#as frustrating as it can get to put this fic into actual words I am pretty proud of the concept that it has

[limeinaltime]

If there's one thing I am proud about with The Apotheosis of Mari Erebos, it's that the situation is both horrifying and sometimes beautiful from both a metaphorical standpoint and if you take it from face value, even if I struggle to convey it via my current level of writing skill.

A teen is bound to a nightmare realm that grows as it's fed. It's a metaphor for abuse. A boy is forcibly dragged into something greater than what he was made for. We want to save those that we care about but we are so so small. God is dying but the thing that wants to take their place is a force of pure malicious joy and cruelty that bathes in the suffering of others. You either die to the darkness or let it into your heart. There is a world that dwarfs the universe and it's supposed to love you but it hates you viscerally and desires you carnally. You've seen so much and yet you're still so small. A girl's mind has been taken prisoner by her abusers, and one of them is hopelessly, deeply, sickeningly obsessed with her. Teens hated and abandoned by the society they were born into for something out of control got Skinamarink-ed and stripped of their humanity and dignity. An entire section of a race was wiped out for the sake of growing political greed and corruption. There is a pit of dead versions of the characters we all care for so dearly. Every death becomes just a looping vivid nightmare where you're the same age you were when you started, but your body still remembers and the fear never goes away. A ten year old has been trapped in a cycle of suffering for far too long. Someone basically becomes a god-killing machine. A baby god was manipulated, killed and possessed by someone who wanted his entire race to suffer.

You will never hear him sing again. You were born a victim and you will die a victim. The one person you thought you could trust just threw you at a wall and said you deserved to die. The friends you grew up with or the one you just made must be lost in order for the other to live. The love you feel makes you want to rip your heart out and scream at it to stop racing. You don't know who you are. This flesh should not be yours. You were born to die. You are a slave to a predetermined narrative. You were born a helpless little baby, and you will die a helpless, sad adult. This house is your haven and it is your hell. The entire world has convinced you that you deserve all the pain it gives. You are repulsive and disgusting and everyone hates you. You belong to the house. You belong to your damage. You belong to your hurt and you are owned by your hatred. You can either heal your inner child with kindness or beat it to death with hatred. Might also be a gender identity metaphor if you want it to be.

Why can't I remember you? Why am I drawn to you? Why do you still make me feel safe even though you hurt me? Why do I know your face? Why does your voice soothe the anger I hold so dearly? Why did I say that to you? Why do I care about you? Why do I know your face?

Mari befriending Juhdis only to lose him to the place that they're both victims of. Sollux helping Mari fix the bracelet while being at the mercy of Amberose. Stryga, despite everything, still being rejected because he's not goldblood enough to be one of them. Adelyn being forced to live through the same nightmare over and over again because Kuro desires revenge and suffering more than he loves her. The Anathema falling in love with The Savant after they become a part of each other's beautiful, simple lives and losing him because that's what Alternia and Liminal Space do. It's all take, take, take and those who try to give back are punished harshly.

I want people to root for Mari, Stryga and Adelyn to win their freedom from Liminal Space. I want to invoke mama bear rage over what Amberose. I want people to see what a piece of shit Kuro is due to all the indoctrination and abuse he's now reflecting onto Adelyn. I want the readers to want to kill Amberose and Kuro with their teeth. I don't want it to fall to overhype. I want to feel like hot shit for writing it. I am experiencing my first possibly-longform fanfic and it is a ride and a half.

[dollgxtz]

Ok a fic where reader and sylus are at a business meeting, she “offers” herself as payment (maybe as a joke or just to rile sylus idk) and he makes sure to remind her who she belongs to? Please???

Kindred Spirits

Word Count: 5.1k

Tags: sylus x fem!reader, possessiveness, ownership, spanking, hitting, slight blood mention, pet names like kitten & sweetie, creampie, rough sex, crying, slight fluff at the end :3

AN: Anon ur a literal genius. This has Sylus written all over it. Im so happy to be back posting another story for you all! Also happy to announce my masterlist is now complete and can be found in my pinned! Ty all! Enjoy and remember, my asks are open for any character, Sylus is just my husband LOL. Remember to read my pinned before requesting please! This is a bit tamer than my other stories but trust I am cooking up some deviant content as soon as I publish this one :33

“Finally…”

You nearly collapse near your front door. A whole week of your life. Gone. To what you ask? Dealing with wanderers on a special aid mission. Sure sure, the job paid well but it had been weeks since your last off day. Every time it seemed like one was around the corner here they go with some emergency call and a spill about how some rich politician needed help or something.

You were starting to get tired of cleaning up other people’s mistakes.

You fumbled with your keys, fingers numb from the biting cold. The wind whipped around you, making you shiver as you tried to fit the right key into the lock. Your breath came out in visible puffs, and you could feel the frustration building with each failed attempt. Finally, with a relieved sigh, you heard the click of the lock turning.

The still warm air is such a welcoming contrast to the wind and biting cold outside. You quickly shut your door and melt to the floor, your feet aching with relief as the pressure you had been putting on them subsided. Peace at last. Time for a hot shower an-

Your peace was cut short with the distinct tone of your phone ringing. And not just any ring tone. The one you had set specifically for a certain white haired man that only ever brought trouble. Wondering if you should even pick up, you bring the phone to your face, knowing that you were going to answer regardless.

“Sylus…I’m really tired. Can we talk lat-"

“Long time no see kitten. You should stop by for a bit, hm?”

You roll your eyes, suppressing the urge to scoff out loud. Arrogant prick, you think, irritated by his inability to let you finish a sentence without interrupting. How did he even know you were home now?

You sigh deeply, feeling the tension building, and rub your temples to alleviate the mounting frustration. No, you tell yourself firmly. You wouldn’t put up with this today. Maybe another day, but definitely not today.

"Actually, no. I just returned from a week-long aid mission. Not today," you say firmly, aiming to be clear and resolute in your decision to stay put. Sylus however, seems to sense the cracks in your resolve and only responds with a chuckle.

“I want to see you. I’ll have Luke and Kieran come get you since you’re so tired”.

“Hu-”

“See you soon. They’re en route. Ciao”

The phone clicks, signaling the end of the call. For whatever reason, your ever growing frustration simply dissipates, defeat taking its place. You should be used to this by now. Sylus always gets what he wants. And you always let him. It goes without saying that it’s the same way for you as well. At least, Sylus always gives you what you want if it doesn’t interfere with his need to lay his eyes on you at least once in awhile. He knew that you wouldn’t push this though. You both knew.

Deep down, you wanted to see him too.

You asked Luke and Kieran to wait outside for a bit while you took a brisk shower and freshened up. Those two had always been very patient and understanding. You felt bad “bossing” them around, and yet they always insisted that you could. Though Luke had admitted on one occasion that he never expected to be helping a girl find hair ties or carrying shopping bags while working for Onychinus.

The statement had made you laugh a bit. You finally finish dressing in some plain sweats and rush to the car. Luke and Kieran are waiting outside of a dark colored jeep. Not too flashy as to not draw attention, but it was still clearly very expensive.

“Actually miss, Boss wanted you to wear these” Luke says, holding out an expensive looking dress. Clearly designed by hand and tailored to your measurements. Kieran follows his lead, holding out a box containing a pair of earrings and a lavish looking necklace.

“Huh? What’s this for? A date?”

“Business. That’s all he said” Kieran chimed in. Although you couldn’t see their faces, you knew they had no reason to lie to you about this.

“Ah. Dragging me into more trouble. Got it”.

When the three of you finally arrived to the location, the sun had already set for the day. You darted your eyes back and forth, squinting above at the bright neon sign of the establishment.

“We’re not going to the N109 Zone? This is a nightclub…” you mutter, taken aback by the unfamiliar surroundings. When did this even get here? There were plenty of clubs in Linkon of course, but you never seemed to notice this one. Not that you knew much about the night life to begin with. People were lined up at the entrance, chatting, fixing makeup, or texting.

“Boss wants you here. He’s waiting inside. Enjoy your time miss” Luke said, amusement written all over his tone. He gets out of the passenger seat to open the door and lend you a hand. You rolled your eyes, not wanting to appear shaken up by the situation. Sylus was always full of surprises. This was no different, act confident.

At least, that’s what you tried to tell yourself. After getting almost immediate entrance into the club with just a simple nod from the guard, you enter. As you walk inside the club, Luke and Kieran not far behind you, you can tell this was no ordinary night club. Everyone here was dressed lavishly and sharp, clearly possessing power and ulterior motives. A few eyes lay on you as you walk in, and you feel your hands start to sweat.

Keep cool. This isn’t the first time you’ve been around high ranking individuals. This is probably some test he set up…right? Or some kind of joke to get a laugh?

Clenching your fists, your eyes dart and search for a tall figure with white hair, feeling more nervous by the second that you don’t see him. You’re about to turn around and ask one of the twins, but at last your gaze settles on him, sipping on a glass of Gin Fizz. He’s sitting in a velvety booth by himself, people watching. He’s wearing his black button up with red streaks across it, coat hanging on his shoulders per usual. As if he felt you staring, his eyes shift to meet yours. He sets down his glass, giving you you a small smirk. His eyes narrow, sending a very clear message.

Come here.

As if you were suddenly possessed, your feet seem to start moving on their own. You weren’t sure if you were relieved to see him or if it was just the relief of seeing a familiar face in an unfamiliar place. You take a few deep breaths as you approach, readying your witful replies to any of his attempts to make fun of you. Without making any sound or looking at him, you quietly slide in next to him.

“You look nice. Seems I was right about this look on you” Sylus says, taking another sip of his drink. His eyes wander up and down behind the glass, seemingly devouring you. You squirm under his gaze.

“Hm. Thanks. This gift is the least you can do after dragging me to do whatever you want on a whim once again” you scoff, eyeing the full glass that sits on the table. It’s another glass of Gin Fizz, probably for Sylus. There’s three other very empty glasses on the table.

This man can definitely hold his alcohol.

He chuckles, taking a finger and pushing the glass of Gin closer to you.

“Don’t be like that sweetie. Loosen up a bit, you’ll need it”

“For what exactly? Business?” you mock, picking up the Gin. You didn’t exactly like the taste of this particular alcohol of choice but Sylus was right about one thing. Some liquid courage was definitely needed for whatever shenanigans he was dragging you into tonight.

“Yeah. Figured I could use Linkon’s darling Miss Hunter as backup” Sylus chuckles, watching you nearly choke as you take three big gulps of the drink. You squeeze your eyes in disgust as you finish the rest of the glass, shooting a death glare in his direction as you set it down.

“You’re perfectly capable. Don’t mock me Sylus”. You grit your teeth in irritation, almost ready to rip him to shreds with your words. Clearly your tone has no effect on him though, as all you get in return is a soft smile. Sylus places a hand on your upper leg, slowing sliding his fingers under your dress. You gasp, the coldness of his fingers making you twitch a bit. The warmness of your skin mixed with his cold touch makes the sensation feel like icy fire.

“Or what? You’ll use this on me?” he smirks, tugging on the concealed gun strapped under your dress. “I’m all for it honestly”

You slap his hand away, the woozy feeling from the Gin Fizz starting to kick in. What was in this drink? It was strong. Too strong.

“Pervert. Always touching me, making fun of me. Maybe I will shoot you. Again.” you growl, turning your head away from him. You attempt to scoot away as well, but are met with a strong grip around your waist as you’re pulled into closer proximity with him. Sylus grabs your chin and lifts it towards his face. He leans down a bit, the smell of alcohol and his bourbon vanilla cologne making you feel even more dizzy.

“You can put your claws away now kitten. Don’t make me have to melt your little tantrum away” he coos, gently caressing your face with his thumb.

You stare at him, dumbfounded, desperately searching your sluggish brain for a comeback but finding yourself too flustered to form any words. The look in Sylus’s eyes shifts from a smug expression to a much softer, almost tender gaze, and you wonder what his next move will be. Your face starts to burn as you feel heat rising in your core, your heart pounding in your chest. Panic sets in as you consider the possibilities, your mind racing with the fear of what might come next.

Don’t tell me he’s going to…?!

"You're so...confusing" you mutter.

You’re just about to try and squirm from his grip, when Luke and Kieran tap on the table, catching yalls attention.

“Boss man, Val says he’s ready for ya” Luke says, nonchalantly ignoring the scene that’s displayed in front of him. Sylus releases your face, his face going serious again. He gets up, reaching out a hand to help you out of the booth.

“Time for business, sweetie”

You’re guided by the twins and Sylus past the sweaty bodies on the dance floor to a somewhat hidden room located downstairs. The area the stairs led to was blocked off by a singular rope, clearly only meant for a select crowd.

In the room there’s a long black table, cards and chips all over it. There’s a few prominent figures already seated, along with a few bodyguards standing near the door. Sylus pulls a seat out for you, before taking his own. You study the figure that’s sitting at the head of the table as you sit. He’s short, a bit chubby, dark hair, smoking a cigar. A scar sits angrily on his forehead and you wonder what kinda grudges led to such an injury. He notices you looking at him, and gives you a devilish grin. Some of his teeth are crooked or missing.

All that money and he can't fix his smile?

You shudder. Sylus looks over at you, and back to the man at the head of the table. He’s reading you, clearly sensing your nervousness. He says nothing, simply reaching a hand over to rest on your thigh.

“Was starting to think you were going to keep me waiting Sylus. Seems you didn’t run after all” he laughs, wheezing a bit as he takes another puff of his cigar. You wrinkle your nose a bit as the potent smell hits your senses.

“I couldn’t turn down a game of cards with my dear old friend” Sylus says, irritation coating the last word. “Let’s keep things civil this time, hm Valentino?”

Valentino bursts into laughter, clearly amused. Despite his laughter, you couldn’t ignore the murderous tension in the air. Something tells you this isn’t any regular game of cards. You gulp, trying to force yourself to look at everyone at the table and smile.

“Well hello little lady. Sylus, you didn’t tell me you kept such gorgeous company…” Val says, his eyes snaking all over your body. You feel Sylus squeeze your thigh, clearly irritated. He pulls out a coin from his coat pocket, seemingly trying to channel his frustrations into something else.

“You know I’m not really the type to share, Val. She’s all mine. Down to every single strand of hair”. Sylus ends, catching the coin and shooting a glare in the man’s direction. It was plain, but conveyed a message very well.

You feel your palms start to sweat. Was he being serious right now?? You side eye him, trying to piece out whether or not this was some kind of facade you’re supposed to play into. Valentino clearly takes Sylus’s words as a challenge.

“I’ll give you twenty million for her. Maybe fifty million if you make her give us a little strip show. What do ya say? She looks so soft. Probably makes cute noises too…~” he chuckles, likely enjoying the look of surprise that washes across your face.

Sylus remains quiet, his face unmoving, frozen in a pissed glare. You don’t know if it was the alcohol you drank earlier, or if it was some inkling of an attempt to dissipate the tension, but you clear your throat and begin to speak.

“Well Sylus? You can share can’t you? It’s quite the generous offer Mr. Valentino. I’m quite flattered actually.” you express, putting on your best smug look. Sylus stiffens, a somewhat shocked expression washing over him. Valentino erupts into yet another fit of laughter, seemingly unable to contain himself. Turning to look back at Sylus, you see it in his face briefly. An uncaged look of rage before it quickly dissipates.

Shit. Shouldn’t have said that.

Far too late to stop now though.

“You heard the lady Sylus. Why don’t you try sharing just this once? What I would give to taste that sweet little body of he-”

Sylus slams a revolver on the table, then calmly starts picking up cards from the deck.

"I'd suggest you stop talking and start playing the game, Mr. Valentino," Sylus snarls, his words dripping with venom. The fury in his voice is palpable, and it's clear he's reached the end of his patience.

You give Val a sly look, feigning pity. “Ah, sorry Valentino. Seems this one can’t quite let me go yet”. You don’t know what you were trying to achieve, but it’s certainly not working to dissipate any tension. Val doesn’t respond to you though, all his focus on Sylus now.

“My dear friend. You should know me by now. There’s something I’m much more interested in now than some money. Now I want the girl, or nothing”.

Valentino wears a shit eating grin on his face, soaking in the fact that he thinks he’s gained some control of the situation, unaffected by the gun on the table. Sylus simply sighs, rubbing his fingers against the temple of his forehead.

“I see where this is going then”.

You barely process what’s happening before everything and everyone starts moving. As soon as Sylus begins to stand, Valentinos guards start shooting. Sylus wastes no time flipping the large table, sending the cards and game chips flying everywhere. You yelp as he yanks you towards him using his body and the table to shield the oncoming attack of bullets. You hear Luke and Kieran joining in the frenzy, yelling obscenities as they begin shooting their own hidden weapons.

You swiftly reach for the weapon concealed beneath your dress, your fingers brushing against the cool metal as you draw it out. Turning to face Sylus, you ready yourself for his instructions, your body tense with anticipation. Instead of giving you orders, he locks eyes with you, his gaze piercing through you with an intensity that feels like it's reaching into your very soul. The silence is heavy, charged with unspoken tension as bullets whip past the both of you, and you can feel your heartbeat quicken in response.

“I need you alive for what’s coming sweetie. Pay attention, stay close”

You blink. Twice. Unable to process his words before he yanks you both up, one hand using his evol to send the table crashing into several bodyguards. The four of you fight your way through the onslaught of people coming into the door, before eventually dashing up the stairs. People are running in all directions, seemingly caught up in the chaos of everything. You all manage to make it out the door and into the brisk cold air, the twins quickly hopping into the car to whisk you away.

“Go on, I’ll catch up soon” Sylus states, hurriedly pushing you into the car and slamming the door before you could protest. He signals Kieran to drive off, and that he does.

“He’s…going to level the building. Isn’t he?” you sigh, sighing at the fact that Sylus seemed to conveniently forget that this was in fact not the lawless land of the N109 Zone. No doubt the Hunter’s Association would have to investigate for potential wanderer activity, and that would be a lot of paperwork.

"It's fine. He owned that place anyway. He'll just build another," Luke says, his voice calm and unbothered. Just as the words leave his mouth, a deafening boom erupts behind the car, shaking the ground beneath yall. The explosion's shockwave rattles the windows, and the sky lights up with a fiery glow, cutting off Luke's next sentence mid-breath.

You groan.

The twins did drive you to the N109 this time, swiftly helping you out the car and into Sylus’s private villa. When you entered the front door, a nightgown and lacy underwear were laid neatly out for you in his room, your arrival clearly anticipated.

It wasn’t more than an hour before Sylus waltzed in the front door, eyeing your slouching figure on the couch. You sit up as soon as you see him, still somewhat annoyed.

“What took you so damn long? Also do you have to level every building you come across?” you spat, glaring at him. He says nothing though, walking straight past you and into his room.

“Huh? Sylus?? What the hell…”

Not liking the feeling of being ignored, you hurriedly chased after him. You had never really been uncomfortable barging into his room. You had done it plenty of times at this point, the first time being when he had challenged you to steal the brooch from him. No point in being shy now. He’s fumbling with something in his drawer when you reach up to tap his shoulder.

“Sylus! Don’t ignore me, I know you ca-”

He swiftly turns around, grabbing your wrist before you can touch him. His gaze is unreadable, cold even. You start to sweat, trying to take your arm back. But he only squeezes tighter.

"I was hoping you'd leave me be so I could calm down. But of course you're as petulant as ever" he says.

"Let go! What's wrong with you!?" You attempt to remove his hand from your wrist but he doesn't budge.

“Go to the bed. Place your hands on it” he says, face unchanging.

“Huh??”

“I don’t like to repeat myself”.

You freeze for only a moment before quickly moving to the bed. You meticulously put your hands where instructed, something deep in your core telling you that it’s likely best to listen for now. However, you can’t help to look over your should to quip at Sylus. You’re slightly bent at an angle, trying your best to keep your balance.

“What’s this about? I’m not that upset that you reduced the building to rubble”

Sylus snakes his way behind you, quietly, as if thinking of what to say. He reaches out a hand, grabbing the ends of your nightgown and moving the soft fabric around in his fingers. You feel the heat rise to your face, the skin of your ass feeling a slight gush of cold air.

“You like playing games with me, don’t you? Testing me” he says coldly, fingers trailing up the back of your legs slowly. You shiver, attempting to squirm away. His evol appears around you, its tight grip making you cry out.

Oh. This was about that.

“Huh?? No, I was just playing along. Just friendly banter yknow?” you say, voice wavering. You’ve clearly pissed him off. A part of you knows it’s a slight lie. You didn’t want to admit it out loud but it was kind of amusing to see Sylus get so riled up over something. Over you especially. But you hadn’t exactly done it fully on purpose. It was the alcohol.

But you knew he wasn’t buying it, as observant as he was.

“Sure. You were just pretending to act like a stray kitten trying to find a new owner?” he smirks, his fingers beginning to trace circles over the cloth of your panties. You let out a small whine, his touch just barely grazing your already wet cunt.

“Owner? I don’t belong to you. Or anyone” you scoff, the resolve in your voice wavering with every little circle he completes on your skin. You almost whine in disappointment when he pulls away.

“And yet…” Sylus trails off, leaving you with aching curiosity before you’re met with stinging pain on your ass. You cry out, unable to move with his evol still snaked around you. “You did exactly what I told you to do just now, wear the clothes I leave out for you, and practically melt everytime I even barely touch you”.

“Sylus?! What the hell was that…?!” you exclaim, trying your hardest to process his words and the situation at hand. He doesn’t respond, proceeding to gently caress the spot where he smacked you. The stinging pain gently eases away, and you feel yourself relaxing with his touch once again. He once again trails his fingers down to your clothed pussy, rubbing slow and meticulous circles around it. You start to whine, attempting to push yourself into his fingers for more friction. He pulls his hand away, making a disapproving sigh.

“Acting like you’re in heat per usual” he chuckles, watching as you wiggle around under the grip of his evol. “This is a punishment”.

“For what? Cause I let some sick and ugly looking crime boss think he had a chance with me?”

Sylus wastes no time bringing his hand to your ass again, earning another painful whine out of you. You feel tears forming in your eyes that you can’t wipe away. He’s certainly not holding back his strength, and yet you know this isn’t even a third of the force he could use on you.

“For entertaining him” he says plainly.

Another smack.

“Another for stupidly handing over your life, body and soul for a measly twenty million”

An even harder hit, this one fueled by rage.

“And lastly…”

You nearly choke as he delivers the final blow, your ass definitely bruising by now. Sylus offers no comfort this time, instead leaning down next to your crying face, breath hot against your ear.

“For forgetting that you belong to me, just as much as I belong to you. Kindred spirits remember?”

You have no chance to respond before he’s flipping you on your back, your nightgown flying up to reveal your wet panties.

“I-im sorry, Sy” you choke, tears blurring your vision.

“Show me then, sweetie. Spread your legs. Wide” he instructs, reaching up to brush your tears away. This isn’t done lovingly, more like calculated and cold.

This is far from over.

You silently but shakingly open your legs, your ass still painfully aching from his assault. You’re surprised when he doesn’t rip your underwear in two, choosing to rather peel them off your legs slowly. You notice the hunger in his eyes as he does so, as if savoring the view of your cunt at his fingertips. A small drop of arousal pools down your ass, and Sylus scoops it up with one finger.

You watch as he puts his finger in his mouth, savoring the drop of you with swiftness. His piercing gaze never leaves yours though, and you want to suddenly run away and hide. This is beyond thrilling, but you try your best to remain as still as possible, scared that he’ll think you’re enjoying it too much and punish you accordingly.

You suddenly can’t take the tension anymore, and close your eyes. You hear the sound of Sylus removing his belt from its loops, then the loud clang as it hits the floor. You feel the bed shift as he lowers himself over you, his face stopping just inches over yours, indicated by the sudden feel and warmth of his breath. He grabs your face in his hand and squeezes your jaw. Hard.

“Look at me kitten” he commands, his tone filled with unkempt rage and anger. Your eyes fly open, terrified.

“I’m the only one that will ever taste you. Repeat it” he says. Before you can get a word out, he’s pushing the fat tip of his cock in your entrance. You cry out in agony, nowhere near ready to have been penetrated. But he doesn’t stop filling you.

“Repeat it. Or I’ll hit you again. Do you want that?”

“You’re t-the…ah!” you whine, his cock halfway inside you at this point. Your poor cunt feels like it’s being impaled, splitting pain soaring through your core.

“Try again”

You let out a whimper, trying your best to push through the pain and put thoughts into words.

“You’re the oh-only one that gets to taste me” you choke out, voice wavering and your eyes teary. Sylus gives a hard thrust, pushing the rest of his length inside you. You cry out again, feeling like you’re on the verge of passing out. Sylus seems unmoved by your outbursts though.

“And?”

You stare at him, barely able to see his face through the tears. What? What does he mean and? He didn’t say anything else did he?

“Hu-what?”

You hear him sigh with disapproval, giving you yet another hard thrust. And another. And another. You’re clinging onto his back now, nails digging into his skin as the sound of the bed creaking and your pants fill the room. Blood has probably been drawn on his back, not that he’d even notice. You can hear him grunting in your ear, clearly enjoying the feeling of you tightening around him when you tense from the pain. Although it still hurts, you can feel yourself accumulating to the shape and size of his length, and the pain lessons a bit more with each thrust. He stops once again, tilting your face in his grip.

“What did I say you forgot? Or is this kitten filled with too much cock to think straight now?” he mocks. You can hear the smile on his face despite not being able to see him clearly. Heat creeps up on your cheeks as you wrack your brain for answers.

“I-you…we’re kindred spirits?”

“Before that sweetie”

You blink the tears on your face away, your vision becoming a bit more clear. Although he’s still gazing down at you, his expression is not as angry as before. Seems he’s gotten a bit of his pent up anger out now.

“I belong to you, Sylus” you say, voice small and whiny from crying. That’s definitely what he wanted to hear, as he began to pepper kisses on your neck, on your cheek, and eventually resting on your lips. You greedily return his affection, leaning into this feverish kiss, the both of you only periodically stopping to pant for air between kisses. He stops, resting his forehead with yours, gazing into your eyes once more.

“And I belong to you. What’s mine is yours. All of it”

You don’t get a chance to respond before he’s thrusting again, this time with a continuous and steady pace. You cling onto him, the exchange of flowery words and rigorous thrusting already bringing you on the verge of ecstasy. Sylus already noticed long before you did though, as he brought his hand between the two of you, circling your clit further your stimulation.

“Go ahead, come undone for me” he whispers, voice strained for nearly being at his end too. Your body obeys, unraveling and writhing with pleasure as Sylus continues to pound into you. You ride your orgasm to its end, till the touching of your clit becomes too much and you whine from overstimulation.

“Sylus…!” you moan, and he stops, already at the start of his own climax. You shudder as you feel him spill into you, his seed immediately beginning to pool down your cunt and to your ass. He pulls his heavy cock out of you, a feeling of emptiness taking its place. For a moment nothing is said, just the sound of the both of you catching your breath.

You decide to break the silence.

“Sylus…I’m really sorry” you start, looking up at him. He simply chuckles, placing a kiss on your cheek before getting up to grab a rag from the bathroom.

“You’ve taken your punishment quite well, why are you apologizing again sweetie?” he says from the bathroom, coming back to wipe you clean. You scoff, slightly tensing from the coldness of the cloth.

“Hmph. Fine, I take it back then. I’m holding a grudge anyways for how hard you hit me”

He simply sighs as he finishes wiping you up. “Back with the infamous wit already? Can’t a man catch a break?”

You sit up, feeling emboldened once more.

“Nope. Maybe don’t hit me with the strength of a thousand suns next time and we’ll see”

Sylus tosses the rag in a laundry basket, making his way back to your side. He pulls you into his arms, embracing you in his warmth. You can’t help but smile against his chest.

“Well, good thing I have all night to make it up to you”

You lightly pinch his side, giggling into his embrace. A question crosses your mind.

"Did you mean it Sylus? We belong to each other?"

Sylus took your face in his hand, giving you a slight smile.

"I don't say stuff I don't mean. You know this"

That's the furthest he was willing to explain it. At least for now. Who knows what kind of power trip would ensue if you truly knew how much you had the big bad leader of Onychinus wrapped around your finger.

[spookysteddie]

The Very First Date

Modern!Steve Harrington x college!fem!reader

Part two to "lemon drop martini" ... Read part one here

18+ MINORS DNI

desc: you finally call Steve for that first date. And it goes better than you imagined

cw: alcohol mention (reader is not in the slightest drunk), slight Dom!Steve, cocky!Steve begging, pet names (baby, sweetheart, angel), unprotected sex, p in v, creampie. (let mw know if I missed anything)

wc: 2.8k

a/n: I hope y'all enjoy this! based off of this ask who asked me for a part two a while ago (I am so sorry). My writers block has lifted after like a year and here we are! So expect more fics soon!

...

Three days. 

You’d waited three days before calling the number on the napkin. 

Well that’s a lie. You actually called the number the next day (after eating a greasy meal, drinking a shit ton of water, and downing some aspirin… nothing like a hangover) from your roommate Alixs phone. But the second he answered, you hung up very fast. 

Alix, of course, called you a little baby back bitch and told you that you needed to call him. That it’d be nice to have some perks around your little college town. 

You rolled your eyes at the sentiment. 

To say you were nervous talking on the phone with him would be an understatement, in fact you were shitting myself. Scared he’d be able to hear it in your voice how nervous you were. Or, worse, that he wouldn’t remember you. 

Four days ago: 

“This is Steve Harrington speaking. How can I help you?”

You took a deep breath, putting a smile on your face in the hopes it’ll translate through the telephone.

“Hi, Steve. I-it’s y/n. From the bar the other night.” You cringe at the slight stutter and the wave in your voice. “You gave me your number on the napkin.” 

You can practically hear the smile in his voice, coolness seeping from his voice, “lemon drop martini girl. Of course I remember you, sweetheart.” 

You quietly sigh in relief that he remembers. 

“Oh good! I’m sorry for not calling sooner. I was a little hung over and then I had to study and take exams. Finals season.” You laugh awkwardly, cursing yourself for rambling and making a fool out of yourself. Alix would be rolling her eyes. 

Steve laughs on the other end of the line, “ah yes. I hated finals. Very frustrating. Hence why I dropped out, much to my fathers dislike.” 

One thing about you is that you love oversharing. But you love when other people overshare even more. There’s nothing like bonding over a trauma dump. 

You giggle into the phone which makes Steve giggle too, the sound mimicking a sweet song. All you want to make him do it again. 

