#blood sweat and tears went into this set!!!!

[carwoodron]

fic ramblings ignore me

[cyberg4l]

┏━ • 𝐁𝐈𝐓 𝐁𝐘 𝐁𝐈𝐓 • ━┓

pairing; GALLY x READER word count; 1.8k summary; you’re reunited with gally after a tumultuous few weeks of grieving his death. warnings; mentions of death and grief, canonical type violence, angst, hurt/comfort

A/N: this is set during ‘death cure’. all the characters are above the age of 18. there will be mentions of death, violence, and the flare. if you’re not in the right headspace to read something heavy, then please take care of yourself.

FOR THE LONGEST TIME, ALL YOU HAD WANTED WAS TO ESCAPE THE GLADE. You spent countless restless nights sitting under the stars and wondering what the world outside was like. There were times when you truly lost hope. There were times when you didn’t think you would make it out alive - that the only time you would ever get a glimpse of what was beyond the grey, harsh walls would be in your dreams. Or even the afterlife.

Now, as you trekked along the depressing streets, you found yourself wishing for that blissful ignorance again. Ben, Chuck, Gally, Winston. Those names were on repeat in your mind almost every night and every morning. They died so that you could live, and that had to count for something.

You remembered vividly what it was like to see a fellow Glader die right in front of you. Sure, Ben was banished; but he had died long before he was sent out into the Maze. He was dead the moment the infection took hold of his body.

Gally was next. His stubborn nature caused his demise, and Chuck’s too. Clenching your eyes, you blinked away the anger and resentment. Gally had been your friend. He was a hard-headed ass, and too overbearing, but he always took care of you when it mattered. Even if he was grumpy about it while doing so.

There was no place for love in the Glade, but if you had to pinpoint the first and last time you felt it, it would be for Gally. The memory of you begging him to come with you haunted your every waking moment. Tears, blood, and sweat covered your face as you dragged his sleeve - crying, almost falling to your knees to convince him. You’ll never forget the way he looked at you, the way he shook you off his arm like you were some pest.

And you couldn’t forget about Winston. His death was still fresh in everyone’s mind. It was hard to forget the echo of the gunshot that had ended his life - even if it was by his own hands.

A harsh slam woke you from your thoughts. Someone had rammed straight into you, trying to pass you. Looking up, you saw them walk past a cargo truck. A tall man was sat on it - gas mask heavy and tight on his face as he seemingly stared straight through you. You shivered before looking away. The streets were too crowded. Thomas held onto your arm tightly as he maneuvered his way around. Honestly, your search was feeling futile.

If you could go back in time, maybe you would’ve never left the Glade. Maybe Gally was right.

“Over there,” said Thomas, pointing to something in the distance.

You squinted, not quite understanding what he was getting at. In truth, you weren’t even sure how he knew what to look for. The Right Arm hadn’t been heard of in years. That’s what everyone had said. You were looking for ghosts.

“Thomas-“ you started, wanting to reason with him. Words caught in your throat as a bullet wheezed straight past you two.

All hell broke loose as swarms of bodies shoved and pulled - trying to escape the danger of being shot. Newt and Brenda had disappeared. Whipping your head around, you yelled for them, not wanting to lose another friend to the chaos that this world offered.

Before you knew it, a strong grip dragged you away, and everything went black as a strange fabric went over your face.

“Let me go!” you yelled, looking at the familiar mask on the soldier’s face. You quickly recognized them as the ones who were riding around town earlier.

The car ride had been brutally long. Your muscles ached, and your eyes were sore from being in the dark for so long. Frantically looking around, you tried to find your friends. Surprisingly so, your arms weren’t tied. The only thing stopping you was the almost painful hold on your upper arm. Whoever these people were, they didn’t seem like they wanted to hurt you - or else you’d most likely be dead by now.

You huffed as you were manhandled into a room. There was something about the soldier - something about them gave you a sense of deja vu. It was the way they held themselves, the way their breaths came in ragged gasps as you stared at their chest. Each moment felt like a distant memory that you had seen before. Furrowing your brows, you decided it was your memory loss messing with you again. It was common for you to think you remembered something from your past, just for it to be a fluke.

You were quickly let go, and you jogged up to Newt, wrapping him in a hug.

“I was worried sick,” he mumbled. “Where are the others?”

You shrugged as your eyes scanned around. Spotting Brenda, you nodded to her. There were significantly less of you than you’d initially had begun with. Had they taken the rest to a different location? Your heart hammered rapidly against your ribcage as you stepped back. You eyed the familiar soldier, noting the way his shoulders squared back as he stood tall.

You shook your head. I don’t know him. It’s all just fake memories. Get over yourself. Get over yourself-

A shout interrupted the awkward and anxious silence. As Jorge began laying down punch after punch on one of the men, Brenda ran up to him to put a stop to it. All your eyes were looking for was Thomas and Fry.

After everything you had all been through, the thought of losing someone else was unbearable. You couldn’t afford another loss like that. Letting out a deep breath, you watched as Frypan and Thomas stepped up, curiously staring down the soldier at the end of the room.

Words were exchanged, but none of them stuck.

His voice. It sounded like…

“What do you mean same side? Who the hell are you?”

The soldier stopped, his arm flexing as he lowered the gun in his hand. He looked away briefly before slowing pulling off his mask. A buzzed head came into view, and you had almost no time to process before his face turned to look at you.

All you could see was blue. The color of his eyes. The same eyes you had looked into as you pleaded and sobbed. The same ones you had watched the light slowly die out of. The eyes you had so long ago fallen in love with.

Both of your gazes locked onto each other’s, and if it weren’t for Newt’s hands steadying you, you genuinely think you could’ve passed out. It was like seeing a ghost.

All you heard was a loud commotion behind you as you turned to sprint out of the room. Another minute in there and you would lose your mind.

Pushing open the door to the balcony, you panted slightly, trying to get your bearings. The cool breeze pinched your cheeks, causing a slight twinge of pain. It was usually warm during the day, but the nights were freezing. In the Glade it had always been warm - never a dull day. Perhaps once every few months you’d get rain, which was always good for the crops, but it was never necessarily cold.

Shivering, you wrapped your arms around you. Weirdly enough you had never been more glad to feel the chill of air run through your bones. It was the only thing reminding you that you were alive.

Alive. Gally was alive.

Burying your face in your palms, you paced around. You spent almost three weeks grieving him. You saw him die - no, correction, you watched and left him to die.

His face tormented you every time you closed your eyes. The tears he cried as he realized he was being left for dead, the scream that had left your body as you were pulled away from the scene. Gally was the first person you had ever truly opened up to. You had been in the Glade for the brunt of 2 years, and over time you’d like to think you had gotten under his tough exterior.

The nights where you both couldn’t sleep. Your head in his shoulder, and his hand intertwined with yours, precariously tip-toeing the line between friendship and something more.

Then, in a split second, it was all gone.

“Hey, firecracker.”

You winced at the nickname. Gally had given it to you on your first week there. He said you would give him a run for his money with the way you snapped and yelled at everyone. Really, it was just because you were scared - especially being the only girl.

You blinked away tears. “Please, don’t.”

Your voice came out more shaky than you had liked. It wasn’t that you weren’t relieved to see him, it’s just that you didn’t exactly end on good terms. Now, seeing him alive and well - and so, unbelievably tall and handsome - it made you question everything.

He whispered your name, and you felt his body heat burn unbearably against your back as he stepped closer.

“Look at me.”

Shaking your head, you clenched your eyes shut, letting a few stray tears fall. “I’m can’t. I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

The last time you let yourself cry was that exact fateful day. Every single tear in your body had been used up to the point that you weren’t sure you were even capable of crying anymore.

Your back hit something hard, and you soon realized that two familiar arms were holding you to his chest. He breathed in and out, his inhales pressing against your back, indicating and proving that this was real. That he was real.

“How?” You sobbed, leaning into his arm.

Really, you didn’t care how. All that mattered was that he was here. And bit by bit, you would hopefully fix what was broken - regain what was lost.

Shifting around, you collapsed against him, wrapping your arms around his torso and gripping at his shirt desperately. You felt that if you let go, he would disappear. Just as he did the first time - when you let go of his sleeve, and he slipped away from your grasp, like he was never even there.

The only words that you were able to conjure were feeble apologies as you let yourself sob against his shirt. Inhaling his scent again for what felt like a lifetime, you finally felt like things were piecing together. Like you were whole again. Taking a quivering deep breath in, you finally lifted your head to look at him. He was just as beautiful as the day he left you.

He cupped your face as he rested his forehead against yours. You must have stayed like that for hours - or maybe it was only a few minutes.

All you knew was that no words had to be spoken for you both to understand. You were never going to leave each other again.

𝐜𝐲𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐠𝟒𝐥 © 2024, all rights reserved.

[pukefactory]

︶꒦꒷ NOCTURNE COLLECTION ꒷꒦︶

ྐ✚ Summary: A Compilation of Headcanons Featuring Ken The Butcher X Reader

ྐ✚ Character(s): Ken The Butcher (The Gaslight District)

ྐ✚ Genre: Headcanons, SFW

ྐ✚ Warning(s): None - Completely Safe!

ྐ✚ Image Credits: @MemuroPage on Pinterest

꒷꒦ You met Ken the same way most people meet death—with a sharp hook around the ankle and the smell of blood in your throat. You weren’t supposed to be in the Whale Belly. You got lost. Or maybe something worse brought you there. But instead of slicing you open like a slab of meat, Ken squinted at your face, muttered something about “wrong time, wrong place,” and offered you a job as a server. With one condition: “You breathe a word to anyone, and I’ll use your ribs for soup stock.” You think that was his way of being sweet.

꒷꒦ Ken doesn’t do affection. He does inspection. He yells at you for not wearing gloves. Yells at you for talking to Mud. Yells at you when you slice onions wrong. “What’re you doin’, lettin’ yourself bleed like that? What if the virtues sniff it out, huh? You tryin’ to die?!” You never realized love could look like a hulking butcher shoving gauze against your palm with shaking hands. Like a man who screams because he doesn’t know how to cry.

꒷꒦ The moment he realizes he’s in love with you, he panics. He tears apart a whole freezer full of pork trying to cool down. What the hell is he supposed to do with this? You—this soft, living thing—liking him? Choosing him? That’s not normal. That’s not safe. So he does the only thing he knows how to: “Stay in the back. Don’t talk to nobody. Don’t look at Mud. Don’t breathe unless I say so.”…And when you do all that anyway, just to stay near him, he nearly bursts a vein.

꒷꒦ He takes “overprotective” to mythic levels. You tripped once and got scraped up. Within the hour, Ken had six gangsters lined up with broken kneecaps, screaming, “WHICH ONE OF YOU PUT A CRACK IN THE SIDEWALK?!” It was a pebble. Doesn’t matter. They’re still cemented to this day.

꒷꒦ He can’t bear to let you out of his sight, so he makes you a butcher’s apprentice. Now you’re stuck in the Whale Belly, learning how to clean knives while Ken critiques your slicing technique with the intensity of a drill sergeant. “No, no, you’re butcherin’ the cut wrong! And not in the good way! Look—like this, you see? Precise. Surgical. Delicate, like open-heart murder.” You can’t tell if he’s flirting or teaching, but either way, you’re sweating.

꒷꒦ When he thinks about the future, he sees red. Not in the angry way. In the wedding veil soaked in blood kind of way. He doesn’t think he deserves a happy ending, but sometimes he imagines one: you in some nice white piece (with a Kevlar vest underneath), him walking you down the aisle (or slaughterhouse hallway), Breadhead officiating. “I’m just sayin’, … if this dump ever goes quiet, and Mel don’t hate my guts, and I ain’t dead yet… maybe we find a chapel. Or a ditch. You pick.”

꒷꒦ He makes you breakfast every morning: eggs (not human), toast (slightly charred), and coffee so bitter it feels like chewing sin. He won’t let anyone else near your food. “You want cyanide in your pancakes? No? Then you eat what I cook.” You tell him it’s perfect every time. He grumbles. But he starts setting the table for two anyway.

꒷꒦ Ken doesn’t trust easily, but he gives you the key to the back freezer. No one has that key. Not even Breadhead. It’s where he keeps the real things. The sacred things. The broken things that still hurt. You found an old photo once—of a baby with a familiar curl in her hair, held by someone Ken tore out of the frame. He saw you holding it and went silent for the whole night. Next morning, he gave you a necklace made from a butcher’s hook. “Wear it. If the virtues come for you… you’ll swing before they do.”

꒷꒦ He doesn’t say “I love you.” He says “Don’t die.” He says it a lot. After arguments. Before raids. When you go to sleep. “Don’t die on me. Not before I do. Not before I finish what I started.” You don’t say anything back. You just hold his hand—scarred, raw, shaking—and hope it says enough.

꒷꒦ If anyone ever hurt you, there wouldn’t be a second time. There wouldn’t be a first time, not really—just a blip before Ken’s rage blotted out the sun. He’s not subtle. He doesn’t bluff. If someone touched a hair on your head, he’d go full monologue: “You touched somethin’ that didn’t belong to you. And now, I’m gonna peel you like garlic and use your spine as a meat skewer.” You asked once if he’d really go that far. He didn’t answer. Just wiped his hands, kissed your knuckles, and muttered, “Only if I’m feelin’ merciful.”

[halfway-happyyy]

nsfw frank hcs..? *hits send and runs away*

oooooh friend... don't be shy! this is a safe space!

alright, here we go.

to start, i hc frank as being (for the most part) a little vanilla in the sack?? like, we all know he's old school. a real gentleman, if you will. but he absolutely has no problem getting his hands dirty, and while his imagination may lack a little, he is more than happy to oblige his partner in anything she wants.

blowjobs. while he'll never insist on them, he cannot deny how beautiful his girl looks on her knees for him, her flushed cheeks hollowed out around the thick length of his hard cock. he loves the tight squeeze of her throat as he gently fucks into the back of it; loves to see the tears cascade down her cheeks as she struggles to take all of him. yeah, he's a big fan of blowjobs.

while hangovers are a rarity for frank, they make him inexplicably horny. he'll often wake his girl up with greedy, exploratory fingertips. he'll pull her closer to him beneath the sheets, his cock hard and throbbing against the soft skin of her thigh. "what about some coffee?" she'll murmur sleepily. "fuck the coffee," is frank's usual response.

frank loves a public romp. whether he has his girl pressed against the brick wall behind the bar, or a quickie in the back of his truck, he's all in.

quite literally turns feral when his girl starts ovulating. like, cannot keep his hands off of her, constantly pawing, and pulling, and nipping, and sucking.

cockwarming. finding out how much they both enjoyed it was a fluke at first. frank had taken his time inside of her, always reveling in the blessed feeling of her all-encompassing warmth. when he went to pull out, a desperate whimper emanated from the hollow of her throat. "not yet, frankie..."

so it happens sometimes when sex isn't even the goal. if she's had a particularly shitty day, or if she's missed him a little extra, he'll press into her until she's filled to the brim, and he'll stay that way as long as she needs him. frank is nothing, if not one of the most patient and willing men in the world.

praise. he found out early on in their relationship the effect his words had on her. how all he has to do to get her going is to say something like, "attagirl. no one's ever taken my cock this well, baby." or, "i know it's big baby, but you can handle it. i know you can, that's it- just relax a little, fuck -

has no problem putting her in her place when she's being bratty, or fussy.

one of his favourite punishments for her when she gets like that, is to talk her through her own orgasm. like he knows how bad she wants his cock, but he denies her that privilege and makes her come on her own. it's enough to scratch the itch, but it doesn't compare in any way, shape, or form.

the man knows what the site of him jerking himself off does to her, so he'll purposely wait until she's on her way home from work to start. he'll set himself up on the couch, his thick thighs wide, and his cock hard and dripping pre-come over the edge of his tight fist. he'll be close when she enters their apartment, desperate growls sounding in the hollow of his throat, his fist a frenzy around himself. and she'll talk him through it the rest of the way. "does that feel good, frankie? come, and i'll clean up the mess for you."

how sometimes she needs frank so badly, that the current state he's in, matters not to her. whether it be blood, dirt, concrete mix, or sweat, (or a combination of all four) she takes whatever she can get greedily.

[demonic0angel]

OWO, you take prompts? How about this?

Danny was born a premature and with a heart defect. The Fenton's try to make a clone so they can get his heart transplanted without fear of organ rejection. But they end up making a full on baby and don't have it in them to kill another version of their son just to save their original boy. Danny ends up pulling through and the clone gets filed as a twin that no one noticed was still in when Maddie was in the hospital. So Maddie "had him at home" and went back so he could be medically examined. The new parents feel ashamed of what they initially were going to do and give the child to a cousin who couldn't conceive.

Tim Drake doesn't know he's adopted until a DNA test reveals that the 'Meta' running around Gotham is his 'twin brother'. And the babies he has, that he does babysitting gigs with, are his twin's 'children'.

(I don’t exactly take prompts, but I don’t mind if you send them. Also, I’m going to assume that the twin’s “children” are Dan and Dani, since that seems to be what people prefer.)

“… are you serious?” Tim asked through the phone.

“Yep,” Dick said, sounding like a mixture of amusement and concern, “How do you feel about it?”

Tim thought about it and then responded, “I guess it makes sense why my parents neglected me so much, since I’m adopted.”

“Awww, baby bird…”

“I’m fine, Dick,” Tim said. He picked Dante and set him on a baby chair. Said child stared at him with electric blue eyes, scowling with his pudgy cheeks as if he wanted to tear Tim apart with his nonexistent teeth. Tim rubbed his chubby cheek with a finger before moving away, still holding the phone to his ear as he picked up the other baby.

Dick continued, “Yeah… also, Bruce says that he’s sorry that he checked your blood without telling you.”

Tim snorted, “No, he didn’t.” Bruce was never sorry for that kind of stuff.

Dick sighed. “Yeah, I lied. Sorry. But he did look guilty! He didn’t want to tell you at first, but Jason convinced him so I’m the one telling you right now.”

Tim hummed, picking up little Ella, who was stubbornly holding onto a small cardboard box. Tim let her hold it and placed her onto the baby chair next to her brother, who immediately reached out for her. It was kinda funny seeing how clingy he was compared to his sister.

“We have more information too. We tracked down the new meta and we’ve been looking into his routes. We suspect that he’s living around here, in Bristol,” Dick said. “We think he’s living in an apartment, at XXX on XXXX street, possibly with a roommate named Jazz.”

