! having so many thoughts!#honestly i just feel bad for horikoshi. from what i gather he didn't want mha to drag on this long or it took a different direction #and he's been working on it for so many years. i don't fault him! it's his story! but i can still have a fun time analyzing it #ok i've stared at this for too long. i'm posting it and heading out #mmm is midoriya letting his own life experiences cloud his judgement of the villains? perhaps!#i would love to sit those kids down and make them learn how to reflect (in the academic sense)

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