“Anyway, sweetheart, I was wondering if you had plans for Friday night?” His tone is cool and relaxed. You could only wish to sound like that. 

Your heart pounds in your chest, words failing you for a moment. “Oh! Um, nothing actually.”

“Perfect. Hows ‘bout you and I go on a little date? I know a great place. Kinda fancy. What do you say?” 

You could kick your feet like a little girl at the prospect of going out with him. You, also, are tempted to make him wait. To give him just a little bit of a hard time. It was what you'd usually do to the men you like. But there was something in the back of your mind begging you not to. 

“I-I would like that, Steve.” 

“Great! I’ll pick you up at 7. Give you time to study and get ready. Take a nap even.” 

…

 “I can’t do this. I can’t go. I mean, fuck, I have nothing to wear.” 

Nothing to wear was an understatement. You could hardly see the floor of your bedroom, clothes littering it with only a small path for where you keep walking from the mirror to your closet. 

Alix sits on your bed, drinking some wine and eating some popcorn. “I liked the black leather. I don’t know why you won’t just wear that one. You look hot in it.” 

You slide your hands down the front of the blue, sequence dress you have on. “I just feel like that’s not enough. And isn’t it a little … short for a dress for a nice restaurant?” 

Alix shrugs, “I mean, probably but who cares. You look hot.” She sips her wine and says again, “well you look hot in everything.” 

You look over at her, “while that’s sweet, he’s going to be here in fifteen minutes and I need a few shots to calm my nerves so help me pick a dress, please.” 

She rolls her eyes at my dramatics, downing her wine. “I think you should wear the short black one you wore two weeks ago. Not the leather one, the velvet one. Makes your ass look great. Oh with your Louboutins! You spent a lot of money on them and have worn them once. It’s a sin.” 

One thing is for sure, you did spend a lot of money on them, charging them to your dads credit card. 

One change and two shots of vodka later, you were walkin down the steps of your condo to an awaiting Steve. He’s in dark jeans, a black t-shirt and a gray jacket. His hair is just as perfect as the last time you saw him. (which was via instagram… gotta do the research right?)

He whistles long and low as you approach, and in a quick stroke of confidence you decide to do a little spin. He claps slowly as you face him and so, you bow. Just slightly so you don’t accidentally flash him. Not the way you want to start this date. 

“Well hello to you too, Harrington,” you say as you smirk. 

He slips his hand in his pockets, a smirk on his lips that you feel right between your legs. “You look very pretty tonight, sweetheart. I mean you’d look pretty in a potato sac but,” he shrugs. “We should get going.” 

You smile and nod at him. 

And the bar is clearly in fuckin hell, because him opening the door for you makes you want to jump his bones. But then again, no man has ever opened a door for you so… we can let it slide. 

“Such a gentleman.” “Chivalry is not dead sweetheart.” 

… 

Steve is very thoughtful. Sure, he asked all the usual questions you ask on a first date. 

What’s your major?

Do you have any siblings?

What do your parents do for work?

Oh, your dad is in sales? Funny mine too.

He gives you guilt money? Mine too! Look at us 

He also, orders you and him a bottle of wine (he has great taste) but lets you order your own meal (again the bar is in fucking hell). The place he takes you to is nice and the food is the best food you’ve had since you left home after summer break. 

“So Steve, what made you decide to open up a bar in town?” You eat a spoonful of dessert, eyes never leaving his. 

He takes a spoonful of his own dessert. “I was sick of working for everyone else. I knew if I made a unique bar, something you and your friends have never seen, others would want to check it out. Then you’d tell all your friends, who’d tell their friends, etc.” He grins as he talks, keeping eye contact with you. 

It felt like a game of ‘who is going to look away first.’ A game you weren’t going to lose. Slowly, you pull the spoon out of your mouth, dipping it back in to your dessert. “Interesting. Great concept if you ask me.” 

He huffs a small laugh through his nose, “I’m glad you enjoyed my bar.” 

You scrunch your brows, the wine making you bold, “who said I enjoyed it?” 

Now he really laughs, “you seemed to really enjoy all those lemon drop martinis. So much so you had a hangover the next day. I tried giving you waters but you threatened to gut me.” 

Your jaw hangs open, “fibber.” 

“I haven’t been called a fibber since I was a kid,” he smiles. “But yes you did tell me you would gut me. And then you left and I thought I’d never hear from you again.” 

You can’t help but feel slightly guilty inside for not calling sooner. Well, you did call sooner but chickened out. 

“And here we are.” 

“Yes, here we are.” 

He seems to think for a moment, sipping his wine (one he ordered that would go well with the dessert. He was right.)

“Wanna get out of here, sweetheart?” He looks up at you through his lashes, tongue rolling down the inside of his cheek. 

He wasn't… demanding. You knew without a shadow of a doubt that you could turn him down. That he would take you home with a smile on his face. There would be no fuss, no fight, no name calling. No pressure. 

And for that very reason, with a smile on your pretty face you answer him, “yours or mine?” 

… 

You’re not even through the door of his apartment before his mouth is on yours, his large hands on your face. The kiss starts soft, testing the waters and it isn’t very long before you deepen it. Your tongues dance but there is no fight for dominance, you let him win. You want him to win. 

His lips trail over your jaw before slowly moving down your neck, gently nipping at your skin. 

“Such a pretty girl,” he says in between kisses. 

He sucks a bruise into your shoulder, easy to cover up, just in case. You let out a soft moan, hands coming up to tug at his hair. 

“You-you’re pretty too.” 

You can feel him grin against you, head lifting as his body cages you in, “I don’t think anyone has ever called me pretty. Well besides Eddie but that was mocking.” 

You laugh, moving in and kissing him slowly, sweetly, “you are a very pretty boy.” 

You can feel his hard dick jerk at the sentiment, and you keep it as a mental note. You know, just in case you need it. 

“Fuck, can’t say shit like that.” 

“No? Why not?” 

“Cause it makes my cock hard. And it’ll be very embarrassing if I cum in my pants. Can't ruin my reputation.” The smirk on his face makes you almost pass out. You swear to God you can feel every word in your core. 

“Hmmm, we can’t have that can we?” You push his jacket off his shoulders before running your hands down to the hem of his shirt. “Should take me to bed so we don’t risk you cumin’ early.” 

It’s all the permission he needs. His lips are back on yours, his hands under your ass and picking you up. You wrap your legs around his waist, hands in his hair as he carries you to the bed. 

He puts you down gently, his lips never leaving yours. Not for a moment. Not until he pulls away to tug his shirt over his head. You take the moment to take him in, his body lithe and toned.  You also can’t help noticing the scars on his side that look a little like bite marks. Bite marks from something that isn’t human, something you make a mental note to ask him about at a later date. 

“Sculpted from marble, god damn.” You don’t mean to say it out loud, never wanting to stroke a man's ego. 

Steve just grins as he finds the zipper on the side of your dress, pulling it down slowly down, his knuckles slowly touching your skin, leaving goosebumps in his wake. You shiver under the touch and he notices. You’re quickly learning that Steve notices everything.

It isn’t long before he’s pulling the dress down your body, leaving you in only your underwear. Underwear that barely covers you, a wet patch on full display. If it was anyone else, you’d be embarrassed. 

“Are you this wet for me?” His tone is mocking and he’s practically cooing at you, “go on. Answer me.” 

Your eyes widen. Men have been demanding in the bedroom, plenty of them thinking they’re little tough guys. But none of them get that from you, none of them deserving. You’re not sure why you want to give that to him. You’re not sure what makes him different. And honestly, that is a problem for future you to talk about in therapy. 

“Yes,” you reply, voice a little higher than usual. “S’all for you.” 

The smirk he gives you makes your heart speed up. “Such a sweet, pretty thing. God, I want to devour you.” 

His lips move to your chest, sucking a peaked nipple into his mouth. You can’t help but arch into his mouth, a small moan falling from your lips, his hand coming to play with your neglected breast. And it isn’t long before he swaps sides, his teeth nipping and sucking. 

“Please. More.” 

He laughs, moving to oblige you and kissing down your sternum before settling between your legs. “May I?” 

Him asking makes your heart stutter in your chest, “yes. God yes. Please.” 

Steve tugs your underwear down your legs, tossing them to meet the rest of the clothes on the floor. “I think I could get used to praying to me.” 

He doesn’t give you time to answer before he licks up your cunt, stopping at the top to suck on your clit. The moan that comes out of you is loud and you’re thankful the windows are closed. “Fuck, Steve!” 

He pushes a finger inside of you, curling them to reach the spongy spot inside you. “And you moaning my name is even better. Why don’t you do it again, angel” 

He pushes another finger inside you, the burn causing you to grip his hair. “Steve please!” 

“Please what, sweetheart?” 

He moves his fingers faster, continuing to hit your sweet spot over and over again. His mouth moves to your clit, sucking gently. He keeps his eyes on you, observing, listening to every sweet moan and sigh that comes out of you. He files them away in his brain so he never forgets what drives you crazy. 

“Need to… I-I need” 

He sucks hard before pulling back, “need what? Go on, use your words.” 

You gasp, “to cum. I- please.” 

Begging wasn’t what you did for men. If anything, they begged you. Begged you to let them cum. 

Steve doesn’t say a word, just grins and uses his free hand to press on your stomach. That is your undoing. “Steve!” You pulse around his fingers, breath getting caught in your chest. You feel warm all over, head emptying as he works you through it. 

“That’s it baby. That’s a good girl. Bet that feels so good doesn’t it?” 

You try to answer, you really do. But all you can manage is a small nod. 

“Gonna let me fuck you?” 

Again, you can only manage a nod. 

“That’s my girl.” 

And before you can even process his words, he flips you over on your stomach, hands pulling your hips in the air. You’re on full display for him. He can see everything. But you couldn't care less, all you want is him inside you. 

And you get your wish. He moves slow, making sure he doesn’t hurt you. He’s big and you can feel every inch of him stretching you. It’s a tight fit even with how wet you are. 

“Holy shit this pussy is amazing baby. Squeezing me so tight.” 

His other hand braces himself by your head before dropping down to his forearms. He’s so close to you now, inside and out, his hips moving slowly so you adjust to him, and his breath fanning across your face. 

“F-faster. Faster.” Your hands rake down his back, nails digging into his back, making him hiss. 

He snaps his hips faster, grinning down at you. “Just so needy huh?” 

You nod feverishly, “yes. F-feels so fucking good.” 

He laughs at you now, kisses you. “Such a dirty mouth, baby. Pretty girls aren’t supposed to swear.” 

“Says-says you… swear all the time. L-like a sailor.” 

He hums. “Dirty mouth for a dirty fuckin girl.” 

“That-that’s me.”

He fucks you faster and you feel like coil growing tighter and tighter inside you. You wrap your legs around his waist, not wanting him to get too far away. He groans and you can tell he’s close. 

“Want… no need you to cum inside me. I’ll d-die if you don’t,” you beg. You know you’ll probably regret it in the morning, all that you’ve said here in this bedroom. But at the moment you can’t find it inside you to care. Mainly because he was taking up every inch of you. 

“Yeah? Need it? I’ll give it to you baby. Will give you anything you want.” 

And it’s all you need to fall over the edge, walls clenching around him so hard he falls with you. A mutual “fuck!” falls from both your and his lips. 

You're both panting as you come down from the high. He pushes your hair out of your face and kisses you sweetly. Suddenly Steve is giggling, his head falling into the crook of your neck.

“What? Why are you laughing?” you ask with just a little bit of worry. 

“I am so fucking glad you ordered a lemon drop martini.”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Called to Duty 5

Warnings: non/dubcon, pregnancy, abandonment, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Captain Syverson

Summary: You struggle to move on from the biggest mistake of your life but find it hard to forget among the whispers of a small town.

Part of the Backwoods AU

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

Another shift. Another new ache. It's not just your feet or hips anymore. There's a tugging in the back of your neck that tweaks each time you turn tour head a bit to far left. 

You lean on the counter. You don't care about Daye's warnings. She can stand on the hard floor while pregnant and see how she feels after a single hour. They haven't even bothered to get a standing mat. 

A few customers pass through. The usual stunted small talk passes between you, the intentional avoidance of the obvious. They'll stare at your stomach but they surely won't mention it. 

Funny, you saw a bunch of old ladies fawning over Molly, swollen with her fifth? Maybe sixth? You don't know how she keeps track. It stings a little to see them treat her like some saint while you've been tainted by the very same condition. 

You sigh and try not to think of it as you sort the novelty keychains by colour. They'll be messed up again by your next shift but it keeps your mind busy. Lately, you found your thoughts run off into the void never to be seen again. It's frustrating but a little bit scary too. 

A box lands on the counter and slides toward you as it's tossed carelessly beside the till. You grab it before it can slip over the edge and nearly recoil as you recognise the brand. You set the large box of condoms straight as a rolling chuckle greets you from the other side. 

You look up as Thor smirks and reaches into his back pocket, "having a party." 

You stare at him then scan the box. You don't say a word as your face sears. He takes out his wallet and searches lazily. 

"Wouldn't want any mistakes," he taunts as he looks through the slots. "Hm, credit." 

You hit the button and gesture bluntly to the machine. He taps without a second thought. You're riled by the sight of him so easily spending his money. Money he should be using for the child in your belly. The fact that he gets to keep living his life without a single consequence has you almost shaking. 

You tear off his receipt and nearly slam it on the box, shoving it towards him. The door rings with the arrival of another customer. You don't greet them as you're trapped in a tunnel. Your rage is centered on that big blond doofus. 

"Ah," he leans over and puts his elbows on the counter, a smug curve in his lips, "jealous, are we?" 

You don't acknowledge his taunt as you go back to pick at the keyrings. 

"Well, I've never fucked a pregnant woman," he muses, "wouldn't need these, would we?" He chortles as he taps the box with his knuckle, "how about one last go? For old times' sake. You get a break--" 

"Disgusting," a growl undercuts Thor's gross proposition. 

You flinch and look up. Sy stands with his arms crossed over his burly chest as he scoffs. Thor tilts his head and pushes himself straight. He face the other man with a cluck. 

"There you are, buddy," Thor booms, "I heard you've been sniffing around my leftovers." 

"Don't call her that," Sy sneers. "What're you doin' bugging her?" 

"I should ask you the same," Thor postures at the other man, a good few inches taller yet it hardly seems to matter. "You like sloppy seconds? Guess you're used to taking whatever you can get after all those field rations, huh?" 

"Don't," Sy grits as tension ripple in the air. 

Their voice carry through the sleep pharmacy and you notice how the white coats behind the far counter shift to see. Oh no. 

"Hey, guys, it's fine, let's not--" 

"Don't what?" Thor pokes Sy's shoulder. The other man drops his arms straight and balls his fists. "She's a slut. Look at her. She begged me to fill her up--" 

"I'm warning you," Sy snarls. 

"Look, I don't even know if it was me who did that. The way she was dancing up on everyone," Thor snickers, "you don't really think it's an immaculate conception or something." 

"I'm telling ya to leave and to leave her alone," Sy steps closer, undetered by the difference in height. He's just as thick, if not a little thicker, than his foe.  

Thor looks at you over his shoulder and makes a face, "you really fucking this mad dog--" 

Sy tackles Thor before he can finish his sentence. The wraps his arms around him as he charges and they hit the counter with a startling slam. You cry out and back up, the keychains scattering at the force of their impact. 

Thor and Sy latch onto each other and roll against the counter, shifting the till as the condoms teeter on the edge. Mints rain down onto the tile as they grunt and grapple.  

Thor pushes off and holds Sy at arm's length. The latter hurls a fist into the former's cheek and gets one on the jaw in return. They dodge and punch, latching back into each other as they collide with the rack of greeting cards. 

"Enough!" Daye shrieks as she runs up the center aisle, "I've called the police so you both better stop!" 

The men ignore her as you watch in horror. Fuck, fuck, fuck.  

You come around the counter, shaking as you approach the men feuding like vicious cats. You dodge away as you're nearly bowled over in their chaos and hold your stomach. Daye continues to yowl helplessly. 

"Sy, Sy, please, stop! Thor! Sy! Syverson!" You holler, "Saul!" 

His birth name catches him off guard and he stops. Thor lands a crunch blow in his nose but is quickly warded off with a forearm. Syverson keeps him at bay as he covers his nose and snorts. 

"Hey!" Daye bats them with a broom, "enough! Enough!" 

Thor detaches, shoving the other man one last time, and spits blood towards your feet. 

"You two," she huffs as he pulls the hanging tie from his hair, "deserve each other. Couple of fucking strays." 

He grabs the broom from day and flings it, stomping over the mess and out the door as he mutters about his family. You frown and look down at the trampled cards and mints. Daye sniffs and shakes her head as she frames her hips. 

"I think it goes without me saying," she snips, "you're fired and sir," she turns to Sy, "you better leave before the sheriff gets here. Oh, and don't come back.” 

You look up from the ruin at Sy and he gives a fluttery blink, “I’m sorry--” 

“Go, please,” you croak as you move your hand to your lower back. 

“I didn’t--” 

“Go,” you snap and turn your attention to your manager, “Daye, please, I didn’t do this.” 

“She’s telling the truth, was all me,” Sy backs up. 

“I’m not hearing it. None of it,” Daye spits, “you’ve been nothing but trouble since you got here. And you, sir, should be ashamed.” She spins and marches off, “if you don’t clean that up before you go, I will have the sheriff charge you with destruction of property.” 

[zhaosbin]

Hello! If you're thinking about writing a Soobin fic, how about a Soobin x fem!reader in which they become fwb after finding out reader's bf cheated on her, so she wanna get revenge and he's such a good friend he can't help but offering himself... you can leave their relationship like that (secret fwb/affair) or maybe they become something more in the end...

Tell me what you think and feel free to change or add anything to the plot! :)

sweet revenge- c. soobin

summary: after your boyfriend cheats on you, your best friend is there to pick up the pieces.

reader: afab/fem reader!

warnings: kind of dom!soobin x sub!reader, soobin is in love with his bestie, oral (f receiving), kissing,explicit smut minors dni

a/n: tysm for requesting!! i love fwb trope a little too much.. also for the record i am the biggest sub!soobin enthusiast but i had to make him dominant here sorry :(

-

slamming the door to your apartment behind you, you immediately let out a cry of frustration.

twenty minutes prior to this, you had walked in on your boyfriend of almost a year cheating on you. you always had a hunch with how distant he became but you never thought you'd actually witness it first hand.

breaking you out of your thoughts was a sweet voice, the voice of your best friend to be exact.

"y/n? is everything okay" the voice asks.

fuck. you completely forgot you and your best friend soobin were having a movie marathon tonight.

you grow even more frustrated and rather embarrassed and slowly sink down to the floor finally letting your tears run free.

soobin immediately rushes over to you, long arms engulfing you in a tight squeeze.

you try to blurt out an explanation but your thoughts were too jumbled.

"shhh, it's okay y/n. calm down and tell me when your ready" soobin says softly.

after about five minutes of sitting in your best friends warm embrace, you finally find the strength to speak again.

"he cheated on me soobie" you pout and tears slowly fall down your face again.

soobin immediately holds you tighter, cursing under his breath at the boy he never liked in the first place.

"it's his loss" soobin immediately cuts in. "you're the sweetest girl i've ever met".

it wasn't unusual for your best friend to compliment you, you grew up next door neighbors and have been inseparable for as long as you could remember. even though you were used to the compliments, it didn't stop your heart from fluttering at his words.

after a few more minutes of silence, soobin noticed your breathing going back to normal and tears no longer dripping down your face.

he took your hand and led you to the bedroom that he had set up for your monthly movie night.

you notice how much effort he put into it and find yourself pouting again, ready to apologize before he cuts you off.

"don't y/n. we do this once a month it's okay to miss out on our fifth avengers rewatch" he says smiling.

you giggle at that, your best friend immediately cheering you up after such a shitty night.

god. you think to yourself. i should've just dated him.

before your thoughts could get any more bizarre, you take a seat next to soobin on your bed.

he immediately engulfs you in his arms again, kissing the top of your head and sighing contently.

after a few moments, you glance over at soobin who looks awfully nervous about something. before you could ask him yourself, soobin speaks up.

"you know... if you ever want to get back at him or something, i'd be more than happy to help" he gently says.

you furrow your eyebrows at his comment, not fully understanding what that meant.

"you mean like keying his car or something?" you confusedly giggle.

soobin chuckles at your cuteness.

"well that or, i don't know, maybe he should feel the same pain he caused you" he says sounding more confident now.

your eyes widen a bit when you fully understand what your friend was suggesting.

you weren't gonna lie to yourself, you knew your best friend was attractive. you just never really thought of him as anything other than your friend before. but for some reason, you were enticed by his idea.

"but...w-wouldn't that ruin our friendship?" you ask nervously.

"of course not. i'm your best friend and i'd do anything for you. let me do this for you" soobin rushes to say.

you weigh the pros and cons in your head, trying to logically think of what to do before that anger from earlier comes back. you wanted to hurt him as much as he hurt you, and your attractive best friend was offering to help you with just that. how could you possibly say no?

instead of verbally answering soobin, you gently press your lips against his plump ones.

he looks taken aback for a split second before he recovers himself and kisses back more passionately.

"tell me if you're uncomfortable at any point and i'll stop, okay?" he says seriously.

you nod, fully trusting him to do whatever he wanted to you anyway.

soobin moves down from your lips to your neck, stopping here and there to leave hickeys that you knew would be noticeable tomorrow.

you moan softly at the feeling of his lips against your neck, making him swallow a groan in his throat.

"you sound so pretty, baby" soobin comments casually making you a flustered mess.

"soobin, please" you beg him.

he knew what you wanted and he wanted it too. badly.

he moves down lower on the bed until he's face to face with your drenched panties.

"how are you already so wet?" he moans running his fingers up and down the wet spot before moving your panties to the side.

without warning, he presses his tongue flat against your core making you scream out in shock and pleasure.

"tastes so fucking good, better than i ever imagined" soobin says too entranced to notice his slip up.

you frown confusedly for a second before his tongue circles around your clit and the only thing you can think of right now is his mouth.

"soobin i'm gonna c-cum soon. really want your cock inside me" you say very obviously deep into your sub headspace.

soobin pulls his mouth off of your clit with a loud popping noise making you whimper at the loss of contact.

"since you asked so nicely" soobin says smiling and kissing your lips again.

he releases his (massive) cock out of his boxers and it was already dripping with precum.

soobin wastes no time in lining himself up with your entrance, gently pushing in inch by inch.

you knew that right now wasn't the time to be comparing cock sizes, but he was so much bigger than your ex and felt so much better. were you really missing out on this feeling this entire time?

after a minute he finally bottoms out, both of you letting out soft moans at the feeling.

he looks into your eyes, silently asking for approval to start moving. you softly smile at his cuteness and nod your head at him.

immediately soobin picks up the pace and your smile is replaced with your mouth dropping open.

"oh my god soobin, you're so big. feels so good" you gasp.

soobin let's out a chuckle at this, knowing your ex must've been less than half of his size.

"yeah baby? does that feel nice?" soobin says trying to contain his own sounds of pleasure.

you nod your head up and down quickly, not being able to form a proper response right now.

soobin knew that you were already pretty close since he ate you out before this and he hurriedly moves his thumb to circle your clit as he fucks you.

"s-soobin. cumming" is all you could say as your orgasm rips through you, making your entire body shake.

soobin has never been more turned on in his life seeing you like this and quickly follows after you with a deep groan.

he releases onto your stomach, cum splattering onto your mouth and chin in the process.

you immediately lick it up while staring deep into his eyes and he shakes his head in disbelief.

"fuck that was amazing" he says slowing down and eventually taking his cock out of you.

you had completely forgotten about why you were so heartbroken and upset before and once you remembered, you really couldn't care less.

the only thought in your mind was soobin.

you knew your friendship would be changed drastically after this, especially after coming to terms with the fact that you might have been in love with your best friend this entire time.

little did you know soobin was laying next to you thinking the exact same thing.

[dragonmuse]

How to be a Dirtbag Fic Writer

I got to do some talking about writing today and I couldn’t stop thinking about it so here are my full thoughts on the matter of being a dirtbag fic writer.

Being the disorganized thoughts of someone two and a half decades into the beautiful mess that is writing fanfic (and a few non-fanfic things too).

What is a dirtbag fic writer? 

 I am talking about someone who is not cleaning up anything. We show up filthy, fresh out of rooting around in the garden of our imaginations. We probably smell a little from work. We will hand you our hard grown fruits, but we have not washed them and we carried them in the bottom upturned parts of our t-shirts. The fruit is a little bruised. It’s not cut up or put in a bowl yet. But we got it in the house! It’s here. Someone can eat it.  

Why dirtbag it? Because the fruit gets in the house. If you’re hemming and hawing, if the idea you want to do seems to be big or you want it perfect and shiny. If you’re imagining a ten thousand step process, so you’re not taking the first step? Dirtbag it. 

How do I dirtbag? 

That’s the best part. You just write. Sit down. One word after the other. No outline, no plan, no destination. No thought of editing. Just word vomit. Every word is a good word. It’a word that wasn’t there before. Grammar sucks? Who cares. Can’t think of the perfect word? Fuck it, put in the simplest version of what you mean. 

Write the idea that you love. The one thing you want to say. Has it been done 3000000 times? WHO CARES human history is long, every idea has been done, probably more than twice. YOU have never written it before. It’s your grubby potato that you clawed out of the ground and guess what someone can still make it into delicious french fries. 

Now here’s the critical part. Write as much as you can squeeze out of your brain. One word in front of the other. 

And then I challenge you this: at most, read it over once and then put it into the world. Just as it is. AND THIS IS IMPORTANT: DO IT WITHOUT APOLOGY OR CAVEAT.  I challenge you, beautiful dirtbag to not pre-emptively apologize. Do not make your work lesser. THAT IS YOUR POTATO! It has eyes and roots and dirt clinging to it because that is what happens.  We are dirtbagging it today. Hell really confused people at do #dirtbagwriter on it.  

Dirtbag writes id, base, lizard brain. Dig in the fertile garden of your imagination. What is the story you tell yourself before you fall asleep? What’s your anxiety this week? Your fantasy? What is going well? What do you wish things looked like? Who is the feral imaginary character you’ve been crafting to take your frustrations and joys out on? 

But, VEE, I wish to have an editor and an outline, use a cool software like scrivener instead of retching up onto a google doc and making it look NICE and PRETTY!

COOL! DO THAT THEN! IF YOU’RE ACTUALLY DOING IT! You should have a process! That’s cool and healthy and necessary for sustainable writing. But if you’re not writing because all of that seems too much? THEN DON’T. 

Did you know fic is free? That we do this from love? From sheer desire? For the love of the game? If you have a process, and the words are flowing, amazing, I love that for you, you don’t need this essay.  If you don’t, let us continue. 

What does dirtbag writing look like? 

It’s messy. It’s a little raw and tatty around the edges sometimes. It’s weird.  It’s someone else’s first draft. Maybe it winds up being your first draft, Idek, that’s your business. 

It’s jokes that make YOU laugh. It’s drama that would make YOU cry if you read it. You are your first commenter. You are your first audience (and possibly continuing pleasure! If you don’t go back and reread your own work sometimes, you might be missing out on one of your favorite authors cause you wrote it for you! Wait until you’re not so close to it. Years sometimes. Then hey, maybe some of this is pretty dang good actually.) 

It has mistakes. 

Dirtbags make mistakes, but dirtbags have published pieces. They have things other people can read out there. 

What if I don’t get good feedback? 

Look, the most likely outcome of any new, untried fic writer (and even established writers trying something new-ish)  is that you get no feedback. That’s real. Silence. It’s eerie, it’s terrible, it sucks. I don’t want to pretend it doesn’t. But nothing is not negative. It’s a big fic-y ocean out there and we are all wee itty-bitty-sometimes-with-titty fishes.  

You should still do it all over again. And again. And again. You get better at writing by writing. You just do. Nothing else replaces it. If your well is dry? Fill it with new things. Go do something new, read a new kind of book, watch a new film,  (libraries have so much good shit, you don’t even have to spend money for so many things if you have a library card), just go for a walk in a new direction. Stimulate yourself. Got a cup of something hot and eavesdrop on conversations. Refill yourself with newness. 

And hey, speaking of, do you leave comments? Because you get what you give. You can build relationships with people by commenting and that builds community and community means places to get feedback in the end. Comments are gold. They are all we are paid in. Tip your writers with ‘extra kudos’ or ‘this made me laugh’. And hey, when you go back for a re-read so you can tell them your favorite part? Ask yourself how they made that favorite part? What do you like about it?  Tone? Metaphor? The structure? Reading teaches us how to write too! 

BUT, okay. Sometimes. Sometimes there is actual bad feedback and people suck. 

You know the best part about being a dirtbag? Unrepentant block, delete, goodbye. You don’t own anyone with a shitty opinion any of your precious time on this earth. You did it for free, you gave them your dirty, but still delicious fruit and they went ‘ew, this is a dirty strawberry, how could you not make a clean tomato?”  Because you didn’t plant fucking tomatoes, did you? Don’t fight, don’t engage. Block. Delete. Goodbye. 

If someone in person, looked you in the eye when you brought them a plate of food to share at a party and they said “Why didn’t you bring me MY favorite? This isn’t cooked well at all.” You would probably write up a Reddit AiTA question about it just to hear five thousand people say they were an asshole.   Fic is no different 

And hey, when you dirtbag it? You know you did. It’s not your most cleaned up perfect version. So who cares what they think? You might make it more shiny and polished next time! You might NOT. 

Ok, but what if I don’t finish it? 

Fuck it, post it anyway. 

What if it’s bad? 

Fuck it, post it anyway. 

What if it doesn’t make sense? 

That’s ART, baby. Fuck it, post it anyway. 

What if what I want to write doesn’t work with current fandom norms? 

Then someone out there probably needs it!  And what the hell is this? The western canon? FUCK IT POST IT ANYWAY* 

*Basic human decency is not a ‘fandom norm’. Don’t be racist, sexist, ableist, fat shaming, classist or shitty about anyone's identity on main, okay? Dirtbag writers are KIND first and foremost. Someone saying you are stepping into shit about their identity is not the same as unsolicited crappy feedback about pairings. In the immortal words of Kurt Vonnegut: "God damn it, you've got to be kind.”

You’re being very flippant about something that’s scary. 