Tim paused, suddenly hyper aware of the fact that he was in the same building, babysitting a bunch of kids on the same street, who also lived with another woman named Jazz. “Uhh. What else?”

“We think he lives on the third floor and possibly also works at a pizza delivery place? Or maybe a fast food restaurant? He’s been flying back and forth between two places besides the apartment.”

Tim began to sweat. “Uh… anything else?”

“There’s a high chance that his name is Danny Nightingale, and Jasmine Nightingale is in on the fact that he’s a meta.”

Fuck.

Tim looked at his niece and nephew with a new light, eyes wide. Ella beamed at him, giggling while Dante just glared.

Welp. At least Bruce would be happy to be a grandfather now. Even if it was to Tim’s secret meta twin brother.

[harmonyrae]

A Valkyrie & Her Viking

Synopsis: His name on her lips, this must be a dream. A vision in crimson and silver, wings as pure as snow, eyes so bright it puts the moon to shame - his Valkyrie. 

AN: I needed a short break from Regency writing & this was in my drafts for a long time… So, this is my ideal myth for Sylus.

Content Warnings: explicit language & sexual themes/descriptions, rough ROUGH sex, creampie, PiV, implied unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it pls), creampie, semi-public sex (kinda), dom!Sylus, Sylus's sensitive chest at it AGAIN, violence, fighting, blood, 18+ MDNI

Word Count: 7.1k

“Are you even listening to me?”

Astrid finally stood from the table and walked over to you. She leaned against the balcony next to you and tried to follow your gaze to see what had you so transfixed. She watches the sun settle just beyond the rainbow bridge, making the colors sparkle. 

“Itching for another trip to Midgard are we?”

The mention of Midgard brings your attention back to your mentor. You stare at her, mindlessly swirling the wine in your cup. 

“Or maybe you’re daydreaming about Heimdall?” 

You shake your head, trying to clear your head so you can come up with a witty reply. Unfortunately, you are too distracted. You straighten up, set your cup on the ledge and cross your arms. 

“Struck a nerve?”

“Shut up.” 

“Come on, what’s going through that head of yours? And don’t lie to me. I always know.”

You scoff, one day she’ll tell you how she does that. She knows everyone’s “tell” and loves to remind us, daily. You smooth the fabric of your dress, picking at the fabric that’s worn down. You need to fix that, if it tears while you’re wearing your armor it’ll chafe. Finally you look at Astrid, her yellow eyes glowing in the light of the setting sun.

“Allfather has requested my presence at dawn.”

Astrid’s smirk falters, she pulls her shoulders back and faces you. 

“You’re nervous?”

“Shouldn’t I be? I’ve done nothing wrong, I’ve been trying to figure it out all day.”

She wraps an arm around you, her warmth bringing you a touch of comfort.

“Maybe it’s time?”

You let out a harsh laugh and pull out of her embrace to pick up your cup. You down the rest of your wine and return to the table. 

“I doubt it. I’m not ready.”

“That’s for me to determine.”

You set the jug of wine down, your shoulders tensing at the harshness of Astrid’s tone. You could joke with her and talk to her like a best friend, but when it came to her duties she was deathly serious. You set your cup down and turn to face her, bowing your head in reverence. 

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have…”

Astrid raises a hand to silence you. She simply takes your hands in hers. 

“You’re ready. You’ve been ready for some time. I have nothing left to teach you.” 

You allow your gaze to drift over her shoulder, your eyes catching the last rays of the sun as it sets beyond the edge. Asgard never had true night, the realm was awash with golden light no matter what time it was. Another reason you loved Midgard, it got dark, cold and the humans…

“Try to get some rest. I will speak with you after your audience with Allfather.”

With that, Astrid leaves you. You watch her go, her emerald dress swaying behind her, candlelight gleams off of her gold chest plate. She never removed all of her armor. She was always prepared for battle. You weren’t used to wearing armor. Only dawning it for brief periods, opting for the comfort of your tunic or shift dress. If Astrid is right, you will have to learn to wear your armor more regularly. Could it really be your time? 

The gilded doors to Allfather’s throne room stand before you. After a few restless hours, you went to the training hall and spent hours drowning your nerves in sweat. Your hands ache and new callouses had already started to form, but at least you weren’t anxious for a few hours. The doors groan as they open and you step forward through the narrow entryway. 

Allfather sits upon his throne, reading from a large tome. A small group of men and women in armor stand behind him. You keep your head bowed as you approach, your stomach twisting and sinking with every step forward. You stop at the edge of the platform and kneel, keeping your eyes glued to the floor.

“How many?”

His booming voice startled you. You nearly jumped out of your skin. A gentle chuckle follows.

“I did not intend to frighten you. You may look at me, no need to stare at the ground.”

You take a deep breath and lift your gaze to meet his. The patch over his eye glimmers in the morning light, his other eye scanning your face, your dress, your armor, silently taking notes. The spear in his hand was nearly twice as tall as you and the edge was so sharp you wouldn’t even feel it as it sliced through your skin and bone. Two ravens sit on his shoulders, one with its beak tucked under its wing. 

“Huginn and Muninn.”

When the raven untucks its beaks and they flutter their wings you realize who they are. 

“They’re quite a handful, but always loyal.” He lifts a finger to gently pat the head of the raven on his right shoulder. 

“They’re beautiful.”

Your voice is small and you instantly gasp, nearly placing your hand over your mouth. You couldn’t remember if you were supposed to only speak when asked a question. You close your eyes, preparing for the worst.

“They are, aren’t they?”

His voice is deep and filled with pride. You hear the flutter of wings and then feel sharp talons grip your shoulder. Your eyes fly open and you see one of the ravens is perched on your shoulder. You carefully turn your head to look at it, not wanting it to peck your eyes out. It simply stares at you, tilting its head as it examines you.

“I assume you know why I’ve summoned you? Or at least have some idea?”

You lift your eyes once more and straighten your back.

“I do not wish to make assumptions.” 

He laughs, the floor rumbles beneath your knees. A small smile plays on his lips, what you can see of them anyways, his thick white beard hides most of his face. 

“It’s time for you to take flight, young one.”

Your breath catches in your throat and you feel your cheeks burn. He tilts his head and snaps his fingers, his raven flying back to him in an instant.

“You are uncertain?”

You shake your head, but then stop and nod slowly. 

“I suppose I’ll never feel quite ready, but feeling ready and being ready are two different things according to my mentor.”

“Astrid taught you well.”

You nod and force yourself to unclench your fists. 

“So, I will ask again. How many?”

You swallow and close your eyes, the faces of hundreds of warriors flash through your mind. Centuries have passed and it feels like only yesterday you started guiding fallen warriors to Valhalla. You always loved seeing their faces morph from fearful to elated. They were chosen and you were their shepard to their new training ground. 

“One thousand, nine hundred and ninety-four.” 

“I thank you, my army is stronger because of you. But now, you will take on a new role. You will take your next steps as one of my beloved Valkyrie. You will no longer shepard warriors to Valhalla. You will guide my chosen commanders directly.”

Your chest swells with pride. You were terrified, but every Valkyrie dreams of this day. When you no longer pass by countless faces, but guide the chosen. You bow your head.

“I will serve you well.”

“I believe you will. Astrid never stops singing your praises.”

Astrid speak about you? He chuckles at your confusion. 

“These two bring me news from all over the Nine Realms.” 

You smile so widely your cheeks begin to ache..

“I have selected a warrior. You will go to him immediately, create your bond and begin training.” 

Your heart skips a beat. So soon? You bow your head once more.

“He’s one I’ve had my eye on for some time. Gifted and vicious. I don’t make a habit of choosing berserkers for my army, but something intrigues me about his behavior. The rage is not mortal magic. He may have been cursed by the gods - but I find no trace for who would impart such a curse to this mortal. I wish for you to find out.”

A berserker? You’ve only seen them on the battlefield, never actually met one. Excitement and anxiety flood your senses, leaving you eager to begin your journey.

“He is known to his clan as ‘Victorious Defender’ - responsible for saving his people many times. They’re in a war with a larger clan, who are slaughtering their women and children and burning their land. Will they rise or will they fall? Aid him and see his people victorious by his hand and he will be worthy of his place in my army.”

He motions for you to stand and rises with you. He holds out his spear and a servant retrieves it. He lifts his hand and a wash of energy, as cool as mist and bright as a blue flame, passes over you. You look down to see your bronze armor fade to silver and the fabric of your sapphire blue skirt transform into a vibrant crimson. The weight of a helmet forms on your head, your shadow reflecting the curved wings sprouting from its sides. A tingling sensation spreads across your back as your wings expand, growing larger to aid your flight across the battlefield. He holds his hands out before him, palms to the sky. You watch in awe as a sword materializes, much wider than the one you’ve trained with your entire life. He steps closer, taking the sword in his hand and offering it to you. You wrap your hand around the hilt and nearly gasp at its weight. It’s nothing you can’t handle, but the extravagant details and significance of a Valkyrie’s destined sword makes it all the heavier. 

“Impart my wisdom, protect my chosen, fly with purpose.”

His final words echo in your mind as you bow, sheath your new sword and turn to leave the throne room. Your destiny is laid before you. Your power as a Valkyrie, unleashed. Your first warrior waits for you. Who is he? How intense will his rage truly be? It’s time to find out.

[Sylus POV]

“Bring another!” 

The young man nods and races out of the tent.

“Bjorn, I’m fine. Let the boy join the celebration.” 

Another carafe of water won’t help ease the burning deep within. Rags soaked in herbs and snow lie across your chest. Your jaw clenches every time tremors threaten to ravage your body. You’ve grown accustomed to the after effects of your rage, but your closest friends are always cautious not to anger you until you’re back to your usual self. 

“The boy is of age, he must see the reality of battle.”

Bjorn’s rough hands work quickly to dress your wounds, using just enough strength to stop the bleeding. He adjusts the rags across your chest, adding a handful of snow. The chill causes your teeth to chatter, a strangled groan escapes your throat. Bjorn lifts a ladle to your lips. 

“Drink this.” 

The distinct flavor of Elderberry, it isn’t horrible, you’re just tired of the flavor. The clan shaman always makes sure you drink a whole pot of Elderberry tea after a bout of rage. Promising it would protect you from your wounds festering. 

“Where is Helga?”

It wasn’t like her to not be the one treating your wounds after a battle. 

“She was called back home. Her sister…”

You close your eyes, you already know what’s happened. This battle was a distraction, used to pull your strongest warriors away from home so they could pillage and kill. Rage threatens to resurface and tear through your skin. How much longer could your people survive this onslaught? 

“Leave me.”

Bjorn doesn’t budge, his hands steadily applying a salve to a wound on your stomach. You grab his wrist, stopping him.

“Bjorn.”

He sighs, but puts the salve back in the leather bag next to your cot. 

“Sylus, we had no way of knowing.”

You nod, but avoid looking him in the eye. Bjorn runs his hand over his beard as he backs toward the exit of your tent. 

“I’ll send the boy with the stew in a few hours. Eat it this time.”

You huff out a laugh and watch Bjorn leave. You groan and force yourself to sit up. The rags on your chest falling to your lap. You stare into the flame of the candle sitting beside you. Watching the light dance and sway. This war is draining you, destroying your home and your people are slowly disappearing. 

You reach for your axe and a sharpening stone from under your cot. You slide the blade across the stone, the sharp scrape calming your senses. Tending to your weapons always calms your nerves. And tonight, you may spend the whole night sharpening every blade in camp. 

The light of the candle flickers, as if a gust of wind had swept past. You glance around the small tent, trying to find the source of the air flow. Finding nothing, you turn back to the stone in your lap. Again, the flame dances wildly, this time it is snuffed out. You grab hold of your axe and lean forward, letting the whetstone fall to the ground. You struggle to stand, clutching your stomach to hold the cloth covering a particularly deep wound. Using your axe to lift the drapes of your tent entrance, you thrust your head outside, surveying your surroundings. You hear the drunken cheers of your men in the distance and see the glow of the bonfire. Nothing seems amiss, but you stagger out regardless. 

This forest is dense, even without the snow, you doubt your footsteps would have been quiet. You’re slow, eyes scanning the treeline. There’s no reason to suspect another attack, with scouts watching every possible entrance and men taking turns walking around the perimeter. You have no doubt you are safe, but your gut is twisting with every step. 

Then you see it, a shimmering light near the riverbed. Your grip around the handle of your axe tightens as you approach. The frozen water reflects the light, mimicking the orb of silver. You squint, the light getting brighter as you get closer. As you are about to speak, the light is extinguished. You blink rapidly, what stands before you is not what you expected. 

A woman, staring down at her reflection on the frozen surface. Her silver armor shines in the moonlight, the chest and shoulders adorned with rows of red gems. Her skirt draped to show the full expanse of her toned thighs. Her armored boots strapped tightly, causing the muscles of her legs to strain against the leather straps. A blade rests against her hip, the hilt covered in the same red gems. She holds a helmet in her hand, a helmet with wings fixed to the sides. The wings are the same as those on her back. Her wings are folded against her, fluttering in the gentle night breeze. Her ivory hair swept into a braid which cascades down to her waist, stray strands brush against her cheek. 

You gasp, not realizing you had been holding your breath. Her head whips around and her eyes lock onto yours and you feel your knees give out. You crash to the ground, your axe clattering against the stones along the riverside. A strangled moan escapes your throat, pain radiating through your chest. 

A warm hand rests on your shoulder, you pull back to look up at her. The moonlight behind her shrouds her face in shadow, but you see her eyes glow. Her hand remains on your shoulder, her warmth seeping into your skin. She lifts her other hand to hold your face as tears fall. She wipes them away before a golden mist wraps around you, warmth spreading from her palms through your skin, deep into your marrow. You grab onto her wrists to steady yourself.

“Better?”

Her voice, Odin save you, is smoother than silk. You straighten your back and your eyes widen when you realize your pain is gone. You look down and see the wounds are fully healed, the burning in your chest has cooled, your swollen knuckles softened. You meet her gaze once more, but the right words allude you. 

“Sit with me.”

You lean back and settle onto the riverbank. She kneels beside you, sitting on her heels. The moonlight now washes across her face, highlighting her delicate features. You’ve never seen such a beautiful woman. But this isn’t a woman - or rather, a normal woman. You recognize the markings on her armor, the wings on her helmet, the wings folded against her back. Could it be?

“Am I dying?” You mutter, your voice barely above a whisper. 

She giggles - an intoxicating sound, you want to hear it again.

“No, you are not.”

“Then…”

She places a hand on your chest. 

“You’ve been chosen, Sylus. I am here to guide you.”

Your name on her lips, this must be a dream. A vision in crimson and silver, wings as pure as snow, eyes so bright it puts the moon to shame - your Valkyrie. 

“Chosen…”

She shifts and settles onto her hip, her eyes level with yours. 

“Allfather has tasked me with your training for Ragnarok. And to aid you in your battle to save your people.” 

He knows? Odin knows of your plight? He chose you? He sent you an angel, a Valkyrie, to help you save your people? And to prepare you for the greatest battle to come? Your chest heaves, breath barely filling your lunges. 

“Why me?”

Her soft lips curve into a sweet smile.

“I do not question the Allfather. He never chooses a warrior who doesn’t have the capacity for greatness. In his eyes, you are worthy of that chance. Now the question is, are you ready?”

You feel your heart pound against your ribcage, the blood flowing through your veins, your focus sharpening, your nerves suddenly firm as steel. 

“I am.”

[Back to Valkyrie POV]

Your presence in his clan is easily accepted. A wanderer bound for the coast in need of a shelter for the winter months. When they saw your weapon and Aegishjalmr tattoo, they nodded in approval. You would be a valuable ally during this time. 

Shifting your appearance was a challenge. You’re suddenly very grateful Astrid forced you to walk through Asgard without your wings on a daily basis. You still feel their presence, but they feel small. Your feet would be the only thing to carry you across the valleys and mountains of the region. 

You replace your armor with a more traditional wool skirt and banded top. Intricate runes etched in white thread popped against the dark blue fabric. A fur trimmed cape hangs around your shoulders, helping you fight off the bitter cold. Thick leather belts around your waist to carry your sheath and throwing knives. Your blade remains undisguised, its size and extravagant details further proving your status as a seasoned warrior. You keep your hair in a loose braid, if Astrid saw you she would lecture you about the importance of keeping your hair better secured. 

"Your hair will disrupt your vision, do you want your blade to strike true or not?"

You miss her voice. It had been three Midgardian days since you last saw her - which felt like mere seconds in Asgard. You spent your time learning the names of Sylus’s men and memorizing their ranks. You enjoy helping Bjorn tend to the wounded, and while you can’t heal them instantly, you can nearly erase their pain without raising any questions. 

Every night, when the sun has fully set, you sneak into Sylus’s tent to continue your lessons. You had never imagined your first charge to be a man who took your breath away with just a single look.

His broad chest, scarred from his battles, always on full display, even in the dead of winter. His arms are adorned with a scattering of symbols and runes. You’d taken your first night with him to tend his wounds. While that was your duty, you caught yourself staring longingly many times.

You recognize the wings etched into the skin over each shoulder, Huginn and Muninn. Various designs of an axe were drawn onto his forearms, so when he held his own it’s an extension of the art. The fine lines of the Vegvisir sit at the center of his chest, the symbolism not lost on you. You’d have to ask him about it later. But the tattoo that surprised you the most was the large depiction of Jormungandr across his back. You’d heard stories as a child about the “mysterious dragon of the north” or the “Midgard serpent”. Rumors of a prophecy, where this serpent could possibly bring an end to the Aesir. You’d ask about that one too, just not now. 

He didn’t dress like a warrior. Is it because he’s a berserker? Legends say they often choose to enter the battlefield bare-chested with only the essentials due to their rage burning too hot. He wore leather cross-straps across his chest to hold his axe on his back. A wool cape lined with black feathers, tied at his neck, barely covering his shoulders. He’s noticed your staring many times, but he simply stared back. So you’d sit in his tent, or across from each other at the bonfire, basking in each other's presence.  

“Your hair…”

“Yes?”

You clear your throat as you sharpen your blade. Sylus sits across from you in his tent, sharpening his own weapon. Your lessons usually start with a session of weapon maintenance, something you’ve grown to enjoy. Your sudden question had broken the comfortable silence as your curiosity got the best of you.

“I’ve never seen a man as young as you with hair so light.”

He chuckles under his breath, that deep timber making your stomach tighten.