I know. I know I am. I know it can be scary. But no risk, no reward and hell, you aren’t using your goddamn legal name on the internet are you? (please for the love of fuck do not be using your legal name to write fic) You’ve got on a mask. You’re a superhero. With dirt on your cape. 

That niche thing that you think no one cares about? Guaranteed you will find someone else in the world who wants it. Maybe they won’t find it right away. Maybe they will be too shy to comment or even hit a button. But your dirty potato will stick with them. They will make french fries in their head.

You have an audience. But they can’t find you if you have nothing out there. 

Go forth. Make. 

You have some errors in this essay. 

PROBABLY CAUSE I DIRTBAGGED IT.  But I picked this strawberry for you out of my brain, so I hope you run it under some cold water and find the good bits and have a nice snack. Or throw it away. Or use it to plant more strawberries (I know that’s not how strawberries work, metaphors break when stretched).  

#dirtbagwriter 

Go forth and MAKE

[mcdonaldsplayground]

| best friend's brother |

aged up ao’nung x f!reader

summary: ao'nung has always just been your best friend's annoying older brother. at least that's what you tell yourself. but lately he's been moody and far more interested in your love life than he should be. when you discover that he's been playing a role in your failed courtships, you decide to confront him about it.

includes: fluff, swearing, teasing, possessiveness, ao'nung being oblivious🙄

word count: 6.5k

a/n: i am so sorry it took me foreverrrr to write this😵‍💫 it's not great, but it's all i got right now. i have a break from school coming up so hopefully i can catch up on some other fics i've been working on but we will see whether or not i can get over this serious writer's block🥲

“Reya! Reya!” You called, waving your arms erratically as you jogged over, a wide grin decorating your face. Your best friend was standing ankle-deep in the water along with a few of your other friends and the Sully kids. They turned in attention as you splashed toward them, eyebrows raised in amusement.

“[Y/N]! What is it?” Tsireya asked, a matching grin spreading on her face when she noticed your excitement. “Just give me a second, Lo’ak.” She briefly turned her attention back to the Omaticaya boy, indicating that she would return to their conversation later. He flushed slightly, nodding before you grabbed Tsireya’s hand and pulled her to the side. Everyone appeared to go back to their conversation, though you suspected they were going to listen in anyway. You didn’t seem to care.

“Reya!” You squealed, almost unable to get the news out, just smiling and giggling while Tsireya laughed. “You’ll never guess what just happened!”

“Tell me already!” She pleaded, grasping your shoulders as if to ground you.

“Atey’ete just asked me to go out riding with him tomorrow!” It came out in one big breath, your enthusiasm obvious in your tone.

“Oh! That’s great news!” She gasped, bouncing a little. She knew how much this meant to you, considering your history. He was the first guy who’d ever actually approached you with anything more than the intention of friendship, and it felt like your heart was going to explode. While many Metkayina males had shown initial interest in the past, they always seemed to move on quickly, some going as far as to completely avoid you afterward.

“Yes! I can’t believe it!” You laughed, doing a silly little dance that made you and Tsireya burst out laughing. However, the reality of the situation had begun to sink in. Your smile faltered. “I’m kind of nervous, Reya.” You bit your lip, suddenly thinking about how inexperienced you were in this area. Tsireya put her hand on your arm.

“What for?” Her eyes were reassuring, and you softened a little. “It’s obvious that he likes you, [Y/N]. He’s been staring at you with hearts for eyes for weeks now!”

“No way!” You let out a breathy laugh, blushing deeply.

“I agree. There’s no way that’s true.” Tsireya’s older brother, Ao’nung, suddenly inserted himself in your conversation, moving to stand closer to you with that perpetual smirk of his. “Atey’ete is a warrior. He’s looking for a potential mate, not a stupid fling.” His words made your heart sink in your chest, your excitement ebbing away.

“Ao’nung!” Tsireya chastised, glaring daggers at the boy. “Just because you haven’t found a mate yet doesn’t mean you need to take out your frustration on [Y/N]!” She hissed. Though it was brief, you could have sworn you saw a pointed look pass between the siblings, indicating Tsireya’s words were about more than just Ao’nung teasing you. You shrugged it off as something that didn’t involve you.

“Just saying.” Ao’nung shrugged, putting his hands up in surrender; ever the cool and unbothered warrior. Eywa forbid anyone see him display an emotion other than that smooth self-confidence. It made you roll your eyes, but you were used to it. Growing up as Tsireya’s best friend just happened to come with the added factor of dealing with her brother. As a kid, he had simply been an annoyance, someone who found joy in pestering you and his sister. But growing up, and specifically completing his Iknimaya, had changed him. It was like he stopped having a personality in favour of being what you and Tsireya secretly called 'King Ao’nung' because everyone seemed to fall at the feet of the future Olo’eyktan despite his bad attitude.

“Why don’t you just go stare at your muscles in the reflection of the water?” You quipped, trying your best to seem nonchalant about the conversation. You liked how much it seemed to get under his skin when you acted like you didn’t care.

“Whatever.” He scoffed, turning to stalk back over to Rotxo and Lo’ak. You sighed, turning your gaze back to your friend. “King Ao’nung strikes again.” The two of you burst out laughing for a second time, and it was easy to feel at least a little better.

“Why don’t we go back to my marui?” Tsireya suggested. “Dinner will be soon anyway, and we can talk more about your date without my pest of a brother interrupting.” She said the last part loudly, shooting a hard look over her shoulder at the tall Metkayina. He just narrowed his eyes, holding his stare even as the two of you began to walk away. You could feel his eyes practically boring through your back. It made your stomach flip.

“What’s his problem?” You muttered when you were out of ear shot, briefly looking back once more to try and decipher why on earth Ao’nung still looked so agitated. Beside you, Tsireya nervously tucked her hair behind her ear. She only did that when she had a secret, which intrigued you.

“He’s just grouchy because he hasn’t found a mate yet and our parents keep asking about it. I think it’s stressing him out.” She explained. You frowned, eyebrows furrowing.

“Fine, but he could seriously have anyone he wants. Even without his status in the clan, pretty much everyone is drooling over him. It’s gross.” You said, making a face. For some reason a knot formed in your stomach when you thought about the way some girls fawned over him. You quickly tried to forget about the feeling.

“Yes… But my parents keep suggesting potential mates and trying to set things up for him, which he doesn’t like. He has someone in mind already, but he’s convinced she doesn’t like him.” She confessed, looking around as if someone might be listening. Your face felt hot suddenly, but you didn’t understand why.

“Who is it?”

“I promised I wouldn’t tell.”

“Oh come on, Reya! It’s not like I have anyone else to tell anyway! I’ll keep my mouth shut, I promise.” You pleaded, feeling an involuntary urge to get the information out of her.

“I’m sorry- I can’t say. It’s a really sore subject for him and he’d kill me if anyone else knew.” Your best friend looked genuinely apologetic, and your heart sunk. It wasn’t like her to keep anything from you- even big secrets- but you decided not to pry. The thought of Ao’nung finding out and getting mad at Tsireya was not something you wanted to be the cause of. Still, you found yourself aching to know who he had his eye on. In all the time you had been around him, he’d never shown much romantic interest in anyone, so the mystery seemed impossible to even attempt to figure out.

“So… Atey’ete, huh?” Tsireya changed the subject, nudging you with an elbow and a small grin. You allowed yourself to fall into the easy conversation concerning your crush, hoping it would help you stop thinking about your best friend’s stupid older brother.

The next day seemed to drag on forever as your long-awaited date with Atey'ete approached. The two of you had agreed to meet on the beach a little bit before sunset, and though it was nearly dinner time, it felt like you still had years to wait.

"Ugh." You huffed quietly, fingers becoming tangled in one of the fishing nets you were helping Tsireya mend. You normally weren't too bad at weaving, but your nerves were getting the better of you. Tsireya giggled.

"Why don't we leave this for tomorrow and go get some dinner?" She suggested, offering you a sympathetic smile, though laughter danced in her eyes. You smiled back in spite of yourself, allowing a small laugh to escape your lips.

"Yes please." You wasted no time in dropping the half-fixed net and hastily cleaning up the area. Nothing was going to take your nervousness away, but Ronal's cooking had a particularly good effect on you even at the worst of times. You could have sworn you ate with Tsireya's family more often than your own.

As the two of you approached Tsireya's marui, you noticed Ao'nung leaning with his back against the outside wall, arms crossed and sporting his usual impassive expression. If you didn't know any better, you might have thought he was on the lookout for you and his sister.

"You know your friends aren't around, right? You can drop the whole 'I'm better than everyone else' act." You said, wanting to distract yourself from your flip-flopping stomach. Over the years you had learned that the best form of amusement came from riling Ao'nung up. When his ears flicked back in annoyance, you bit back a satisfied smirk. However, he was able to ignore the dig.

"Didn't think you'd be here tonight. Aren't you going to be late for a really lame date?" He asked coolly. Now it was your turn to be annoyed.

"Aren't you going to be late finding someone to be your mate? Oh wait..." You trailed off, pleased with such a quick and biting comeback. Something dark passed over his face before he narrowed his eyes.

"Very funny. Are you just bitter because he bailed on you?"

"We're not even doing anything until later, so keep dreaming." That was the best you could come up with as a slight inner panic seized you, amplifying your worry that Atey'ete would indeed bail on your date later. Similar occurrences in the past were enough reason to validate that, and Ao'nung knew it. In fact, most people seemed to know of your inability to be first choice. It stung, but you hurriedly swallowed the hurt, practiced in not thinking about it for too long.

"Grow up, brother." Tsireya finally said, shaking her head at him as you followed her past him and inside the marui. You heard him scoff behind you as he also ducked inside, the three of you taking your typical places among Ronal and Tonowari so you could eat together.

"What are the three of you bickering about this time?" Tonowari asked, an easy smile on his face.

Ao'nung was quick to answer. "I was just advising [Y/N] not to waste her time courting unworthy men." You and Tsireya rolled your eyes, holding in laughter. Ao'nung had a habit of talking himself up, especially to his father, and this time was no different. You didn't know how it was even possible to twist his snarky quips into something so dignified, but he always managed.

"Oh? And who is this unworthy man you are courting, [Y/N]?" Ronal gave you a knowing look, seeing through at least some of her son's thinly veiled attempt at saving face. You blushed deeply.

"Well, first, we definitely aren't courting," You started. "Atey'ete and I are just going out riding later."

"Oh! He's such a handsome boy!" Ronal exclaimed, nodding in approval.

"And an excellent young warrior." Tonowari chimed in, winking at you. You flushed again, fidgeting nervously with your fingers. Ronal continued to go on about your date, telling a story about some errand he had helped her with once, but it became difficult to pay her your full attention when you noticed the sour look that had settled on Ao'nung's face. In a matter of seconds, his self-assuredness had been replaced by intense irritation, his narrowed eyes downcast while he uncharacteristically picked over his food. You'd never seen him look so angry, and found yourself confused at how the topic of conversation had such an effect on him.

"Son?" Tonowari broke both of you out of your separate stupors, waiting patiently for Ao'nung to answer the clearly unheard question. The younger male carefully schooled his expression into something at least sort of neutral looking.

"Huh?"

"I was asking why you don't think Atey'ete would make a suitable mate for [Y/N]?"

Ao'nung suddenly choked on the bite of food he had just placed in his mouth, coughing as his eyed widened in shock. You were also rather shocked at Tonowari's question, though you hid it much better.

"M-mate?" Ao'nung finally managed, no longer coughing but still wearing the same stunned expression. "Don't you think it's a bit soon to be thinking about that? I mean, they probably haven't even talked to each other more than once!" His tone was laced with discontent.

"Well, you all are getting to an age where finding a mate is a priority. Even the beginnings of a courtship are to be taken seriously, Ao'nung." Ronal said patiently, though you could tell there was a double-meaning behind it, a bit more pressure to place on the shoulders of the eventual clan leader. You didn't think it was possible, but he looked even more annoyed than before.

"I know that. I was just saying I don't think they would be a good match." He grumbled. "I'm finished." He excused himself and quickly stood up before stalking outside. There was a tense moment of silence before Ronal spoke up.

"Please excuse him, [Y/N]. He has been having a hard time lately."

"Of course." You said politely, dipping your head down in understanding, though you were secretly perplexed and somewhat irked by his moodiness. You spent the rest of dinner no longer plagued by nervousness concerning Atey'ete, but rather entirely consumed by puzzling over Ao'nung and his strange behaviour.

After dinner you received a brief pep talk from Tsireya and an encouraging hug from Ronal before you set off to meet with Atey'ete. However, you couldn't seem to shake the conversation that had come up earlier. Ao'nung's childishness was confounding, certainly, but as you rapidly approached the date you’d once been over the moon excited about, you couldn't help but think of what Ronal and Tonowari had said about courting. They claimed that at your age it was serious- like had the potential to become mates serious- and that scared you more than you would like to admit. You'd spent so long being rejected by your male peers that when Atey'ete had approached you with interest, his ultimate intention never even crossed your mind. Why shouldn't I still be excited? You thought, trying to think of any logical reason as to why you were suddenly doubting this. Atey'ete was kind and thoughtful, funny and handsome; not to mention a well-respected member of the clan. If he was interested in you, why would you jeopardize it without reason?

As you waged your internal war, you grew increasingly annoyed, particularly at the fact that you kept picturing Ao'nung's face in the middle of it all. The way his lips curled into a frown at dinner. The spark of fire behind his eyes when the two of you had been trading insults beforehand. You wanted to bash a rock into your head to stop thinking about him. It wasn't even relevant to your current predicament! Ao'nung just had an infuriating ability to take up residence on your mind. So you decided to stop thinking entirely, becoming laser-focused on getting to the meeting place and not letting your mind wander anymore.

At first you were able to tell yourself that you were just early. The sky had only just become tinted an orangey pink when you arrived on the smooth stretch of white sand, finding a stray rock to sit and wait on. You had agreed to meet around sunset. It wasn't like it was an exact time.

When that excuse became irrelevant, you came up with the idea that Atey'ete was just running a little late. The sun was sinking closer and closer to the horizon line, the sky beginning to twist into hues of purple and darker blue. He led a busy life. He'd probably been caught up hunting later than usual.

But when the stars finally blinked into existence and the last sliver of light disappeared under the gentle ocean waves, you began to cry. It wasn't voluntary, and you tried to stop, but your efforts were in vain and you eventually allowed yourself to just stare at the waves lapping on the sand as hot tears trailed silently down your cheeks.

What was it about you that was so undesirable? And why did guys feel the need not only to reject you, but to rub salt in the wound by giving you hope in the first place? Whatever string that was holding you together seemed to fall away, your heart bleeding out of your chest onto your hands and legs and into the sand. You felt massacred in all but physical body, and you vowed that this would be your last heartbreak. Even spending the rest of your days alone seemed a better fate than this.

"I told you he was going to bail." You jumped at the suddenness of the low voice behind you, but instantly clocked who it was. Hostility and rage bubbled underneath your skin as you whipped your head around, baring your teeth in a silent hiss.

"Fuck off, Ao'nung!" You barked, not missing the brief worry that crossed his features as he assessed your condition. "You're the last person I want to talk to right now!"

"Really? I thought Atey'ete would be up higher on that list." He quirked an eyebrow.

"Don't be all King Ao'nung right now. I'm not in the mood for that version of you." You snipped, staring hard at him. He knew of the nickname you and Tsireya had for him, but he seemed surprised to hear you say it directly to him. It was usually a funny little joke, but all you wanted to do was direct your hurt onto someone else, and he happened to be the perfect target.

"Alright," His expression softened into something you hadn't seen in a long time. Something like pity. Maybe even something like empathy. "I'll be nice Ao'nung, then." He tentatively sat down beside you, his leg just barely touching yours. You tried to ignore the buzzing feeling that ignited in your stomach at the near contact.

"I didn't know nice Ao'nung still existed." You scoffed, pulling your knees up to your chest and wrapping your arms around them, resting your chin on top of them as you fixed your gaze on the dark ocean in front of you. He was still staring at you.

"Nobody wants a soft clan leader, [Y/N]."

"Being nice and being soft are two different things."

"Maybe."

"Do you really think that people won't respect you if you drop the walls you've built around yourself?"

"You don't know what it's like."

"No, I don't. But I do know what it's like to look up to you. To watch as you try to live up to your birthright." Your eyes flicked back to meet his, surprised by the vulnerability etched on his face. You hadn't realized how much you missed the boy you once knew. "I know it's not easy to be under so much pressure, but you don't have to change yourself to fit into some mold of the perfect little prince." You held each other's gaze in silence for a short time before a smile crept onto Ao'nung's lips.

"When did you become so wise?" He asked, nudging you gently.

"I've always been wise, skxawng. You just never cared to notice." You teased, still unsmiling but feeling slightly better. Something about this real version of him set you at ease. Something about him made you feel good, even if you wouldn’t admit it.

"I notice more about you than you think..." He mumbled, the words barely audible to you. You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion, sure that you heard him wrong.

"What?"

"I asked how long you've looked up to me for." He lied, trying to divert the conversation back a bit, a slight blush appearing on his cheeks. You studied him with narrowed eyes for a few seconds before deciding to let it go. You were actually kind of enjoying the deep conversation.

"Since always, I guess." You shrugged. "You may have been Tsireya's annoying older brother, but you also used to be thoughtful. And funny."

"I'm not funny anymore?"

"Don't push it." You said, eliciting a deep chuckle from Ao'nung. You smiled a bit in spite of yourself. "I just mean that you weren't going to become the Olo'eyktan one day just because of who your parents are. I always thought you were meant to be a great leader. Because of who you are. Because you care about everyone way more than you let on."

"Don't push it." He mimicked, this time making both of you laugh.

"Just stop being such a jerk, alright? Then maybe it won't be so hard to find a girl to like you." You grinned at him, ignoring the dull ache in your chest that your words incited. Ao'nung, however, quickly dropped his smile and fixed his gaze to the ground. It only lasted a few seconds before he changed the subject, but you felt stupid for calling him a jerk.

"Are you okay?" He asked, catching you off guard. You'd become so wrapped up in the current conversation that you forgot what originally brought you there in the first place.

"Oh- a-about the whole date thing?" You let out a breathy laugh, disappointed to be returning to such a sore subject. Thankfully it didn't hurt quite so bad anymore, though. "Yeah, no, definitely! I didn't actually care too much anyway so... It's, um, it's whatever." You internally cringed at your attempt to sound nonchalant. Ao'nung clearly wasn't buying it, but he didn't seem to want to push it.

"He's a douche anyway." Ao'nung said. "Trust me, you don't want to be going out with him."

"I guess..." You trailed off, biting your lip as you felt a sudden boldness take hold of you. You knew he was just trying to make you feel better, but you couldn't hold back on what you were truly wanting to know. "Look, you're a guy, do you know what's wrong with me?"

"What?"

"I mean, there has to be something seriously off-putting or undesirable about me. We both know this isn't the first time I've been stood up. I just want to know what it is about me." The words came out rushed as your grew embarrassed about voicing your deepest insecurities, and to Ao'nung, nonetheless. He looked a little pale as he stared at you, searching your eyes.

"You think there's something wrong with you?" He breathed, sounding more like he was asking a rhetorical question than a real one. He seemed to be rapidly working something out in his head.

"Well, yeah. I know I'm not exactly the prettiest or the most talented woman in the clan, but after a while you get the impression that something's off when everyone else is getting into successful relationships but you. Guys barely even look at me anymore." You admitted, still regretting the conversation topic but pushing through anyway.

"Oh, shit." Ao'nung whispered under his breath, suddenly standing. You couldn't read his expression anymore as it became more complex, not to mention confusing. You knew it was an awkward thing to talk about, but this reaction seemed a little extreme.

"Where are you going?" You called after him as he began to rush away in the direction of his marui, appalled that he was leaving so abruptly. His answer was too quick and quiet for you to make out, so you just sat in stunned silence for a moment, watching as he eventually disappeared from sight. "Okay. Nice chat." You said, pressing your lips together, unsure of what to do next. And for the umpteenth time that day, you found yourself focused on thoughts of your best friend's brother, trying to fit another seemingly impossible piece of the Ao'nung puzzle together.

“[Y/N]!” Tsireya called upon catching sight of you. She quickly apologized to the group of friends she’d been standing with and took off toward you, catching up easily. You were on your way to mend some more fishing nets, and you didn’t slow down even as she fell into step with you. “Hey! Where have you been this morning? I couldn’t find you and I was about to force Lo’ak to start helping me search!” She laughed. Her easy joyfulness was infectious, but you had to settle for a small smile as the best you could do in response. You were still trying to work out your complex web of feelings from the night before, something you’d spent all morning avoiding everyone to do. You wanted to talk to her about it, but it felt impossible to lay out clearly.

“Sorry, Reya,” You apologized, offering her a sincere look. “I just needed some time on my own to think.”

“Oh… Things didn’t go as planned last night then?” She asked gently. You sighed, shaking your head before a breathy laugh escaped your lips.

“Definitely not. Unless you count being stood up again as a plan. Which I guess maybe I should have. It happens enough.”

“[Y/N]…”

“It’s okay, really, I’m used to it. Besides, your brother of all people came to the rescue.”

“W-what? Ao’nung was there?”

“Yes. I have no clue what he was doing out there, but we ended up talking for a while.” You explained, carefully examining her reaction. While she looked mostly surprised, there was something different, like worry, behind her eyes.

“What did you talk about?” Her response felt strangely eager, like she was looking for you to say something specific.

“Mostly him, actually. I finally had the guts to tell him off for acting like a jerk sometimes.” You started, briefly chuckling at the memory. “But then it got really weird. He was trying to make me feel better about Atey’ete, but I couldn’t stop myself from asking him what’s wrong with me… Y’know, because he’s a guy and I thought maybe he would know.”

“And? What did he say?”

“Nothing, really. He got really pale and started acting like he was in trouble or something. Just got up and left. Like I said, weird.”

“Oh.” Was all she said, her brows furrowed as if deep in thought.

“Yeah. And do you know what’s really crazy?” You went on, unable to stop yourself from expressing the thoughts you’d been obsessing over all morning. “What’s insane is that I got stood up again and all I’ve been thinking about since is your stupid brother, just trying to figure him out. And even worse? When I do think about Atey’ete, I feel... relieved,” You were full-on ranting now as Tsireya watched with wide eyes. “I’ve been trying all morning to understand it, but I’m just relieved that Atey’ete didn’t show up. And I haven’t been letting myself even consider it, but I think- I think it might be because of Ao’nung.” You finally said, almost shocked that you admitted it out loud. The two of you stopped walking as a charged silence filled the air.

“Ao’nung likes you too!” Tsireya suddenly blurted before quickly slapping her hand over her mouth in horror of the admittance. You froze, eyebrows shooting skyward as you felt the world around you come to a slow halt. The only thing you could manage to process was the slow blinking eyes of your best friend as she searched your face. “I shouldn’t have said that but it just came out.”

“What are you talking about?” You whispered in disbelief. She stared at you for a few more second before sighing, resigning herself to an explanation.

“I think it’s time you know, anyway.” She started. “Ao’nung’s the one who scares off any guy who shows interest in you. He used to claim it was because they weren’t good enough for you, but I finally got him to admit otherwise a few months ago. He likes you, [Y/N]. A lot. But he’s so dumb and won’t believe me when I tell him that you like him back-”

“Woah. I don’t think I would say that.” You interrupted, though a bloom of heat rushed to your face at the accusation. Tsireya just gave you a look, quirking one eyebrow.

“You may be able to hide it from yourself, but you can’t hide it from me.” She stated. “I hear the way you talk about him when you’re not on your guard. And I definitely don’t miss the way you stare at him when you think he’s not looking.”

The realization felt like a blow to the chest. She was right, after all. You had once acknowledged your crush on the boy before pushing it far down out of sight when you thought he could never see you that way. You figured you would always just be Tsireya’s annoying best friend in his eyes.

“Even if I do,” You reluctantly admitted. “That’s still crazy. He’s been scaring guys away instead of just asking me out?” You were just now processing the whole story, going back through every heartbreak and every time you thought something was wrong with you with the new knowledge that Ao’nung was behind it.

“Yeah, I know. I kept trying to tell him how badly it was going to blow up in his face, but he’s so stubborn.”

“Since when?” You changed the course of the conversation out of the blue, but Tsireya was quick to follow along with what you were asking.

“Since he completed his Iknimaya. But he’s been in love with you since we were kids, [Y/N]. He’s absolutely terrible at expressing it, clearly, but it’s true. I don’t think he’s ever even considered anyone else.”

Again, her words landed like a punch to the gut, though it mildly annoyed you that the feeling was less painful and more relieving, your stomach doing excited little flips at the thought of Ao’nung seeing you the same way you saw him. You had to work to reign in the giddiness racing through you. Ao’nung still had to face the consequences of being a total moron, after all.

“I’m going to talk to him.” You decided, looking to Tsireya to agree. She nodded her head.

"Good. I think he's just getting ready to go out hunting, so you'd better hurry." She gently pushed you in the direction of the reef. As you started to jog away she called, "Don't let him off easy, okay?" And a laugh escaped your lips.

"I definitely won't!" You assured her, though you knew it was going to be difficult considering the giddy excitement coursing through your veins.

Luckily, he was still on shore when the reef came into your view, looking to be repairing one of the fishing spears before he set off with the other hunters. You slowed to a walk as you approached, and he only looked up when you were mere feet away from where he sat in the sand. Your shadow fell over him and your crossed your arms as he looked up and met your eyes, doing your best to look at least a little mad.

"[Y/N], what are you-"

"Why did you scare Atey'ete into ditching me?" You questioned calmly, narrowing your eyes and shoving down a smirk as panic took over his features. The hunters who were in the vicinity went silent, turning their attention to you and Ao'nung. "Actually, I'd also like to know why you've done that to every guy whose ever been interested in me."

"W-what- How did you..." He trailed off, trying desperately to find the right words as he squirmed under your gaze. "Did Tsireya tell you that?" He seemed to finally come to his senses, looking around at all the amused eyes fixed on him. He quickly stood up and grabbed your hand, tugging you to a spot out of view of the others. The contact between your hands was like a spark of electricity, briefly making you forget why you were supposed to be mad at him. The momentary amnesia doubled when he stepped closer to you, staring urgently into your eyes.

"How did you find out?" He asked, bringing you back to reality as he let go of your hand. You shivered at the loss of contact.

"Doesn't matter. Just tell me why." You said quietly, not missing the way his expression shifted into one of chagrin. It almost made you laugh to see him looking so uncharacteristically sheepish, but you maintained your composure.

"I don't know." Was all he said, unable to meet your eyes anymore, kicking at the sand beneath his feet like a child. Your jaw tightened at his lame response. Now you really were annoyed with him.

"Okay, fine." You scoffed, turning to go. You weren't expecting him to be so guarded, and it hurt to know that he wasn't willing to admit his feelings for you even when you were so blatantly offering him the chance.

"Wait!" You felt his fingers wrap around your wrist, igniting that familiar spark of electricity again as he pulled you back before you could get too far. You turned to face him again, letting your disappointment show on your face. "I'm sorry," He sighed, shaking his head as if figuring out what to say next.

"Just forget about it, okay? You're clearly still too busy being King Ao'nung to take me seriously." You wanted to run away and hide for the rest of the day. Maybe the rest of your life. Tsireya seemed to have overstated his feelings for you, and it was hurting more with every passing second. The only thing still keeping you there was Ao'nung's gentle grip on your arm.

"I do take you seriously. And I want to talk to you- I just never know what to say."

"Well you could start with a genuine apology."

"I'm sorry," He stepped slightly closer, forcing you to tilt your chin up to meet his gaze. Your heart sped up. "I really am. And I know you have no reason to believe me because I've been acting like a jerk lately. And you have no reason to forgive me, either. It was really fucked up of me to do that- to threaten guys who were interested in you. I was always so jealous at how easily they got you to like them, and I wished you would look at me the way you looked at them, even just for a second. But I didn't want to hurt you, [Y/N]. I swear," A pained expression took over his face, and he shifted his grip on your hand so that your fingers were laced together. Warmth bled through his touch and set you at ease. "Last night was the first time I realized how badly it was affecting you. I always assumed you didn't care that much because you never showed it, but I realize now that was a stupid assumption. I was selfish, and I'm really, really sorry."

You stared into his blown pupils, not saying anything for a while as you processed his words. Since your original plan had been derailed, you had to work out what to do next.

"I wasn't mad when I got here." You said, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. Ao'nung furrowed his eyebrows. "I mean, I was a little bit. I wasn't about to let you off for basically making me think I was unlovable for a while there." You smiled wider as Ao'nung cringed slightly. "But I wasn't mad because I was actually just relieved. Because for some Eywa forsaken reason I have this insane crush on you that I've been trying to get over for years, and even though I would never admit it, every time I got stood up I felt relieved that I wouldn't have to settle for someone I could never love." His eyes widened at your confession, and you wondered if he could hear how loudly your heart was beating.

"Oh Eywa, [Y/N], I'm so sorry that I made you think-"

"Are you seriously not taking your chance right now? I'm starting to doubt how much Tsireya told me you liked me..." You said, holding in a laugh as his eyes widened yet again. For a future Olo'eyktan, he was really dumb sometimes.

But all it took was that push from you and he was kissing you. Softly, at first, almost like he felt you were going to break, but when you fell into his body and wrapped your arms around his neck, he became more desperate, tugging gently at your bottom lip. His warm hands rested on your waist, pulling you flush against him. It could have been seconds or days before you pulled apart, panting and grinning like fools.

"Tsireya didn't exaggerate," He started, resting his forehead against yours as his thumbs caressed your sides. "I like you so, so much. I just never thought you'd feel the same. I always figured you just saw me as your best friend's older brother." He admitted and you chuckled.

"I thought you just saw me as your sister's best friend." This time the both of you laughed softly before he placed a quick kiss against your lips again.

"I see you." He whispered, and suddenly the world around you diminished, leaving only Ao'nung in front of you. You could hear the blood rushing in your ears and feel the slightly quickened heartbeat inside his chest, the points of contact between you like pieces of a puzzle fitting perfectly together.

"I see you." You finally said back, completely enraptured by the way he was staring at you, like you were the only person in the entire universe in that moment. You stood like that together for who knows how long, occasionally exchanging sweet kisses and blushing grins.

Finally, you decided to say something, "So how many guys did you have to threaten to stay away from me? Was it like, just a few, or are we talking about more of a whole line up?"