“White hair, red eyes, rage as hot as the fires of Muspelheim. Some say I was cursed as a child. That I was never meant to see adulthood.”

You rest your sword across your lap and lean forward, urging him to continue his story.

“My mother died giving birth to me.  And my father died during his journey home to her. He was the chief warrior and his men turned on him, throwing him overboard. The men spun a tale of a portal to Niflheim opening at the bottom of the sea. That my appearance is due to a deal he made with Hel. That he cursed me with the rage he felt after the betrayal of his men, so I may avenge him.”

Strange, Hel was not known for prioritizing vengeance. She encouraged those in her realm to continue living, letting the memory of those left behind vanish into the mist and ice. She wasn’t against revenge, but to aid a human in this way and channel his rage into a baby? 

Your eyes trace his features, the sharp contours of his cheekbones and jaw, his strong nose, his piercing eyes. His white hair falling across his forehead, the sides shaved down like many of his men. Long thick braids falling down to his collarbone, silver clasps woven throughout. 

You’d met many humans, but never one so captivating. He was effortlessly gorgeous and you wondered why Astrid had never told you such men exist. Maybe the pressure of your duty of training him was making you see things? Or maybe he was just extraordinary for his kind. 

“I’ve grown quite attached to my curse actually.”

His voice brings you back and you tilt your head.

“Why?”

“Stories of a red-eyed madman have protected my home. My people love telling tall tales when trading with other clans, keeping the rumors spreading.”

He leans his axe against the edge of his cot. He leans forward, his face inches from yours.

“I prove the stories are true often enough that opposing clans usually steer clear. But, not everyone is frightened by white-hot rage.”

His smile falls and your heart aches. He told you about the past year his clan had been at war. The deaths of women, children, elders, homes burned down, cattle mutilated - they were very nearly destroyed. Sylus’s rage was the only thing keeping their army pushing forward. 

He was a skilled warrior without his rage, but when the tide turned he constantly threw caution to the wind and let anger guide him. His scars were proof enough he has relied on his rage far too often. 

“Your rage has sustained you, but if you’re not careful it will define you.”

Part of your duties was to impart Odin’s wisdom. Warriors cannot pass into Valhalla unless they truly understand his teachings and accept them as law. Not every fight can be won by brute force. You have a feeling this will be the lesson Sylus struggles with the most. 

“I only wish to see my people safe again. Once they are, I will face the damage I’ve done.” 

“Some damage cannot be repaired. Don’t put it off for later. Especially when you don’t know when the war will end.”

His shoulders tense. You hate pointing out the fact this war is far from over. 

“Is that tonight’s lesson then?” 

The chill to his tone makes you stiffen. You lift your blade, pressing it into the ground and leaning on it to stand. You stare at him in silence until he scoffs and stands to look down at you.

“You like the pain of your rage, don’t you?”

He glares at you, eyes fixed, jaw clenched. He crosses his arms, his muscles flexing to make his tattoos dance.

“Why would I like that?”

“Because you believe it is your greatest strength, so the pain is somehow worth it.”

Your voice is steady, your expression neutral. This seems to infuriate Sylus. He stalks out of the tent, grabbing his bow and quiver on the way out. 

He walks into the forest, his pace quickening when he hears your footfalls behind him. You don’t race to catch up, you simply follow. He doesn’t yet realize you will always know exactly where he is and exactly what he is feeling at any given time. You’ll never lose sight of him or wonder how much pain he is in. You watch as he draws the bowstring back and sends an arrow soaring through the air into the neck of a boar. He quickly sends another arrow to strike the animal down. You lean against a tree as he kneels to skin the animal. 

“I won’t move on to the next lesson until we discuss this one. And the spoken lessons must be completed before battle training can begin.”

“I don’t need battle training.” His harsh tone doesn’t deter you, instead you laugh.

“Of course you don’t.”

He looks at you over his shoulder, his eyes glowing against the darkness. You can feel the heat of his rage that is slowly building. Good. 

“I know how to use any manner of weapon. Axe, sword, knife, bow, spear. I don’t need any further training. I just need this war to end and then I can focus on what the Allfather has sent you to teach me.” 

You circle him while he quarters the animal and stores the meat in the bag on his hip. You laugh again and feel another wave of heat from his glare.

“It doesn’t work like that. In case you forgot, I’m in charge of when these lessons happen. And it’s no use even trying to teach you now. All I see is a man lost to his rage. Have you had a battle recently where you haven’t lost control?”

He only needs to take two steps to back you against a tree. His frame towering over you, his cheeks flushed and his breathing shallow. The thick wood of the bow in his hand creaks. You lean back, your calm demeanor only makes his anger burn hotter. His right eye begins to glow and your smile momentarily falters. He turns on his heel and walks away before you can get a good look.

“I never lose control, I choose when to rage. Always directed at my enemies, to protect my people.”

You let him gain some distance. You need to keep pushing him, but you know better than to get too close to a caged animal. And soon, he will realize his rage is in a cage with no lock. He is not as in control as he likes to believe. 

“So you haven’t fought man to man. You let your beast come out to play instead of fighting the battle with your head clear.”

He slows for a moment, letting out a deep growl and then continues, his pace much slower. He hasn’t noticed the bow in his hand has snapped completely in two. 

“I am in control. My head is clear.” His voice shakes.

“Go on, say you’re in control a third time. Maybe a witch will hear your plea and make it true.”

He spins around and barrels towards you, a roar erupting from deep within his chest. You’ve finally got him where you want him - showing you his rage. You didn’t need to witness it in battle, you needed to see how quickly he lost control of the beast within. Taming this beast is your first true challenge with your warrior.

You dive out of the way and Sylus skids on his knees to a halt, digging into the dirt with his hands to hurl himself in your direction. You evade his advances easily, tumbling and leaping with grace. The dance continues until Sylus grunts loudly, growling as he pulls his knife from its sheath secured to his thigh. 

You smile, which awakens a new level of his rage. He sprints towards you and you stand your ground, no weapon in hand. He pulls back the knife and lunges forward. You twist to the side, the knife sliding right past you. You grab Sylus’s shoulders and leap into the air, you flip over him, grabbing the other knife tucked into his belt. As your feet find the ground, you slice the knife across Sylus’s back. He groans and tumbles forward. He twists to look at you over his shoulder, his anger creates a dark aura around you both. 

He continues his attack, you dodge every lunge. He throws boulders as if they are mere pebbles, they crash into the ground around you sending shockwaves through your system. He hurls his knife at you and you deflect it with your own, sending it into a nearby tree. You retrieve it and send it right back to him. It sinks into his shoulder and he howls in pain. You take this moment to sprint at him, wrapping your hand around the knife in his shoulder. You twist the blade, causing him to fall back onto the ground. You stab your other knife into his opposite shoulder and pin him to the ground. You press your foot onto his chest, extending the other to hold his wrist to the ground beside him. He reaches up to grab at your neck but misses as you lean away. He grabs onto your ankle and tries to pull, but you twist the knives and he yelps.

“Control. Sylus. Control the beast.”

Your voice is calm and steady. His body shakes violently and you dig your heel into his wrist. He kicks his legs and bucks his hips as he tries to shove you off. You’ve fought a half-Giant with a sword twice your height. You’re not afraid of him, or the beast inside of him. This won’t be the first time you deal with his rage and he needs to understand you are not afraid to fight. 

You lean your weight onto the foot placed on his chest and he wheezes. You stare directly into his eyes, the glow slowly fading. You can feel his body heat through the sole of your leather boot. You release the handle of one of the knives and place a hand on his chest gently. His skin is hot, he shudders, gooseflesh rising around your hand.

As the glow dissipates and his breathing steadies, you shift your weight and straddle his stomach. Your hands grasp onto the handles of the knives in his shoulders, he needs to be back to himself before you remove them. His arms lay motionless at his side, his legs restless but unmoving. 

“I… I didn’t…” 

His voice is soft, slightly hoarse from the growling. You shush him.

“Eyes on me.” 

You swiftly yank the knives from his shoulders. Sylus groans loudly, his shoulders tense as streams of blood trickle down from the wounds. You throw the knives into the tree a few meters away. You place your hands over the open wounds, a golden mist swirls and Sylus sighs as he feels his wounds close. You move to stand, but Sylus grabs onto your hips keeping you where you are. He looks up at you, your hands shifting from his shoulders to his chest to ease the pain from where your foot dug in.

“I’ve never…”

“Lost control outside of a battle?”

He drops his gaze, his body going rigid beneath you. His rage was subsiding but he was barely cooling off. You refocus your energy to cool him down and he moans, catching you off guard. 

“I - ugh… no…”

It caught both of you off guard it seems. Sylus doesn’t know where to look. You try to ignore the blush creeping up your neck to your cheeks. 

“You’re right. I have not battled with a clear head in… I don’t know how long…”

You lift your hand to caress his cheek, his eyes close as he nuzzles into your palm. His skin continues to burn against yours.

“I am here to help you with that. You will not serve the beast. Do you trust me?”

When his eyes open, they are filled with tears, his rage giving way to something far more carnal. His hands flex against your hips, sending shockwaves through your most intimate places. 

“Yes…”

Your chest begins to rise and fall faster, your hands on his face and chest itching to move, to explore in a way you haven’t yet. Strands of hair fall forward, brushing against your face and sticking to your lips. Sylus lifts his hand to move the hair aside and tuck it behind your ear. His touch lingers, fingers trailing down to trace your jaw and resting against the side of your neck.

“Sylus…”

You whispered his name like a prayer, which he swiftly answers. His hand at your neck pulls you down to him, his lips crashing into yours with a heat that matches his rage. White hot, but deeply controlled this time. His arm circles your waist and holds your body flush against his. You sigh into his mouth, making him all the more desperate to consume you. 

Your back hits the ground and you gasp at the sudden chill of snow. He glides his hands over your waist and digs his fingers into the plush of your hips. Your hips twitch and you feel something hot and heavy press into your lower stomach. The air around you is clouded with your combined breaths, every kiss met with a gasp and a groan. Your nails skate across the expanse of his back and he shakes, pulling his lips away to rest his forehead against yours.

“I want to touch you… To… take you…”

His words make the pooling warmth between your legs unbearable. It was not difficult to decipher how he was feeling, you didn’t need to be a Valkyrie to know what he desired. And Odin forgive you, you want nothing more. Your hands thread through his hair and you nod, almost frantically. His soft smile and breathy laugh make your heart flutter.

“My Valkyrie…”

His lips make their way down your neck. You close your eyes, surrendering yourself to every sensation. Shutting off the part of your brain which always knew his intentions and feelings, allowing your own to take priority. Pleasure sparks across your chest as he leans down to suck your pert nipple through the fabric. Your back arches off the ground, pressing your breast against his face. He flattens his tongue against your nipple, licking the sensitive peak, while he lifts your skirt over your hips. 

“Take it off… ngh… now!”

The desperation in your voice is almost embarrassing, if only you cared. A resounding rip frees your breasts and you shiver as the cold breeze touches your bare skin. Sylus discards the torn fabric of your banded top before closing his mouth around your nipple once more and you moan, direct contact making the feeling mind numbing. Sylus groans against you as you press your hips upward. He places open mouth kisses across your chest, letting his lips drag across your nipples, back and forth until your writhing and whining. His fingers pinch and tug at whichever nipple he isn’t suckling. When you’re nearly certain you’ll faint from the overwhelming pleasure, he stops.

Looking down you see him tear through your skirt, leaving you completely bare before him. He then makes quick work of pulling the chord to loosen his bearskin trousers. Your fingers trace his flushed cheeks and swollen lips, it’s only when your hands brace against his chest that he gasps. You circle his nipples and feel your cunt pulse with need as he whimpers and tosses his head back. You continue to toy with him, eager to hear those sounds continue. His hand sinks lower and he pushes his trousers over his hips, freeing his aching cock. Your loud groan at the sight of him sends Sylus into overdrive, his hips lowering to tease his tip through your slick folds. 

“Sylus… yes… mmm…” 

His fingers finally make contact with your clit and you buck your hips. You look down to see the tip of his cock hovering just over your pussy. Digging your fingers into his shoulders you pull yourself up to latch onto his ear, sucking his earlobe into your mouth, biting gently. He growls and you bite him again. Yanking his ear free he lifts himself to look down at you. In one swift motion, he flips you over, an arm around your stomach to force you onto your knees. When you try to reach back he chuckles, that feeling of his chest rumbling against your back was your only warning. He grips your hips and lifts, pressing his cock against your ass. You turn to look at him and his heated glare makes your pussy spasm yet again. 

“Fuck…”

His voice is ragged, just your tear-filled eyes looking back at him are enough to undo him. His hand spreads across your back, pushing you down to the ground. You gasp as the rough ground rubs against your tender nipples. Sylus grabs your wrists, holding them with one hand behind your back, his other hand tugs your hips further back. You finally feel it, the tip of his cock bumping against your clit. 

“Sylus… fuck… me please…”

“Anything for my angel.”

His hand releases your hip for a moment to line up his throbbing cock. He sinks into you slowly, your tight cunt squeezing him so deliciously he can only whine in response to your whimpers. You arch your back and spread your hips, urging him to press deeper. He leans forward, wrapping his free hand around your lower stomach to yank you back. His hips slap against your ass and your combined moans of pleasure echo through the dark forest. 

”Hands… up…”

He lets go of your hands and you try to slide them on the ground upwards. His large hands circle your wrists and tug them above your head. He crosses them and plants a hand over both. His chest remains molded to your back, his heart beats rapidly, syncing with your own. He returns his other hand to your hip and begins to thrust. 

His hot breath against your ear, his heart beat at your back, his cock buried so deep you feel your belly bulge with every thrust. He whispers your praises, punctuated with questions to ensure your pleasure is everything you wished it to be. His hand returns to your stomach, you know he can feel himself through your skin and muscle. He curses under his breath, his forehead against your shoulder. You push your hips back to meet him.

Your screams are silenced by Sylus’s hand covering your mouth. His own shouts of pleasure are muffled as he sinks his face into your neck. His release is scorching, filling you completely and sending you tumbling over the edge. The burst of warmth that spreads down your thighs and ass makes Sylus swear. He places messy kisses to your shoulder and back as he rocks you through your climax. 

Finally, you’re lifted off the ground, Sylus’s cock slipping out, his cum dripping down your inner thighs. He leans back, sitting on his heels as he holds you to his chest. You run your fingers along his forearms, sighing as he kisses your neck. 

“I’m sorry about your clothes…”

“Don’t be…” 

He gently wipes the dirt off of your chest and motions for you to stand. As you tuck your feet under you, your legs tremble and you fall, Sylus catches you and laughs. 

“Seems I will have to carry you then…”

You’re glad he can’t see your flushed cheeks, his ego is big enough as it is. He tucks himself back into his trousers and turns you around. You wrap your legs around his waist and loop your arms around his neck. He covers your back with your torn skirt and stands to slowly make his way back to camp.

The bonfire and candles in almost every tent are extinguished when you return. Sylus quietly slips into his tent, kicking his boots off as he walks to his cot. He tosses the thick fur blanket aside and sets you down, sliding your boots off and tucking your feet underneath. He stands to remove his pants and you bite your lip at the sight of his half-hard cock. 

He slides into the cot next to you, his naked body pressing against yours. As he pulls the blanket up to cover you both, you stroke his cheek. He looks at you, pleased yet surprised by the sudden touch. All you can do is smile, but you know he feels the same way. 

He leans in and kisses you deeply. His searing kiss sends tingles along your spine. His tongue dives between your lips and you lift your leg over his hip, pressing yourself even closer. You sigh as his cock slides back inside of you. You’re not sure how long it is before you’re biting into his shoulder and coming all over his cot, but you never want the feeling to end. To be here with him. Your warrior.  🪽 ⚔️ 🔥

AN #2: The tattoos explained: ψ Aegishjalmr (on Valkyrie) - a circle with eight tridents, is believed to grant its wearer strength, courage, protection & to instill fear in enemies. 🧭Vegvisir (on Sylus) - a compass, is a symbol of guidance & protection. 🐍Jormungandr (on Sylus) - the Midgard Serpent (World Serpent) who encircles the realm of Midgard. And no, I cannot pronounce any of them. Smile. 

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𝗕𝗲𝗮𝗰𝗵 𝗕𝗮𝗯𝗲 𝗶𝗶

𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 | aitana bonmati x reader

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 | aitana can't stop thinking about you

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴 | none

𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲 | this been sitting in my drafts for months hehe

Two weeks.

Two weeks since Aitana met you.

Two weeks stuck in a limbo, wishing to see you again. In passing years, confidence had become Aitana’s best friend. Consistent wins and titles built Aitana’s reign in the football world, which eventually extended to her personal life. Aitana felt untouchable. All her blood, sweat, and tears led her to this point, and she wasn’t gonna stop now. 

Aitana knew she’s one of the best players of the generation, playing for the best club in Spain, and if she was being a hundred percent honest, Europe. She’s aware of the impact she has endlessly made in the community each year. It wasn’t ego talking but a simple fact to be acknowledged. 

What Aitana didn’t realize is that her status and image could only get her so far. The world doesn’t excuse star athletes from it's desire to hurt. Before you, Aitana loved the world, and in return, they loved her. But, when she laid eyes on you, Aitana was instantly a goner. When your figure shrinked in size as you walked on, she slowly began to despise the very thing that loved her. 

You barged into her perfect world with your hot Brazilian accent and beautiful smile. Who wouldn’t fall for you? 

No one. A simple answer Aitana believed. 

She just wished that when she fell, you would have caught her. Instead, you let her fall continuously into the void that you created with your absence, and Aitana hated it. You demolished her world, a world centered around football only to be destroyed so easily by a charming smile. Dumbfounded, Aitana spent days putting her picture-perfect world back together brick by brick.

For once in her life, Aitana felt pathetic. A familiar yet unfamiliar emotion aching in her chest. 

In her youth, Aitana understood it. After each loss, she didn’t feel worthy, she didn’t feel like the great soccer player she strived to be. Aitana felt pathic, so yes the emotion was familiar to her. But, unfamiliar because Aitana didn’t lose a game that day, no, she just let go of the one person that sparked the wick in her soul. 

Aitana never felt a spark with someone before, the spark that many described as fireworks when they met the one. As sad as it is, Aitana never experienced fireworks. She summed it up to the fact that she was busy with football, too busy building her career to feel those sparks. 