"Oh, please." He grinned, shaking his head as the two of you laughed.

"I'm just trying to make up for some lost self-esteem over the years, okay?" You chuckled, offering him a mischievous look.

"Alright, I get it. I probably deserve the guilt trip." He smiled, holding his hands up. "But I don't think you have anything to worry about when it comes to guys wanting you." He admitted, looking slightly annoyed at the thought. You gasped dramatically.

"So it was a whole line up! You must have been busy keeping them all away from me." You said proudly, earning an eye roll from him.

"Don't let it go to your head. Besides, it doesn't matter anyway."

"And why's that?"

"Because now you're mine." He hummed, suddenly using his loose grip on your waist to pull you closer and place his lips on yours once again. You smiled into the kiss. Maybe all that rejection was worth it after all.

[bishopsbeloved]

the art of falling in love (part five)

natasha romanoff x fem reader

best friend!yelena belova, aroace!yelena belova, internalised homophobia, found family trope, coming of age, angst, fluff (eventual happy ending)

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five (16.3k words) | epilogue

read this fic on ao3!

Death was first explained to you and Yelena when you were six; Yelena’s favourite of her mother’s pigs passed away, and you were both called in from playing outside to be sat down gravely.

“Girls… Wilbur the piggy has, ah, passed away,” Alexi told you. You stared back at him blankly.

“Do you know what that means?” added Melina more gently.

“Uh… Peter from class said his mom and dad passed away,” Yelena offered after a few moments. “And it means that, like, he can’t see them ever again, so he lives with his aunt now.”

“Yes!” said Alexi enthusiastically, before catching himself and adding in a much more solemn tone, “I mean, ah, yes… very sad. Not good.”

Melina looked at him sternly and he fell silent. “You are right, Yelena. When someone passes away, it means they are no longer with us.”

“Like when you go to the store?”

“No. When I go to the store I am always coming back, да? Passing away is permanent, and it means you never see them again.”

“Oh. But I like Wilbur,” said Yelena sadly, and you nodded in agreement.

“That is what makes life all the more precious,” Melina told you gently. “You never know when someone may pass away — only that everybody will, someday. So you must enjoy the time you have with them, my darlings, and never take it for granted.”

As the years went on and the two of you began to understand what death actually means, that first introduction to it became somewhat of a running joke between you and Yelena (because how else can humans deal with such a terrifying concept as death? You can choose to either laugh or cry, and Yelena will always choose to laugh); the idea of someone passing away will often be referred to as going to the store. For example, Alexi is probably the sole man responsible for the entirety of Ohio state’s roadkill — neither you nor Yelena can remember a car journey with him in the wheel during which some unfortunate creature has not stumbled into his path and suffered fatally for that mistake. Every time it happens, without fail, Yelena will turn around eagerly in her seat or poke her head out of the window and assess the damage before gravely announcing, “That one is definitely not coming back from store.”

It’s a euphemism that can be used in any situation — and often is, actually. Whenever the TV signal packs up (as it often does in such a rural town as your own) and the Kardashians begin to cut out awkwardly, Yelena will throw down the remote and shout in frustration “Ma! The fork thingy on the roof has gone store again,” and Melina will know exactly what she means. Or whenever your history teacher Mr Fury hobbles into class, who is so old he looks like he’s witnessed half the events he teaches you, Yelena will nudge you and whisper “he is close to store’s doorstep now, eh?” Et cetera, et cetera. The phrase gets used often.

You feel silly for your mind wandering to those words, given the circumstances. But all you can think of right now is your overwhelming hopes and prayers that Liho has not gone to the store — and that neither has your bond with Yelena. As for Natasha… well, recent times have been a cruel wake-up call.

It’s been a few hours since Melina left with the cat, and the only text you’ve gotten from her since then says cat in surgery now. Yelena has barricaded herself in your shared room — her room now, you think miserably to yourself. You have never, ever seen her so upset, not in your whole life. You don’t think you’ve ever even argued with her, outside of your usual half-hearted play wrestles. But now she’s shouted at you through your thick heavy door, a solid wall between you, putting miles between the two of you but still not enough distance to lessen the brutality of the words she hurls at you from the other side of it. Words you can’t think of for too long or tears will begin to brim in your eyes all over again. Words which you know you deserve, but ones you never thought you’d hear your best friend say to you.

Now you sit uncomfortably stiff on the couch, feeling like a stranger in the home you’ve grown up in, the silence threatening to suffocate you. You feel almost like a prisoner in your body, unable to move as you relieve the last few hours over and over in your head. There’s no doubt in your mind that Yelena is right. You are an awful person. If you weren’t, if you were better, maybe Natasha would still want you, instead of casting you aside once you began to bore her. Maybe if you were better you’d have been sensible or strong enough to not sneak around with her at all. But you’re not, and now you’ve broken apart a family you weren’t even worthy of in the first place.

Natasha is sat in the armchair opposite you, legs curled beneath her, nursing her bloody nose. Her gaze has been fixed on you for the indeterminable amount of time you’ve both been sat here, but you are too exhausted to care. For once, you have much, much bigger problems than her feelings.

Eventually, she speaks, more subdued than usual. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” Your voice doesn’t sound like yours. It’s somewhere else, someone else’s, far away.

“For…” She hesitates. Like there’s something she doesn’t want to say out loud. “For not, uh. For treating you badly.”

Well, that’s not really what you expected her to say.

Your silence prompts her to flounder further. “I just— I don’t, well, I can’t really explain a lot, but I— I know I messed up. You deserved better. And I’m sorry.”

And you’re so done with her, and so little of yourself is left now that you simply stand up and walk away.

Natasha doesn’t even call after you, just kind of makes this sad and defeated little noise that makes your heart hurt. You know it would just ache even more if you turned around again, though. So you don’t. You walk the hall for a few aimless moments before your feet carry you to the only person currently home who you still have a dependable relationship with — Alexi.

His workshop, as he calls it, is adjoined to the kitchen; a tiny wooden door which he has to bend himself double to fit through, leading to the garage. This has been his space for as long as you can remember. You have no idea how he moves with such ease through it when it’s like a maze to you — huge chunks of greasy half-repaired machinery everywhere, cluttered workbenches and racks of tools and shelves of liquids labelled in his indecipherable Russian scrawl. He often has the tiny tin portable perched on a shelf squeaking out radio shows in his mothertongue which he guffaws merrily at, but as you enter now the room is peacefully quiet, save for Alexi’s disjointed hums of a thousand songs in one and the little chink noises the piece of metal he’s working on makes every time he hits it, slowly bending it into shape.

“Ah, привет! Good evening, daughter,” he says cheerfully, without even turning around as you creep up barefoot behind him. He doesn’t say anything more, and neither do you, for a while; you opt to simply sink down onto one of the wooden stools littered about the place and watch Alexi absently while he works. This doesn’t faze him at all. On the occasions where Yelena was busy without you as a kid, you would do this very thing. Alexi would simply chuckle at you and ruffle your hair with a large bearish hand, oftentimes leaving behind little smudges of black motor oil in it. You’re still in your prom outfit, though, with your hair done up intricately, so tonight he stops himself in time.

“Do you think Liho will be okay?” you ask after a while, in a very small voice.

“Oh, да,” he replies, without hesitation. Even with his back to you as he tinkers busily you can hear the sincerity in his tone. “Yes, yes. Think of what that kitty has been through already, eh? When you found him he was doing worse than that. He is, uh, tough meat. A fighter.”

Seeing Alexi so placid and unshaken in the face of tonight’s events is strangely calming and you nod, soothed by his words, before another thought strikes you. “Oh… but the vet bills.”

Alexi lets out a low but not unkind laugh. “Ah, не будь глупым, you worry so much. We will figure those out. Melina is a sly fox, has money tucked away in hidey-holes, eh?”

“But— I mean —” You twitch uncomfortably, and Alexi seems to finally cotton onto what it is that you’re really worried about. He sets down his tools with his usual gentleness, which never fails to look foreign on such a giant of a man, and turns to look at you.

“You are member of this family,” he tells you. “No matter what Yelena say. She is angry, sure, but it will blow over, eh? You love the silly little fur man, and we do too. So if these bills will help him of course we will pay it. There is no need for worry.”

“But I ruined everything,” you say quietly.

He laughs again. “Nonsense. You have not ruined any of the things, голубка.”

“But… your date night. And— Natasha,” you hiccup.

“We have date nights all the time, подсолнух, there will be others. And Natasha… well, me and your mama are knowing this for long time. Yelena will be coming round also, eventually. We will figure this all out, we are a family. She is your sister. All of the things will be okay. None of them are ruined.”

And you can’t help but cry at that, at his earnest sincerity, his certainty that things will work out — and because you love him, and he is your family. You tell him so through choked sobs, and he just looks at you softly before wrapping you into a petrol-scented bear hug, prom outfit be damned.

Maybe he’s right. Maybe everything will be okay.

Yelena sinks into another episode over the following days. She does nothing much but sit, a vacant look in her eyes, devoid of any feeling, and stare for hours at a time as though seeing something that the rest of you cannot. She has no words left to give, and drifts around on autopilot, only performing basic functional tasks when prompted to — as if they’re an afterthought. Seeing her like this wracks you with guilt in a way none of her episodes have before, because for the first time you know with a crushing certainty that this is because of you. You offer countless times to return to your parents’ house across the road, the residents of which you haven’t conversed with in months, but Alexi and Melina dismiss this as if it’s the silliest idea in the world.

“You are family,” Melina tells you firmly. “Fights happen, да? You stay.”

Even if you’re still welcome in the house you’re certainly not welcome in your usual room. Natasha offers to put you up in hers but drops this very quickly after the look that you give her, so instead a section of the loft is cleared for you. You and Alexi spend a merry Sunday together in his workshop assembling a bedframe for your new space, only to discover once you’ve made it upstairs that it’s actually too large to fit through the attic hatch, so you have to take it to bits to get it up there and then rebuild it all over again. (It doesn’t really matter though, because Alexi is so bemused by the whole thing and his own oversights that it’s impossible to be frustrated at the setback. He just grins so goofily.) When Yelena is in the shower you sneak back into her room to gather as many of your belongings as you can and begin to turn the little space into yours. Melina brings home some fairy lights from the store, you order some posters online and within a week or so you’ve organised yourself a very cozy nest amongst the mess of the loft.

Even now you’ve moved in, over half of the room is still piled high with boxes of various things and piles of junk and the distinct, cloth-draped, dust-gathering shapes of Alexi’s abandoned projects (which he insists on keeping on the basis that he might need them someday, much to Melina’s theatrical chagrin). The various artefacts throughout the room create a kind of ever-changing maze, and you remember playing up here with Yelena when the two of you were kids and it was too cold to play outside — for you, anyway, being someone who’s grown up in a relatively warm American state. To this day Yelena often scorns you for your inability to tolerate any kind of cold, and reminds you of the climates the rest of the family has lived in.

Thinking of her makes your heart involuntarily twinge, and you wince, standing from your perch on the end of your new bed in the vain hopes of shaking it off. As you do so something in the opposite corner of the room catches your eye; the neat pile of scrapbooks Melina worked on for years when you were kids. “I’m going full American mama,” she would quip, spending hours of an evening painstakingly prettying the pages laden with pictures that Alexi had taken throughout the day. You find yourself warmed by these memories, and drift over to the pile of books, settling before it. The newest scrapbooks are naturally at the top, so you shuffle through the pile until you reach the very first scrapbook Mama Melina ever made, which begins the day Yelena came home. You settle down comfortably on the floor, cross-legged like you’re a kid again, and begin to flip through its pages; the very first are adorned with pictures of Melina and Alexi in their youth, and then on their wedding day. After that is the day Yelena came home, absolutely unfazed by this strange new country and its drawling people. Every single photo has the date it was taken written beneath it in perfect cursive, and through the timeline shown you can see that it was barely two weeks into Yelena’s residency here before you and her properly met, and became firm friends. Things progress like that for two years, from when you were five until when you were seven; regular entries are made in the scrapbooks documenting road trips and school plays and lost teeth, all of which you smile upon fondly.

Halfway through the third scrapbook, Natasha comes home. You recognise one of the many pictures documenting this milestone as one that hangs large and framed with pride downstairs above the fire; a stunned, still blue-haired Natalia swathed in thermals, huddled in the corner of Alexi’s rickety old fighter jet on the journey back from the motherland, beaming widely up at whoever’s taking the photo. Despite the fact that you see it every day, seeing it alongside so many others in which she’s so bewildered but so, so happy makes your heart feel so strongly that you have to flip ahead.

You pore over the pages of the main scrapbooks with interest for a while longer, until the main timeline ends and divulges into you, Yelena and Natasha each having your own dedicated scrapbooks. You have no interest in studying your own baby photos, and given all that’s going on reliving Yelena’s would be unbearable right now, so instead you find yourself picking up Natasha’s, and pushing the others aside.

Seeing her grow up before your eyes like this is surreal. In reality you were by her side every day, and most of these changes happen so gradually that you barely even noticed them, but here are immortalised stills from throughout the years which show how she’s grown. When she first came home she hadn’t had her growth spurt yet, and still had her gentle Russian lilt which the rest of her family retains to this day. As she starts attending public school and socialising with her peers you can see that something changes very hastily within her; a light kind of fades from her eyes. The blue is bleached from her hair, and as the red fades back in its place she seems to fade a little too — into the quiet, observant Natasha that you know today. She doesn’t seem unhappy, as such, but… uncertain, and it dredges up a kind of sadness in your chest that forces you to push the book away, lest the tears in your eyes follow through with their threat to overspill.

You’ve always seen Natasha as someone so secure and sure of herself — so much so that she doesn’t feel the need to speak over anyone else in the room in order to get her opinions across. When she does speak it’s usually a quick, cutting remark that earns laughs and leaves everyone eager to hear more out of her. When she walks into a room heads turn to look at her, no matter where she goes. She knows that. She’s someone worth paying attention to. It’s never occurred to you, not once in your life, that her behaviours aren’t the result of something different. But looking at these pictures has stirred up something in you which you can’t quite describe. A deep sadness at the fact that you’ve probably never known her at all, aside from the parts of the real her that have slipped through the cracks; her Russian accent and sleepy kisses first thing in the morning, her goodnight texts, the way she doesn’t need to ask your order at drive-thrus or coffee shops, the notes she’d leave under your pillow. That’s Natasha. Not whoever this is who’s pushed you away. Not this girl who has bleached the childhood from her hair and taught herself how to be from another place.

You pile the scrapbooks back in the neat and tidy order in which you found them and crawl back to your bed, flopping into it, utterly emotionally exhausted by this trip down memory lane. You think it’s dark outside… you’re certainly tired enough to rest now, anyway, and you do; drifting in and out of an uneasy slumber, visited by vague and twisted recollections from your childhood which disappear upon your waking again, before you can grasp them properly, like the sand of your youth slipping through your fingers.

Mama Melina is a woman of science. She’s always considered herself a grounded person. She doesn’t concern herself with what she doesn’t understand, or care for (namely whatever she cannot see for certain with her own two eyes) to the extent that this is the path her career has taken, and is now what feeds her children. She is, objectively, an intellectual woman. Her analytical methods of thinking have led to scientific breakthroughs in her area of expertise, and she is renowned as an expert at her job. She did not reach this point through belief in the spiritual, or abstract. Hell, being raised in an orphanage herself, she didn’t even really believe in true romantic love until Alexi bore his whole earnest heart to her.

One day, when you were young, you came home from school and, with frightening nonchalance, came home and asked if one of your classmates had been correct in saying that people who kissed others of the same gender were hell-headed sinners. Melina abruptly halted her mundane household task and sat you down, taking one of your hands in hers.

“Sin is a fairytale,” she told you, as delicately as she could. “Nobody knows for certain whether sin or God or heaven or hell are real. To believe that is a choice, a leap of faith which certain people make. But all we know for certain is what’s here now, да? Like I am real, you are real,” she cupped your little face between her warm hands and squeezed gently, making you wrinkle your nose and wriggle happily, “Baba and Yelena are real. But sin is thing you choose to believe in. It is made up stories to make us feel better about death but it does not matter, малыш. What matters is what we do now, when we are alive, not what we do to secure a place in an afterlife that might not exist, eh? We are kind to each other now while we live because we know it to be true that we’re alive. To tell someone else who to kiss was wrong and unkind of that boy at school. Worry about the afterlife once you get there, да? If you want to kiss girls, kiss girls. No one who is kind or worth your time will care.”

She kissed the top of your head before standing back up and returning to her cleaning. No more words were exchanged on the prospect, but from that day onward it has appeared to be common knowledge in the household that you like girls, and that Melina is not a fan of religion justifying bigotry.

In all honesty, she is not a fan of anything that’s not an irrefutable truth. Science is her preferred method of explanation for any problem that may occur. But as her relationship with Alexi has blossomed, and then in turn the ones she shares with her daughters too, she’s learned that facts and feelings do not have to be mutually exclusive. Some of the complexities of the human mind are far beyond her understanding, or indeed any of us — and yet this is a truth which ought to be embraced, not feared. The greatest joys in Melina’s life are its mysteries.

And so Mama Melina has never questioned the dynamic you and Natasha share; at least to her, it’s seemed crystal clear since day one that the two of you harbour affections for one another — admittedly for reasons beyond her comprehension, but it’s nonetheless undeniable to anyone who knows you like she does. She’s watched you grow all of your lives, delicately inching closer to one another like two flowers craning their necks to reach the sun. Melina long ago accepted she’ll never in this lifetime know what higher power reigns as a puppeteer over her, or understand the complexities of love, but she knows better than to pretend as if some things in this world aren’t inexplicably and cosmically connected. You and Natasha only prove this point. If she looks hard enough, Melina can see the red thread that runs from your body to her daughter’s.

Alexi, by far the romantic, wholeheartedly agrees with her, which only furthers Melina’s convictions (he would know better than her, she reasons) — although admittedly the events of the last few months have blindsided the both of them. Melina appears to be more concerned by it than her husband, though; so much so that one night she actually sits him down to ask if he even knows what’s going on, and why there’s this big gaping gulf between her daughters, tearing her family apart.

Alexi just guffaws, so full of mirth that Melina is startled. “Ah Боже мой, my love. Do not be silly, I would have to be blind to miss those daggers over dinner, no? No, do not worry, I’m understand. But love is not easy, ah? Its course has never run so smooth. Remember when I first asked out you? You were so… skittish, like little kitten, for weeks,” he recalls with shining eyes. “And look where we ended up now, ah? These are silly babies. They’ll make mistakes. They need the time that you did.”

His words soothe her, in the way that they always do. She relaxes into his comforting embrace with the knowledge that even if she’s the intellectual (and financial) breadwinner in this relationship, Alexi always knows what to say in the face of the heart’s unpredictability. Maybe he is right. Maybe everyone just needs some time.

So, despite her doubts, time is what Melina gives.

Two weeks after that conversation, Liho comes home. His fur is patchy where it’s been shorn off and started to grow back again, and one of his legs is still bound tightly, but he’s back and he’s yours. He leaps happily into your arms when he sees you (despite the yelp of alarm Melina makes) and it’s like he never left. Yelena comes the closest to you that she’s been in weeks to pet his head while he’s curled up against your chest, and she even allows a smile to escape. You can’t help but smile back, like the beginning of spring after a long harsh winter, hope blossoming in your chest once again.

In the time that it’s taken him to come home, other things have happened too. Natasha’s nose, displaced by the punch Yelena successfully laid on her, heals quickly. Your relationship does not. Something unspoken festers between the two of you, hardening and shrinking and blackening into a sickening nothingness. You can’t look at her now without the taste of something bitter filling your mouth — and yet that boiling hot liquid rage still fills your chest when you think of her with someone else. How is it possible to love someone so much but hate them at the same time? You wish, more than anything, that none of this happened. You wish she would just let you love her without having to ruin it for the both of you.

It’s such an indescribably lonely feeling that the two of you are like this now, when only a short time ago the two of you bore open hearts to one another — well, you gave yours to Natasha, anyway. The more you think about it the less of her you have ever known. She’s a stranger to you. Quite a few times since prom night she’s tried to speak to you — offering another half-assed apology, no doubt — but you’ve only ever shut her down. What is there left to say? Nothing that you want to hear, for sure.

(And maybe the things that still hang heavy in the air between you are better left unsaid.)

A few days after Liho comes home you’re laid on your bed in the attic, with your baby boy himself curled comfortably on your chest, purring away merrily as you scratch at his head. There’s some soft music on in the background but neither of you are really doing much. You’re just trying to enjoy his company, (and he’s evidently enjoying yours,) now that you know not to take it for granted.

The scare you’ve had with him has shifted your perspective on a lot, actually — it’s been a rude but much-needed wake up call. Yelena, just like Liho, is your family, and you want to make up with her. Who knows how long either of you have left, or what might happen?

Yes, you absolutely want to be her sister again. You’re just not sure where to even start.

The knock that comes at your door is unexpected, though, and only more unexpected when you see who your mystery visitor actually is. Yelena stands in your doorway, eyes fixed on Liho on your chest. He mews happily when he sees her.

“Кот,” she says hoarsely, holding out her arms and making grabby hands. You blink, stunned for a moment at the fact that she is talking at all, let alone talking to you. This would usually be a good sign, one that she’s coming back into herself, but these naturally are unprecedented circumstances, and you can’t really be certain what anything means anymore.

Yelena steps forward, jerking you out of your trance; you shoot to your feet and kiss Liho on the forehead before holding him out to her with your hands beneath his armpits so that his legs dangle underneath him, rendering him comically long and thin. Lena scoops him up and curls him against her chest; he purrs contentedly and her eyes crinkle in quiet gratitude before she leaves, humming her song to herself.

You almost call out to her, but your body freezes. The door closes behind her you scold yourself for not reaching out, for trying to close this rift between you, but maybe you’ve not given her long enough yet.

What Yelena needs is time, you know. Her whole world has been turned upside down and she has to rebuild it piece by piece. But how much time is enough?

Well, as it turns out, you won’t have to wait much longer.

It’s the last week of school, just over five weeks now since your catastrophic prom night, and you’ve just walked out of your last final. Sam Wilson is waiting for you outside the doors with your favourite flavour of popsicle in his hand, and is already busily consuming his own. When he spots you he waves a broad hand merrily, and you make your way over to him.

“I’m sure you aced it, squirt,” he says before you can even open your mouth, and offers you the popsicle. Unfortunately you’re all too familiar to Ohio’s stifling summer air, making every thought or movement damp and groggy. You accept it gratefully.

Your core friendship group, which you’ve been in for years now, has been pretty turbulent since things went down between you and Yelena. Pairing that with finals and early graduations, you can feel a permanent shift occurring, and it’s frightening. Everyone’s still making  effort to maintain contact with you, but this change on top of everything else has you feeling like you’re drowning when you think too long about it.  It seems like you never know what are the golden days until they’re gone. (You got twelve golden years with Yelena, but is that where it ends? Will she ever tolerate your presence in her life again?)

Someone who you couldn’t be more grateful for throughout all of this is Sam. One day not long after everything happened you came to him crying, and confessed everything. He patted your back with an aura of awkward concern until your sobs subsided, at which point all he had to offer was, “Huh. Well, I guess that explains why prom night went to shit.”

You can’t help but admire the way that he takes everything in his stride. Nothing fazes him. It’s welcome after spending so long around Natasha, who’s constantly on edge, worried someone else might see her with you. Sam is so unbothered, just being in his presence is calming. He’s become a good and valued friend to you.

“That was your last final,” he reminds you, bringing you back to the present moment. “You’re free now for the whole summer.”

“Oh fuck yeah, man,” you say as the realisation dawns on you.

“How’d you want to celebrate?”

You look up at him and a toothy grin takes root on his face as he realises what you’re about to say.

“Arcade,” you say and he nods fervently in agreement. In recent times you’ve become its most loyal patrons; you retreat there often after classes, whether it’s to recuperate from a bad day or celebrate a good one. Today, thankfully, appears to be the latter.

“Arcade,” he repeats happily, and the two of you amble off out of the school gates and down the hill toward the centre of town, where the Boulevard housing the arcade is located. You chat happily for a little while, about your plans for the summer and what you might do together.

“And, uh… any updates on your… anything?” he asks delicately. It’s a vague question but of course you know what he means.

“Not really.” You deflate a little. “I’m not sure Lena wants me around anymore, to be honest.”

“I’m sure she does,” Sam consoles with a startling certainty. “Seriously. What about Natasha?”

You just shake your head. “I don’t want to… I can’t. Not until Lena…”

“Gives you the okay,” he nods understandingly.

“Yeah, I guess. But until she’s sorry, too. She was really mean,” you say quietly.

“Yeah, I get that. It’ll be okay, man.”

You’re not so sure about that, but before you can express this you cross the road and the two of you have reached the arcade, where your troubles are promptly forgotten.

Sam’s words are very quickly proven correct, though — within only a few hours. You arrive home from your arcade trip with some silly winnings tucked under your arm and a smile on your face. It is Friday night, date night for Melina and Alexi, so a car is missing from the driveway and the kitchen is empty as you enter.

Perfect, you think to yourself, and begin to fix yourself some food. These days you’re very careful not to venture into the communal areas of the house unless you’re sure you won’t be treading on anyone else’s toes. You kind of feel like a burden as it is — you’re not a proper part of this family anyway, not in the way that everyone else is — and you don’t want to make anyone uncomfortable in their own home. So you’ve moved bedrooms and now you meticulously strategise what times you’ll make an expedition down to the kitchen. (Sometimes, when you’ve not had a chance to eat yet, you’ll open your bedroom door to a plate of chocolate chip pancakes in front of you. Everyone in the house denies knowledge when asked but you have your suspicions of who’s behind it.)

Sometimes you think about moving back to the place where you were born, but you’re not sure if you could stomach that. That feels like a forever choice. There’s no going back from that.

Liho pads up to you, excited that you’re home and even more excited that you’re making food. Unable to help yourself, you indulge him with some chin scratches and scraps. Life’s too short, you say. Why shouldn’t you make a fuss of your boy?

He winds himself around your legs contentedly while you cook. It is just you and him and school has finished and you have the whole summer to do what you want, and you are cooking, and for the first time in a while you are able to shut off and experience a moment of complete peace.

Naturally, with the trajectory of your life at the minute, this peace does not last long.

“Is Sam Wilson your new best friend?” says a cool voice behind you. You actually yelp in alarm, and very ungracefully fumble with the piping hot utensils you’re using, burning your hand in the process. Liho hisses, and you do too, making a beeline for the sink.

“Don’t sneak up on me like that,” you mutter half-heartedly. Yelena, now moving to stand fully in the light, just makes a noise in the back of her throat as she opens the cupboard above your head and reaches for the first-aid kit. Her face is carefully unbothered.

“I only asked a question,” she says, moving your food off of the heat. Liho claws at your ankles worriedly. You struggle to process Yelena’s words, much less the fact that she is talking to you. Did you blink and miss a chapter?

“Uh,” you rub at the back of your neck with your hand not under running water, “n-no. No, he’s not my new best friend. I don’t,” your voice drops, and you look away, “I don’t think I have one anymore.”

“You do,” she informs you matter-of-factly, hopping up onto the counter beside you and swinging her legs while you continue to bathe your hand. “If you still want one. But she is very mad at you.”

Your voice catches in your throat.

“She does love you,” Lena continues, “but she is wondering why you did things in the way you did.”

There’s a moment of quiet. You gather your thoughts. You weren’t expecting to have this talk tonight.

“I was scared,” you tell her.

“Of what?”

“Of,” you gesture between the two of you, “this. Of making things bad. I always figured it would be like a,” you tilt your head back to keep from crying, because now would be a stupid time to cry, “a stupid schoolgirl crush, you know? She never even spoke to me, I was just her little sister’s dumb best friend, but then things happened and it was so fast and I was so scared. And I wanted to tell you but she… didn’t. She only wanted me when no one else could see. I guess I hoped that she would — come around, eventually, and then I wouldn’t be lying anymore.” You’re heaving with the effort to not cry. “I was wrong.”

“All this time the mystery girl was treating you like shit, you could have told me who it was,” Yelena implores. “I love my sister but she makes me sad also. She can be a dick, absolutely. She’s the worst. Why wouldn’t you tell me?”

“She’s your family,” you choke. “I couldn’t cause a— a rift or a problem like that. And what if you believed her over me? And it kept getting worse, and —”

“Сестра,” she leans over, cupping your damp face between her hands and forcing you to look at her, “I would always believe you. Always. Never before have you given reason to not.”

You nod tearfully, and she lets go. The only noise is the running water for a few moments.

“That is probably long enough under tap,” Lena murmurs, turning it off and taking your injured hand in her lap. Opening the first aid kit, she begins to dress the burn. “I am sorry for making you jump.”

“I am sorry for everything else,” you reply honestly. “I was stupid.”

“Yes,” she agrees bluntly. Then, “Natalia was stupider.” When you look up in open surprise, she rolls her eyes. “Close your mouth, you will catch flies. Of course she was stupid, she has fumbled so hard. You,” she pinches your cheek affectionately, “are a catch. I am not even into all of this, but if I was a dater we would be together and I would treat you like four million times better than she does.”

“You already do,” you say quietly, looking down at your hand in her lap as she continues to bandage it.

“Oh absolutely, I am the best.”

Another, much longer, pause. She finishes wrapping your hand, and pats it three times to notify you that she’s done, the exact same way that Mama Melina does. The action makes your heart swell and eyes fill with unexpected tears.

“Do you know why I was so upset by all of it?” she asks unexpectedly. You blink in surprise. This feels like a trick question.

“Because… I lied?”

“Because you picked Natasha over me,” she tells you.

“No I didn’t— what?”

“Yes, you did,” she says, and she’s a little choked all of a sudden. “All of my life Natasha has been the one who everyone looks at first. She is the special one. You are the only one I had first, who was mine. My близнец. And then I find out that for months you have been lying and picking her over me instead. When she is mean, she is so mean sometimes, yes I love her but she is not much like when we were kids anymore, she is so mean. But everyone likes her more than me. Even you.” She turns away.

“No, no I don’t,” you rush to her side, unable to help it now, scooping her close to you. “No I don’t. I was wrong, and I’m sorry. It was stupid to think she’d ever love me, I shouldn’t have— and I shouldn’t have left you out of it. I think I was trying to protect you? I don’t know. You’re always the one to protect me and punch everyone else, I think I was trying to stop you from getting hurt. And her? But it was dumb. Very dumb.”