Time went on, and so did Aitana’s hidden search for those fireworks. She eventually became immune to the romance surrounding her, couples left and right displaying their love that consisted of hand holding, hugs, and kisses…the list goes on. Maybe once or twice out of the year, Aitana wished to find someone to love, but no shooting stars were granted.

Year after year, Aitana slowly became content with her lack of romance…until that day on the beach. 

Aitana remembers that day so bitterly yet so fondly, the team had just finished up their time in the ocean. Favoring their time left with the sun before it completely set. She recalls being at peace. The breeze blew cool air against her warm skin, a still state Aitana hoped she had more often. And then you came along, fresh out the water, surfboard in arm. Effortlessly, you exposed Aitana to a new adrenaline. 

One she didn’t know existed and then when you waved at her, Aitana panicked. This, she liked a lot less, clueless to why she felt such a thing. Cool, calm and collected Aitana Bonmati panicking over a girl waving at her, how gay of her. She can still feel the internal embarrassment coursing through her body. 

When you spoke, Aitana believed she entered paradise. You possibly gave her the best chat she’s ever had. Your heavy Brazilian accent was music to her ears. Your rolled r’s nearly had Aitana on her knees. You knew how to keep a conversation going, the lightness and flow lifted weight off Aitana’s chest. The freedom to speak without care was new to her and she loved it. You were interested in what she had to say, focusing on her like she was the most important person in the world. 

The easy smile you had when she started to ramble and the twitch of your eyebrow when you found something amusing, if this is what people felt when they were in love, Aitana understood the addiction. You made her heart beat to cupid’s song, a rhythm that stuck to Aitana everytime she thought of you. 

And it was cute until she found sad songs to sync her heart to. Her attempts to hide her feelings sucked, the team immediately noticed her shift in behavior. Not only was she actively restored to brooding, small ques of isolation and a long heartbreak playlist were following factors. They’ve never seen Aitana so emotionally impacted by someone, the Great Aitana Bonmati wallows in misery over a girl, never thought they’ll see the day. 

“Her first lesbian heartbreak, the final step to her slut phase.”

Patri groaned, rubbing the back of her head where Frido slapped her. The team was on water break and instead of sitting with the others, Aitana sat at the edge, airpods blasting James Arthur.

Mapi sighed, yanking out her airpod, wrapping an arm around Aitana’s shoulder. “It’s okay, mi amiga. There are plenty of other women in the sea. We just need to get you in the right space to find them. How about we hit that nightclub by-” Cut off by a cleared throat, Mapi smiled innocently at Ingrid. The Norwegian removed her girlfriend from her dear friend, taking the prior spot for herself. 

“Don’t pay attention to her. You don’t need to move on so fast, just go at your own pace.” 

Mapi threw her arms out in offense, it wasn't just her who wanted Aitana to enter her lesbian spree. Cata, Patri, Pina, Misa, and even Jenni, who was all the way in Mexico, wanted to break Aitana out of her shell and right into someone’s sheets. 

It was a daring plan that they created, too much riding on it if it got leaked. The amount of trouble they’d get in for messing with precious Tana was undoubtedly scary. Nonetheless, they got to work. Patri and Cata signed her up for dating apps, swiping left and right to find girls who looked similar to you. 

Jenni was assigned to find potential matches in Mexico which wasn't exactly hard but Mapi kept rejecting them on Aitana’s behalf when they looked nowhere near you. Misa had a hometown friend that shared the same color hair and eyes as you but Aitana quickly shut it down. Yet, it didn’t stop there. Each rejection and failure, they tried harder, determined to win their friend’s heart.

Aitana grew annoyed at their foolishness, Exhibit A.

"No."

"Come on, it'll be fun."

"I'm sure it will be. But, I want no part of it."

"Yes, you do. Trust me, right now you're experiencing your first girl heartbreak and its shitty. But, to get over someone is to get under someone. Now, what about her?”

Aitana glared at Mapi, eyes staring down at her friend, resisting the urge to push the phone that was shoved in her face. “I said no. So, get that phone out of my face before it ends across the field. Leave me alone before I tell Ingrid.” 

Mapi's jaw dropped, holding her phone tight to her chest. “That’s not fair!” She exclaimed, “We’re trying to help! Misa brought her friend to the city so you can meet her but you locked yourself at Keira’s which was really rude by the way! She was excited to meet you!” 

Aitana clenched her jaw, turning her back to Mapi to continue kicking penalties. Jana giggled, patting a pouting Mapi on the back. “She doesn't care for them because they're Spanish. She wants a little Brazilian instead.” Aitana's head snapped to Jana, the young girl cowdered behind Mapi at the fierce glare.

“Who told you that?”

Jana peeked out from Mapi’s shoulder, “Patri might've said something about an accent.” Patri said more than Jana claimed, she knew it, Mapi knew it, even Jana herself knew that Aitana wasn't buying her white lie. 

Mapi gasped, shaking Aitana in excitement. “You want a Brazilian?! Why didn't you say so, we can book a flight right now and grab the nearest one when we get off." Aitana stared at her friend eye-wide, Jana not too far off. Both looked at Mapi as if she lost her damn mind. 

“You want to kidnap someone?” Jana asked in disbelief, was it ever that serious? 

Mapi wagged her finger in the air, “No, I said grab. That’s different from kidnapping.” Jana shook her head, “I don’t think it is if they don’t go willingly.”

Mapi threw her arms to the side, almost smacking Aitana in the face. “Why wouldn't they come willingly? We show them Aitana and they’ll be dogs in heat wanting to meet her. I mean have you seen this face?” Mapi grabbed Aitana’s jaw in her hand, squishing the midfielder’s cheeks. “It’s so cute!” Mapi cooed, her baby voice in full effect. Aitana shoved the older girl away, sending a heavy glare for the mockery. 

“I’ll end you.” 

Aitana threatened, Mapi scoffed, not feeling the slightest worry. Aitana wasn’t a vengeful woman, she was calm and collected more than anything. 

“I’d like to see you try.” Mapi cockily said, calling Aitana’s bluff. Within a second, Aitana stocked up on Mapi, yanking the phone out of her hand before launching it across the field. “You bitch!” Mapi yelled, running after her precious phone, praying that it wasn’t broken. 

Aitana turned her back to Mapi’s slouching figure, pointing a finger at Jana. “You keep messing with me, you’re next.” Jana nodded rapidly, eyes snapping to Mapi as she cried dramatically over her phone. Aitana walked off leaving her two friends to deal with the mess they made. 

“And I’m telling Ingrid!”

“We’re not flying all the way to Brazil just for you to set me up with a random stranger.” Patri just couldn’t keep her mouth shut. The more the others knew, the more they pressed. Aitana didn’t want that, it was frustrating enough to deal with her own emotions but to have more people hound you for it was just as infuriating.

She didn't want anyone that wasn’t you, she didn’t care for the girls in Spain and she definitely didn’t care for some random girls in Brazil. She just wanted you and that’s all she’ll ever want. 

Aitana didn’t expect anyone to understand. Heck she didn’t understand it herself. The very first person she fell for, someone she couldn’t have known for no more than an hour, pained her in a way she couldn’t explain.

Her mind imagined scenarios of what could have been if you lived in Spain, if she found loopholes to see the relationship working out. It drained Aitana mentally, all these what ifs. And to show up at work or hang out to be constantly tested fueled her anger. 

She felt like a laughing stock. For the team to know that someone tugged her heart strings was humiliating, double the amount due to the evident impact it had on her. Every woman introduced to her by the helping hand of Mapi, Patri, whoever was a few, pushes away from tipping the iceberg. 

To the rest of the team, they knew very well that Aitana was bound to snap. She’s been teased relentlessly for weeks, they wouldn’t be surprised if Aitana became a loose cannon by the end of the month. 

Aitana sat in her cubby, undressing herself from all the sweat that lingered on her clothes. Patri hopped over, nudging Aitana who ignored her. Patri smiled nonetheless, leaning closer to her, whispering, “I heard what you did with Mapi’s phone. Did she tell you about the match you made on-” Aitana threw her boots into her cubby, whipping around to come face to face with Patri. 

The talking instantly ceased in the locker room, the sound of boots banging against metal gained rapid attention. The smile on Patri’s lips slowly faded away, the tension in Aitana’s face vanished any playfulness in her bones. “If you heard about that then you should’ve heard what I told her. Leave me alone, quit bringing up random girls for me to date. I don’t want them and I don't want you or anyone else meddling with my life!” 

Seeing that Aitana was blowing up, Mapi came over to try to do some damage control. “Hey, we’re just trying to help you get over that girl. You were so upset about her leaving we just wanted to help.” Despite the softness and genuine intention, that didn’t do anything to rid the annoyance and anger building up.

“Well don't! How many times did I ask you to stop?! And you didn’t?! You keep making fun of me! I’m sick of it!” 

Alexia quickly interfered, placing a hand on Aitana beating chest giving the younger girl a soft look. “Why don’t you head home and get some rest. I’ll handle this.” She assured, Aitana snatched her bag off the floor and stomped out the room, giving up the fight before it became physical. The doors slammed loudly against the wall with the force Aitana used. 

Alexia spun on her heels, hands on her lips as she glared at Mapi. “This needs to stop. It’s gone on for way too long. I mean it, Patri delete that app off your phone. I know you still have it. Mapi quit trying to set her up with people she doesn’t want to meet. And anyone else involved quit the shit before you’re running laps before practice for the entire season.” 

Alexia made it a mission to make eye contact with the four who were involved, the other two she couldn’t reach due to one being in Madrid and the other in Mexico but she’ll be sure to check them when nationals come. “Apologize to her. Buy her flowers, clean her apartment, I don’t care just make it up to her, Jonatan has a potential player visiting and we need to make a good impression as a team. Understand?” 

Various answers were said, all pleasing to Alexia to what she wanted to hear. “Good. Patri, Pina, and Mapi starting tomorrow you’ll be running laps until you apologize. And Cata, you’ll be in goal for Aitana’s balls tomorrow, better hope she’s cooled off by then.” The four protested but Alexia didn’t bother to stay to hear it. 

Keira winced at the slammed door, the blonde went by to pick up Aitana for their usual carpool and by the looks of it, yesterday’s mood still lingered. Aitana refused to visit their usual cafe after Pina exposed Aitana’s loneliness to one of the barista’s hoping to score Aitana an unwanted date. She even refused to listen to their morning playlist which always gets them in a peaceful mindset for the day. 

The ride was awkwardly silent, Keira respected Aitana’s need for silence but it killed her the entire time. As soon as the car stopped, Aitana wasted no time rushing out the car, Keira quickly caught up expecting Aitana to be more dragged with her movements to hold off seeing the team.

“Going a bit too fast for me, Tana. Mind slowing down a bit.” The blonde chucked but Aitana made no indication that she was listening, noticing Aitana lost in her thoughts Keira stood in front of her primarily stopping Aitana in her tracks. 

“Still bugged out from yesterday? Don’t worry, Alexia had a talk with the team after you left. They’re very sorry about their actions.” 

Aitana blinked, “Let’s just get to training.” She left it at that, leaving Keira behind. As much Aitana wanted to act like nothing had happened in the past weeks, the brewing irritation and embarrassment had risen to a boiling point that wasn’t going to cool soon. So unfortunately for the girls, they were going to be on the receiving end of Aitana’s fury for the next following days. 

Aitana pushed the doors open to the locker room, high energy today as loud chatter came from the walls. Time stopped for Aitana, her eyes caught onto the person standing in the middle of the room as if it's the norm. Talking to her teammates with a huge smile. How were you here? Why were you here? Millions of questions ran through Aitana's mind and none could she work out an answer to. 

Aitana didn’t realize that you began making way towards her, even as her eyes followed you as you navigated through the room like you've been here before. You stood right in front of her, except there was no sun blinding her, all she had was the ceiling light, a very dim light.

You had a stupid smile on your face, happiness filled your heart to its content. You counted down the remaining days to return to Barca, to see Aitana after your first encounter it made all the move to Spain more exciting. 

“Hi, Aitana.” 

Words breathless, your heart pumping to cupid’s song made it hard to catch your breath. A beat skipped and so did Aitana, well, more like bolted out the door leaving you standing stupidly in the middle of the room.

[klemen-tine]

One of Us (Vampire AU!)

Batfam x Platonic!Male Reader.

Mainly Dick, Jason, and Bruce, but Part 2 will have more interaction.

I have no excuses, and I apologize.

Someone, very long ago, requested a Vampire AU! and I said "Hey! I'm actually working on that now!" A year later and it is up.

TW: Noncon body modification. You get turned into a vampire essentially when you wanted to be human.

Enjoy~

________________________________________________________

His body felt as though it was on fire, his throat dry and teeth aching. He hunched over himself, panting and trying to contain himself as he felt his body was going through hell. His breath coming pants and if he could sweat, he knows he would be. It feels like a fever, but he knows it is not. 

“Y/N.” He could barely hear the voice calling for him, but he can’t pinpoint on who it is. A hand carding through his oily hair and there it was. The sweet scent that made his throat burn and his teeth ache impossibly more. A pitiful whine left his throat and hands gently scratched his scalp, like someone petting a cat, “Shh, its okay.” The rim touched his lips and Y/N was gulping it down, ignoring how some of it spilled from the side or how a hot tongue licked it away. 

They nuzzled into the side of Y/N’s head, whispering sweet words and encouragement. 

“Its almost done, Y/N. You are so close.” A cry left Y/N’s lips, tears now racing down their cheeks. The cold hand cupped their cheek, and another set of arms wrapped themselves around his shoulders. The head nuzzled into the crook of their neck, and they could feel fangs nibble on their clammy skin. 

“Pl…please…” He gasped out, only for more liquid to be shoved down his throat. Tears continued to race down his cheeks and a hand gently brushed his cheek. A finger dipped past his lips and onto a now sensitive tooth. 

Y/N, in instinct he didn’t used to have, bit down and the sweet taste of blood filled his lips. No longer blood from a bag, but now from the source. 

“Good job.” 

“Our little brother is the best. Catching on so quickly.” Y/N sobbed around the digit. Upset with them for doing this, upset at himself for allowing this, and overall in so much pain. Every drop of blood felt like cold water on his burning throat, and with every swallow the fog in his mind cleared a bit more. 

“Good job, Y/N.” 

+++

Y/N is loved. Y/N is revered within the manor, hands always keeping a tight hold on his wrists, forearms, or sometimes a hand is always clamped to the back of his neck. Almost like the Wayne family is scared that someone, not of their own, is going to take a bite. 

He was kept from the public eyes, oftentimes staying behind in the manor with Alfred as the others went out. He is kept in the manor, only allowed outside as long as someone is with him and it has to be in the backyard. Thanks to that, however, the yard is now more beautiful than ever with the flower garden he has been working on with Alfred. 

He is the human amongst a clan of vampires. The dirty little secret. 

Y/N is- “You sure you don’t want to do it tonight?” -Not ready to stop being a human. He stared at Jason, Tim nuzzling into his chest, and Y/N found it hard to look away from the green eyes that he had grown up with. He knows they can hear his heart racing as his anxiety picked up, but Y/N tried to keep a straight face. 

“I’m sure, it doesn’t feel like the right time yet.” It's been the excuse for the past few years, and he knows that it is getting old. However, he also knows that it is a human that he wants to be. Y/N wants to die as a human, and he wants to live as a human. 

Y/N knows, just how a person knows they don’t want to be a parent, that he does not want to be a vampire. Yet, he couldn’t find it within himself to even voice it. How do you tell the people who raised you, expecting you to join them once you are ready, that you no longer want to be a vampire? 

He wasn’t sure what to do. What he did know however was that this family, their family, will  say no. They will not take no for an answer. This is because they are Waynes and they will always get what they want. 

Y/N, whether he likes it or not, is someone they want. It is the price one pays when they are revered and looked after as much as he is. Similar to the gold family watch everyone wants to wear, or the video gaming that everyone must have turns playing with. To be well loved means to be sought after, and to be sought after means there is little freedom. 

++++

Y/N was walking the long and gothic hallways of the manor, staring outside the window and watching how the rain pelted the glass. No lightning or thunder, only rain. Despite the darkness, Y/N wandered the halls with ease, knowing where each staircase was, which hallways led to where, and also which rooms were which. 

Despite this, the manor was creepy. The way the shadows were casted like things chasing you, or how parts of the old structure would creak for no reason other than the fact that it is old. 

It is why when Y/N saw Dick, it wasn’t fear that he felt but peace. Smiling widely at his oldest brother, he welcomed the other’s hug and buried his face into the cold chest. 

“Dickie, welcome home.” The man smiled, “It’s good to be home. What has you walking around so late at night?” Y/N grinned up at him, before looking out the window, “Just up. I couldn’t fall asleep.” The oldest brother hummed, “That’s unfortunate. Are you having nightmares?” A hand cupped his face gently, and Y/N smiled, “No. I can’t sleep. I was hoping that walking around would help.” 

Dick hummed, showing his understanding. He stared out the window alongside his brother, and sharp eyes watched the rain pelt the glass and the occasional lightning strike light up the sky. He can remember a younger Y/N, one who was terrified of everything, crying and running into one of their rooms whenever there was a thunderstorm. They were always awake, and once they found out whose room he had run into, everyone would congregate into that person’s room. It was typically Bruce’s room, and the man would wait with a book in hand a mug of warm hot chocolate. 

Dick looked at Y/N now, and he wondered just where the time had gone. Y/N is now 21, and those years have flown by for all of them. Dick can remember first holding Y/N as a baby, found in a closet at murder victim's apartment. He had been so tiny, and Dick had promised that nothing would ever hurt Y/N. 

Not even age. 

“I wonder… When did you grow out of your fear of thunderstorms?” Y/N smiled, “I think the moment I turned 9, but you guys seemed bummed that I stopped going to your rooms.” 

“Is that why you kept coming in?” Y/N, until he was 13, had continued to seek them out whenever there was thunder. Dick didn’t know it was because they all looked upset when Y/N stopped doing so. 

The human nodded, “Bruce seemed to be the most distraught to be honest.” Dick laughed, already able to picture Bruce’s face the first time Y/N didn’t come in. 

“You guys take such great care of me…” Y/N trailed off, his mind trying to think of a way to bring the conversation up. He could feel Dick’s piercing gaze, and it sent goosebumps down his spine. He scratched his ear, a nervous tic that he has never been able to grow out of. Dick brought him into a hug, and Y/N found himself relaxing as one of Dick’s hands caressed the back of his neck.  