“Very, very dumb,” Yelena agrees.

“The dumbest.”

“You have broken world record, кролик.”

You laugh a little tearfully, and while Yelena’s arms are wrapped around you she feels it throughout her body. She revels in the feeling of you holding her and loving her again, after the longest time.

“So we are back from the store?” she asks hopefully after a moment. It takes you a moment to process what she means.

“Oh,” you laugh, “we were never there. You will always be my favourite person, Yelena Belova-Shostakov.”

“Okay.” She exhales in relief. “Good. Just, because — well, you know, we have not spoke in so long and you didn’t think you had a best friend, and—”

“No— what? No,” you frown, “that was me giving you space to process and heal. I wasn’t sure you’d want me back,” you laugh. “I wasn’t ignoring you. I promise.”

“I will always want you back,” she says in a small, content voice. “I will always want you home. With me. Not at store.”

“Not at the store,” you repeat.

And just like that, you have your best friend again.

One familial bond repaired doesn’t mean all of them, though — and Yelena’s relationship with her sister has been patchy recently, to put it mildly. In your eyes it’s a plus that they haven’t outright fistfought in the way that they absolutely would if they were any younger, but Mama Melina doesn’t seem to see things that way.

A few days after you and Yelena make up, the two of you along with your parents are sat around the dinner table. At the very least Melina is able to fuss over her twins again, and Alexi is able to once again boom “here comes trouble” whenever the two of you enter a room together. They both take great pleasure in it,  much to Yelena’s entertainment and your endearment. You love your parents.

The conversation halts when the front door slams, though. Natasha appears in the kitchen doorway for a second before processing the scene in front of her and slowly backing away, back out of sight.

“What is this about?” Alexi calls after her through a mouthful of food. “Come eat, love.”

There is no response, only footsteps on the stairs.

“Our daughters hate each other,” Melina sighs heavily. When you and Yelena look up at her, she clarifies, “no, not you two. You and Natasha.” She pinches Lena’s cheek.

“We do not hate each other,” Yelena says placidly, much to everyone’s surprise. “I am just angry at her. We will be fine.”

Natasha, who is still within earshot at the top of the stairs, feels her heart skip a beat at this and thinks to herself that just maybe Yelena is ready to be receptive to her attempts at reconnection. Her only issue is she has no idea how to facilitate it. She’s done all the things she can think of, aside from straight up cornering her younger sister — she leaves offerings of food at her door and texts  her when the Kardashians are on the TV — but all of it has been treated with nonchalance that’s left her bewildered as to what her next step should be.

Yelena’s got her covered, though.

It’s her turn to strike, she knows, and again she chooses to do it when her sister will least expect it. Nat traipses home late one night, exhausted from cheer practice that overran. (Their next game is the last of the season, and her last cheer match ever considering she’s graduating this summer, so this semester’s team captain Sharon is determined they go out with a bang — even if that bang is a cheerleader toppling from the pyramid out of sheer exhaustion.) She mumbles her greetings and goodnights to Melina and Alexi, who are huddled around a decanter of whiskey in the study with Liho, and stumbles upstairs. All the lights are off up here, and she figures you and Yelena are probably settling down for the night. With a long, wistful look up the spiral staircase towards your firmly closed door, she trudges into her own (pitch-black) room. When she flicks on the light, though, she shrieks in horror. Sat expectantly at the foot of her bed is a long-limbed and blonde-headed figure, with hands folded neatly in its lap.

“Good evening, сестра,” greets the figure, sometimes known as Yelena Belova, with vaguely ominous nonchalance.

Natasha leans back against the door and closes her eyes in a desperate attempt to revert her heart rate to normal. Her first instinct as an older sister is to yell at her to get the fuck out, but in light of recent events this probably wouldn’t be the wisest of choices. Instead, she clamps her mouth tightly shut as she attempts to regain herself.

“I don’t,” she pants after a moment, “I haven’t— what? Hi. What?”

“You should really get a better lock,” Yelena says amusedly. “Very easy to pick.”

“You don’t have to break in,” Natasha grumbles, letting her bag slide to the floor and flopping backwards onto the bed. “Just knock.”

“No fun.” Yelena pokes Nat’s thigh with her toe just like she would when they were kids and for a moment they’re both young again. But she blinks, and the moment is gone, and now they’re two almost-adults with an entire universe between them.

Natasha just groans and flops back to stare up at her ceiling. A few years back you and Yelena helped her paint it blue and now it looks like the sky. It makes her smile when she’s sad sometimes. Yelena joins her, and the two cloudgaze for a moment.

“Why are you in my room?” Natasha asks quietly.

“To annoy you,” Lena quips.

“Success.”

“And to talk,” she continues.

“Also success. We are talking.”

The blonde lunges for her, and Natasha rolls away playfully. “No, I’m serious. Real talking.”

“Alright, I’m all ears.” Nat puts her hands behind her ears and pushes them forward to emphasise her point — again, like they would when they were kids.

“I want to know what you were intending when you started dating Y/N,” Yelena says, and Nat’s stomach drops. She knew this was coming, she knew this was where the conversation would lead, but she was still hoping to stall it for as long as possible just for the joy that her sister is talking to her again. The excitement is short-lived, though.

“We were never dating,” she reminds her quietly.

“Why not?”

The bluntness of the question makes Natasha stop short.

“Because it just, didn’t work out like that, I guess,” she tries. Yelena remains eerily stony.

“It’s not nice to lie to your baby sister, Natalia.”

Natasha deflates. “Because w— because I’m a fucking idiot. I don’t know what you want me to say. I know I messed up.”

“Step one is awareness,” Yelena nods sagely, while Nat grits her teeth. “So what are you going to do about it?”

She shrugs. “Graduate, and leave town, I guess. You and Y/N are twins again now, and I caused all these problems, so once I leave things should be fixed.”

“Untrue and false,” the blonde interrupts sharply. “That is lie. Y/N/N is crushed. This will not magically be fix if you take off for college.”

“But it will help,” Natasha insists.

“No it won’t,” Yelena pinches the bridge of her nose in frustration, “oh my god, how are you so stupid. She is in love with you, and she is so patient with you, she is not even angry. Which I would be, by the way, but she’s not. She’s only sure you don’t want her.”

“Huh? But I do.”

“No, like wanting her,” Yelena says gently. “As a whole. Like… unity, ah? Влюбленный. She feels so not good enough for you, and every day you are prove her right. You take only what you want from her and leave the rest. That is not what love is. She feels not loved by you, and that you only like her for the things she can offer you.”

“Oh. But I didn’t mean to,” Natasha says tearfully. Suddenly she is very small, and she draws her knees up to her chest. “I was only… Lena, маленький, I didn’t know what to do.”

“The answer seems pretty simple,” the blonde observes astutely, “all you had to do was either tell her you love her and want to be with her, or tell her it is over. You can’t keep having things in your way forever. She has feelings too, and the relationship cannot be on just your terms. She is not a doll, or toy.”

“I do,” she says hoarsely. “I do, t- the first one. It’s- I do. But I’m so…” She raises a pale trembling palm to run a hand through her hair, inhaling shakily, and with a blink of surprise Yelena realised how scared her older sister truly is.

“What is so terrifying?” she asks tenderly.

“Y/N is a girl.”

Yelena almost laughs at the confession but is able to refrain, and is proud of her capability to do so upon seeing just how agitated her company is over the subject. “Is this all that holds you back? Nobody would care. Ma and Daddy wouldn’t. This is not end of the world.”

“No, you don’t get it,” says Natasha fiercely. “Ever since I came to America... you were here first, you and Y/N, and you just get to be you. You have who you are. But I don’t know who I am, so I have to — do all the American girl things. I have to fit in. I don’t have a Y/N. And American girls don’t kiss girls.”

Yelena stops to consider this. It’s true that Natasha has always put far, far more effort into fitting in and Westernising herself more than she or their parents ever did. Yelena is perfectly content with her slightly broken English and her raspy accent and her life of in-betweenness. She’s okay with being from two places. To her, when she looks in the mirror, that is Yelena Belova. They’re just parts of who she is. She’s never even stopped to consider those as potential insecurities — not when she had other things and feelings (or lack thereof) to worry about. How could something so unchangeable be a source of doubt? And yet here she now sits, struggling to wrap her head around this invisible binary which has suffocated her sister for so many years.

“But you are not… what?” she says confusedly. “You did have a Y/N. All of this… you’re being someone else. I knew something felt strange. I do not understand why? I like who you are before. It wasn’t bad. I like Natalia.”

This seems to break Nat, who buries her face in her hands. Yelena lets out a motherly cluck of sympathy and scoots closer to loop a gangly arm around her sister.

“I just want to be normal,” breathes Natasha.

“But it is not worth all this,” Yelena says, squeezing her sister tightly to her chest. “What does normal even mean? Being cool is not the most important, Natalia. Everybody liking you doesn’t… fix you not liking yourself.” She cringes at her own words, reminding herself a little too much of Darcy’s Pinterest feed, but the words seem to ring true with Nat, at least.

“I am just so scared,” Nat says in a small voice. “And I think I’ve made this so bad it can’t be fixed.”

Yelena pulls away to look her sternly in the eyes. “Things can always be fixed. Maybe not in ideal way you want them to be, but we can always make amends. But you have to be sorry.”

“I am,” Natasha cries, “I am sorry.”

Yelena holds her. “I know.”

She’s not so sure you know it, though.

Maybe somewhere deep down, you do. You see it in the saddened smiles Nat offers you whenever she steps out of your way or leaves a room so you can use it. You see it in the way she brings your favourite snacks home and leaves them in the pantry without word or question, like she doesn’t even expect you to notice. You see it even in the absence of her; in the way that she gives you space, quietly leaving rooms when you enter them so you can use them despite the fact that you can feel in the air how much she wants to stop and talk to you. Sure, you can tell that she’s sorry. But you’re not sure that she knows what she’s sorry for.

You’re not sure she knows how badly she’s really hurt you, with her every move stabbing into you repeatedly over a course of months. Now that the knife is turned on her and she’s the one in exile, a selfish part of you wants to leave her there, just so she knows what it’s like. You guess that’s kind of what you’re doing now. You know this can’t go on forever though. In a couple of months Natasha leaves for out-of-state college, which she announced over dinner a few nights ago. You had to excuse yourself from the table to process that information. Your time is limited, you know, and it’s clear what Natasha wants (to kiss and make up) — but what do you want? To leave this wound untreated, festering for the next eternity? Or to allow yourself peace and let this go?

“Why do I have to be the bigger person?” you half-heartedly complain to Yelena one night as the two of you wash the dishes. “It’s not fair.”

“Because you are the bigger person,” Yelena laughs. “Natalia has given you the control. The next move is on you. That’s just the way it is, if it’s fair or no.” She whips you playfully with her tea towel, and the conversation moves on without further incident.

The issue plays on your mind long after the words are spoken, though. Whether you like it or not, Yelena is right. The next move’s on you. But how are you meant to make that call? What is the right move to make?

Well, one of Natasha’s friends appears very opinionated on the subject. 

On a particularly warm afternoon, you and Yelena stroll into town, and stop off at May Parker’s ice cream parlour — the best in town.

“Ah,” Yelena grimaces, as you draw close to its glass windows, “it is so busy in there. I go in, you wait out here?” 

You smile at her gratefully, and she disappears inside. 

“Y/L/N!” a voice calls out behind you, and you turn around to see Bucky Barnes making a beeline for you. He’s about twice your size in every way imaginable, and you gulp. 

“Hi?” you say uncertainly. You don’t think you’ve ever spoken to him in your life.

“What’s up with you and Romanov?” Well, he’s straight to the point. 

You flounder, mouth opening and shutting, and he’s gracious enough to continue, “look, I know you and her are a thing. Were. I don’t know, she’s being so weird about it. It’s okay, it’s okay, I was her beard. And she was mine,” he adds, gesturing over at Steve Rogers, who’s stood on the other side of the road waiting patiently for his boyfriend. He smiles and waves amiably on cue. 

You blink. “And no one thought to inform me?” 

He shrugs. “Not my place. I think it is my place, though, to ask what’s got her so torn up. You and her fallen out? I’ve never seen her like this. I’on know what to do.”

He may not mean it menacingly, but he’s towering over you and you’re finding it hard to breathe. “She was an asshole, dude,” you say, perhaps a little more defensively than you envisioned. “She wasn’t nice to me and we weren’t even together, because she didn’t see me like that. So yeah, I guess we fell out.”

He frowns, deeply, and takes a moment to process this. “Oh. That… but she does feel that way about you.”

“It’d be nice if she’d show it,” you say bitterly. 

His face softens. “Maybe… Look, even if the two of you don’t work it out proper, wouldn’t it be easier to at least clear the air? She likes you so much. She just wants you in her life, I think.”

You look at him uncertainly for a moment, but he holds your gaze earnestly. You know him and Natasha are relatively close, and you don’t see why he’d lie about something like this. It’s definitely tempting to believe.

“Okay,” you say, “I’ll bear that in mind.”

He looks like he’s about to say something else, but you feel a hand on your shoulder and instantly recognise Yelena’s presence just behind you. “What is going on?”

“Just talking,” says Bucky smoothly, but it seems apparent that the moment is over. “See you around, kid.” He crosses the road back to Steve.

“Kid,” you mutter, “he’s one grade older than me.” 

“What did he want?” Yelena asks you, and you relay your strange interaction to her. “Oh. Well, he is probably right, but I’m not sure how much it means coming from Natasha’s ex.”

“Were they really together?” you ask, your stomach turning at the thought. Wouldn’t that co-occur with your and her relationship? “He said he was her beard.”

She shrugs. “Not my expertise. Come on, the ice cream will melt.”

You don’t see Bucky Barnes again for the weeks that follow, although you can’t help but wonder what he meant, and what he was trying to achieve. (And a little part inside of you thinks that maybe he could be right.)

“Ma?” says Natasha suddenly. “How did you know you loved Alexi?”

It’s late at night, and the two of them are on the car ride home from Nat’s last cheer game of the season. (At her request it was not a family affair, despite Alexi’s insistence that it was his right to make a fuss of his talented daughter’s performance at her last high school cheer game.) The roads are empty and the towns are sleepy, but Natasha’s question has Melina wide awake.

“Eeh… it was not like a revelation. I did not wake up one day with new clarity. It came to me over time. It took me long time to accept, though. Your father is very patient man.”

“But was there anything specific?” Natasha persists.

Melina purses her lips in thought. “Well, when I met him I was not trusting person. One time when we were in the kind of in between bit right before being proper couple, ah —”

“The talking stage,” Nat supplies helpfully.

“— yes, да. We were in that, nothing proper but something, and he went to touch me and I had a… panic? I shut down. Achh, моя любовь, I was still figuring out who I was and what I did and didn’t like and… still growing up and healing from when I was kid. I was scared.”

Natasha nods solemnly. There are some childhood experiences which, despite unspoken, bind she and her mother at the soul.

“So I freak out, and I expected him to… belittle or leave, or something. But he stays and he is so patient, he apologise for making me jump and fetch me tea, and I thought like wow, he is so gentle. And he is not like the other men I known.”

Again, Natasha nods. Gentle is the perfect descriptor for her father. He’s the most wonderful man she’s ever met.

“So we spent more time together, he was patient with me and always caring. That was the time that I knew I would fall in love with him. But I’m not really know when it happened. Maybe by then it already had, ah? I have only ever had eyes for him. He make me feel… valued, and worthy.”

Natasha just hums in response, for she’s suddenly and embarrassingly on the verge of violent sobbing. She blames Ma and Baba and their beautiful relationship. Nothing else.

“Is this about Y/N?” Melina asks quietly. Natasha opens her mouth to reply and there it is, just as she feared, the waterworks are unleashed. Ma sighs heavily and pulls over.

“Идите сюда,” she says, holding her arms out, and Natasha crawls into them. She rocks her daughter back and forth, exactly how she used to so many years ago when the girl was half this size, while Nat’s face is buried in her mother’s neck. They stay like that for a while, until Natasha’s tears begin to die down.

“Do you want to go and get milkshakes?” Melina breaks the silence. Natasha hums her assent.

The 24-hour diner isn’t far from where they’ve pulled over, and it’s almost empty at this time of night. With no words exchanged Melina orders Natasha’s usual, or what was her usual when she was a kid — a strawberry milkshake and fries. A young Natasha decided strawberry was her favourite as soon as she found out that pink was a girl’s colour. Thinking about that now, especially with the hindsight of her conversation with Yelena, has her stomach turning a little. How long has she been letting her view of the world colour every single choice that she makes? Which parts of her are really her, and which are the ones she’s willed into existence?

It’s a scary line of questioning, and Natasha can feel herself beginning to spiral. No more, she tells herself. Yelena was probably right about needing to get to know herself — and learning her real favourite flavour of milkshake seems a manageable starting point.

“Can I have the caramel one?” she asks Melina gruffly, pointing at the menu. Her mama just nods and alters their order accordingly.

They sit at their usual booth and eat in a comfortable silence, punctuated only by the occasional “pass the ketchup”s. Once they’ve finished, though, and Melina can sense her daughter has calmed enough to leave, she turns and says to her, “Love isn’t easy thing to admit. But it’s… not something to be ashamed of. When it comes, just let it happen. It’s scary, but it does not make you weaker, ah? It will do you no good to push it away.” She hesitates, but then seems satisfied with what she’s said. She turns on her heel and heads back out to the car. Natasha, dumbfounded, follows her.

When they finally make it home, Alexi is snoring away upstairs and you’re on the sofa with Yelena sprawled on top of you, fast asleep. You’re wide awake, though, and look up as the two of them come in.

“Night, ma,” Natasha murmurs to her mother, kissing her cheek before tiptoeing off to bed. Melina hums at the action and pads into the living room toward her twins.

“Hi ma,” you chirp, voice a little husky. “Everything okay?”

Your mama nods, and holds out a brown paper bag. “We stopped at diner. Got your favourite. Some for Lena too.”

Your eyes crinkle up into half-moons as you smile at her in gratitude, and Melina smiles back fondly, her chest filling with warmth. “Thank you.”

She kisses Yelena’s forehead, who does not stir, and then yours, lingering for a moment.

“I love you,” she tells you sincerely, and a fierceness glimmers in her gaze that you’re not quite sure what to do with. “We all do.”

“I love you too,” you tell her honestly. You only hope you’re matching her intensity. She holds your gaze for a moment longer as if searching for something within it,  then nods, seemingly satisfied, and retreats upstairs to join Alexi, leaving you alone with a meal to demolish, a slumbering blonde pinning you to the sofa and many, many thoughts.

A few days after that conversation, you wander into the backyard (Melina’s carefully pruned pride and joy) to pet Liho, who’s basking peacefully in the summer evening sun.

“Careful of the flowerbed,” you warn as he flexes his claws and kicks his legs happily. “Someone will suffer if Ma’s roses are ruined.”

He huffs in what could be agreement, and you toe absently at the sandy dirt you and Yelena used to play in.

A gentle creaking sounds from somewhere nearby. It’s a noise that makes you feel ten years younger, and curiously, you rise to your feet.

At the far end of the backyard, nestled among the pines and pratia, is the swing set Alexi built a little while after Yelena first moved in. It’s a little haggard-looking, as when Natasha came to America Alexi bodged a third swing so all of you could play together, but to his credit it’s still held up all these years. Sure, it doesn’t get so much use anymore, but sometimes when one of you is feeling a little down you’ll revisit the simpler times of your childhood.

This seems to be what you’ve stumbled upon Natasha doing now. She’s sat on the middle swing (which in times gone by was your swing, as the middle spot often was when you were a kid, so both siblings got to be next to you), rocking back and forth gently as she cradles something small in her hands, turning it over. She’s lost in thought. Wondering if you’ve intruded on something private, you begin to slowly pace away. When you catch sight of what it is in her hands, though, your stomach turns; a small and glistening pink rock, rubbed smooth by years of love.

“You kept that?” you ask quietly. Natasha’s head shoots up and she takes note of your appearance in the same way that a deer takes note of rapidly approaching headlights. Her mouth opens as she fumbles for words, but she just settles for nodding vigorously before lowering her gaze to her lap again.

You don’t really know what to think, or do. You hesitate for a moment, and find yourself thinking of Bucky’s advice — wouldn’t it be easier to clear the air? This tension is suffocating. With this on your mind, you seem to surprise Natasha as much as yourself when your feet march you over to the swing on your left, and your knees bend to seat you. Her entire body tenses as yours nears her. You can tell that, since you’ve gone to great lengths to escape her company recently, this is the last thing she expected. (In all honesty you weren’t really expecting this either. What now?)

“You know that I’m in love with you, right?” Natasha says suddenly, and you freeze. Your chest tightens, and it’s like she’s wrapped herself around it, claiming your breath as her own.

“That’s not funny,” you reply in a small voice. “Don’t— don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Play with me like that.”

Her stomach lurches. “I’m being serious.”

You’re quiet for a moment. “Were you and Bucky ever actually together?”

“What?”

“Bucky Barnes. Were you with him when you were with me, too?” 

“N- no,” she says with vehement certainty. “I was — well, I guess it doesn’t really matter now, but when him and Steve were a secret I was his cover story. And I guess he was mine, so that I could… yeah.” She gestures towards you, pressing her lips together. 

“But even after they came out I was still a secret.”

“I—” Natasha says, and buries her face in her hands for a moment, because this is not how she hoped this would go. “Yes. And that was wrong of me. I’m sorry. I think I was trying to protect you, and me, and you from me because I know how messy I can be, and I wanted you so bad but I didn’t want to drag you down with me. And I still did anyway.” She sighs heavily.

“That’s an interesting way of showing affection,” you quip. 

“I know,” she says quietly. “And I’m sorry. I know I haven’t shown it well — at all — and I don’t really blame you for not believing me. Or, uh, hating me.”

“I don’t hate you,” you say softly.

Her shoulders sag. “Oh. W— well that’s good, then.”

“But I wish I did,” you add.

“No, yeah. That’s fair.”

“You’re really mean.”

Natasha just nods.

“And it’s even worse because I can’t even hate you because you can also be really nice.”

She nods again uncertainly. She’s not really sure how to respond to that.

“Why?”

“What?”

“Why are you so mean sometimes?”

This makes her stop up short. The way that both you and Yelena never fail to cut to the chase or ask the questions that nobody else would will always catch her off guard. “It’s kind of just who I am,” she begins, but at the way your face scrunches she adds, “or who I’ve decided to be, anyway. I don’t really know. I’m not sure… who I am.” Even uttering the statement aloud is a weight lifted from her shoulders. “It’s scary. I guess I… I thought that, like, I have to be the mean one, or someone else will first. To me. You know?”

“Why would anyone be mean to you?”

“Because I like girls,” she says truthfully, and there’s a tremor to her voice.. “And I’m not from here.”

You stare at her. “…? I like girls, and Yelena isn’t from here. No one is mean to us for it.”

“Because Yelena can and will beat the shit out of anyone that tries something,” Nat snorts. “But I just… I don’t know. It’s different for me.” You nod encouragingly and she adds with reluctance, “I don’t— belong here, not really. Or anywhere. I’m too American to be Russian and too Russian to be American. Ma and Baba and Yelena have it figured out, they’re just both and themselves and they don’t even have to think about it. But that’s not so easy for me.”

“Maybe,” you say carefully, “it’s to do with the people you choose to surround yourselves with. Is it possible that you’re… spending time with the wrong people? If you’re made to feel as though these things make you lesser.”

She shrugs. “Probably. But that doesn’t change the fact that I just… I really don’t have a lot going for me. So I kinda pretend that I do, and then it gets out of hand and I’ve convinced myself that I’m a lot more interesting than I am, to the point that I don’t know who me is. And I get all freaked out. And I’m so scared I kind of just shut off and try not to think, so I guess I’m just an asshole instead. Like it’s a reflex, you know? But it’s not really me. Nothing is me. My entire life is one perpetual identity crisis.” She drops her gaze to toe at the ground.

Your swing comes to a still as you clasp one of her hands between both of yours. They’re warm and perfectly manicured, and her eyes light up at the contact. “You don’t have to know who you are. You just have to exist, and you find out. I’m learning things about myself all the time, and so is Lena. This was my first relationship —” Nat’s stomach drops at the use of the word was “— and I’ve learnt a lot about myself and how I like to be treated. And Lena only came to terms with being aroace this year. Even Ma only just decided she’s demi,” you point out, and Nat can’t help but smile at this. (A little while ago, after Yelena first came out, you and Melina began joining her in attending weekly meetings at the local youth centre for young queer people and their parents. Your mama was determined to be a more educated advocate for her three queer daughters. Very recently, with all this new terminology at her disposal, she dropped into a dinnertime conversation in the presence of the whole family that she thinks she’s demi. “Not that it matters,” she added, “the only one for me is your father,” and she kissed his beaming crinkly cheek with a motherly tenderness. It was a beautiful moment to witness, despite Yelena’s playful booing.)

“I guess,” she says quietly. “Um, I’ve been talking to someone. Professional,” she adds at the look on your face. “Yelena said some stuff that made me realise I probably shouldn’t sort through this alone.”

“Yes, you shouldn’t,” you nod. Natasha raises an eyebrow at your ready agreement. “It’s not something to be ashamed of. Lena sees someone. I do too.”

She blinks. “Really?”

“Yes,” you laugh, “Baba takes me every other Thursday. I have horrible abandonment issues. I guess after everything that’s happened, I’ve kinda internalised some stuff.”

“I definitely took advantage of that,” Nat says guiltily. “I’m sorry. Honestly, I am.”

You look at her. “I know.” Your hand squeezes hers before letting go and she instantly aches to feel it again. “I’m sorry, too. For not… I don’t know, setting more boundaries. Or being more forceful.”

“No, no, it wasn’t your fault.”

You hum, and the two of you sit in silence for a long while as the sun begins to retire.

“You know,” you say suddenly, “you don’t have to move across the country. You can if you want, obviously, it’s your call, but if it’s just because of me… you don’t have to.”

“But-? I’m trying to give you space? To heal,” she says confusedly, and you laugh.

“And it’s very sweet, but I don’t need that much space. I’ve already forgiven you.”

Natasha’s soul leaves her body. “You— huh?”

“I have,” you laugh kindly. “I did some of my own thinking, and I just… I don’t know. I don’t think you need me being mad at you, on top of everything else going on in here.” You tap at her temple gently to emphasise your point, and she shivers. “And I don’t think I need that either. I don’t want to carry that with me.”

“Okay,” Natasha breathes. “T— thank you.”

You wrinkle your nose at her affectionately. “You’re silly.”

She’s awash with the overwhelming need to kiss you, and instead twitches a little, digging her nails into her palm. You take in the movement with such wide-eyed concern that she has to close her eyes for a moment, because she’s almost ill with how much she feels for you. This feeling only grows more intense as you continue.

“I know we’re… whatever we are, but… if there’s anything I can do for you, let me know,” you say more quietly. “I know you’ve been through some stuff, and even when you’re seeing someone for it it can get overwhelming. I do care about you.”

She nods, and swallows thickly. “ I don’t— I— uhm. What does this make us?”

You can hear her hopes heavy on her tongue, and your heart is like lead. “Friends?” you offer. “I— I don’t think we should be anything else, right now.”

Natasha nods, and swallows thickly. With it she swallows back the words but I love you. It must be written across her face, though, because you cup it between your hands (which really isn’t helping her self-restraint at all).

“I love you,” you tell her honestly. “And I always have. But love isn’t… you don’t… I don’t know. That kind of love is something that you earn, I think. And we both need to take care of ourselves.”

“I understand.” Natasha’s voice is hoarse, and barely above a whisper. “And I want you to feel like I respect your decision. But I also want you to feel like I’m serious. About you. And I will prove it if I have to.”

Against your own better judgement, you smile at her.

One thing about Natasha Romanoff is that she’s not a quitter.

Some would say it’s an endearing quality. More would probably tell her it’s the reason she finds herself in so many messes in the first place. What’s objectively certain is that she’s a stubborn little shit — and and with this determination she’s decided she’s going to win you back. Your slight encouragement, no matter how vague, is enough fuel for a fire that could simmer for months.

It starts as chocolates, and flowers. At this point she seems to have cottoned onto the fact that you’re not one for big, theatrical confessions of love, but rather consistent affirmations of it. Actions, not words, she’s heard you say (although now more than ever before she’s seeing for herself what you mean). So there’s no four-act sonnet recitals when you receive her gifts — although you don’t really receive them at all, in the traditional sense. Rather they seem to begin popping up everywhere you go. At one point you open your locker to a bouquet so over-endowed that flowers begin to tumble out onto the floor. Sam steps neatly to the side and watches with glee as you scramble to clean the mess. (He’s most definitely enjoying watching all of this play out.)

Your favourite of all these surprise gifts is probably one delivered by your own four-legged Cupid himself. Liho headbutts the door to your room open and stalks in with a scowl on his face and something attached to his collar. As soon as you remove it to inspect it he rolls onto his back and looks up at you expectantly, clearly expecting compensation for this favour.

“Yes, you’re a very handsome boy,” you tell him distractedly, using one hand to rub his belly while you attempt to unfurl the note he’s delivered with the other. Yelena lets out a noise of amusement. She’s perched on your bed with the Kardashians paused on her laptop in favour of watching this play out instead.

“You are so ungraceful,” she comments mildly, making no move to help you.

“I love how you always see the best in me,” you reply through gritted teeth.

After a moment, you manage to succeed in your task. I picked these for you :), the letter reads. You glance over at Liho’s collar again to see a tiny bunch of forget-me-nots, only slightly battered from their journey and bound neatly by brown twine.

“Another gift from the mystery girl?” Yelena teases, and you groan.

“Okay, saying mystery girl is officially banned. It’s giving me war flashbacks.”

“And that is fair,” your sister muses, getting to her feet to inspect your latest delivery. After she’s done she sits back on her heels. “You don’t have to keep turning her down, you know.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, if it’s just because of me. You have my… blessing, or whatever. But on the condition that you’re not gross about it.” She rolls her eyes, and nudges your cheek with her nose. You squirm good-naturedly.

“Why thank you, your Grace.”

“Yes, I’m the graceful one,” she preens.