“And what greater ‘thank you’ than joining us?” Y/N snapped his head to Dick’s direction. Long fangs peaked through Dick’s lips, catching the manor light in a menacing manner, and for the first time in his life, Y/N was terrified of his brother. The hand clasped on the back of his neck tightened. 

“Dickie?” His voice wobbled, and Dick just smiled so serenely and prettily. An arm wrapped around Y/N’s waist to pull him closer, and for the first time in his life, Y/N can feel just how cold Dick was. How different their bodies were. 

“We love you so, so much Y/N. So much that it eats at us when you are not within arms reach.” Y/N loves them too. It's just, Y/N also loves being a human. When he was younger, there was nothing he wanted more than to be a vampire with his family. Now that he is older, he can better see the beauty in life because life itself is short. 

Y/N no longer wishes to be a vampire.  

Dick leaned down, and nuzzled the skin that is pulled taut over Y/N’s collarbones. Y/N couldn’t stop the shiver that broke out on his skin or the way that the hairs on his arms now stood on end. He finally found the strength to move and gripped Dicks’s shoulders, trying to push him away. 

“Dickie, please I don’t- don’t want this.” There was a small nibble on his collarbone, and Y/N felt his heart rate spike. From the way Dick smiled, showing all teeth, he knew that his oldest brother could hear it. 

The blood in his ears began to roar and Y/N began to feel his breath pick up. He hated that this feeling was making him scared of his brother. That this feeling was making him see Dick, sweet and kind Dick, in a new and darker light. One that helped him see what others saw just before strong jaws clamped on fragile skin. He was looking at a monster in the shape of his brother. 

“Di-Dick?” 

“Master Richard, what are you doing?” The grip released and Y/N pushed himself off and ran to Alfred. The oldest vampire was staring down at Dick with a raised eyebrow. One that had many of Y/N’s brothers confessing what they were guilty about. All this did however, was make Dick smile with only the smallest traces of being guilty. 

“Sorry Alfie, I was only teasing.” From the look Alfred gave him and the furrowing in Y/N's own brows, the oldest child knows he’s not fooling anyone. Which wasn't the point. Staring down at his sibling, Dick could hear the blood racing underneath the skin, and the way his heartbeat continued to race in his chest. 

The grin increased in size, and his fangs remained elongated. Y/N gripped Alfred’s suit tighter, and the butler sighed at his ward, “Master Richard, if you continue to bully Y/N, I will need to bring in Master Bruce.” Dick’s grin got even wider at the threat, and Y/N knows that that is exactly what Dick wants. 

“It-its okay Alfie… Dick’s joke just went too far.” If Dick is doing this, then that means he has to go ahead from Bruce. It’s terrifying to realize that Bruce is done waiting. 

++++

Y/N knows he’s being watched. He knows that he’s being observed and that this plan was a failure from the start. Which was why when he walked in his room and saw Bruce standing amongst his packed bags, bags he knew he hid, Y/N knew that this game was over. Still, he tried to hold his composure, “I don’t remember saying you can come in.”

Bruce doesn’t even look at him, “When I believe one of my kids is in danger, your permission to enter a room in my manor is the last thing I need.” Y/N huffs, “I’m not in danger.” The old vampire narrowed his gaze, and Y/N wondered if maybe he should jump out the window. 

“I, and many others, highly disagree. Why are your bags packed?” 

“Am I not allowed to go on trips?” 

“Four bags to go on a trip? Must be a long one.” Y/N narrowed his eyes, “Just around Europe. Nothing too long.” Bruce strolled over, and cupped Y/N’s cheek, making E/C eyes meet blue. They were as cold as his skin, and Y/N can’t help but to wonder if they were always like that. 

“You’ve never been a good liar, Y/N.” He bit his lips, “It's because I’ve never had a reason to lie before.” Bruce had some decency to look guilty, “Y/N, I’ve been meaning to have this conversation with you for a while, and it’s my fault for putting it off.”

“Bruce, please,” Y/N whimpered, their fingers gripping into the silk fabric of the casual-wear and they stared into blue eyes. Those same eyes that they can remember being one of their first memories. 

“Please, I… I want to be human.” Bruce’s grip tightened and Y/N flinched. It was the wrong answer, but it was the answer that he needed to say. Tears now streaming down his face and his body shaking. His bags laid strewn across the floor, and Y/N wonders if they had all known from the start. 

“Tell me, Y/N. Did you really think there was a place on this earth where we wouldn’t find you?” Y/N bit the inside of their cheek. Of course not. Y/N knows that wherever he were to go, the Wayne’s would always be in his shadow. 

It was still nice to try. Then again, Y/N didn’t even get to try. The furthest he got was packing his bags. 

“I wasn’t going to hide from you all or anything! I just wanted to take a trip.” “Then why the secrecy?” Y/N scrunched his nose, “Because you guys would have never let me go.” Bruce sighed heavily and Y/N grit his teeth, “I wasn’t running away. I was only wanting to go on a trip.” Blue eyes narrowed on his form, his grip tightening, “You wanted to live there.” 

“Just for a bit! Everyone else got to do it.” 

“Y/N, you have been swaddled in the finest fabrics in the world, had the best food on your plate, and have always had money at your fingertips. Did you really think you would make it?” Y/N flinched, and the hold that Bruce had on him loosened. No longer gripping his shoulders as if Y/N would run, but now in a comforting manner. 

Bruce nuzzled Y/N’s hair, in a mocking sense of comfort, and he took a deep inhale, “I don’t mean to undermine you, Y/N. However, we do worry.

“If you were like us, the worry would lessen.” Y/N tensed, and Bruce pulled back to make eye contact with him again. He smiled down at his child, fangs protruding as he did so, “You could go anywhere, and we would fear little.” 

“But I would still need someone with me.” 

“Of course, you’d be a young vampire. New to the world and its wonders, it would be cruel to just let you go alone into this world.” Which isn’t what Y/N wants. He wants to see the world on his own, as a human. 

At least one trip. 

“The answer is no Y/N.” Bruce sighed heavily, and he gently pecked Y/N’s temple, “We will not be barbaric about it.” Long gone are the days when biting a future vampire was the only way to turn them. Too many deaths happened like that, due to the fangs becoming even longer to ensure the venom gets into the blood and accidentally nicking an artery or vein. 

Injecting venom through the bite to course through the bloodstream was the new way. 

Unfortunately the symptoms are longer and a bit harsher. 

“Please, Bruce.” 

“Goodnight Y/N.” His world faded to black and the last thing he saw were blue eyes now turning red. 

+++

He woke up to his body feeling as though he’s on fire. Rolling off the bed, he cried out as the freezing floor met his burning skin harshly. The coldness overriding the pain only momentarily, and acting as a sweet release, only for it all to come back. Y/N’s mouth opened in a silent scream, and his throat burned with an intensity he has never felt before. 

He reached forward, for what he’s not sure, but through the haze of his mind he could see that the nails on his fingers were longer, and the floor under them had cracked. His vision remained blurred with tinges of red around the edges. Panic rose in his chest, and Y/N wondered if this was all part of the process. Was this pain meant to strip his humanity so when the hunger kicks in, it would be all he is focused on? 

A scream broke free as another wave of pain coursed through him. His body felt even more feverish and sluggish, and his teeth were aching in a way that had him reaching towards his mouth in an attempt to remove the source of pain. 

“Let's not do that.” Another hand grabbed his wrist, and Y/N spasmed under the cool touch. Another hand reached down and gently picked him up, and held him tightly when he began to thrash around. Y/N did not want to be in this person’s hold, and they were taking away the coolness of the floor. 

The grip tightened, and when he was back on the scratchy sheets from earlier, Y/N let out a pitiful whimper. Each strand felt like small pins digging into his skin, and the smell caused his nose to wrinkle and feel like someone was swab as far back as they could. 

“Shh, I know Y/N. It’ll be over soon.” Something was presented in front of him, and the horrid smell from the sheets was replaced by the smell of something pleasant. It could be compared to smelling flowers for the first time, or Alfred’s baked goods. It smelt of something that promised only happiness, and the ache in his mouth only intensified. He had no control over his body as he lunged forward, and teeth punctured a thin film and that warmness burst past his lips and soothed his throat. 

Comparable to cold water on a hot day, relief flooded through his body. The feverish ache was gone, and his vision began clearing once more. There were fingers running through his hair, and they scratched his scalp lovingly. 

“Good job Y/N.” Dick. It’s Dick’s voice. Y/N’s mind cleared, and looking down his nose he could see the red that decorated the white sheets. He knew what was in his mouth, however, he couldn’t bring himself to stop gulping. Tears raced down his cheeks and the feeling of contentment forcefully burrowed itself in his chest. 

“Good job.” 

___________________________________________________________

LOL Now to disappear for like 8 months again and the only way you all know I'm alive is by my reblogs

@Rosecentury 

@Problematicreblogger

@Kurai-hono-blog 

@Lunaluz432

@findingjaxx 

if you want to be added please let me know. And Tumblr I think deleted some comments/messages so if you asked to be tagged and you're not, please let me know. KINDLY

[genderkoolaid]

The report titled Unseen Battle claimed that “within the worldwide rights movement of the transgender community, it is seen that the visibility and the representation of transgender male community is comparatively lower to the transgender female community. Sri Lanka is not immune to this phenomenon. It is seen that the transgender male community shows reluctance in identifying themselves as ‘transgender male’. This also reflects on their participation in the common platforms created for the LGBTIQ+ community in Sri Lanka. This has immensely contributed in creating a void of the transgender male community within the LGBTIQ+ movement in Sri Lanka.” Instead of taking this claim for granted, it is worth critically looking at it to demystify several widely held beliefs concerning transgender men and their involvement with the transgender movement. When this assertion is being considered at face value, it seems accurate to conclude that transgender men experience a lack of visibility and their representation may be less common in comparison to that of transgender women. But the report overlooks the fact that meaningful involvement is not synonymous with omnipresent visibility or representation. Taking into account the Sri Lankan context, transgender males have contributed significantly to the LGBTIQ+ rights movement and that contribution is something that should not be trivialised. Transgender men have given their blood, sweat and tears to build the transgender rights movement in this country. This can be substantiated by both forgotten and unforgotten individuals who were involved in initiating the transgender movement. For example, the organising of transgender individuals goes back to 2002/3 and it was transgender men who first formed an informal group in Kandy, which eventually evolved into some of the current transgender rights organisations that we find today. This group of transgender men took the first step to negotiate with the country’s state medical establishment to set up transgender clinics at a time when the mere term transgender was simply alien and unheard of. One of this network’s most prominent founding members was Thenu Ranketh; along with S. Silva and a few others, they went on to establish the first ever transgender rights organisation in the country, Venasa Transgender Network. These transgender male activists also played an instrumental role in bringing the Gender Recognition Certificate into effect in 2016. It is a pity that many research reports written on the transgender community that claim to be giving a voice to an underrepresented community deliberately turn a blind eye to the history that is worth bringing to the fore.

It is evident in this kind of report that the history of the transgender rights movement and the contribution of transgender men to it has not been sufficiently documented but rather has been erased. Unfortunately, it shows that the narratives of the transgender rights movement and the contribution of transgender males to it have largely been erased and distorted at the hands of those at Colombo-based NGOs that work for LGBTIQ+ rights. They continue to hold the power to control the narratives of the transgender community. The Unseen Battle report forgets to explain why, despite the transgender male community forming autonomous groups as early as 2002/3 – long before some other groups started organising – its visibility and representation remain relatively low unlike some other groups within the LGBTIQ+ community. Therefore how fair is it to say that the transgender male community shows reluctance to identify themselves as transgender male without referring to circumstances that make their visibility and representation marginalised in the context of LGBTIQ+ rights activism? The situation analysis did not probe into what might have been the causes of marginalisation faced by transgender men or circumstances that keep them on the periphery. In talking about the low representation and marginalisation faced by transgender men, one cannot and should not ignore the factors that caused that marginalisation in the first place.

[leonalovesalot]

You’re all argumentative

ArtDonaldson x Reader

18+ Minors DNI

wc: 3.2k

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Art was not having a pleasant evening.

He sat all alone at the dining table with a meal that he cooked all on his own just for you. So that you could come home and relax and let him take care of you. He wanted to share this delicious feast with you that he poured his blood (he nicked himself with a knife while cutting some onions), sweat (every burner on the stove was on and he had to crack open a window due to all the heat emitted), and tears (they were beginning to brim his eyes as the clock kept ticking and there was no sign of you) into this dinner.

He didn't know if he was more furious, or upset. It was almost nine o'clock and you promised to be home at around seven. Did a promise mean nothing to you? You were his fiancée for God's sake! When you say 'I do' at the wedding, will you also not mean that?

He shakes his head, he didn't really think that about you. He was just disappointed in how his night turned out. Maybe you had a good reason. He sighs and picks up his phone from off the table and taps the screen to check if he missed any texts from you.

Nothing.

Art, on the other hand, had left you six missed calls. Six. None of which got any responses.

He groans and runs this hands over his face in frustration and continues staring at the clock on the wall.

The food was growing cold and would be inedible soon. But a part of him wanted it to be- he wanted you to bite into it and not enjoy it as much as you would've if you'd have just been here on time. He wanted you to notice that it was cold and conclude that he'd made it a long time ago and that you fucked up by being late. He wanted you to apologize; to feel guilty.

Art chews the inside of his lip and tastes blood, which he thought was technically satiating his hunger. He shakes his head at the strange thought and taps his foot impatiently.

The clock struck nine and the door finally burst open. You came in with a disheveled appearance, holding your purse in one hand and jacket in the other.

"I'm here! I'm here!" You call out while catching your breath.

Art stood up and walked to the entrance of your home and leaned against the stairwell with his arms crossed. He says nothing and just stares.

You hang your jacket on the coat hook and bend down to unzip your knee-high boots. You wore a skin-tight black dress that went down to your mid thighs. Art said goodbye to you before you left and thought you looked so incredibly sexy but now he thought you were overdressed. Why did you need to dress so provocatively for a casual hangout with an old friend?

"That ran way longer than I thought," Your soft voice pulls him out of his increasingly concerning thoughts. "I was just going to show him around downtown because that's where his office is going to be. But we ended up back at his apartment and I helped him unpack a little," You rambled about your busy evening and put your boots on the shoe rack.

Art said anything, but you hadn't noticed yet. If you had, you'd see that his jaw was clenched and his face was turning red with anger.

"Oh, I hope you didn't wait up to eat with me. Sammy and I ended up ordering in." You finally stand back up to face him. You had a small smile on your face which faded when you saw Art's expression.

"Hey, what's wrong?" You ask concerned with wide eyes and furrowed brows.

Art sighs and shakes his head, "nothing." He turns away from you and trudges back to the dining table to eat by himself.

You stand there confused. What just happened? Why was he upset?

You were nervous about Art's behaviour because he was usually good at telling you what was wrong. But this was new.

You slowly follow him and come upon the beautiful dinner he had laid out for you. Your lips part as you take in the candles he set up in the centre of the table. Surrounding them were plates he placed carefully with grilled salmon, sides of salad, and bread. He had already poured you a glass of wine too. The guilt begins to eat away at you and it became clear why he was acting this way.

Art just sat down silently about to eat but then stopped. He had lost his appetite. He was hungry, yet, he couldn't bear to look at the food right now. Because when he did, it just reminded him of how much work he put in while you were at some Sammy's apartment eating shitty takeout. He stands up and begins to walk to your bedroom but you call out to stop him.

"Art," You say softly, he stops in his steps but doesn't turn to look at you. "I'm so sorry, if I had known I would've come home earlier." It was a weak apology. On any other day, Art would've immediately accepted and kissed you all over but today wasn't that day.

"I called you six times," He says monotonously and turns around to face you. You were a little surprised that your apology wasn't enough, but you knew you really had fucked up this time. This wasn't just a simple accident where you shrunk one of his gym shorts in the wash, or forgot to buy something at the store he specifically told you he needed. No, today you wasted his time. You made him feel unimportant. You put someone else above him.

"My phone was in my purse. And you know that I keep it on silent-" You were trying to explain yourself but it came out like you were putting the fault on him.

"Then why own a phone if you're never gonna use it? Throw it in the trash," He cuts you off and shrugs.

You cringe. You hated when people got all sarcastic during an argument. But you deserved it.

You take a deep breath, "Art, I'm sorry okay? I can still eat with you? Please?" Your eyes pleaded.

He scoffs and rolls his eyes, "that's not what this is about. It's not about the fucking food."

You looked down at your feet, contemplating what to do next. His anger didn't seem to subside even a little - if anything, you think you made it worse.

You slowly look back up and gather courage to meet his gaze, "I'm sorry, I should have checked my phone. I shouldn't keep it on silent but I like to be present, Art." God, you sucked at this. Another apology that ends with you attempting to justify your behaviour. You hated being the 'bad guy'.

Art was unimpressed, not buying a word.

He sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose, "where even were you, Y/N?

"With Sammy," You say quietly, not knowing why he asked you this. You thought he knew.

He didn't say anything knowing you despised the silence. So you continued, "I told you, he moved out here because he was hired at this big firm a-and uhm he wanted me to acquaint him with the city."

Art quirks his eyebrow, "didn't you show him around last weekend too?" He questioned.

You didn't understand why it mattered but you told him anyway, "yeah, but we ended up just chatting the whole time that day. And today I gave him a proper tour so," you didn't know why you were so timid all of a sudden.

Art nods slowly while staring down at a bloody hangnail on his index finger, like it was more interesting than anything you had to say. You just shift awkwardly feeling like a kid about to be punished.

"And who is this 'Sam' again?" Art looks up at you briefly, then back down at his finger. He refused to call him by that puerile nickname you used.

You swallow, "he and I went to high school together."

His head snaps back up making you flinch, "high school - right." He runs his hand through his hair, "And what? Were you two a thing or something? Back then." You were going to laugh it off, but nothing about the look on Art's face made it seem like he was joking.

"I- what? No. No, not even a little. We talked like maybe five times throughout the entirety of high school," you force a chuckle to ease the tension.

This should've made Art feel better, but it didn't. The hours between seven and nine were filled with nothing but overthinking. His mind conjured up irrational scenarios of you and Sam together—out in the city, laughing, enjoying each other's company. And it made him sick to his stomach.

"So, why do you have so much to say to each other now?" Art noticed he was being cold, but couldn't do anything to stop it.

Your eyes darted around the room as you drowned further in confusion. How are you supposed to answer that?

"Well, we're both older," you pause and think harder, "and we have careers and- and lives and so naturally there's a lot to discuss and-"

"Are you fucking him?"

Silence.

Your lips parted in horror. You were shocked at his words, how could he ask you that? How dare he think you were capable of something so heinous as infidelity? He was your fiancé for God's sake! The heavy diamond ring wrapped around your finger wasn't just for decoration. You wanted him to have you forever. That wasn't something you could ever take lightly.

"I'm gonna pretend you didn't just say that," you reply slowly, still recovering from that low blow.

Art couldn't keep his tongue under control anymore. Every impulsive thought was going to be voiced tonight and he'd just have to deal with the consequences as they came.

"Well I did. You want me to repeat myself?" He was clearly trying to rile you up. You knew he was but you still wanted to be the bigger person and rise above this immature squabble. You didn't want to fight. You wanted nothing more than to kiss and make up. But, God, every syllable coming out of his mouth was making it impossible to not scream at him.

You let out a heavy sigh, "look, I get that you're upset right now but that doesn't give you the right to speak to me that way." You tried to maintain the tranquility in your voice, but you were betrayed when it wavered slightly at the end.

Art knew you were right. You were always right and he was truly disgusted with himself for asking you a question like that. It was demeaning. But part of him wanted you to hurt; to have your night ruined, just as his evening was.

"Well, that depends." Art crosses his arms over his chest, accentuating his biceps.

Your eyebrow quirks up at his words, "on what?"

"The truth," his intense gaze never strayed from yours, which made your blood run cold. "If you weren't fucking him, then yeah, I shouldn't speak to you this way. But, if you were," he pauses, "then I can speak to you however I want."

You were already at your wit's end and those harsh words were your last straw.

You scoff, "you're being serious about this?"

"It's a simple question, Y/N."

You run your hand through your hair, out of frustration. You shake your head and look up at him. You didn't want to satisfy him with an answer. You thought about walking away and just leaving but that would only exacerbate things. So you swallow your pride and respond through clenched teeth, "no, Art. I wasn't fucking him." You emphasize each word to really drive the point home.

The corner of his lip curled up into a smirk. He got what he wanted but it seemed that all his anger from earlier had poured into you. He was sleeping on the couch tonight, no questions asked.

"See? That wasn't so hard," Art lets out a chuckle which makes your blood boil. He really shouldn't have said that. He should have just taken the win and put the whole thing behind him.

You stare at him for a moment, and your overflowing irritation begins to make you smile. It unsettled Art more than he'd like to admit. Fuck- maybe he'd gone too far.

"Yeah," you nod, "it was easy." You say slowly. "Shame about dinner, though. All your effort," you look at the dining table, "wasted."

Art swallows, "yeah," he clears his throat, "but it's okay." He was hoping this passive-aggressiveness would disintegrate and the night would just end. He wanted to hold you.

You turn and slowly walk towards your plate of food that was set up for you. Art watches you carefully, not sure what you were doing. You weren't acting like yourself.

You look down at the now-cold, unappealing plate and pick it up off the table. Art stands still, the room was so quiet he could hear his heart beating.

You stare down at the plate for a few seconds, then spit harshly onto it and toss it back down on the table, a few bits of salad flying off.

Now it was Art's turn to stare at you in horror. He was deeply offended, but had no intention to fight back. He was back to being his usual, unassertive self.

"Don't ever make me feel like a whore again." Your eyes were glossy and wide. You were unfaltering. Domineering.

You don't wait for Art's response and leave the dining room.

Art lets out an exhale he didn't know he was holding in.

Holy shit.

Art stood still in the dining room feeling his stomach churn. He needed to make things right but he was so nervous. He didn't know if he could handle your rejection. He definitely pushed you too far and he couldn't believe that he was now the one in the position to apologize.

He takes a deep breath and walks down the hall towards your shared master-bedroom with his tail between his legs.

He comes upon a closed door. It's okay, he was expecting it.

Inside, you were changing out of your dress and taking off your jewelry. Your body was still hot with rage.

Art reached up and knocked, apprehensive. He closed his eyes, awaiting your response. Or lack thereof—because he got nothing.

"Baby? Can I come in?" Art's voice came out trembling. It made you smirk.

You were standing by the closet, putting your dress on a hanger, wearing nothing but your bra and underwear. You didn't bother to respond. The door was unlocked anyway.

Art wraps his hand around the doorknob and decides to quietly turn it to see if it was unlocked. To his surprise, it was. You wouldn't leave it unlocked if you didn't want him to come in, he thinks.

He opens the door a crack and then gathers the courage to push it open all the way. His breath hitches when he sees your basically nude backside.

He silently walks over to the foot of the bed and sits down on the edge. He fidgets with his hands in his laps and debates whether or not to talk to you. He could wait for you to say something, but he knew that wasn't too likely. He waited as you picked out pyjamas for the night.

"I shouldn't have asked you that- that question," he forces out a few pathetic words and stumbles as he does so.

You don't respond and bend down to pick up the shorts you just dropped (on purpose). Art's eyes widen and he quickly diverts his attention to the bedsheet he sat on. To make matters worse, Art could feel himself getting hard. He was so fucked up.

"I trust you, wholeheartedly. You- you know that."

Silence.

You reach behind and unhook your bra. Art, hearing the click, turns to look back and his cock twitches at the sight before him.

One thing at a time, he thought. He closed his eyes and took deep breaths to force his erection away.

You slide your bra off and let it hit the floor. Then, you slip on a thin (see-through) tank top and put on your shorts. It was an unusually warm night.

You finally turn around and walk past him, to your side of the bed. Art's eyes followed your every movement but you didn't once glance at him. That stung.

"Y/N," he attempts to grab your attention again, "I'm sorry. Really, I am."

You put your phone on charge and pull the covers back, ready to lay down and fall asleep. You were fine with going to bed angry. Art wasn’t. He needed to have his arms around you—or the other way around—for him to drift off. You were his melatonin. He knew he was looking toward a long, sleepless night if he didn’t make it up to you now.

Art turns back and crawls toward the head of the bed, wanting to be nearer. He lies down next to you, resting his elbow on your pillow beside your head, using his hand to prop up his own head. Hesitantly, he reaches out and places his hand on your waist above the blanket.

"Please don't ignore me," he murmurs.

You were faced away from him, eyes closed. But he knew you were awake.

"I love you, I'm sorry," he says genuinely and leans down to kiss your temple.

Eyes still closed, you say, "and what're you sorry for?"

Art was just relieved you were talking to him so he quickly says, "for- for insinuating that you were being unfaithful."

The corner of your lip curls slightly, "see? that wasn't so hard."

Art swallows the taste of his own medicine.

But at least you seemed to forgive him.

You open your eyes and turn, now on your back. Your gaze meets his and you almost feel guilty for what you put him through.

Almost.

You bring your hand up to his cheek and pull him down into a soft kiss. He immediately obliges and returns the kiss. You were about to pull away but he brings a hand to the back of your head and keeps you pressed against him. His tongue explored every inch of your mouth and you let him. You latch onto his bottom lip and lightly bite it, making him moan. His hands begin to wander, fingers tracing your jaw, down to your neck, and then finally your tits. He feels them in his palms and squeezes them making you arch against him.

The two of you finally pulled away breathless and smile softly at one another.

A few seconds go by as you catch your breaths and a playful glimmer enters Art's baby blue eyes.

"I'm kinda hungry for something else now," he says lustfully.

You smile softly and push the covers off of you.

All was forgiven.

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Happy one-year anniversary to Challengers!! This movie awakened something in me that won't be put to rest for the rest of the century.

Also, I was initially going to post a Patrick fic for the anniversary, but that one is going to take a little longer so it'll most likely be finished within the next day or two!

I really loved this fic lol it started as a silent treatment thing from Art where only Art is upset with the reader but my playlist began playing woo by rihanna and like breakin' dishes and that somehow turned the tables but I think it came together quite well :))

[hwaslayer]

wildfire (cs) | sixteen.

—spotify playlist |series masterlist

—summary: assistant professor in bioengineering, incredibly attractive, lonely and divorced; that’s how most people describe san. but despite the events that have happened in his life, san has a lot going for himself. he’s a successful, sought out professor due to his brilliant contributions to science at just an early age of 32. he worked hard to get where he was now; head deep into his research, his publications, building his lab and creating a name for himself. everything was good and smooth sailing— until it wasn’t. because when he meets you, a bioengineering grad student interested in rotating in his lab, he finds himself ready to risk all the blood, sweat and tears he put in throughout the years just to keep you close— his need for you spiraling out of control like a wildfire.

—pairing: asst. professor!choi san x grad student!f. reader

—genre: (18+ - minors dni) strangers to lovers, grad school au | fluff, angst, smut

—word count: 6.1k

—chapter content/warnings: cussing, mature language/sexually implied content, the storm is here (literally), a bit of a lillll argument, san comes to the rescue ofc, saurrrr much tension at first.. like the air is THICCCK, coming to resolutions & making up 🥺, kissing/making out, sweet moments, unprotected sex, fingering, slightly nipple play, hella soft missionary, hella soft sex from behind. idk everything is hella sweet and hella soft cause they’re just so in love and missed each other pls let them have this lil tender moment!! 🤍, a small oc x iseul encounter (just because i needed her to at LEAST give iseul some business), sorry if i missed anything - quickly edited!

—on rotation: goin' crazy - natalie

"Babe. Go home?" Eunchae says over the phone while you pack some things up. You were the only one out of your friends who stayed behind to finish up a few things and get ahead before the storm rolled in. The rest of your friends were smart enough to leave, and now, you were stuck on campus until [god knows when] the storm would settle.

"Chae, I literally think I'm stuck here. I didn't leave early enough." You sigh and head towards the window, watching as the rain continues to pour, the wind howling and beating against the glass.

"Why don't you wait it out for a few and then dart out as soon as it stops? I'm sure we'll get a quick break from the storm." 

"I'm scared to drive out in this rain. What if it traps me out on the road?" You groan. "I should've left earlier but I had to take care of some stuff in the lab before the storm came in just in case. I didn't want it to set me back."

"Is the building staying strong? Back up generators and all still pulling through?"

"Yeah, thankfully—" As if you had just jinxed it, the lights suddenly shut off in your studio— the lights in surrounding rooms also going out. The street lights are out.

Everything is dark and cold.

"Oh, fuck. Nevermind." You whine and pretend to cry.

"What, the lights went out?!"

"Yeah. I think the backup generators might've tripped out."

"Girl, get your ass home. Who knows when they'll start investigating and working on that?" 

"I should've left yesterday. I should've just listened to my gut!"

"But no, you had to go and be my 'lil overachiever." The both of you hear your emails ding— the internet in the building going out, leaving you with choppy service. "Oop, there goes the university message about the backup generator getting blown out for residence halls."

"Save me."

"Babe, just wait it out and get outta there. I'm sure it'll be fine when you drive home later, okay? Text me if anything. I can force my stepbrother to come and rescue you if needed."

"No, no. It's fine. I'll be okay."

"Okay, be safe for now. Love you!"

"Love you, too!" You let out another small breath as you sit in front of your half-packed weekender bag. You continue to pack your things, finalizing the last bits of the necessities needed so you can dash out of here the moment the storm calms—

Whenever that is.

You set your bag aside, along with your jacket and shoes before plopping onto your couch to try and get some work done through your phone's hotspot. But, it doesn't last for long when the videos you need to watch won't play and your data won't upload properly. You check the weather to see if there are any gaps in the rain coming soon, but to your luck, there are none.

In fact, it only sounds like the rain will get worse until tomorrow afternoon.

"Fuck." You whine to yourself, feeling scared and alone without your friends around to keep you company. 

Had you listened to your gut and let your work sit for a minute, you wouldn't be in this predicament. 

You try to busy yourself by lighting up some candles, spreading it out within your studio from the kitchen table to your nightstand. You go from trying to take notes under the dim candlelight, to laying in your bed trying to warm up.

Suddenly, a text comes through on your phone. You weren't expecting anything to come through with how shitty and inconsistent the service has been. You grab your phone, assuming it was one of your friends or your mom checking in on you.

You did not think it'd be Choi San.

san: hope you're staying warm and safe, y/n.

Your heart drops and you immediately don't know what to do. Should you respond? Should you continue ignoring him, continue to force yourself to act like San doesn't mean much to you?

Erase that part of your life?

After all these months, he still has the same effect on you. No matter how hard you try to hide it, your feelings for him haven't gone anywhere.

you: trying to. i hope you are too.

He doesn't answer right away, but that's only because he wasn't expecting a response. He was fully convinced you hated him since the last time you spoke, yet that hasn't stopped him from thinking about you every single day. Especially now, when the storm is at its peak. You're alone, and he's alone. He misses you. 

He's pulled out of his thoughts when you follow up with another text, and he almost feels like this could be a window to talk to you and see how you've been doing. He's been itching to talk to you again.

you: do you have power?

san: i do. do you need anything? just saw the university message about part of the residence halls being out of power.

you: um, no. i think i'm okay.

san: you sure? did they say when it'll come back up?

you: no clue.

san: you can hang out here if you want. i'll give you space.

you: i'll think about it. thank you for offering, though.

san: course. let me know. i was actually hoping we could talk at some point.

You pout a bit, setting your phone aside as you try to lean back against your headboard and continue studying. You try to get your mind off of San, believing you can hold out until tomorrow when the rain smoothes over and the storm passes. The longer the power continues to stay off, the colder it gets. The harder the rain and wind get, the more you hate being alone.

What did San need to talk about?

Your curiosity definitely got to the best of you because even though you don't entirely think you're ready for whatever San has up his sleeve, you pick up your phone to text him back anyway. You don't wanna be alone, and even if you don't wanna admit it right now, you'd rather be with him than here.

you: but, it's pretty crazy outside. you'd drive in this?

san: well, yeah. it's tapering off for a bit anyway. do you want me to come?

you: okay.

san: i'll be there in about 15 minutes.

you: pls be careful.

san: i will, love.

You sigh, pinching at your bottom lip to try and understand your feelings right now. Were you excited? Were you nervous? Were you regretting this?

Should you tell him to not leave? Change your mind?

You're so conflicted that it takes up all your time— up until the very moment that San is texting you that he's in his usual spot. A wave of nostalgia washes over you, and obviously, it's too late to turn back now no matter how nervous you are. 

You throw on your huge puffer jacket, throwing on the hood from your hoodie over your head while grabbing your weekender bag, along with your school bag to try and get some work done at San's house. Might as well be productive in a warm place with running hot water, heat and lights.

San is right about the rain; it's a lot lighter than it was earlier, but you know it won't last for long. You hurriedly walk over as the rain continues to fall, swinging his door open and plopping yourself into the passenger's seat— slightly getting the leather wet.

"Hey."

"Hi." You say softly as you settle in, lowering the hood from your face. San feels like his heart is beating out of his chest while he watches you from the side, turning to throw your things in the back before looking at him. "Was it hard driving over?"

"No."

"Hm, okay." You hum. 

"How's it been?"

"Fine, I guess."

"You guess?"

"I don't know what you want me to say."

"Heard you're in the final stages for your transfer to Mirae. Namjoon says it's been crazy busy for you because you're trying to wrap things up before you leave."

"Oh, right." You look down at your hands. "Yeah. Yeah, he's right." You pause. "It has been busy that I've barely had time for myself. All worth in the end, I guess."

"Excited?"

"Not sure yet. I will be, I think."

"Mm. That's great, Y/N. You deserve it." You look at him and furrow your brows before scoffing a bit.

"So, that's it? We're just gonna act like things are fine because you're coming to my rescue during a storm?"

"No, that's not it at all." San looks at you, almost matching your energy. "First of all, I was worried about you. Second, I just wanted to check in and then apologize. Is that so wrong of me to do?"

"You don't have to do all that."

"Well, I want to."

"Apologize for what?" You look directly outside of the windshield, listening and watching as the rain hits the glass harshly.

"The texts and the calls during Mingi's birthday at the bar."

"It's fine."

"Was it? You were kinda brushing me off."

"The last time we spoke before that, you broke up with me and we didn't necessarily part ways on a friendly note."

"I wanted to, but you were angry."

"You decided what was best for me. Without me." You cross your arms and look out the window, feeling the hot tears brimming your lids.

"I didn't come and pick you up to argue." He sighs when he sees the switch in your body language. "I just wanted to say I'm sorry because I know I was out of line and I shouldn't have done things that way. I did mean it, though. Everything I said to you that night. What happened that night didn't mean—"

"What is the point of this, San?" You begin to cry into your hands while sitting in the seat. "I don't know what you want."

"Baby, you know what I want."

"Stop." You whine a bit. "I don't know what you want."

"You. It's always been you." He shakily sighs, his own tears brimming his lids. "I'm sorry, I just— I didn't mean to hurt you, love. You know I didn't. I know you've been angry about it, but I was just trying to do what was best at the time. I was scared, and I didn't want anything to happen to you so I jumped. Baby, please know that." His eyes are burning up, cheeks slightly rosy as he looks at you with concern. With hurt.

With love.

"San, you make this so complicated." You whine as you dig your head into your hands as a dull headache comes on.

"I'm not trying to, sweetheart." He almost matches your tone, gaining frustration from the entire situation all over again. It isn't you, no. It's just the fact that he had to do what he needed to do in order to blow shit over, but that meant spending months away from you— the one person wanted and needed. 

You're pulled out of your own thoughts when the rain starts to pick up again, pounding against the windshield and windows like pellets. You sigh and shake your head, running your hand through your hair.

"Can we just not.. right now? The storm is gonna pick up again, maybe I should just head back—" 

"You can stay at mine. I'll give you space like I promised. Who knows when the generators will be back up." He starts up his car and you don't even protest. "Do you want me to stop by anywhere before heading to the house?"

"It's crazy out here, San. We should just get back to the house." He sighs a bit.

"I'll make you some ramen when we get back." You quietly sit back and watch as San safely navigate the incredibly wet and dangerous roads back to his house. Luckily, it isn't far from campus, and your anxiety lowers when he gets closer to his place. Just as you're about to turn onto his street, the storm picks up quick— the rain hitting the car harshly, making it hard to see through the windshield. But, San finally pulls into his garage, allowing you to release the breath you've been holding during the car ride.

You feel safe again.

You feel safe like you typically do when you're with San. Angry or not— San has always been a safe space for you.