“Sure,” you snort, and she smirks. “Um, thank you, though. That’s good to know. I guess I’m still… figuring it out, but she’s growing on me again.” And it’s true. You have your reservations now, but she’s trying to remind you why you first fell for her (and yeah, she might be succeeding). Part of you wonders if she’s turning on the superficiality again, but after she spilled her guts to you on the swing set you’re trying to have faith that she really is turning a new leaf, and charming you authentically.

Yelena considers this. “Yes, okay. This makes sense. Remember to tell me if she tries anything again though. I will put them up.” She raises her fists and you giggle, but you know she’s at least partially serious. She’s very athletic in her own right and people at school go out of their way to avoid crossing her. That’s how you’ve stayed out of trouble your whole life — by standing behind Yelena and letting her handle it instead. Where you hesitate, she dives right in. You adore that about her, though.

“Do you know what you’ll do once she’s out of state?” Lena asks, and you shrug.

“Figure it out as we go, I guess. I don’t know if she’ll lose interest in me.”

The blonde looks up fiercely. “If she does that I will stick them up.”

You beam at her, admittedly less for the violence and more for the sentiment behind it. She beams back for reasons more ambiguous.

“Do you know what we will do?” Yelena queries. Upon your frown she elaborates, “next year when it is our turn to pick college. You and me, what will we do?”

“Pick the same one, and both get in because we’re super smart, and we’ll be roommates. And you can make us mac and cheese every night,” you say, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

She contemplates this.

“Okay,” she says, seemingly satisfied with your answer. “Can we hit play now? I want to know what’s happen to Kim’s diamond earring.”

“Two cookies say she gets it back.”

“Two cookies say eat my ass the way a fish ate her earring,” she retorts, and the two of you settle on the bed again. (You have two more cookies than usual after dinner.)

Despite the witticism you take Yelena’s blessing with pride, and it means a lot more to you than you let on. Now that every single member of your family has shown their support for your relationship you can’t help but feel a slight ray of hope, the likes of which you thought had been stomped out long ago. Never before have you dared to imagine a situation where you could actually have a shot with the girl of your dreams, who you’ve wanted for as long as you can remember — and yet here you are, with her putting her back out working overtime to win you over, and your family watching with interest. Every morning you wake up a little warmer to the idea of letting this happen.

That doesn’t mean Natasha’s out of the woods yet, though, and you’re careful to make this clear to her. She senses your hesitance, and completely understands its presence. She’ll wait for you as long as it takes. (She’s genuinely stunned at how forgiving you have been of her, in all honesty.) In fact she takes your reluctances in her stride in a way that actually has you feeling more for her — but again, you know better than to repeat your mistakes of the past, and so you take this as slowly as you can considering she’s coming on strong and you live under the same roof.

Three months of summer lie ahead of you, stretching out like an endless expanse of sunset-tinted possibility. You and Yelena manage to land jobs at the video store in town — Yelena goes blazing into the interview and makes it clear as she can that the two of you are a package deal. Wong, the guy who runs the place, just seems grateful for the help.

The store becomes somewhat of a hangout spot for the two of you, who work the same hours and are joined at the hip like always, and it’s a safe bet to stop by if anyone wants to find you. Sam often swings by to playfully irritate the both of you, since the marina where his parents’ boat is docked is just round the corner, and Natasha will meet you when you’re closing to take you out for dinner after. (Sometimes Yelena tags along to these meals, and gleefully revels in the awkwardness her presence causes.) Since you and Yelena are twins again too, things are looking up for your friendship group and they’ve taken to visiting also. You’re delighted to spend time with them again. (Seeing Makkari’s face light up when she steps into the Deaf & Subtitled section of the store makes your whole week.)

In fact, word seems to have gotten out about the fact that Wong’s employed you, because one sleepy Tuesday afternoon Bucky Barnes drops by to rent a DVD. He picks one at random, not even glancing at the cover, and as you scan it through for him he says to you lowly, “thank you for making Natasha happy again. She cares so much about you.” He offers you a genuine smile before heading out abruptly and almost forgetting his DVD in the process. (You suspect his purchase was a mere means to talk to you.) It’s a strange interaction, but decidedly more pleasant than your last with him, so you take it no further.

Another perk of having this job is that you have your own money now. You’re not really sure what to do with it at first; the only thing that occurs to you is that you want to get a gift for Natasha. At the end of the summer is her graduation — she’ll walk and wear the square hat and everything, and you’re very excited to embarrass her with photos of the event — and after that she’ll leave for college. Her graduation is the perfect time to present her with said gift, you decide.

You know you want the gift to be meaningful, but you’re not really sure of the specifics. Luckily for you, one night on the roof with Natasha is all you need for the inspiration to strike.

Can’t sleep, you text her one night, after hours of fruitless tossing and turning.

She replies immediately.

Me neither

Come down to my room :)

If you want to!!! she adds after a moment, and you can’t help but smile to yourself. She is adorable.

Omw, you tell her, rolling out of bed.

The door is unlocked!!!!!! just come in

You follow her instructions and slip inside. The room is cosily lit, with her fairy lights on and her little lamp shaped like Calcifer flickering merrily; the bed is unmade, as if someone’s been in it recently, but Natasha herself is nowhere to be seen.

“Nat?” you call out uncertainly, and squeak in surprise when her head pops through the window. She smiles softly at your reaction.

“I’m out here,” she tells you. “C’mon, there’s space for both of us.” She wriggles along her perch on the flat row of tiles of the roof, and pats the empty spot beside her. Antics like this don’t faze you after twelve years of friendship with Yelena. You clamber out beside her readily.

“Hi,” says Natasha a little bashfully, once you’re settled. You lean up to peck her lips and she flushes. “Y— yeah. Um, hi.”

“Hi,” you reply sweetly. “It’s nice out here.”

“It is,” she agrees, her gaze not straying from you. You take no notice, though; your sights are set to the heavens. No matter how much you snipe about how annoying it is to live in a small town, the views still take your breath away. The stars shimmer bright above you, as they do almost every night. They’re not the only beautiful sight your town has to offer; Wanda adores the rocky hills at the edge of town, where many scavengers like squirrels and raccoons have made their home (one boy in your grade, Peter Quill, has befriended one of the raccoons and affectionately named him ‘Rocket’. He visits Rocket every day after lunch with his leftovers from the cafeteria). Occasionally she’s able to convince everyone in your group to accompany her hiking there. Despite your grumbling, it does make for an enjoyable day out.

“I come out here when I can’t sleep,” she tells you quietly.

“I sit on the roof sometimes,” you reply, and you beam at each other. It’s true — you do, but sharing the information feels vulnerable. You’ve figured out how to hoist yourself up through the skylight in the loft and onto the utmost point of the house, but it’s an activity you’ve kept as your own for now. While you adore more than anything being twins with Yelena, and living your life with her, you’re also learning how to exist by yourself for the first time in your life, and enjoying having your own space. Your little corner in the attic has afforded you many freedoms, and not just material ones.

“You see the moon?” Nat asks. The planet in question hangs round and heavy over the horizon, not quite full.

“How could I miss her?” She’s the most beautiful thing in sight.

“You know the difference between waxing and waning?” Natasha prompts, and you shake your head, solely because you love when she talks about her passions. “Waxing is when the moon transitions from a new moon to a full moon — so she fills out. See, that’s what she’s doing now.”

“She’s nearly full,” you remark quietly.

“Yup.” She grins. “Now when she’s waxing, she fills in from the right side — so she kinda looks like a C.” She makes a C shape with her left hand and holds it up against the sky to confirm that, yes, while the moon is waxing it vaguely resembles the letter. “But soon she’ll start to wane — maybe next week? After the full moon. Waning is the transition from the full moon back to the new moon, so she shrinks away into nothing. She’s eaten away from the left side, so she looks like a reverse C.” Nat makes a C shape with her right hand this time, so that it’s reversed, and holds it up to compare to the moon. They don’t match up right now, but they’ll get there someday.

“This is my favourite period though,” she confesses, her voice dropping a little lower, “of the lunar cycle. When the moon is waxing.”

“Why?”

“Because it feels,” she hesitates. “I don’t know. It feels like gross to say out loud but it kinda just feels like, encouraging. Things are always changing. They won’t be like this forever, you know? The cycle keeps on repeating itself.”

“The cycle keeps on repeating itself,” you repeat, and she smiles at you.

“Yeah. You don’t think it’s… dumb? I don’t know, I’ve never brought anyone else up here. I —”

“I don’t think that at all,” you tell her, and she kisses you gently.

The next day you go out and buy a crescent moon necklace.

Natasha has been coming into your room more and more often lately, and you don’t trust yourself to not leave it lying around in plain sight, so one day while she’s out you enlist Alexi’s help to loosen one of the floorboards in the attic so you can stash things under it inconspicuously.

“It’s not for anything suspicious,” you tell him quickly, “you can look under it whenever you want. It’s just to hide gifts and —”

“Relax, sunflower,” he chuckles, “you are entitled to your secrets.”

The necklace stays hidden there until summer draws to a close.

The weeks fly by in a golden haze and before you know it, you’re getting ready for Natasha’s graduation.

Alexi is stood on the landing in his smartest suit, and flexing proudly in the mirror on the wall. “It still fits!” he booms triumphantly.

“Don’t forget to wear your nice shirt, любовь,” Melina calls up the stairs to him. “No one with holes in.” He deflates a little, and retreats back into their bedroom to change.

“He looks fine,” Yelena scolds half-heartedly as she lumbers down the stairs, holding out her wrists to Melina. “Can you do my cufflinks?”

“Where’s your please?” Melina retorts, but she sets her clutch down so she can use both hands to help her daughter.

“We have to leave in ten minutes,” Natasha announces as she bursts from her own room. “Семья, I know what you are like, and we cannot be late.”

“Relax, love.” Alexi reemerges from the bedroom in a different shirt this time. “I will go and start the car,” he starts down the stairs, “and— oh.” He pauses as several buttons pop off his shirt simultaneously. “Ебать.” He turns around and subduedly makes his way back up the stairs.

“Baba,” Natasha groans. “This is what I mean.”

“Hey! I am nearly ready,” says Yelena indignantly, nodding at her mother in thanks for doing her cufflinks before ducking in front of the mirror. “Oh shit, where is my tie?”

“Language,” reprimands Melina.

“See?” Natasha sighs exasperatedly. “Y/N/N is the only one who’s ready.” She hurries down the stairs to where you’re stood in the hall, watching the scene unfold serenely. You’ve been ready to leave for the last ten minutes. She beams at you and pecks you on the cheek just shy of your lips. You flush, and the crescent moon necklace burns a hole in your pocket. Now isn’t the time, though.

Eventually, you all make it into the car, with everyone now sporting correctly-fitting outfits. As always on car journeys, you’re in the back, sandwiched in the middle between Natasha and Yelena. Lena scrolls through her phone disinterestedly, headphones in, while Natasha vibrates on your other side with anticipation and nerves. You take one of her hands between both of yours and she stills instantly.

“I am very proud of you,” you say quietly, “to have made it this far, with these grades. You’ve gotten into your dream college. You can do anything. Today will go fine.”

She doesn’t speak for fear of bawling and potentially ruining her eyeliner, so instead she rests her head on your shoulder in silent gratitude. She doesn’t move until you arrive, at which point she shows you all to your seats (front row, you note) and disappears to the backstage meeting point for all of the graduates.

The actual ceremony doesn’t begin for a while, so Melina converses with the other parents seated around her while Alexi nods politely, and you and Yelena compete in a thumb war. Eventually Principal Rambeau steps onto the stage and a silence settles on the gathered audience.

“Thank you all for attending,” she begins. “We’re here to celebrate our wonderful seniors, who have put in so much work to make it here today, and walk this stage.” She continues like that for a short while before they begin to call the students’ names, and they each walk across the stage in turn to claim their diploma. Natasha is a little later on the register, so you just sit back and enjoy the show — you’ve lived in this small town all your life, where most people know of each other, and so you recognise or even know the vast majority of the people who make their way across the stage. Some of them choose to make a memorable exit from their high school career (like Happy Hogan who chooses to breakdance his way across the stage, or Ned Leeds who walks proudly in a hot dog suit), whereas others take the more graceful route (see Valkyrie King, a prominent athlete of the school, who walks with confidence and regally basks in everyone’s recognition of her). When Natasha Romanova-Shostakov is called, she walks the stage a little bashfully, and with a blush accepts the cheers showered upon her after several years of being the cheer team’s star. You clap and shout louder than anyone else, and to Yelena’s glee capture several shots of her in her square graduate cap. Front row seat privilege. 

After the presentations, the students flood into the crowd and people break off into little groups. The air hums with the joy of people laughing and congratulating and embracing one another. Natasha makes her way over to you and Yelena, who are stood now with your parents beside the refreshments. She brightens when she spots you, and is instantly by your side, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

“There is my girl!” Melina cheers. An outbreak of hugging ensues.

You mingle politely for a while with the other families milling around your own. Natasha appears intermittently, being the centre of attention today. Yelena is by your side (with her arm annoyingly resting on your shoulder to remind you that she’s taller) until one of her hockey friends pilfers her to show her something. In the few moments that you’re unaccompanied, Natasha resurfaces from the crowd, takes your arm and leads you somewhere a little quieter, and a little less visible to the masses.

“I just, um,” she realises she’s still holding your arm and lets go of it with a blush, “I wanted to thank you for being here. Like actually. It means a lot to me. I know— I know that in a couple of weeks I won’t be here properly, and it might make things weird, but —”

Now is the perfect time, you decide. As she continues to nervously ramble you pull the crescent moon necklace in its little velvet box from your pocket, and present it to her. She falls silent and looks at you.

“It’s for you,” you say unnecessarily, opening it to show her the treasure inside. Her eyes widen. “I— I want to do this with you. I want to give us a try. I like being with you.”

And as you clasp the delicate chain around her neck, and lean up to press a chaste kiss to her lips, Natasha understands. Love is something you earn.

She entwines your hand with hers, and together the two of you make your way back towards your family.

[choccy-milky]

A few months back, I asked if it was okay to write using Clora and Seb. Finished the work - thought I'd lost it on my hard drive and a virus scan located it.

Not sure if it's sad or happy, but the basic premise of it is Clora getting frustrated/upset at Sebastian and Sebastian comforting her, Sebastian getting upset at a predicament Clora's in and Clora comforting him, and them both getting frustrated/upset and having to comfort each other.

If you'd rather I didn't post it, that's fine too, but just wanted to test the waters and double check that you'd be okay with it if I gifted it to you via AO3, or see if you wanted a sneak peak of it before posting it.

OMG im so happy you were able to find it and recover the work you did!!😭🙏 AND YES OF COURSE YOU CAN POST IT AAA I CANT WAIT TO READ IT!! you can DM it to me first if you want, but i also dont mind if you post it straight away on ao3!! IM LOOKING FORWARD TO IT SM AAARGHHHA💖💖💖IT SOUNDS ANGSTY WE LOVE THE HURT/COMFORT I HOPE MY HEART CAN HANDLE IT🥺💖💖TY AGAIN FOR USING CLORA AND SEB AND TAKING THE TIME TO WRITE SOMETHING ABOUT THEM😭

@sunshine-goblin AAA THANK YOU!!! im honoured its your fav fanfic AND ALSO THE LONGEST YOUVE READ BAHAHAA fr, when you say its as long as four books in lotr it rly makes me realize how insane i am😃👍 aw IM GLAD I COULD INSPIRE YOU TO DRAW MORE AND WRITE AS WELL😭 I was curious so i creeped you and everyone go look at their HL blog @sunshines-legacy your MC is so cute and so is your art🥹💖 as for tips on writing a longfic and brainstorming and motivation and stuff, my motivation was my brainrot and unhappiness with the canon story/ending LMAOO, and looking at the story of the game and playing around with what i was unhappy with/what i WISHED could have happened instead, was a lot easier than just coming up with plotlines from scratch. but something i highly recommend is just OUTLINING and making a timeline, one of my fav parts of writing was just putting on some cafe ambience in the background and doing stream of conscious type word documents where id just barf ideas and then worry about making it pretty later....like look at how many versions of the same chapter i have BAHAHA or like different renditions bc i couldnt decide if id wanna keep a scene/what order, so id make a timeline and keep smoothing things out until i was happy with it and whatnot

brainstorming is defs my fav part of the process and the most helpful part to me. just getting a blank document and writing stuff you want to happen without worrying about how it connects to the story, and then a lot of the times as i was doing that id just keep going and it would kinda tie itself together/id come up with a solution as i was writing / once the ideas kept flowing. so basically : TIMELINES AND OUTLINES I VERY MUCH RECOMMEND, but very low pressure and barebones ones. for example, this is what my outlines/brainstorming look like

its honestly just me talking to myself LMAO, and a lot of the time ill interject and be like "OH YEAH AND THEN THIS CAN HAPPEN" as the ideas come while im writing BAHAHA. its a super fun process and honestly nothing feels better than just getting hit with that flash of inspo, and since its all very low effort theres no pressure to actually write well and its just a chill fun time AND GOOD LUCK WITH YOUR OWN PROCESS / WRITING💖💖💖it can be difficult but HOPE U HAVE FUN TOO💖💖

@a-little-lysdexic WAIT REALLY?? LMFAOO OMG THATS CRAZY....SAME BRAIN...🤝🤝...that would trip me up so much if i were you omg BAHHAHA but aside from having similar tastes in names, IM GLAD YOU LIKE MY ART AS WELL, TYY💖💖💖

THANK YOUUU im glad you're liking it!!! and that its taking over your life BAHAHA💖💖 the video you're thinking of was by @silverxstardust for chapter 13 of my fic, and you can watch the video here! (AND TY AGAIN TO SILVERXSTARDUST FOR DOING THIS!)

[yndrgrl]

Could u do a aizawa fic pls

you found a new job under yandere! aizawa as a nanny for his cute kid

age gap. quirkless! au. soft! yandere. dom! aizawa

warning: nsfw, stalking, smacking/slapping, slight coercion??, punishment, daddy kink, sir kink, creampie

a/n: yayyy, first request 🥳 idk if you wanted a fluff or spicy fanfic... so i chose spicy haha. also sorry for taking so long, i just started a new job :0

---

it was a chance encounter, you truly believed. your first year of college just came to a close, & now you had too much free time while the money in your bank account was slowly declining. even if you saved as much as possible, you'd still end up spending all of your money then you'd have to dip into your savings account-- something that you didn't want to do.

so that began your search for a job. you used websites, applied in-person. you thought your resume was solid enough to land a job by now. but no. even though they claimed they were desperately hiring, they never hired you. some had the curtesy to at least let you know that they weren't going to go with you; the rest completely ghosted you. from receptionist to substitute teacher to bank teller, they all rejected you.

it was extremely frustrating to go through the interviewing process then you were ultimately rejected. it was as if someone had it out for you.

that chance encounter happened while you were on the phone with your best friend. you sat at a small round table in a cafe you frequent often.

"i just don't get it, jirou!" you exasperated, taking a sip from your drink. you let out a heavy sigh. with how much effort you've put into finding a new job, you should've been paid.

"i'm sure momo's dad has a job for you," the girl on the other line tried to assure. she was on her daily jog, so she was slightly out of breath as she spoke.

with your face propped in your hand, you responded, "we already tried. all the available positions are for people with like, actual degrees or something. besides, we're not close enough for her to make a whole new job for me."

"i'm sure a job will fall right into your lap," jirou said, rustles of clothes being picked up in the phone microphone. in some sort of messed-up irony, she was getting ready for work. the universe just loved toying with you.

you took a breath in to exclaim how much you needed the money, needed a job, when a man pulled out the chair across from your table. "i'm sorry, i don't mean to be rude & eavesdrop," he began, catching your attention.

"sorry jirou, i'll call you back in just a sec," you whispered, then you hung up. "um, sorry, can i help you?" you took mental note of his appearance-- you know, just in case something happens in this very public, very populated cafe.

just by looks, you'd assume he was in his early thirties. his jet black hair was tied into a bun, stray strands framing his face. there were bags under his eyes-- along with a noticeable scar under his left one. though his disheveled appearance, he took care of himself; his stubble was even & maintained. his shirt was tight around his arms & his chest, & you could faintly make out the shape of his muscles. & god, were they big. he was alluring, with that slight smirk of his.

he would've intimidated you, maybe even set off red flags if he didn't have a toddler bouncing on his leg, tugging his hair out of its bun. she bubbled words & strung together incoherent sentences in beg of attention of her dad.

"i apologize again, i really didn't mean to eavesdrop," he repeated. "it's just i couldn't help but overhear you were looking for a job?"

"yes!" you exclaimed, clearing your throat with an embarrassed blush on your face. "i am looking for a job."

"are you interested in being a live-in nanny for my little girl?"

it was a chance encounter, you truly believed.

the job & its perks were almost too perfect, but you're not complaining. you got to move into the basement of his suburban home for free, he would cook you breakfast & make sure the fridge & cabinets were well-stocked. for nearly $25 an hour, you were living the dream.

eri, his -adoptive- daughter, was an absolute gem as well. she was a cheery toddler who loves life. she's not a picky eater, she loves picking out her own outfits, & if you turned off her show, she would pout for a little bit then bounce back for the next activity. never once has she screamed & shouted. she would cling onto her father almost all the time when he was home.

speaking of her father, you learned his name was shota aizawa, so, naturally, you call him mr. aizawa or sir. he would constantly ask you would other things you wanted, not needed. he would take you shopping, calling it a bonus. your living area was decorated, & you didn't even have to pay a dime! there were times where you felt more like a sugar baby than a nanny, in all honesty.

not that you minded. one look at him & you could already feel your heart beat quicken. maybe it was your daddy issues that just scream when you choose a guy you're into, but he was exactly your type. he's protective, yet soft. strong, yet humble.

you thought you hid your crush on him quite well, treating him as though he were any other person. sometimes you felt like he knew you were so utterly attracted to him.

"y/n," he called out, drawing you out of thought.

"u-uh yes sir?" you replied. you were dressed down still as it was the morning. he just finished breakfast & eri was fast asleep, bound to wake up at any moment. it was just the two of you.

"are you okay?" he asked. aizawa awaited for your answer while he plated your breakfast. he always insisted so you learned to let him.

as he walked towards you with your plate, you answered, "yeah, i'm okay."

he set down the plate in front of you from behind. aizawa bent over so his head was leveled with yours. both of his arms encased you, & if it weren't for the back of your chair, you would've been pressed against his chest. "are you sure?" he whispered into your ear. "i'm hear to listen, if you'd let me."

you turned your head to look at him because, somewhere in your strange logic, you thought it would've reduced the tension & made you less embarrassed. it did the opposite.

the tips of your noses touched, his lips only a few centimeters from yours. with half-lidded eyes, the way he looked at you made you quiver. you tried to create space between the two of you, only for your head to meet his arm. centimeters turned to an inch of space. "i-i am okay," you repeated.

"aw, don't lie to me," he said in teasing voice, but you could've been imagining it. "i know it's been hard, tell me about it~" you never would've thought he would have this amount of confidence-- mainly because, if he did, he should've been bringing home loads of women.

"i-i, it's just, um," you stumbled over your words. he had a smirk, amused. his eyes glanced down to your glossy, shaky lips, then back into your doe eyes, just waiting.

"daddy," eri called from the top of the staircase.

"y/n," he whispered.

"y-yes, mr. a-aizawa?"

"eat your food before it gets cold." & with that, he pulled away from you, sauntering upstairs to grab eri. left stunned, you picked at your food.

oh, how you loved telling your friends about how hot your boss is.

after that incident, you had to tell all your friends about it, so, during your guys' weekly, weekend, late night group facetime.

"oh, my god!" uraraka squealed. "you HAVE to tell us more."

"yeah, that's literally so hot," jirou laughed. "see! you found a perfect job."

you had your phone propped against some random bottle as you snuck into the kitchen to fix yourself something to eat. another thing about eri is that, once she's asleep, nothing is waking that girl up. as for aizawa, he's usually up doing something else-- which explains the bags under his eyes & his scheduled naps.

while you dumped your noodles into a pot of boiling water, you said into your phone, "i'm not even exaggerating, it was the hottest thing to ever happen to me."

giggles erupted from your phone. "well, to be fair, you haven't had much luck with guys in the past," mina stated. it was true. while you were in high school -& this past year of college- you really didn't connect with any guys.

"maybe the problem was that they were all her age," joked jirou. hysterical laughter followed after. you were bent over, trying to catch your breath.

"that's not true! i could go for guys our age," you tried to defend yourself.

"okay, let's name every single one of your crushes ever," tsu said, her camera angle only showing her eyes.

all the other girls started to spit out whoever they could think of.

"remember keigo? he was like, 2 years older than us," momo said.

"that's not even that bad," you rolled your eyes, stirring your noodles & adding the seasoning packet.

"oh yeah?" jirou challenged, "what about shoto-"

"he's our age!" you cut her off to save yourself the embarrassment. "besides i didn't even like him."

"yeah cuz you liked his DAD," jirou finished, to which even more bowls of laughter erupted. okay, maybe you did have a thing for older guys.

"oh wow, y/n, i didn't know you had a thing for older guys," a voice spoke from behind you. you jumped, letting out a yelp.

your phone blasted all of your friends' laughter until you grabbed your phone & hung up. "o-oh hey, sir," you stuttered out. you hid your phone behind your back as if you were caught doing something wrong. you felt your phone vibrate, your friends begging to be on call again. "how much did you hear?"

"not much," shrugged aizawa as he grabbed a glass cup from the cabinet above you. that's when you realized how warm he was, how flushed his face was, how messy his hair fell. that's when you realized he was wearing nothing but a pair of sweatpants & a small towel around his neck.

"wh-what are you doing up," you coughed, taking in his physic-- just for a second, of course. veins protruded up his muscular biceps down his forearms. his pecs were in front of your face. they were well-toned. his washboard abs rose with every breath he took. you let yourself quickly -& ever so sneakily- glance downward. smaller veins & a trail of black hair were like arrows, pointing down his sweatpants. you gulped. was it normal to have a bulge that big-

"you know, it's rude to stare, y/n," aizawa whispered in your ear before pulling away. he walked toward the fridge that had a water dispenser attached to the freezer door. "i just need a cup of water after my workout," he answered in his regular voice to her question.

"oh, nice, nice," you said. a tense, awkward silence followed afterwards. "i-i'm sorry, i didnt mean to," you swallowed, "stare."

"right, i'm sure." & with that said, he left upstairs to get ready for bed.

aizawa loved teasing cute, little you. how could he not? your reactions were simply priceless. your face would get pink while you tried desperately to hide your embarrassment. your skittish eyes darted around the room just to avoid eye contact.

you weren't going to speak up because he knew that you "secretly" loved it. you'd probably make some lame excuse to defend yourself. you'd say, "well i'll let it slide just this once because i really need this job." which was the truth, it just wasn't the entire truth. aizawa knew though. he knew how much you craved his closeness.

he loves teasing you, but he's not a monster.

that's why he whispers in your ear, caging you between him & some other surface. he fed into your fantasies while fueling his own.

he thinks about you. all the time. more than you'll ever know.

what you believed to be a chance encounter was -in fact- a calculated, perfectly-executed plan concocted by aizawa. you might've never noticed him until he introduced himself, but you're so eye catching; it was only natural for him to notice you.

at first, he cursed himself to the moon & back for being attracted to someone ten years younger than him. you're only twenty-three, why is he so charmed by you?

determined to find a fault in your character, he learned your daily routine, find your social handles, grasping at anything. he was expecting to find out that maybe you're so much of an alcoholic that you practically live at a bar or that you have eighteen children with twelve different guys. but no, he found nothing terrible about you.

all of your habits he found adorable-- especially the face you make when you're frustrated. he would watch from afar as you grunted & groaned at your laptop screen. the day at the cafe he figured out why you were so upset lately.

that's why he offered you the job, out of the kindness of his heart. no other reason.

he just wanted to make sure that you stay happy & safe, which is why he installed secret cameras in the basement before you moved in.

he loved to tease you. he loved to rile you up.

he'd tease you so badly that you -at the dead of night- spread you legs wide towards the camera & play with yourself with your fingers, moaning desperately for him. all while aizawa watched you.

tonight was different though because, with the money he gave you, you bought yourself something new. tonight, you had a bright pink vibrator stimulate your clit while your eyes rolled back in ecstasy. aizawa was offended, in all honesty. it was almost like you were mocking him.

he could do better than some toy. you should've known that. he was angry, aroused, & ready to make his move.

you were unsuspecting. usually you were hyper-aware of your surroundings when you masterbated, scared of getting caught. however, this was your first time using a vibrator, & god, it felt so good. you've never experienced anything like it before. blood rushed to your ears as you could only listen to the vibrations & your choked-back moans.

aizawa crept down the stairs, into your basement. the floorboards would creak as a warning, but they fell on deaf ears. he opened the door to the basement, sneaking in. the only light that was on was a dimly lit lamp from your room. "ngh, ah." he heard your muffled moans, & his cock twitched in anticipation.

he bursted through the door, making you jump back & pull the closest thing over the bottom half of yourself. "s-sir! i-is something wrong?" you asked in a high-pitched voice as you tried to calm yourself down.

he gave you a glare, & you felt like you were in trouble, preparing for some sort of punishment. even though you didn't do anything wrong, it was him who barged in. "what. the fuck. do you think you're doing?" he seethed, closing the bedroom door. you were exposed, your juices so clearly staining your sheets.

"wh-what are you talking about-"

"don't give me that, y/n. you've been such a bad girl," he growled. aizawa stalked closer towards you as you gulped.

"n-no i haven't, i don't know what you mean, sir," you managed to say, watching him walk to the side of your bed.

"what were you doing then, hm?" he questioned with a mocking smirk. "tell me. i'd hate to do something brash over a misunderstanding."

"i-i was just laying down," you lied. he was standing at the edge of your bed, & you turned towards him. your gaze was met with his aching bulge, & you gushed all over your bed once more. you tried covering up the squelching with a yawn. "i-i'm kinda tired, you know." you were still staring at his crotch, licking your lips subconsciously.

suddenly, his hand shot to your face, his palm covering your mouth while his thumb & middle finger dug into your cheeks. "don't lie to me~ you were touching yourself, weren't you? using a dirty toy while you thought about me, hm?" you tried shaking your head but he grasped harder, making you still. "i said, don't fuckin' lie to me." he made you nod your head yes while you look up into his lusted eyes.

"you're such a bad girl, & you should know that i don't tolerate any kind of bad behavior," he informed, his gaze never breaking away from yours. "i'm going to sit down, & you're going to lay belly-down on my lap, alright, baby?"

you shook your head no once again, embarrassed. you knew that, the moment you would do that, he would catch you. after all, from the waist down, you had no clothing. "no?" he repeated in an almost sing-songy voice. "no?"

it happened so fast. one minute you were disobeying him, the next you were on his lap, just as he wanted. the baggy crop top rode up the arch of your back, & now you were practically naked -ass up- on your boss' lap. you buried your face into your messy duvet. you felt your core leak onto your inner thighs, hoping aizawa didn't notice your arousal. he did though; he loved it.

his fingers stroked your pussy as he slurred, "what a naughty girl, gettin' wet for me. y'know how much older i am, don't ya?"

you nodded your head, dripping onto his fingers.

"& ya still want me?"

you nodded, this time with a small squeak. he pulled your head back with his other hand entangled in your hair. "what was that, baby?"

"y-yes," you whispered out, hyperfixated on his fingers that teased you.

"yes what?"

"yes, i-i want you, sir," you moaned out. his middle finger ghosted over your clit, & you jolted closer to him for more friction.

"aww, you're so cute," he purred as he let go of your hair, allowing you to fall back into your bed. "it's a shame that you were so impatient though," he said with faux pity, "i have to punish you."

"no, please," you whined. "that's not fair!"

"not fair? oh darling, you brought this on yourself," he laughed. aizawa drew his hand away from your aching pussy, much to your dismay. the hand came back down, thrashing your ass cheek. you let out a muffled scream into your blanket as you were pushed forward with his force.

"what's wrong, y/n? can't handle a bit of spanking?"

"n-no! i-i want you... i-inside of me," you stuttered out with a red-tinted cheeks.

"aww, do you?"

you nodded eagerly. he, in response, growled lowly, "you're going to learn your lesson. i don't want to hear anymore whining. you're going to be my good girl, & take it, right?"

you just nodded again.

smack!

"i said, you're going to be a good girl for me, aren't you?"

"y-yes, sir!"

smack!

you let out a moan, looking back at him with teary eyes. you wanted an explanation why he spanked you again. you did everything right, didn't you? you were a good girl.

"you didn't apologize."

"i-i'm s-so sorry, daddy," you gasped out, then tried to explain why you called him that. "i-i didn't-"

smack!

"you're going to keep calling me that, right?"

"y-yes, daddy." your ass stung bright red, & you felt the tingling sensation as the blood rushed to your asscheeks. aizawa let his hand graze over you, squeezing you ever so slightly.

"sit up, & look at me, y/n," he commanded in a softer tone than before. mindlessly & eagerly, you sat up onto his lap. one hand gripped on your hip while the other was placed behind your back. you wrapped your arms around his neck to stay sitting up. he leaned in for a kiss, lips pressed against your plush ones. with the hand behind your back, he glided his nails over your back.

his tongue slid over your bottom lip before invading your mouth. you let out a moan as he kissed you. he was the one to pull away, you unconsciously leaned into him for another kiss. you were snapped out of your lust when he dove into your neck, nipping & kissing all over. between hickeys, he whispered, "see? good girls get a reward."

you just let out breathless moans. your arms were still around his neck while he lowered you onto the bed. "baby, i don't ever wanna punish you again," aizawa lied, slipping your crop top over your head before throwing it on the floor. he took of his shirt, chuckling when he saw how pink your ears got. "you know why i had to punish you though, don't you?"

"y-yes, i do, d-daddy," you stuttered out. it was hard to focus while he dragged his tongue over your body. he bit your collarbone, sucked on your tits, kissed down your torso. it was all so distracting.

"why did i have to punish you, y/n?"

"because i-i was p-playing with myself without y-your permission," you told him, sighs in between every word. you don't know how or when your legs were over his shoulders, & you didn't notice until he spoke.

every annunciation blew warm air to your throbbing heat. "such a smart girl, y/n~" he praised, his onyx eyes locking with your doe eyes. you didn't have to say anything, he could tell by your facial expressions how badly you needed him. he kitten-licked your pussy; it was so little, yet you couldn't help but squeak in delight.

"oh, my god," you moaned out, throwing your head back as he began to lap your juices. he groaned as his tongue flicked your clit.

"you taste so fuckin' good, baby," he uttered, diving back for more.

"thank you, daddy," you said, you didn't even know if he still wanted to punish you, but there was a chance that he did, & you didn't want this to stop.

"good girl."

he stimulated your clit with his tongue while three fingers pumped in & out of your hole. he pulled away from your pussy for a second, demanding, "look at me when you cum, got it?"

"yes d-daddy!" you yelled out, self-restraint turning into the opposite. a pressure built inside your core, threatening to pop at any second. you looked down, tears of pleasure & neediness rolling down your pink cheeks. "i-i'm gonna cum. please keep going, i'm gonna cum!" you let out a string of pleads & moans as you came all over aizawa's face.

he stood up, slipping off his pants & boxers. he kicked them away as he towered over you. he was standing on the edge of the bed while you lied with your legs spread. "you want me, y/n? you really want me?" he asked because if you wanted him to stop, he would. if you wanted him to do anything, he'd do it.

"i really want you," you said as sincerely as someone who just climaxed could say anything. "i-i just don't want this to be a one-time thing," you admitted.

he laughed, lining his cock with your entrance as he stroked your cheek with his thumb. "trust me, baby. this is not a one-time thing, i'm so addicted to you, y/n. you don't even know." he finished his short-lived speech by shoving his girthy dick into your cunt, & you remembered just how dominate aizawa was. you let out a scream due to the pain, unexpectedness, & utter pleasure you got all in a single moment.

his thrusts were soft & slow at first. you could feel every inch leave then plunge back into your weeping hole. "d-d-daddy, you're so big," you moaned while you wrapped your arms around his neck.

his pace picked up, hips jerking against you. your tits jiggled with every thrust, claps every time he went back inside you. he abused your sensitive g-spot, ramming himself in & out of you. your hands unraveled themselves around his neck, your nails digging into his muscular back. you let out babbles how you couldn't take it, how you were going stupid, & how you were going to cum. he groaned in response, "if you're saying anything other than daddy or more, shut your fuckin' mouth & take it like a good girl."

"n-ngh, ahhh, yesss daddy," you slurred, eyes rolling to the back of your head. you wanted him to slow down so you could think again, but you liked being mindless, you liked how you didn't have the energy or will power to think about anything in this fucked-up world. all that mattered in that moment was you, aizawa, & how good the two of you felt.

"you're so fuckin' beautiful, baby," he groaned, he couldn't help but compliment you. how could he not? you looked even better pinned under him than he imagined. "so tight for me."

"please let c-cum with me, daddy," you begged. he didn't respond for a second, & you started to doubt yourself.

"wh-where," he groaned out, thrusts becoming rough & sloppy.

"what?"

he was losing composure. "where do you want me to cum?"

"inside," you answered quickly, wrapping your legs around his waist. you felt like you were in control now. "i-i want you inside of me when i cum all over your cock, d-daddy~"

"y/n. don't say stupid shit," he warned, knowing damn well he'd fold in an instant. you kept moaning with every thrust, begging for him to cum.

"p-please~ daddy, i deserve it. i-i've been a good girl," you whimpered. you jutted your bottom lip in a pout & tried to give your best puppy-dog eyes. every thrust he could see you twitch in pleasure, your expression couldn't hide how much you were enjoying this.

"fuckin' brat," he scowled. he watched you as you figured out how much power you truly have over him. he couldn't blame you for extorting it because that's what he did to you. at the end of the day though, you won.

he became sloppy & fast. his cock twitched inside of you when he saw your slutty expression-- tongue hanging out of your mouth, cheeks red, tears running down your face, eyes begging. & it was all because of him, how he fucked you. he was the cause of such a beautiful thing. finally, with a single thrust, he buried himself deep within you, cumming.

whiteness painted your insides while you came around him, clenching his twitching prick. "a-aizawa!" you screamed out in pure ecstasy.

deep breathes, panting, & sighs of content followed afterwards. he slipped out of your gaping hole, his sperm leaking out of your pussy. he climbed into your bed, coddling you. you were still shaky, senses heighten. you placed your head on his chest, listening to his heart beat slow.

he pulled the covers over the two of you. aizawa said while massaging your scalp, "you okay, baby?"

"mhm," you hummed, "i-i just never been fucked like that before."

he laughed, then kissed the top of your head. "i promise that this won't be the last time, y/n. i'm all yours." though he didn't say it, he was thinking, besides, guys your age won't know what to do with a bad girl like you.

[aohisworld]

BROKEN CD

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ when the world picks on Aohi, she crumbles gently, and Ri-ki’s there to put her back together, piece by piece.

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ nishimura ri-ki x addedmember!oc. mentions of poly!ot7 x addedmember!oc, contains. cringe writing, angst (as always).

| : ̗̀➛ MINTIE’s NOTES: a little self-indulgent because I feel like poopoo honestly 😞 I apologize if this mini- drabble? fic? Is short, I really barely have any time to write to my pieces, and I can only offer you guys these small little fics 😭

| : ̗̀➛ WARNING! How I write ENHYPEN is not meant to portray the idols irl, this is my au and I write this for fun.

✧. ┊    No one’s a stranger to the familiar feeling of coming back down from a successful peak, the sudden feeling of clouded thoughts or the slow burn-out of your sociality or productivity being a familiar dull sting to your body and mind.

And sometimes you can’t understand just why you have to burn out, and with that comes along frustrations, anger, the tantrums inside your mind when nothing goes your way when you’ve already had a bad day.

Aohi’s world dulls to grey for a little while, the exhausting schedule and the upcoming recording for memorabilia took a lot out of her.

All she wanted was to sleep, maybe for a week straight, if she could, she’d hibernate like a bear. Aohi knows she can’t though, engenes would miss her too much.

Despite her frustrations with the slightly wrong tones or the wrong words being sung out, she trudges on, continuing to work, to rewrite, to practice.

She’s repaid by the loss of her voice, and recording’s been pulled back a week later due to the sudden situation. Aohi sits in her seat speechless when her manager explains it on the way to the studio.

“But then, why am I going if I’m being put on vocal rest?” Aohi’s voice croaks out. In a comical way, she sounded like a Justin Bieber when he was in his teens, cracking and going airy from time to time.

“I didn’t want you to come in either, but the studio was insistent on it,” Aohi groans, despite how hurtful it was on her throat. “Trust me, I tried to fight for a day off, all I could do was move your session to a later time tomorrow.”

“I can’t even do anything at the studio, the whole point of a vocal rest is so I could rest!”

“First off, stop yelling, don’t use your voice-“ Her manager looked up at the rear view mirror, shooting her a glance that told Aohi to fix her attitude.

"Second, just get through this recording, it'll be over before you know it.."

Aohi just rolled her eyes, feeling already irked that she had to come in today. Aohi stared out the window as she ended up tuning out her manager’s voice and locking herself inside her mind.

There wasn’t much to do for her especially when she had a sore throat, even if she could, Aohi doubts her current health would even be able to keep up with anything.

“Aohi, let’s go.” Her manager could be heard unbuckling her seatbelt, Aohi following. Aohi grabbed her phone and opened her car door, squinting at the bright sun.

Her instant response to the sudden rays was to put up her hoodie, entering the studio.

“Batsy!” Sunoo chirps, reaching for the girl before any of the other guys could call for her, and with her call, Aohi gravitates towards Sunoo, his arms taking her in like a cuddly bear.

“I missed you..” Aohi mumbled into his clothes, and Sunoo just hums and kisses her forehead, “gonna keep with the PDA or are we actually recording?” Xiulin amusingly spoke from behind the two.

And it would’ve been funny, if Aohi hadn’t hissed back at her. “Unnie, respectfully shut up.” Aohi replied with a hoarse voice, and Sunoo was taken aback by her sudden reply. Xiulin must’ve been as well, looking at Aohi with widened eyes.

Aohi’s furrowed brows seemed to soften after realizing the stunned faces across the room, and she sighs, pulling away from Sunoo.

“Sorry, unnie… i just… don’t feel well.” Aohi walks into the studio booth trying to rubbing her temple with a frown. Xiulin was still waiting out her aftershock as she just watched her dongsaeng walk away.

“What’s her problem?” Ri-ki pointed his thumb at Aohi inside the booth, looking towards the boys who looked equally confused. “I know manager-nim said she wasn’t feeling well… but she’s never snapped at me like that before.” Xiulin frowns at the booth door, rubbing at her neck in discomfort.

“It’s okay noona, I’m sure Aohi just didn’t feel up to the teasing, you know how she is..” Jungwon tries to ease Xiulin’s feelings, patting the older girl’s back to comfort her.

“We’ll talk to her, don’t worry.” Sunoo added, giving Xiulin a gentle and reassuring smile as the group trailed into the booth.

Aohi sat in one of the couches, trying keep to herself, quietly playing on her phone. The boys looked to each other, trying to figure out how to approach the girl without already irking her more than she already was.

“Heeseung-ssi, Xiulin-ssi, we can record your lines now.” One of the producers called the eldest of the hyung and maknae line to come in, and Xiulin glanced at Aohi, who glances at her and Heeseung.

Aohi quickly darts her gaze back onto her phone as she tries to focus on her games, trying to get the day to go by faster.

Xiulin sighs, looking towards Heeseung who was already waiting by the booth, he mouths to her as if to tell her, that the boys will handle it while they’re gone, and not to worry too much.

Jay decides to make a move towards Aohi, sitting beside her with caution. Aohi squirms at the sudden dip in the couch, but refuses to look up anyway.

“Batsy.. look at me, baby..” Jay encouraged, his hands gently reaching for her tense ones. “You want to tell me what’s wrong?.. we just want to help, Aohi, baby.” Aohi feels rather suffocated in Jay’s hold, and she knows he doesn’t mean to cage her in, but she feels like she can’t breathe.

Aohi shakes her head, trying to pull away from his hold, and Jay’s eyebrow twitches, his first indication that something was worse than just annoyance or tiredness. She mumbled something that Jay couldn’t decipher, he leans even closer.

Jay knew that even if Aohi was annoyed, she’d never turn down any of his hugs, even going as far to tell him that he’s the best at cuddling besides Ri-ki.

“Look at me, Batsy.” Jay reaches for her face, his gentle fingers barely touching her cheeks when Aohi slaps them away. “I told you to leave me alone!” Aohi’s voice croaks loudly, and Jake stands up from his spot in the room.

Her hand reaches to push Jay away, who seemed hurt at the way Aohi raises her voice at him. Despite being scolded by Aohi before, it never sounded worse like it did at this moment.

Aohi’s hand is stopped by Jake’s hand around her wrist, and her attention’s turned from Jay to Jake, trying to pull her wrist away from him.

“Let go!”

“Aohi, that’s enough! We’re just trying to help you!” Jake holds her tighter, and Aohi squeezes her eyes tight, letting out a sob. “I don’t want your help!” Aohi stands up from her spot, shoving Jake away.

Jake toppled over a few instruments, hissing at the impact. “Hyung!” Jungwon and Sunghoon quickly stood up, rushing to Jake’s side. Aohi’s breath hitches, and she sniffles, glancing around, Sunoo and Ri-ki looking at her with disbelief.

Aohi could feel her heart beating with intensity as she only looks for her only escape, running out of the room to the front door.

She has no idea where to run, but her legs certainly aren’t stopping, Aohi doesn’t register which way she goes, turning all sorts of corners, and the sun blinding her.

Soon enough, her body stops running, and Aohi has no clue where she is, she sits on a random bench, the area seemed deserted, some patches of weed growing through the brick path she ran down on.

Aohi brings her legs up on the bench, and she remembers that she’s left her phone at the studio with everyone else, and the air doesn’t do much to calm her.

She digs her face into her knees, and she could feel the familiar sting of tears in her eyes and she squeals into her knees, as if angry that she’s crying.

Aohi has no idea why she’s been so upset lately, maybe she needed to be alone for a while, or maybe Aohi felt like the world hasn’t been so nice to her lately. She’s tired, so tired.

Aohi just wanted to rest for a little while, and she can’t do that when her company wants her to go to these recordings despite putting her on vocal rest.

Aohi can’t afford to go home right now either, for one, she has no clue where she is and Aohi knows that she needs a ride to even get back to the apartments.

She only whimpers, and lets herself cry into her arms, pitiful sobs leaving like a lullaby from her lips. Aohi’s back shakes as her sobs continue, and she realizes that she can’t even stop herself or quiet herself.

And in an ironic way, the world sends a somewhat comforting breeze to her side, despite being certainly mean to her the couple of days, Aohi takes the breeze with gusto, sniffling as she’s blanketed with the wind.

Aohi cries her pretty little heart out in a deserted part of this random park, and she cries and cries until her eyes tire out, Aohi can feel the creeping tiredness loom over her as her eyes don’t fight the urge to close, to get sleep.

She just lets it happen as her eyes blanket her vision with darkness, and she sniffles once more, the need to sleep heavy and she doesn’t fight.

The sun’s starting to come down, and Aohi can barely register the muffled call of her name. Aohi could feel the approaching headache from dehydration, obviously from crying her eyes out the previous hours, but she looks up anyway.

“Aohi.. wake up, damn it..” Ri-ki curses, and he sits beside her balled figure on the bench, he runs his hands through his hair, sighing out of worry and concern.

“nini…” Aohi mumbled out, and her voice is still coarse, maybe even worse than it was the last time Ri-ki heard it. Ri-ki stops himself from softening at the nickname she calls him, one that she got from other fan accounts on Twitter, thinking it was adorable.

“Do you know how fucking worried we were?…” Ri-ki breathlessly spoke, and he gently placed a hand on her cheek, his eyebrows furrowed. Aohi whimpered, digging her cheek into his palm anyway.

“I’m sorry, nini…” Ri-ki curses under his breath, and he takes off his jacket, placing it over Aohi’s body, he felt the alarming heat of her body on his palm, he stands up from the bench and takes his arms under Aohi’s knees and supporting her back.

He lifts her up with a huff, carrying Aohi bridal style. “Don’t think just because you’re sick means you’re off the hook for running like that.” Ri-ki walks down the familiar path, the sun was going down and soon enough, he won’t be able to see the path out of the deserted park.

“You worried the fuck out of everyone… Jay and Jake were out in the cold for hours, you left your phone so we couldn’t even…” Ri-ki blinked his tears away, the worry and the thought that something could’ve happened to Aohi overwhelming him.

“We couldn’t track you down, and who knows where the hell you could’ve gone?…” Aohi, despite being too tired out of her mind and sleepy, felt guilty anyways, she felt stupid for running then, and she still felt stupid now.

“I don’t know what I would’ve done if I couldn’t find you… hell, what would we tell the engenes? you hate disappointing them..” Ri-ki grits his teeth, it takes a little while for them to regroup with the others, and Ri-ki had gone silent from walking for a bit and he finally walks out to a familiar path, seeing the boys and Xiulin waiting anxiously by the van.

“You found her!" Heeseung sighed in relief, jogging up to the two, Aohi seemed to knock out on the walk, and Heeseung reaches to check on her.

"She's burning.." Heeseung curses, and he walks to the van and opens the door, "Let's get her home before she gets worse." Sunoo agrees, nodding as he climbs into the vehicle, helping Ri-ki climb in with Aohi in his hold.

"Careful.. she's going to bump her head.." Sunoo whispers, placing his hands on her head, looking at Aohi with worry in his eyes.

The boys and Xiulin are silently driven home by their staff, and they all apologize to the staff member for keeping them waiting as Ri-ki, bowed, before walking up to the apartment.

"Ri-ki-yah.. I can carry her.." Sunghoon offered from beside him, and he shakes his head, just continuing to walk up to their dormitory, which Jungwon opens for the youngest.

"Wait! You should bring her to our dorm, I can't take care of her from your dorms.." Xiulin voiced, and the boys turn to her, "Noona, don't worry about it, I'm sure you're tired, me and the hyungs will take care of her." Ri-ki shoots their eldest girl a reassuring look, and Xiulin can't help but sigh.

"But-" Jay shakes his head, asking Xiulin not to fight them on it, "You can trust us, Xiu, don't worry." Xiulin softly frowns, but she couldn't go up against seven boys, even if she wanted to.

"Okay, just.. make sure she gets some rest..." Xiulin reaches over and places a small kiss on Aohi's burning forehead, a quiet goodbye as she recovers in the boys' dorms.

The boys and Xiulin part from the stairs, and Aohi's brought into the boys' dorms, they all have separate rooms now, the countless complaints from singer to manager had worked, and given them some sort of privacy.

Ri-ki makes a quick move to place her onto his bed, tucking her with record-breaking speed, trying to keep her warm, feeling Aohi shiver all throughout the car ride.

Despite his worry, he still feels sour about earlier, knowing Aohi wasn't feeling well, and her mood was not best, did not excuse the fact that she ran off, and for hours they couldn't find her.

"I'll go grab a rag for her fever.." Sunoo whispers from beside Ri-ki, patting the youngest's back in comfort before leaving the room. The rest of the boys seemed to follow after Sunoo, quiet excuses pouring from all of their lips.

"We'll get dinner started, make her some food.." Jay and Jungwon walked out together, and Sunghoon runs his hand through his face, "We'll give you some space.." Heeseung pulls Sunghoon with him, who seems hesitant to leave Aohi's side.

"How could you be so reckless, batsy?" Ri-ki whispered, his tone scolding. For once, he was babying Aohi without any complaint. Well, not that she could anyway. "I thought something had happened to you.. and I wouldn't of been there..."

Ri-ki sat by her side for a while, he repositioned to the ground, gently rubbing his thumb against Aohi's palm. A calming gesture for both of them. He quietly watches Aohi's sleeping figure, and despite the underlying cringe from him, feeling creepy for watching her, he couldn't help but worry, truly.

"...I would've lost it.. batsy, I need you," Ri-ki whispers, and it seems like every time they were by themselves, he starts to speak in Japanese, like he's at his most vulnerable with her. "I need you like water, my love.." He continues his sentence, hoping she'll awake for a little bit.

Like a miracle, Aohi twitches from her sleep, and she lets out a quiet groan, her eyes fluttering from her nap, and she's faced with the familiar ceiling of Ri-ki's room. She calls for him with a broken voice.

"Nini..." And Ri-ki makes a move, sitting up on his knees to coo at her silently, "I'm here, lovely.." He feels Aohi's hand squeeze his, and he feels himself relax. Ri-ki is relieved, comforted by Aohi's presence.

"Why.. would you go look for me..?" Aohi croaks from her spot, looking at Ri-ki with a hurt expression, and he's almost confused on why she would ask such a question. "Why wouldn't we?.." Ri-ki tilts his head, his thumb makes comforting swipes at the back of Aohi's hand.

"You could've gotten sick.. stupid.." Aohi tries to flick up at Ri-ki's forehead, and he shakes his head, making her drop her hand. "I don't care about getting sick, I care about finding you." He replies, and Aohi sighs, turning her head from Ri-ki to the wall.

"I hate when you say stuff like that.." Aohi whispers, and Ri-ki is confused, sure, his words would fluster the girl, but her? Hating such words from him when she was as affectionate as him?

"Why? You and I both know it's true," Ri-ki responds, and Aohi makes a move to almost throw a slight action of defiance. "And that's what I hate about it, I hate that you're willing to break your back as long as I'm with you.."

"And it's the same for the other boys, and I love that you love me so much," Ri-ki listens, despite his dislike for where the conversation was heading, "and I love you all the same, if not more, but I hate that you'd disregard your own well-being for me.. I wish I wasn't that important to you.. any of you."

"How could you say that?" Ri-ki asks, standing up from his spot and sitting on the bed, and Aohi sits up from her spot, "Ri-ki, how could I not? Hell, you gave me your jacket even when you knew it was cold.."

"You're always bending over backwards for me, and I wish you'd be a little more concerned with yourself." Aohi looks towards him and Ri-ki furrows his eyebrows. "You're the same way."

Aohi stays silent, "It's the way I am.." Aohi fiddles with her fingers, looking down at her lap. "And so what? You think we should just take and take, and you get nothing in return for yourself?" Ri-ki assumes, and Aohi looks to argue, to deny, but words don't come out of her mouth.

Ri-ki waits for a reply from Aohi and when she doesn't seem to speak, he continues. "What's the point of us dating you if we'll just be selfish while you break like this?" Aohi still doesn't reply, and she knows there's nothing she could say to fix her words, and what she meant.

"Are we even your boyfriends that way?" Aohi finally moves from her spot, "Of course you are! I just don't want you to be so consumed with being with me that you just.." Aohi brings her hands to her face, "It feels like you have to take care of me all of the time, and I'm just.."

"I don't want any of you to help me because it's not your job, I should be able to do this myself!" Aohi sobbed, and Ri-ki feels angrier than before.

“if you didn’t want any of us to help you when you’re crumbling like this then why are you still dating us?!” Ri-ki yells, and it’s the first time in a while that Aohi had heard him so loud.

Aohi blinks at him and for once she’s surprised of the way Ri-ki stared at her with angry tears. Ri-ki was angry at her.

“Are you angry at me?…” She whispers, and Aohi doesn’t miss the way her voice quivers as she asks this to Ri-ki who turns away from her.

“You don’t know how much it hurts when we see you like this… when I see you like this.” Ri-ki sobbed, his fists grab at his hair, and Aohi makes a move to stop him, knowing it’ll hurt.

“I feel like the worst fucking boyfriend when I see you fall apart like dust and I can’t help you.”

Aohi doesn’t say a word more, unable to reply. Her tears cascaded down her cheeks and she pulls Ri-ki into her arms. “I’m sorry.” She repeats like a mantra.

And it seems like Ri-ki breaks alongside Aohi, and she starts to think that maybe the world was a little too cruel on both of them, or maybe she was being too cruel on him, on all of them.

how could she fix this now?

"I'm sorry nini... I didn't mean to make you feel like that.. I just... feel awful and I've been too cruel.." Aohi holds Ri-ki tightly, and she could feel her hoodie starts to dampen with the boy's tears.

"I'm so sorry... I feel like the worst girlfriend to you... you don't even know nini.." Aohi hugs Ri-ki like she could never let go, and she knows she would never.

"Then help me know, I want to, let me understand, let me help.." Ri-ki begged from her, and Aohi feels worse than she already did.

Aohi places a gentle kiss on his forehead, continuing her apologies. Ri-ki seems to cry for forever he felt like, he just couldn't stop, and his fingers had gone red from how tightly he held Aohi in his arms.

"You don't deserve such a cruel girl like me.." She whispers, lifting Ri-ki's face, wiping at the streaks on his cheeks, and with a quiet voice, Ri-ki speaks, "I want you anyway, I'll always want to be with you, even if you don't."

"How did I score someone like you, hm, nini?" Aohi laughed through her own tears. "I don't know, but you're never getting rid of me." Ri-ki replies, before taking Aohi's cheeks in his hands and laying a gentle kiss on her lips.

The two's lips intertwined like perfect puzzle pieces, Aohi's hand reaching to cup Ri-ki's in a warmth he'll never deny. Aohi thinks that she could never get used to how warm Ri-ki's lips were, always comforting her in ways she could never do herself.

The two pull away, and Aohi almost chases after Ri-ki, already missing him so close to her.

"...I love you, so much." Aohi spoke after a while, using her hoodie sleeve to wipe at her nose, and Ri-ki laughs, grabbing a tissue from his bedside, "Don't wipe it on your hoodie, batsy.."

"I really do love you though, you know that right?" Ri-ki smiles, and nods, wiping at Aohi's tears. "aigoo... you big baby.." Ri-ki kisses at her nose, and Aohi squeals at the ticklish feeling.

"You cried too! I'm not the only big baby!" Aohi retorts, gently slapping Ri-ki's shoulder, the two continued to giggle for a little before they quiet down, the only evidence of their silly behaviour being their smiles.

"Don't ever be scared to crumble, we'll be here to pick you back up... just like you are for us.." Ri-ki hugs her tightly one more time, and Aohi's never felt as loved as she was with the boys, and it makes her realize how much she could never actually live without these boys.

"So.. how does soup sound?"

"Sounds lovely, nini."

"Good, you're going to have to apologize to Jay-hyung and Jake-hyung, they've been sulking since this afternoon." - "Oh... about that.."

[spicyspiders]

Can you do a smutty lil fic with m reader who has thighs so thicckqq that the pants they where cause rashes? I’m struggling myself and it kinda sounds weird. With konig pls. Don’t need to reply

Why'd you type thick like that?😭Also, I hope you don't mind but I switched the story up a bit and made it so that the reader wears a tight uniform on missions, but out of uniform they started wearing shorts and their thighs distract König.

"König," you said after you entered your room, trying to keep your voice calm and steady. You were used to König being a little strange, hell, everyone on base was a little strange, but it's been days.

König's head snaps up from the book he was reading to look in your direction. It wasn't strange for the man to be reading a book, but what was was how many times you'd caught him looking at your thighs. You didn't mind him looking at your body, but you found it suspicious how quickly he would look away, like he was afraid of being caught.

"Yes?" He asked as he closed the book and placed it beside him. His voice was small. You hated when he sounded like that, you always wanted to make sure the man was okay.

"You're acting strange."

"I am?" He asked, his eyes going down to look at the skin on display from your shorts. You let out a huff when his eyes went back to your face, and his eyes went wide.

"You are. What's wrong?" You asked as you sat down beside him.

He was quiet for what felt like a long time before he answered with a question of his own, "why're you wearing those?" He asked, gesturing to your shorts. He put a hand out like he was going to touch them, but caught himself before he quickly pulled it away.

"My shorts?" You asked, looking down at them.

"They are distracting."

"My shorts?" You questioned, before letting out a laugh of disbelief. "My shorts are distracting?"

"No!" He answers, frustrated. His hands were balled at his sides, and you quickly picked up on where his frustration stemmed from: himself.

"Hey," you said softly, "it's okay," you placed a hand down onto his in comfort. You waited for him to find the words he actually meant as you ran your fingers along his hand.

König didn't speak until his hands relaxed, "your body distracts me. Your thighs."

It only took a few seconds for it all to connect. You normally wore sweatpants and a shirt to relax around the base after missions. For the past few days, however, you instead wore a pair of shorts to keep your body cool, fearful of a head rash breaking out over your body. There wasn't much you could do about your uniform, but you at least could control what you wore out of it.