He swings your door open after grabbing your things in the back, giving you space to step out and walk ahead of him. It feels so familiarly unfamiliar walking into his house after months of not doing so, but everything feels the same. It still feels.. safe. Comfortable. 

It looks the same.

"It's warm."

"Good." San chuckles a bit before nodding towards upstairs. "I'll take you to the guest bedroom so you can get comfortable and do whatever you need to do." You nod and follow San upstairs, trying to see if anything has changed. But, nothing has. 

He swings the door open and the bed is still neatly made with its light grey, fluffy duvet, matching sheets and pillowcases. You quietly set your things down while San backtracks out into the hallway.

"Let me grab you a towel." You nod, starting to go through your bag to change into the pajamas you brought— some old christmas pants and an oversized sweater. San comes back into the room with a towel, placing it gently on the edge of the bed. "Here."

"Thank you." You grab the towel, along with your travel pouch and clothes, and head to the guest bathroom to get washed up. You're setting your things down onto the counter when you hear San approaching. He's carrying something in his hand, welcoming himself into the bathroom.

"I, um, have this." San brings a basket full of skincare and hair products that you use. "I took note of the stuff you use so you wouldn't have to keep hauling it over. You know.. back then." You turn to him, surprised he got every detail right.

"San."

"It's not a big deal."

"Yeah, it is. Thank you."

"Course. Do you need anything else?"

"No. This is perfect." He nods. 

"I'll be downstairs." You give him a tiny smile before he walks out and shuts the door to leave you to your peace. You take a moment to go through the basket that San brought in, feeling your heart swell at how incredibly attentive he's always been. 

You miss him so badly, and he's just in the room below.

You shake off the thoughts in your head, stepping into the piping hot shower to finally release all stress and overthinking. You take your time being that San's power seems to be holding on strong, and you're not gonna lie, his shower feels amazing after the busy ass weeks you've been having. You step out after a good 30-mins of extra lathering, exfoliation and scrubbing, really giving yourself the self-care treatment you've been yearning for. You finish up your routine by lotioning up and brushing some treatment through your hair before changing into your pajamas. You step into the room to fix your things, grabbing your laptop and gently tossing it on the bed so you can slowly pick up where you left off earlier—

"Nice pajamas." San stands by the door with a bowl and water in his hands, making you roll your eyes.

"I was supposed to head to my mom's, not yours." You pout and it makes San bite his lip to prevent himself from teasing you even more about your mickey mouse Christmas pajamas. "Don't make fun of me."

"No, it's cute." He sets the bowl of ramen on the nightstand near the bed. "Made you a bowl."

"Thank you." He nods.

"I'm gonna be next door in my office to finish up some things. Will you be okay in here?"

"Yeah, I will be."

"Well, you're welcome to pop in if you need anything. Help yourself to anything downstairs, too. You can just leave the bowl in the dishwasher."

"No worries. Thank you, San." You say softly as you sit on the edge of the bed. He nods and locks eyes with you for a moment, a soft gaze on his face before he grabs at the door handle. He slowly shuts the door, almost pained having to do so.

He wishes he didn't have to, he wishes he didn't have to keep this door between you two. Those walls.

And you do, too. But, you're too scared to say it. Because if you say it, how will you overcome these feelings? You shouldn't even be here in the first place since you've done so well minding your own business while burying your feelings for San. You've done so well, and now, you're here. Threatening to reverse all of that work. You just weren't sure where this would take you two and the uncertainty kills you.

In the end, what if it just never really works out? What would've all of this been for?

You shake the thoughts out of your head, eating the delicious ramen San made you before chugging most of your water bottle. It gives you enough energy to power through the work you couldn't complete earlier in your studio due to the power going out. You can hear San hopping on a few phone calls, one being with Jongho. You hear San's deep voice talking through a lot of key points during some of these calls. You try to focus your way through most of your work, trying to ignore how awfully attractive San sounds through the walls.

Then, it gets quiet. And you know he's busying himself, too. 

When in reality, San is wondering when he could talk to you a little more. He can't stop thinking about how cute you look in those pajamas. How much he just wanted to hug you and hold you close. 

To just be with you.

But instead, he lets out an audible sigh and continues working on his presentation for this meeting coming up for a new grant he's close to being rewarded. It takes him about another 45 minutes before he's done for the evening. He shuts off his computer and fixes his desk before heading out of his office to get cozy.

You don't really hear San moving around as much, so you figured he was deep in his work that you could head downstairs, clean up your dishes and grab another water bottle for the night. When you swing the door open, the door to San's office is open, and so is the room. You don't see San around, but you do faintly hear the shower going. You quietly shut the door and head down the steps with the dishes and empty water bottle in hand, instantly tossing the bottle into San's recycling bin. You wash the dishes instead of leaving them in the dishwasher, setting them neatly on San's drying rack next to the sink. Afterward, you dig into San's fridge for a new water bottle, quickly eyeing how stocked his fridge is.

"Hey." He looks at you as he comes down the steps slowly, running a small towel across his wet hair. Your eyes can't help but fall to his bare chest for a short moment, a shirt hanging on his broad shoulder. "Sorry, wasn't expecting you to be down here right at this moment." You shut the fridge door.

"Just wanted to grab some more water and wash your dishes." He nods.

"Is it too cold for you upstairs? Do you want me to turn up the heat?"

"No, it's alright. Thanks." He brushes past you, the scent of his body wash lingering in the air. He digs into the fridge and pulls out his own water bottle before twisting the cap open and taking a sip. You find yourself stuck in your position until thunder roars outside, lightning following shortly afterward. 

"Jeez." San says, looking at the weather outside. "Yeah, you definitely wouldn't be having a good time at your place in this."

"Not at all." He cocks his head to the side, trying to read the quiet tone you respond with.

"You scared of thunder?"

"No." You look at him with a look. "Not really." He cocks a brow up, still shirtless a few feet away from you. "Kinda. It's just really loud." He chuckles a bit.

"Well, you're safe here." You silently nod.

"Aren't you cold or something?" You avoid eye contact as you take another sip of your water.

"Not really. Why? Is this bothering you?" He smirks a bit and you roll your eyes.

"Please."

"Just curious." Is all he says with the smirk still on his face while taking another sip. You should be heading upstairs to mind your own business and sleep, distancing yourself from San like you had originally planned.

But, you can't.

And he can tell.

He stands in the kitchen, watching as you pause in your steps, turning back to face him.

"San?" 

"Yeah?" 

"Can I.. ask you something then?"

"What's up?" He gently sets his bottle back down, slipping into his t-shirt. Finally, you think. It's hard when your attraction to him hasn't faded one bit.

"About that night.. with Zara."

"Oh." He simply says, leaning against the counter. "What about that night?"

"Did you mean that part?" You step closer to him. "You know, about the kiss."

"I did. It shouldn't have happened in the first place, and there was just a misunderstanding between us. I never meant to lead her on or anything, but I think she might've mistaken my actions for feelings."

"Oh." He sees you deflate a bit and he reaches out to brush your hair back. He does it slow, though. In case you don't want him near you, or you retract. But, you don't. You look at him like you've been needing him the same way he's needed you, and it relaxes him a bit.

"Y/N, I promise. It didn't mean anything. She kissed me first and I didn't really have time to react right away. It sounds stupid, and I was drunk. But, it meant nothing to me. And I told her the truth." His hand rests on your cheek and you lean into his touch. "Even throughout all of that, I just felt even more.. lonely and empty without you, I didn't really know how to cope with it."

"It made me feel like you two had something going on."

"No." He says softly. "I'm sorry, angel. I didn't mean to make you sad or upset over that." You pull away from his touch and look down at your feet.

"That's okay."

"Is it?" You nod. "I'm sorry for the way I came off that night, too. I didn't mean to overwhelm you or anything."

"That's okay, San." You respond close to a whisper.

"I thought you were done with me."

"No. I've just been doing what you insisted in the first place." He sighs, his hand dropping down from your cheek.

Things shouldn't be this complicated, and he's afraid he doesn't care much about the repercussions anymore. Time has passed, and his feelings haven't changed.

It shouldn't be like this.

"Anyway. Should probably head back upstairs." There's a sense of defeat in your tone and San can feel it, too. He simply nods, fighting with himself to gain the courage to just ask you to join him in bed tonight so you can talk, catch up. 

So he can say sorry.

So he can get you back.

Because that's all he wants, and that's all he's ever cared for.

Why he chose today in particular, he isn't sure. But, the storm, the gloomy days and the rain all reminded him of the way he'd be feeling lately and how tired he was of it.

San quietly follows you up the steps, every step closer and closer to shattering through the invisible glass floor he walks on.

Fuck this.

"Hey. Why don't you—" San begins, but it comes out at the same exact time you hit him with the—

"Actually. Is it okay if I join you?" The both of you pause, looking at each other with a sort of need, a sort of long time longing and yearning.

"You sure?"

"Mhm."

"Yeah, of course." You rub at your arm as you slowly walk into the room after him, awkwardly standing at the end of his bed as if you hadn't slept there before. "You can get comfortable, Y/N. You don't have to do that."

"Sorry, it's just been awhile."

"That's okay." He pulls back the covers and gives you a moment to slip in before he does. He adjusts a bit, making sure to leave some space in between in case you were uncomfortable, but the distance only has you feeling empty. Lonely. "Gotta make sure the thunder doesn't get you."

"Funny." You turn to him and glare, making him laugh a bit. The photo on his nightstand catches your attention— it's a photo you two took on your trip to the Baskin Conference. He must have caught on because his eyes travel down to the photo and he smiles toothlessly.

"It's my favorite picture."

"It's mine, too." You respond softly while looking at San in front of you. His eyes are roaming around, eyeing your features. "So, are you and Zara still friends?" He shrugs.

"I don't really know. I haven't talked to her. It's pretty awkward and I know I hurt her, so I don't know if she necessarily wants me around."

"Sorry."

"Don't be."

"She's always had it for you, San. And I almost thought you two were better off. I thought it'd end up that way when we broke up." He shakes his head.

"Nah. I've only been concerned about one person and that has never changed since everything happened." He says, close to a whisper. His hand comes to your cheek again, gently caresses the surface with his thumb. The space in between you two feels so cold, and it makes you realize you don't wanna be this far from San.

You don't want anything to keep you two apart anymore.

"I wanna talk to you about that day, too. When we were in the car."

"Okay." 

"There were so many things happening that I just needed to protect you from." He brushes the hair away from your face. "Please know that I never wanted it to happen, and that I never had any plans to leave. I just had to do what was right because I was scared for you first and foremost. I didn't want you to get hurt, I didn't want anything to happen to you."

"I know, San. I'm sorry." You whisper. "I was too hurt to realize it at first, but I know you were just trying to protect me and do what was best." He licks his lips and continues to maintain eye contact.

"But, trust me. I wouldn't have if I truly didn't have to, angel. You were and have always been the most important person. That hasn't changed." You lean into his touch, turning your head to gently lay a kiss on the palm of his hand— scooting into his arms when he pulls you into them.

And it feels like home all over again.

"San."

"Yeah, love?"

"I don't wanna do this anymore."

"I don't either." You feel the tears welling up in your lids, a few already streaking down your cheeks. The only difference this time around is that San is here to wipe it away, to comfort you, to physically reassure you that he has always been here regardless of the circumstances.

"I'm tired of crying over you, I'm tired of missing us."

"I hated seeing you cry. I don't want you to cry."  He whispers.

"Then, what're we supposed to do, San?" You ask at a whisper and he continues to cup your cheek.

"You're transferring, love. Things will change, and I don't think it'll be as bad as it was before."

"I know, but we shouldn't be reckless anymore. Regardless if I'm transferring."

"I won't. We won't. I can't keep going like this, baby. It's the hardest thing I've ever had to do and I don't wanna do it anymore." He shakes his head. "I can't lose you for good. I can't."

"You won't."

"Good, cause I don't plan to." He says lowly, caressing your cheek before bringing your lips to his for a sweet, soft kiss.

You missed this, and you missed San. And your body must have too, because it reacts instantly to his touch. His kiss.

He holds you close, his body heat keeping you warm under the sheets. He cups your cheek and presses soft, feathery kisses to your eye, cheek.

Nose.

Lips.

"Missed you, sweetheart."

"Missed you too, Sannie."

"Yeah?" He whispers, continuing to plant sweet kisses across your face, down your neck.

Soon, your shirt is off and so is San's. He takes his time caressing your body, feeling every inch that he can. 

Lips gently dragging across your skin like a paintbrush against the canvas; painting you with sweet, love marks— kisses that are meant to close and heal each wound from the past months.

You and San take your time indulging in each other. The kisses are slow, the touches are gentle. The actions are sweet. He hovers over you, careful not to put his entire weight down while he kisses down to your chest— tongue swirling around your perked buds one at a time before gently pulling back with a pop. His thumb is slowly rubbing at your heat as he continues his trail down, two digits slipping in just to feel how wet you are for him— how ready you are for him. His lips are grazing yours as he slightly picks up the pace; just enough for you to feel his fingers curling at the right spots, dragging them in and out at a overwhelmingly pleasurable pace to start you off.

He takes his time. His focus is on you, not himself.

When you beg him to keep going, he teases you a bit with his cock— slipping and sliding in between your folds with intention, nudging his tip ever so slightly into your entrance before repeating his motions a few more times. He lets out a low moan when he sees how much you're yearning for him, how much your eyes are pleading him for him to give you more and more— slowly easing himself into the space that was made for him and him only until he bottoms out, your pussy swallowing him whole. He pauses for a second, now lowering himself back down onto your body so he can hold you close. The both of you wrap your arms around each other as he starts at a slow and steady pace— letting you feel every inch of him, every part of him that missed you so terribly and so deeply. 

He praises you in your ear, keeping you close, holding you close; making sure he won't ever let you go again. Everything about it is so sensual, so intimate, and there's nowhere else you'd rather be than in San's arms. He continues slowly, deeply, laying more kisses across the skin of your neck and jaw.

Back up to your cheeks, eyes.

Nose. 

Lips. 

“Can you be a good girl and turn around for me, baby? Hm?” He says and hums lowly. “Please.” He pleads, just as he presses his lips onto yours for a heated, open-mouthed kiss. You do as he asks, flipping onto your stomach while you press your cheek against the pillow. His large hands roam up your body, leaving kisses in a fiery trail from your lower back— up to your shoulder blades and the sides of your neck. He reconnects your bodies as one, your mouth falling agape as he lets out a deep moan. You’ve got a leg bent up, with the other straight— San’s hands resting on your thigh and hip as he slides his thick cock in and out of you. He’s quick to find his rhythm, moans and repeated whines filling the walls of the bedroom.

"Y/N." San lowers himself to grip your chin, back pressed against his chest. He whispers in your ear as he rolls his hips into you from behind harshly, an arm now wrapped around you to keep you as close as possible.

"Sannie." You breathe out repeatedly. He pants, the low moans and whimpers echoing in the space of the room. 

Bodies slick with sweat. 

San moves to the side, pressing his lips against your temple just before letting out another guttural groan at the way your walls squeeze him so perfectly, pushing him right at the edge.

Heaven sent.

"Y/N." He repeats your name, his words are choked; he feels himself tipping over, coil ready to snap any second. His dick slick with your wetness every time he drags in and out. "I love you." He says. "I love you, baby." He repeats over and over, and over, and over again. Until it sinks into your skin, into those wounds. 

Until it bleeds deep into your soul.

"I love you too, San."

In the following weeks, you find yourself busy as can be in Professor Kim's lab. You were able to pull your transfer application and all the required documents together within the two week timeframe given, along with participating in meetings with Professor Qi to slowly start getting yourself acclimated to her lab, her work and the clinical department you'd be working heavily in.  

To say you are exhausted would be an understatement.

But, having San back by your side helps a lot. 

You and San have been very secretive about your relationship for very obvious reasons; despite you pretty much having the transfer in your pocket and being the next step in your career, you were still scared. You stopped having San pick you up on campus, opting to drive to his place and slipping your car into the garage while San would leave his cars out. You wouldn't mention San to anyone, you wouldn't talk about his lab, you wouldn't do anything except focus on yourself, your work in Professor Kim's lab and making preparations to move.

After hours— it was different.

Barely can keep your hands off of each other within the walls of San's home, making up for lost time. Constantly in each other's space, afraid to let go in case the other wanders too far away. But, you could never. San could never.

"Sannie." You giggle when San wraps his arms around you from behind and kisses you against the forehead, cheek, jaw. His hands roam around your body, caressing and squeezing every inch he possible can. 

"Why are you rushing out?"

"Uh, because I have things to do. Like you do." You laugh.

"5 minutes."

"5 minutes and we'll both be late. No." He whines and pouts.

"No fun."

"I'll see you later, yeah?" You turn to face him after getting your things together. "Have a good day." San continues to pout.

"You too, baby." You laugh and start heading out of the room. San follows, tying the tie around his neck properly. "What time are you planning to come, anyway?"

"I promised my friends I'd get dinner with them, so after?"

"Hm." He hums. "Okay, love."

"But, at least I won't have an early start tomorrow."

"Thank god. Cause I got plans for tonight." You smile and caress his chin before giving him another quick peck to the lips. 

"I love you." You say softly when you pull back briefly.

"I love you, too." San smiles, losing his pout completely when he hears you say those words. It could literally fuel his entire day— which, he'll need with all the back-to-back meetings he has today.

When you get to campus, you head straight to class— grabbing a parfait on the way over. It seems to be a pretty busy day on campus, being that it was nearly impossible to find parking, and all your favorite quick cafés seemed to be packed with people. You find that there are multiple symposiums going on, along with other important events around campus. Class isn't too bad, and it goes by a lot quicker with the last half being small group breakouts and assignments that need to be completed before class ends. Afterward, you hurry on to the lab, hoping to snag one of the small conference rooms for your check-in with Professor Qi.

Except, you run into a minor roadblock— one that you very much want to confront head on instead of ignoring it like you typically do.

"Professor Lee?" You turn to Iseul as you tuck your books to your chest. She turns over her shoulder to look at you, brows knitted tightly together as if she's already annoyed that you're calling for her attention. And if she is, you couldn't give a fuck. Because she isn't gonna like what's gonna come out of your mouth next, and you hope it finally sinks into her thick ass skull.

"Yes?" She checks her watch. "Can we make this brief? I'm heading to a meeting."