"You don't need to hide from looking at them," you said. You took one of his hands and placed it right at the edge of your shorts in the middle of your thighs. "I don't wear them to distract you," smirking as König blushed, "but you can touch them all you want."

"All I want?" König questioned, looking up at you in awe as you sat up on your knees.

"All you want," you whisper.

König pulls your shorts down slowly before he leans down onto his forearm. His warm breath puffs onto your skin, which felt much more sensitive after you decided to shave certain areas of your body would help keep away the heat. You weren't sure if it actually helped yet, but it damn sure felt good when König ran his tongue along your smooth skin.

His tongue runs along your skin, getting it wet with his spit. It almost feels like the water from the shower you were just in, but this one was much more enjoyable, if also a little gross with all of the spit.

You gasp when König adds his teeth into the mix to bite marks into your skin. Your cock had already begun to fatten up from his tongue, but with the added pleasure of his teeth, your cock had grown fully hard. It bobbed in the air, hard and angry for König to take care of.

"Good boy," you murmured down at the man as he took your cock into the wet cavern of his mouth. Your eyes flicked down to the bulge in his pants, before they went back to watch the ways König's lips stretched around your cock.

You made a note in your head to get König a pair of shorts that matched your own and to see how distracting they actually were. You just hoped you could remember to do so as your mind went blank from the pleasure König's mouth brought ran through your body.

[slutshamethesquirrels]

HI THIS IS FOR YOUR POST ON FIC IDEAS BECAUSE I HAVE MANYYYYY😈😈😈😈

- getting high with geto & he literally just wants to eat you out the whole time. like he’s got the munchies for you soooo bad. picture this: you’re chilling after a couple of hits, probably thinking about eating a marshmallow or some shit, completed oblivious to your boyfriend who is drooling on himself bc of you. Bro rolls on top of you and he starts putting his head on your stomach, breathing you in, licking you, all the shit bc he’s horny asf and NEEDS a taste. bro isn’t even that high (he has a higher CBD tolerance) but he’s just the right amount to be a needy little baby. ofc y’all have talked about this before and have expressed that you’re both okay with having seggs while high because you like the enhanced feelings. consent & communication are KEY and we know suguru is all about that shit.

- JUST STRAIGHT UP YOU AND SUGURU EXPERIMENTING WITH KINKS AND SHIT IN THE BEDROOM. I KNOW IT WOULD BE SOOOOOOOO GOOD. Bro would keep you in the house for DAYS just finding all the different ways he can pleasure you🙏🙏🙏

- outlaw!geto x tough reader who knows how to use a gun😏

- geto reading a book to you & it gets to a sex part (oooo I wonder what will happen🫣🫣🫣)

- the classic: geto at the club (dragged there by Gojo) meets most beautiful women of his life, they have a moment in the bathroom & bro is down bad without you even taking your clothes off

- just anything no-touch Gojo cumming because we all know that bitch is sub asf and would cum if you said a certain word to him. actually, even better, a series of times when Gojo has came untouched due to your schemes and he secretly likes the humiliation.

- jealous geto when you talk about how hot super model!nanami is & you just HAVE to find a way to make him feel better😊

(Help this is literally all smut I am so gross)

You oftentimes likened Suguru to a big black house cat. Aloof, prone to hiding in his own spaces where he can catch and eat bugs in peace, or whatever it was cats did when you weren't looking. He only really sought you out when he needed entertainment or attention, and when he did, you had no choice but to give into his will.

The two of you lay lazily on the couch, some...thing playing on the TV but failing to truly keep your attention. It was a romcom, maybe. Or a cheesy hallmark movie. Or something. You hadn't been able to focus on it for the past hour or so, distracted first by the bong the two of you had passed back and forth, and then the ramen you'd had delivered, and now the way your favorite annoying feline-esque roomate was crushing you beneath his weight, his shoulders and head pinning you to the couch by your middle, practically purring into your touch as you fiddled with his impossibly long hair.

It was so soft. It was always soft, of course, but everything felt a little different under the weight of the high.

Which is probably why Suguru got so touchy when you smoked together. Not that you minded. Quite frankly, you'd bend over backwards to get the man to notice you on most days, always relishing in the moments when he'd actually join you in the common areas instead of hiding out in his room. There were times when you thought you annoyed him, and times when you thought he enjoyed your company. You couldn't really tell, and were far too nervous to ask.

Until one night he'd come home from work, sweat soaked and frustrated, unwilling to talk about it, but very willing to fuck you stupid over it.

You didn't know what you were to him. A roomate? A hookup? A girlfriend? God forbid, a side piece? Quite frankly, you didn't want to know.

A large hand reaches up to grab your wrist and force your fingers deeper into his onyx locs, and you giggle at his antics but indulge him anyway, scraping your nails lightly along his scalp. He shudders and hums, nuzzling into you without a hint of hesitation.

"Sober you would be so embarrassed." You tease, and he grunts, his hands moving to squeeze your sides, reveling in the feeling of your body beneath him.

"Sober me doesn't get it."

Whiney.

You cup his face in your hands, thumbs swiping over the velvet softness of his cheeks as you drink in his heavy lids and lazy smile with sparkling eyes. You have to beg your heart to be still.

"Doesn't get what?"

"How good you feel."

You melt into the couch as he leaves you no time to respond, reckless hands painting stripes of fire against your sensitive skin and they slip beneath your shirt.

You like it like this, alert enough to feel the heat of his touch and not worry about the consequences of touching such fire. Your eyes refuse to remain open as your body is rocked with every sensation he blesses you with. His hands gripping your sides, the cool air conditioning splashing against your torso as your shirt seems to disappear without warning, his hot tongue pressing to your naval and dancing along your hips just above the line of your pajama pants, less like he wanted to tease and more like he wanted to play and explore. You know what they say about curiosity and cats.

"Mm, fuck-" you sigh as he explores the now barren landscape of your stomach, nipping and licking and sucking with careless abandon. Your hands tangle in his hair, guide him upwards until his tongue is rolling over the stiffened peak of your breast.

He seems to be lost in the feeling, unsure even of what his goal was beyond tasting you, sucking hickeys along your breasts, your shoulders, your neck until you're painted purple and red.

He doesn't actually touch you until you make him, placing your hand over his and guiding it downward until both of your sets of fingers are sinking into your slick, a whimper escaping you and disappearing against his tongue.

[fategoflatass]

I used to be so against the slow burn trope. Not because I thought it was shit; it's just, I usually don't have the patience to wait whatever-amount-superior-to-three damn chapters for my dear ship to finally be able to look at each other without blushing and/or hold hands. Thus why you often times see me reading oneshots or fics with the "Established Relationship" tag on them.

So you can imagine just how surprised—or maybe not, maybe I just didn't think enough about it—I was when I realized my newest fixation's main pairing is—canonically—the embodiment of slow burn. Because holy shit they're taking their time.

Nothing against how Kusuriya develops its love story—quite the opposite, actually. The relationship between Jinshi and Maomao, two characters that are written as beautifully as their romance, is a rather realistic approach as to how the same or a similar dynamic would developed in real life. In such a complicated situation, with such complex feelings about emotions—both external and their own—and attachment, makes sense that it takes so long for the relationship to finally sail.

The problem is, I didn't know I was signing with the Devil the moment I decided to pick up the light novel. Ten volumes and nothing has happened. Nothing.

And you can say that technically things have happened, because they have. I mean, Jinshi is just so desperate for Maomao to give him the time of day, you know what I mean? And even that isn't enough anymore and thus he has committed some of the craziest shit I've seen in any romance. Which okay, I don't usually read these type of romances but still.

What I mean by "nothing" is just, their relationship hasn't changed status. I could also say that it seems to go nowhere, but that'd be lying. Since, you know, it has changed quite a lot—just not in the way my impatient ass wanted it to. Because he can be as honest with his feelings as he pleases, and those around them might be heavely conscious of the tension and thus constantly tease those lovebirds (as they should), but babygirl's not helping, you know?

And I get it, Maomao's not the best at expressing and understanding herself, and she's also way too busy worrying about going as unnoticed as possible (she should give up on that one already, tbh) while keeping her head where it should be. But like, I can't help feeling frustrated over it like ‼‼

GIRL, FUCK THE RULES. TAKE THAT PATHETIC EXCUSE OF A MAN AND RUNAWAY SOMEWHERE NO ONE WILL BE ABLE TO IDENTIFY YOU. YOU THEN CARRY THAT BITCH BRIDESTYLE TO THE CLOSEST CHURCH AND MAKE HIM YOUR WIFE. PROCEED TO FROG AROUND, EXPERIMENT WITH YOUR UTERUS AS MUCH AS YOU'D LIKE, AND THEN TEACH THE PRODUCTS OF YOUR PRACTICES AS YOUR OWN GUINEA PIG THE WAYS OF HERBAL MEDICINE. AS EASY AS THAT.

But she won't. She'll take her sweet ass time being in denial about both Jinshi's and her own feelings, then maybe she'll proceed to analize herself and find out that maybe, just maybe, that affection that she'd been feeling for that loser became something else. Did said affection also become something more complicated? Absolutely. Does she know how to deal with it? Hell no, but fuck it. If I learned something from school is that you always leave the hardest parts for later.

Now you see why I was so against reading slow burn?

And you wanna know the worst part? I loved it—I loved every second of it, every word, every page. Every scene that seemed to help the relationship advance, only for Maomao to say nope and leave like she owns the place, which at this point she fucking might.

It feels like I, as the reader, am in the middle of a heatwave and some sadistic bastard won't stop teasing me with ice cream—they put it in front of my face, close enough that I can smell the cold. Then take a spoon and eat little by little while staring directly to my eyes. At times they seem to show mercy and feed me a spoon, only for it to be a rather small quantity of serving—serving that tastes so damn good at first, only for it to have such a bitter aftertaste. But if I gotta have something in common with Jinshi is that I'll never be able to beat the masochist allegations, so I'll wait patiently for the next spoon and its corresponding and seemingly enless teasing from that faceless being.

So yeah, I'm still against it, only that now I understand the appeal—even if I have yet to find out about the whereabouts of my sanity while still mananing with the little I've left.

[austinshotbutlers]

The Wedding Date

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Fem!BAU!Reader

Summary: Your sister’s wedding is approaching fast and the thought of showing your boyfriend off to your family and your ex-boyfriend seems like a very appealing idea. The only problem is… you don’t have a boyfriend. Luckily your stony faced, serious, sexy boss has agreed to be your fake boyfriend for the weekend. What could possibly go wrong?

Word count: 3.8k

TW: Mentions of sex but no actual smut, swear words, bad writing? LOL

A/N: AHHHH! My first fic on here! This is based on the 2005 film of the same title. I literally love this film and I love the idea of Hotch posing as your fake boyfriend. Would anyone be up for a part 2?

The clock read 18:34. You should have finished 34 minutes ago. Everyone had gone home the minute the clock hit 6, the first day all week that the BAU had finished at a reasonable hour. Yet here you were, staring at the words ‘requested vacation confirmed’ which seemed to taunt you through the screen of your computer. It was all booked now, no going back. There was now no excuse for you not to go to your sister’s wedding next week. You sighed frustratedly before closing the tab and continuing with filing case reports that could definitely be saved for tomorrow but you didn’t want to go home, not just yet.

You typed aggressively at your keyboard. The thought of seeing your ex at your sister’s wedding made you more frustrated by the minute. How could she do this to you? Marry your ex-boyfriend’s best friend. Agree to your ex-boyfriend being the best man when you’re the maid of honour? Your fingers hit the keyboard harder and harder before the ringing of your phone drew you from your thoughts. You picked it up and saw it was your mom. You took a deep breath before answering.

“Hi mom,” you said in your best fake happy voice.

“Hi sweetie! Just checking that your vacation has been approved for the big day.” She said over cheerily.

“Yeah mom its all…” you hesitated. “It’s all been approved and confirmed. You can tell Sarah I’m officially ready for maid of honour duties.”

“Oh that’s perfect.” Your mom said with a hint of relief in her voice. “I thought that silly job of yours would try and deny your vacation.”

You rolled your eyes as she once again ridiculed your job. She hated the idea of you chasing serial killers and rapists and every other sick bastard out there. She much preferred the idea of you having a more traditional 9-5, like your younger sister who was oh-so-perfect. Your mom was never a fan of your interest in murder and psychology and profiling when you were in high school. She was even less of a fan when she found out you were doing criminology and psychology at college. Then, when you went on to get your job working for the FBI’s Behavioural Analysis Unit, she expressed a dislike towards your career path choice but she did try to be interested in your work.

“Anyway, I just had some questions about your plus one.” Your mom said, getting back on track to the wedding. “Am I right in thinking you’re not bringing anyone?”

Before you could even think and stop yourself, the words came flying out of your mouth. “No mom… I’m actually bringing my boyfriend.”

‘Boyfriend?! What boyfriend?’ You frantically thought as you ran a hand through your hair.

“Oh honey, I didn’t know you had a boyfriend.” Your mom sounded surprised. “Shall I add him to the guest list then?”

“Yes! Well, actually I need to check he can still come and I’ll get straight back you. Bye mom!”

“Oh…ok, bye sweetie” she said before you immediately hung up.

You put the phone down onto the desk and whispered ‘oh god’ under your breath. What were you going to do? How were your going to magically find a boyfriend to take to meet your family in less than a week? You stood up abruptly and turned around to be face to face to none other than Aaron Hotchner.

“Oh my god!” You exclaimed. “How much of that did you hear?” ***

Hotch signed his last case file report for the night and looked out his office window to see you sat at your desk. That stern look of concentration on your face that he found adorable as you typed at your computer. The rest of the team had gone home nearly 40 minutes ago yet you were still here. Why were you still here?

He turned back to his desk and started filing away the forms he had been reading and signing nearly all day and then turned to his computer to check his last few emails for the day. One in particular caught his eye that read your name in bold capitals. He clicked on it curiously and skimmed the contents which highlighted that you had been granted 5 days vacation time.

‘It’s good,’ he thought to himself as he packed away his papers and shut his computer down. You never used your vacation days so he’s glad you’re actually taking a break for once. He picked up his coat and headed towards the door of his office. He opened it and flicked the light switch of his office off and began walking down the stairs into the bullpen.

“No mom. I’m actually bringing my boyfriend.” Hotch heard you say into your phone and he faltered in his steps. ‘Boyfriend?’ He questioned. You had never mentioned a boyfriend before. He watched as you ran a hand through your hair, something you only do when you’re stressed or frustrated he noticed.

“Yes! Well, actually I need to check he can still come and I’ll get straight back you. Bye mom!” You said very quickly and hung up the phone. You placed the mobile device down onto your desk and paused before standing up and beginning to get ready to go home. You began to turn around and Hotch panicked. He had no time to move before you were standing face to face.

“Oh my god!” You exclaimed. “How much of that did you hear?”

“Enough to know you’re taking your boyfriend somewhere.” He replied and you cringed. “I’m sorry,” Hotch continued. “I really didn’t mean to intrude on your phone call.”

“Hotch it’s fine. Honestly!” You said to him and you could visibly see the tension leave his body. “It’s just a shame said boyfriend doesn’t exist.” You added. Oh god, were you really about to spill your guts to your boss?

“I’m sorry?” Hotch replied with a hint of confusion in his tone. Your face visibly cringed at his confusion and Aaron felt his heart squeeze a little at how adorable it was.

“I uh… I don’t actually have a boyfriend. I’ve just said it to make everyone think I’m seeing someone without thinking about the consequences.” You said and you watched Hocth’s eyebrows raise which prompted you to go on. “I can’t believe I’m telling you all this. I really shouldn’t be burdening you with my inability to face my ex at my sister’s wedding.”

Now Aaron was really intrigued. “You can tell me but don’t feel like you have to. I know better than anyone that sometimes we want to keep personal matters to ourselves and away from work.”

You smiled at him, just his voice calming your nerves as you prepared to tell him everything. “So my ex is the best man at my sister’s wedding next week and I haven’t seen him in nearly two years. The day he dumped me, everyone thought he was going to propose and instead of a diamond ring, I ended up with a broken heart.” You cringed at your own words. “Sorry that was so cliché but I’m just dreading seeing him there and with his new girlfriend too. I don’t want him to see me still single, I don’t want him to see I haven’t moved on.”

Aaron listened intently to what you had to say. How could anyone dump you? You were beautiful, intelligent, funny. You were just perfect.

“My family haven’t mentioned him much, they all know it’s a fragile situation but just then, on the phone to my mom, her assuming I didn’t have a plus one just made me snap and before I could stop myself, I was telling her I was bringing a boyfriend.” You collapsed back down onto your desk chair, defeated. “And now I have to find someone to be my boyfriend.”

Aaron didn’t think, which was unusual for him, before he said “I’ll do it.”

You looked at him in shock. “What?”

He suddenly realised what he just said and hesitated before continuing to say “I’ll come to the wedding with you.”

“Hotch… no I couldn’t ask that of you.” You replied shaking your head. “You can’t leave Jack for 5 days. Also will you be able to get the time off? No I really can’t let you do this.”

“Y/N,” Aaron interrupted you. “I’m happy to help.”

You paused to think about it… it definitely would be you best option considering your predicament. But could you really spend 5 days with your boss pretending to be a couple? Your stoic, grumpy, handsome boss who you most definitely have a stupid, school girl crush on. You looked back up at him and locked your eyes with his before the word ‘Ok’ left your lips.

“Ok, lets do it. You pretend to be my boyfriend and I will spend the rest of my time at the BAU making it up to you.” You joke.

Aaron laughs lightly. “You don’t have to make up for anything. I want to help you out.”

***

You quickly unlocked the front door to your apartment and threw your bag down as you entered. You were now a woman on a mission. A mission to find the biggest wine glass in your apartment. You cracked open a new bottle of wine and poured a tall glass, drinking almost all of it in one gulp. What the hell had you just agreed to do? You grabbed your phone and texted the one person who you knew you could tell.

7: 48PM | Y/N L/N: SOS!!! Just agreed to do something truly insane.

7:49PM | Emily Prentiss: Uh-Oh this doesn’t sound good. What’s up?

7:51PM | Y/N L/N: Hotch may have heard a whole conversation with my mother and to cut a long story short, he is coming to my sister’s wedding pretending to be my boyfriend :/

You awaited Emily’s reply. What the fuck was she going to think?

7:55PM |Emily Prentiss: Sorry, I needed time to process what I just read. What the fuck? Are you actually insane?

7:56PM | Y/N L/N: Today officially confirmed my insanity. How the hell am I going to spend 5 days pretending to be in love with him?

7:58PM | Emily Prentiss: I mean it’s not going to be hard. You’ve been crushing on Hotch for like 6 months now. I’ve also had my suspicions that Hotch liked you and today definitely confirms that Hotch is so in love with you.

You couldn’t believe what Emily had just said, could Hotch really be in love with you? No, surely not.

8:01PM | Y/N L/N: Are you joking? Hotch does NOT have a crush on me. He’s a grown man, he doesn’t have silly crushes. And he said he was doing it to help me and I believe that.

8:03PM | Emily Prentiss: Ok, keep telling yourself that but when you both end up head over heels for one another, don’t get angry when I say I told you so.

You just rolled your eyes at her last text, picking up your wine glass to down the last little sip you had left. Now, you had to call your mom back to tell her the good news that your boyfriend was definitely coming to the wedding. Reluctantly dialling her number, you waited as it rung.

“Hi sweetheart, calling back to tell me your boyfriend is coming?” She asked immediately after answering.

“Yeah I am. He’s all set to come so add him down onto the guest list.” You replied. “I guess we will be seeing you next week then.”

“Don’t sound too excited.” Your mom teased. “I’m excited to meet this boyfriend now.”

“Ok, I better go mom, my…. My dinner is burning.” You lied. “I’ll see you next week, bye.”

Your mom barely had time to mutter the word ‘bye’ before you had hung up. You placed your phone down on the table and picked the bottle of win up, pouring more into your glass. You sipped at it more slowly than your first glass, absentmindedly playing with the hem of your skirt as you nursed the dark red liquid. It was going to be a long week.

***

You saw him standing at the gate as you rushed through the airport terminal to meet Aaron. He appeared to visibly relax the moment he saw you as you rushed frantically through the airport with your carry on slung over your shoulder.

“Shit! Sorry I’m so late!” You exclaimed as you finally reached him. “My alarm didn’t go off and then I lost my boarding pass. Sorry for making you check in and go through security by yourself.”

“Don’t worry about it. You’re here now.” He smiled. “Here let me take your bag.” Aaron reached his arm out and took the heavy carry on from your shoulder.

“Oh you really don’t have to carry it for me.” You blushed a little, in awe of how gentlemanly he is. “Thank you though. Are you sure it’s not to heavy?”

Aaron laughed. “Trust me Y/N, it’s fine.” He looked around to the gate and saw people beginning to queue up. “Come on, we better get ready to board.”

“Thank you again for agreeing to do this.” You said to him as you joined the queue. “It’s really helped me out, I really appreciate it.”

“Of course, anything to help a friend in need.” Aaron replied. “So, anything I really need to know before we land in LA?”

“Just that my family are insane.” You joke and Aaron laughed lightly. “But my mom will definitely ask you about 50 questions as soon as she meets you so maybe lets set up our story. Where did we meet?”

“Easy, just tell them how we actually met for the first time.” Aaron said with a smile.

You blush a little remembering your first day at the BAU. “But it’s so embarrassing!”

Aaron laughs as you move up the queue and reach the desk, handing over your boarding passes and passports. The flight attendants speedily checked everything and set you on your way to board the plane. Aaron carefully placed your carry on in the overhead locker before doing the same with his own.

“My parents certainly spared no expense.” You said as you sat down, revelling in the luxury of first class. “I think my dad has paid for all of Sarah’s wedding.” You try to refrain from rolling your eyes.

“Are you looking forward to going home?” Aaron asked as he buckled his seatbelt.

“I guess I’m excited to see my family, it has been nearly two years since I last saw them. After Luke dumped me… I kinda just left everyone in radio silence.” You took a deep breath. “I guess I just needed time to…”

“Heal.” Aaron finished your sentence, a tone of understanding in his voice.

You look him straight in the eyes and see a glimmer of hurt beneath his understanding. “Yeah… I mean we were together 5 years and he just ended it. Just like that.” You sighed before looking away from Aaron. “It’s just been difficult… blah enough of me complaining.” You mentally told yourself off. Who were you to complain? And to Aaron Hotchner of all people. The man who had been through what he had. You needed to stop.

***

Aaron pushed the trolley with all your suitcases piled on through the doors of the airport as you stepped out into the air of LA. You missed spending you summers here, it did feel nice to be home.

“My mom and dad said they’d pick us up. They should be somewhere.” You said to Aaron as you tried to look around for them. Suddenly, you saw them making their way over to the two of you excitedly. “Oh sweet Jesus.” You muttered to yourself.

“Oh my goodness! You’re finally back home!” Your mom squealed as she grabbed you and pulled you into a tight hug. “It’s been too long sweetie. I’m so happy you’re here.”

“Come on now Y/M/N, let me give my daughter a hug.” Your dad said as he tried to pry you from your mother’s suffocating embrace. “How is my buddy?”

You pulled a face at the nickname your dad hadn’t used since you were 12. “Dad I’m not 12 anymore.” You laughed and hugged him back. “I’ve missed you though.”

Aaron watched in awe as your parents made a fuss of you, something he never had when he was growing up but always said he would do for his own children. And once all the excitement had calmed down, both your mom and dad turned to face him.

“Oh my Y/N, he’s very handsome.” Your mom whispered a little too loud.

“This is my boyfriend Aaron.” You smiled as you moved to stand at his side, wrapping an arm round his back as Aaron moved his arm to sit round your waist.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you Mr and Mrs Y/L/N.” Aaron leaned forward to shake your dad’s hand but your mom slapped it away.

“There’s no need for such formalities Aaron!” She said. “It’s lovely to meet you! Although, I didn’t know you existed.” And she yanked Aaron in for one of her suffocating hugs.

“Mom you’re going to scare him away!” You said frustratedly and she let aaron go, letting him come and stand back by your side.

After exchanging a few more pleasantries, you all headed to the car. Aaron helped your dad pile all the suitcases in the trunk before he came and joined you in the back of the car, taking your hand in his. The drive was wonderful, being able to take in all the things you missed about LA while living in Washington.

“So Aaron, what do you do?” Your dad asked as he drove.

“I work at the BAU with Y/N. I’m the Unit Chief.” He replied, your hand still held tightly in his.

“Does that mean you’re her boss?” Your mom interjected.

“I am the leader of the BAU team but there are more people above me such as our Section Chief. But technically yes, I suppose I am Y/N’s boss.”

“Trust me though when I say no favouritism goes on in the BAU. He still bites my ass off if I step out of line.” You joke and your parents chuckled.

The conversation flowed well between your parents and Aaron, much to your relief and before you knew it, your dad was pulling into your driveway. You smiled as you took in your family home that you had missed.

“Home sweet home.” Your dad said as he turned the engine off and the unanimous sound of seatbelts unbuckling filled the car. You all began to climb out and Aaron immediately started lifting the bags out the trunk. You walked round to help him and cringed seeing all your suitcases.

“For someone who always has the smallest go bag, you packed a lot for this trip.” Aaron laughed as he placed down your last suitcase.

“Yeah I may have overpacked just a little.” You giggled and settled on carrying the smallest of all your bags into the house. Both you and aaron trekked up the stairs to your bedroom which you hadn’t stayed in in years.

“Wow mom. You really didn’t change a thing huh?” You muttered as you looked around the childhood bedroom. Pink walls blasting in your face, a Top Gun poster of the shirtless volleyball scene, magazine cuttings of Madonna in the 90s and a random A3 poster of George Clooney in his scrubs from ER. Aaron placed the last of the bags down and took in the obnoxiously decorated room.

“Please don’t tell me you’re going to profile me based on my ill-taste in room decorating.” You laughed and Aaron laughed with you.

“It’s… it’s just not what I was expecting.” He said, once again looking around.

“And what were you expecting Agent Hotchner?” You teased.

“I guess I’m just shocked by the hot pink walls. I might have to put my sunglasses on.”

You lightly punched his arm which Aaron found adorable. “Shut up. It’s not that bright.” You rolled your eyes.

Suddenly, your phone buzzed and you picked it out your pocket.

3:36PM | Emily Prentiss: How’s it going? I’m guessing you’re in LA now.

You turned slightly so Aaron couldn’t see your phone even though he was busy unpacking.

3:38PM | Y/N L/N: It’s going surprisingly well. Everything has gone well with my parents. Only downside is that I’m having to subject Aaron to my awfully decorated room.

3:39PM | Emily Prentiss: Oooh it’s Aaron now is it?

3:41PM | Y/N L/N: Oh shut up. I have to go because we have to get ready for my sister’s engagement party. Kill me now. Hopefully I don’t see he who must not be named.

3:42PM | Emily Prentiss: Good luck and if in doubt, just make out with Hotch… or should I say Aaron?

You shook your head at her last text. Emily was loving your predicament a little too much. You turned back to Aaron, who was still busy unpacking, and your cheeks flushed a little at just how good he looked in his polo shirt, his arms flexing as he moved a suitcase. He then caught you looking at him.

“Is everything ok?” He asked, a hint of concern in his voice.

You snapped out of your school girl crush haze and focused your full attention to his questions. “Yes! Just my sister checking in, making sure we’re here and getting ready for the engagement party.”

“What time is the party?”

“5:30! So we have just under two hours to get ready. God, I better start unpacking to hunt down my dress and makeup.” You groaned.

As you began unzipping your cases and searching for everything you needed for the night, thoughts flooded your head.

Was this façade crazy? Yes. Yes it was.

Will this engagement party go smoothly? Probably not.

Is Luke still going to be a total dick? Oh most definitely.

Are you going to fall in love with Aaron?

‘Am I going to fall in love with Aaron?’ You thought once more and looked back over at him, sorting out his suit for tonight. Taking so much care to not disturb any of the clutter in your room, giving you the space you need to get ready, being just so… Aaron Hotchner, so perfect…

You were so fucked.

***

Part Two

[cboffshore]

what you say about Jay's condition in the skybound fics is actually very true. 90% of the fandom portrays him as falling at the slightest degree of pain, bursting into tears and begging when in canon Jay NEVER cries or begs in all his torture with Nadakhan. All he does at most is complain silently, and continue talking shit about everyone

we actually need more fics of Jay being a little shit that fights dirty, cheats, and deals damage using the meanest ways to defend himself and attack even when he's getting his ass kicked. I just feel like a lot of fics don't really embody the fact that Jay didn't sit back and let them torture him while he cried, but he actually fought back, he actually continued to be stubborn to the point that nothing Nadakhan did worked.

You're so right and you should absolutely say it. I am not the biggest Jay enjoyer (don't get me wrong, I like him, but I'm not winning the Jay Fan contest any day soon), but I particularly enjoy his arc in Skybound and how that persistence plays into it. Seeing it get put to the side in favor of whatever all these crying sessions are trying to do honestly makes me wonder - do people who write this flavor of sadboy Jay actually enjoy/appreciate Skybound to the same degree that inspires so many of us to write about it, or are they just there for the angst openings? Which does Jay such a huge disservice. I'm still in awe whenever Jay gets that Target ball sized ball and chain slammed into his chest and still gets back up. This is the guy everyone's relegating to weep in a corner? He's throwing stray insults at every opening and then some and the popular fanon consensus is, "yeah, he's completely broken, send him to the pit"??

Now, don't get me wrong, the occasional show of vulnerability is great. Key word there is occasional. To be fair, I would likely be just as unsettled as I am by the sobfest trend if Jay just did Bugs Bunny shenanigans the entire time without ever cracking. It's about balance! Show that development off! Have him get tougher over time! A strategically placed breakdown or slip-of-the-tongue beg can work so well, it's just got to be handled carefully. (Tried it with Nya once in my own Skybound fics, and can confirm: watch where and when it happens and you can say a lot about whoever does it. Granted, I have never tried it with Jay, but same principle!) Sure, let him do it - but not for the sake of doing it. What would Jay think after the fact? How would the crew's reactions affect him? (Fun idea: would he weaponize it, like the back pain scene where he's literally grinning the whole time? Would he deliberately turn on the waterworks often enough that if it ever happens for real, nobody tries to take advantage of it?)

I didn't mean to go on for that long, but yeah! It's a frustrating topic, and I really wish I knew where it came from. Thanks for dropping in and letting me ramble!