"Don't worry, I don't care to take up much of your time." You give her a small smile. "Thank you for your support with my move to Professor Qi's lab at Mirae. Seems like after all the trouble you went through to try and air out my business, it only brought me to better opportunities. I'm not going anywhere and so isn't San." She's glaring at you now, watching your every move in total disgust.

"Very bold move of you to come up to me and waste my time on the way to a meeting."

"Also very bold of you to meddle in his business after everything you've put him through."

"You have no right to speak on that."

"And you had no right to involve yourself in something that doesn't concern you." You pause. "Just so we're clear on this." You step a little closer and tilt your head to the side. "You can do whatever you want, however you want. I'm not gonna let you take his happiness away again." She rolls her eyes and shakes her head, turning to her watch again.

"I’ll assume this is done." You give her a toothless smile before she storms off, pulling her phone out of her pocket. Although she probably won't give this another thought, you felt accomplished having released that from your chest. But little do you know, she hates it, and she hates it because she only thought she was doing the right thing.

Now, she's the enemy and everyone sees her and Yunho as that.

you: hey.

You pull out your phone as you scurry along to the conference room, still having enough time to spare before your check-in with Professor Qi. San texts back almost instantly even though he's definitely in a Zoom meeting right now, making you chuckle to yourself.

He will always make time for you, regardless.

san: hey baby. what's up?

you: sorry, wasn't expecting you to answer mid-meeting.

san: it's alright, i can do both. you okay?

you: i am.

you: i just wanna say i really appreciate you, san.

san: all of a sudden? 😂 i appreciate you too, love. more than you know.

you: yeah. 🥹 i love you.

san: i love you too, sweet girl.

—taglist: @asjkdk @interweab @woojirang @svintsandghosts @cheolliehugs @persphonesorchid @mxnsxngie @jycas @cowboydk @vcutparis @chngbnwf @struggling101 @sanhwalvr @angelqueendom @barbielibra @brown88 @choisansplushie @yunhoswrldddd @hyukssunflower @vickykazuya @lucid-galaxys-world @jaytheatiny @pommelex @thechaotictheoryy @vixensss @santineez @nopension @domfikeluva @in-somnias-world @my-atiny-kookie-rkive @mountiiny @naoristerling @onmymymyway @thecutiepieme @wyrated @randajjjad

[winterarmyy]

And You're Mine

How grumpy chubby alpha!bucky finally found his omega

Summary: In which Bucky, the big, scary, 'undesired alpha' was tricked into a blind date where he met his precious little omega.

Navigation: Prequel || Main Story I || Main Story II || Main Story III

Words: 4.7k++

Pairing: chubby alpha!bucky x omega!female!reader

Warnings: implied 18+ content, implied smut, a/b/o dynamics, self-deprication, body shaming, tiny bit of angst, fluffiness, bucky has a size kink (if you squint), horny-ass bucky has lots of dirty thoughts, vivian being a digusting bitch, protective y/n, even more protective bucky and overall wholesome.

P/S: Ahhhhhhhhh!!! My first omega-verse fic; i have no clue what I'm doing. This is mostly self-indulgent but if you come across this and somehow interested to read it then I hope you enjoy!

Read my other works here: Masterlist

"Are you fucking with me right now?" Bucky momentarily shuts his eyes, slightly titled his chin upwards, as if that'll help the boiling blood within his nerves to cool down.

Steve had expected that his best friend would be a little bit annoyed with his decision to trick him into agreeing to this suprise date but he didn't expect him to get this pissed, "Come on now, Buck. I promise you're gonna love this one."

"You said the same shit everytime!" Bucky almost roared in the middle of the crowded carnival, but he held back with a muted growl.

Ever since he lost his left arm on a rescue mission during his time in the Special Forces Unit, the society had deemed him to be "lesser than" despite the alpha title he was born into.

You would've thought that serving your country for about 6 years of your early 20's would be enough of a reason to make up for the so called "lacking", but no.

Apparently, his heroic contributions, his Sargent rank, and his literal blood, sweat and tears meant nothing when he returned home as an amputee.

Even if he came back with the medal of honor, pinned on the fabric of his uniform, right on his prideful chest; they didn't care. A defected alpha is as good as dead, especially in this modern, competitive society where its a lot more difficult to find a mate.

At first Bucky was optimistic, he didn't let them get to him.

He believed that his mate is out there somewhere, waiting for him, as he is for her.

After Stark Technologies offered him to join their research for under the Prosthetics and Orthotics Division, Bucky was lucky to fully revived his left arm in a form a vibranium prosthetic.

Even then, as time passed, the venomous whispers eventually managed to seep through; like any other poison, it is lethal to his mind.

And Bucky stopped trying to be an alpha. His pride was maimed and he let himself wallow in self hatred; letting his insecurity consume him. Eventually quite literally ate his pain away.

They said that he was rubbing salt to his own wound as now he was not just an amputated alpha, he is also a fat one at that.

With his alpha reputation being at its worst, his chances of finding a mate also went down hill.

"This one's gonna be different. Trust me." Steve claimed.

Bucky doesn't know why Steve seemed really convinced. But he wasn't having any of that, he rolled his eyes into a glare, "And how's that?"

Steve's blue eyes sparked as optimism lit on his face, "Well, first of all, she's one of Peggy's closest friends and.."

"Oh great, now you involve your omega into this." Bucky let out an unfiltered scoff before sarcastically exclaimed, "Just fantastic."

Steve growled at the mention of his mate, "Watch it, Bucky." He warned.

Bucky's drilling glare remained the same as Steve's alpha challenged his.

It's not that Bucky is against the idea of Peggy or any other omega helping him in any way. But, Steve had been annoyingly persistent with these set ups and he was sick of it. Perhaps he was a bit petty bringing Peggy into the conversation but he really was just tired of this.

Steve's scowl gradually soften before he continued his reasons, "...And, your date is actually the one requesting for a set up with you."

And that definitely caught Bucky's attention. Steve could see it, especially when Bucky's ears perked up a little and his ever-lasting frown loosen at the tiniest amount.

Steve smirked triumphantly, "Specifically you."

For moment, there was a hesitation on Bucky's side; and there were only the chaotic atmosphere around them. From the screaming of the riders on the roller coater to the giggles of children at the nearby courasell.

Steve really thought he managed to lure Bucky but he was caught by surprise when Bucky replied, "You'd think I'd fall for that crappy excuse of a lie? No. I'm leaving." Bucky turned on his heels.

"I'm not lying." Steve stopped him as he held on his arm, "Hey, you're gonna break her heart."

"Break her heart? How about mine? Just how many more heart breaks do I have to endure? How much more disappointment do I have to go through?"

Bucky gathered his palms into fists as he recalled all the mean, insulting words his past lovers had thrown at him and all those time he wasted on waiting for his dates to show up.

Just before Bucky planning to lash out, a voice interupted his thoughts "Hey, sorry for being late." Peggy came just in time.

Though it was just her; no sign of his so called date around.

An unexpected sting spreads within Bucky's chest. Of course she would stood him up too. Why was he surprised?

Steve pulled his omega into a tight hug, "Hey, baby. Where's y/n?" He asked.

"She's went to the bathroom." Peggy replied before taking a peep towards Bucky, "She got really nervous when she saw you. She might take some time to calm down. She thought its better if you know." Peggy explained.

On one side, Bucky can feel that sliver of hope creeping in. He look down to where he was supposed to see his feet, but unable to see them as now they're blocked by the round of his soft tummy. That's when the dark thoughts clouded his mind.

Was she just feeling nervous or was she regretting her decision?

After a short back and forth explanation, Peggy swept Steve away and had left Bucky on his own. She claimed that the line to the haunted house will double if they wait any longer. But, Bucky knew that they just wanted to leave him and his date alone.

Like every other date before, Bucky was emotions was all over the place; nervous, scared, intrigued, excited but what's different tonight was he also felt angry and annoyed. Which was not a good thing to feel on a date.

So he went to a Whac-A-Mole machine near the spot where he was supposed to wait for his date. He had to hit something. He just had to. He need to let his anger out one way or another.

His gloved hand gripped tightly on the wooden handle as he waited for the next round. Smack after smack, next was harsher than before, he did felt better. But even if the fire was out, the ashes were still burning.

As he was fixated on whacking the shit out of the moles, a particular scent invaded his nostrils. A sweet-smelling scent; something between a mix of cotton candy and butterscotch-caramel nuances.

It should be normal to smell this at a place such as a carnival; but the food stalls were all the way on the other end of the venue and this scent was too strong, too potent, to be that far away from him.

Bucky just had to stop as he relished the pleasant smell; it was truly a sweet and warm gourmand scent that ushered him in and out between nostalgic memories and pure raging lust.

That was when he heard a voice coming from his back, "You must've been really bored waiting that you started without me." She sounded amused when she let out a quiet laugh.

Even before Bucky had the chance to turn around he knew he was fucked; she just had to have the most captivating scent he had ever smell, and the most beautiful-sounded laughter he had ever heard.

What a foul torment to do to an alpha.

When Bucky turned around, he would've missed her if he wasn't paying enough attention on the lower area of his view.

And there she stood, in all her glory of ethereal beauty; small and sweet-looking in an off-shoulder sundress that does nothing but tempt Bucky to leave his mark all over her exposed skin. A simple necklace adorned with a gleaming stone that shines much like her eyes. A shy smile that may have just triggered some dark thoughts in Bucky's mind on corrupting the poor little thing.

"James, right? I'm y/n." she introduced herself but when Bucky's gaze fell on her rosy lips, all he could think was how bad he wanted to bite and suck on them just see if it'll get redder than they already were.

He was too focused entertaining on his inner beast's thoughts that he just stood there in silence, frowning intensely at the sweet little omega in front of him.

Y/N took his unresponsiveness as a sign of anger, so quickly apologised for her tardiness, "Sorry for making you wait so long. When we..i mean I. When I saw you, the nerves started kicking in." At least she tried to, despite stuttering in the between her words.

Fuck, she's such a pretty doll but above all, Bucky just wanted to protect her from the world, provide for her with anything she deserves, treat her like an absolute queen, worship every inch of her being like his own personal goddess and jesus fuck these urges came in stronger than he ever experienced.

With the lights coming from behind, Bucky's face was in the shadows and Y/N misterinterpret his spell-bound, diluted eyes to something else.

Y/N's brows creased in hesitation as she wonders if Bucky was still mad, "Uhh... oh shit" then her eyes widen in a false realization, "Is the something on my face?" She frantically searched for her phone in her bag.

And fuck does that big doe eyes of hers just casually seduce Bucky to think of how she would look when she's taking his cock in her mouth. She'd be so fucking pretty.

She knew she should've used her phone's camera to re-apply her lipstick instead of the cracked mirror at the carnival's bathroom, "The mirror here is f--"

Yes, Bucky would want to breed her so good that she would always be full with his pups.

She's undeniably... "Perfect." Bucky finally spoke after what seemingly feels like forever.

His voice was laced with a hint of territorial grunt that Y/N was not able to catch what he said, "Hmm?" She titled her head to the side, eyes pleading for him to repeat.

It took Bucky all of his mental strength to hold back his alpha urges when he repeats, "You're perfect, doll. Just absolutely perfect." A cheshire smile decorated his handsome face.

Did he meant to say she look perfect? Well, yes but no. He clearly meant she was perfect, her whole being. But Y/N took it as the prior, "Thank you." She smiled sweetly as her cheeks warmed.

Bucky definitely noticed the slight indent of her left dimple. And he wondered how would it felt against his fingers. "Adorable." He thought as his smile grew wider.

Y/N had been waiting for this moment, to finally had a chance to have this man even for a day, especially considering she had the biggest crush on this stranger that helped her a year ago.

One time she might just had met her potential mate was that one time she had to be dosed with shit tons of scent blockers. And that might just be reason why Bucky may not remember her but that's fine. She had one more chance with him tonight.

After that encounter, his scent, his voice, his presence lingered in her mind longer than she anticipated. At least until the moment Peggy showed a photo her alpha that had Bucky in it.

She grew hopeful and had been pestering her to set up somehow set up date with him.

When the time finally comes, she couldn't help but to fell into panic, "Did I introduce myself? I'm y/n" she completely forgot that she already did that.

Bucky let out the most adorable laugh before he reminded her, "You very well did, sugar." His hand move so naturally to tuck the strand of her hair behind her ear as she fell into utter embrassement.

"I'm Bucky." He finally introduced himself.

"Bucky?" Y/N outwardly questioned. She thought his name was James, as Peggy said it was.

He hummed softly as he nodded, "The name's James Bucky Barnes." He explained. "Just call me Bucky, yeah sugar?" He duck his head to peek on her redden face, "...cause I can't guarantee my behaviour around you if you keep calling me James." He quirked his eyebrow as his teasing grin spreads.

Oh, he was definitely and unashamedly insinuated something quite unholy there.

Bucky straighten on his back as he offered his arms, "Shall we, then? I would love to know more about you, sweet 'mega."

No matter how infatuated Bucky was with this lovely little omega clinging to his arm; a part of him was also on a defensive mode.

His insecurities gets the best of him when he believe that all of this was just an act, a cruel prank that fate has set up for him or maybe he was just having a ridiculous dream, knowing how pitiful his reality was.

Despite his gentle smile and longing gaze that's lingering on Y/N who was having the best time of her life as her bright eyes sparked at the vibrant and colorful firework show, deep down, he couldn't help to think that sooner or later, all of this will end like it always does.

Another heart break he needed to endure.

But, she was truly an angel. She was everything he could ever hoped for, everything that he could ever long for.

He can't belive that she would spend even a second of her time with a defected, fat, angry looking alpha such as himself.

Maybe this won't be just another heart break.

Maybe this would be the cause for him to actually break beyond repairable.

And she would be the catalyst.

"Thank you for today, Bucky. I truly enjoy my time with you." She confessed with a sincere appreciation and admiration towards him. She shyly broke their eye contact as her finger fiddled with soft fur of the teddy bear that Bucky won for her.

It reminds her of him so much that she insisted that he need to win it for her.

So he did.

His alpha couldn't help to puff with pride. "Omega's happy because of us." But his lips remain shut with a loving smile curved on it.

The dimple on her cheek appeared again and this time he didn't stop his hand from reaching out. Though they were gloved, he still let himself feeling the pleasure of grazing his fingers along her cheek, through her dimple and stopped underneath her chin.

Bucky pulled her closer as he dipped down to her level. Warmth sparked in Y/N's chest, as if the fireworks show magically transferred within her instead, "Buck--"

"Bucky?" A women's voice interupted their moment. "Bucky is that you?" She called again and her familiarity had caught both Y/N and Bucky's attention.

"Oh my god! It is you!" her ecstatic tone might have fool Y/N for a second there.

Maybe she's a close friend of Bucky, but when she saw the colors from his face drained quite drastically, she might need to hold on to that thought.

"Vivian." Bucky's tone changed into something Y/N couldn't put her finger on. Sorrow? Anger? Regret? She wasn't sure but it was not a positive response.

The claimed omega sauntered closer and peered towards Y/N with a glint of judgment in her eyes, "And I see you managed to trick another one, huh?"

That triggered a scarring spot within Bucky.

He could still remember the way she accused him of luring and tricking omega to be with him. Apparently, she couldn't stand being him during intimate time especially during his ruts.

And one particular moment when his rut was at its peak and she couldn't stop herself to turn into an unforgiving monster.

"I can't believe I fell for your charms. Then now I need to deal with this." Vivian looked away, unable to look at her boyfriend, hot and bothered, bare and in pain.

Bucky pants and groan as Vivian continued to insult him from the corner of him room, "Look at you, Bucky! You look fucking pathetic!" She yelled as she angrily pointed her hands towards him.

He turn to his side facing her, and curled his body to manage the raging pain of wanting to stick his cock into something. Vivian was to busy ranting that she couldn't see the fire in Bucky's grilling frown.

"You can't expect me to touch you now especially with your big fucking belly spilling out like that. God, you're sweating like damn dog and you fucking reek!" Her eyes narrowed and her nose wrinkled in disgust before she continued, "And don't get me started with that wretched arm of yours."

That's it. Bucky was not having any of it anymore. He was seconds away from slamming Vivian's face to the wall as his primal alpha needs to aggress were also heighten in his rut.

"Then, get the fuck out of my house, you useless annoying bitch." Bucky growled through his pain.

Vivian was not able to catch a breath as her mouth hang open in shock. Bucky never been that harsh with her but honestly it was about time he did.

"Don't even think of coming back." He warned as she closed the doors behind her.

Unknowingly leaving Bucky's heart bruised and battered.

That was almost a year ago. Bucky gave her the benefit of a doubt as he thought maybe she would change once she find her the love life but apparently she is as vicious as ever.

The tall blonde continue to linger as she asked, "Did you know? About that arm of his?"

Y/N didn't know what she was talking about but she didn't want to entertain this woman, especially when Bucky was clearly uncomfortable with her presence.

Though her silence only lead Vivian to speculate, "Aww, you poor thing, you don't know, do you?" Her mockery was getting worst, "It's fake, honey. He lost his arm many years ago." She flicked Bucky's left arm with long bird-like nails; or claws, that seemed more accurate.

Bucky caught the way Y/N's eyes briefly glanced at his covered arms then his gloved hand. What was she thinking then? Does she think that he was defected? That he is a damaged goods?

He couldn't help to let his mind wonder to the worst case scenarios and to make the unpleasant situation even worse Vivian slightly tugged Bucky's jacket to the side.

Revealing his round and plushy belly, "And fuck did you get bigger?" She sneered as the ruthless insult continue to spill.

"Shut up." Y/N's broken silence caught them off guard.

Vivian scoffed, "What?"

Y/N piercing gaze landed on Vivian's hand still tugging Bucky's jacket. She harshly grabbed her on the wrist, didn't care whether if her nails would dug into the woman's skin.

"I said..." The air felt heavier, only for Y/N to shove more force to it when her voice dropped a few octaves down, "Shut the fuck up before I tear your throat apart."

How dare she insult her alpha, especially when Y/N was right there with him.

"Are sure you want to do that?" Vivian's alpha suddenly stepped in. Even though he clearly was not interested in the matter a few seconds ago.

Y/N took a step forward, "Try me." She dared him.

"I might as well fuck your balls up while I'm at that, huh? Maybe you'll learn a thing or two about subduing your insolent omega."

Oh, she meant what she said; its especially clear when the growling started to peak a presence through her voice.

The taller was bright red, with embrassment and anger, "You're talking to an alpha. Know your place 'mega!" He forced his alpha command on her.

She fought back as much as she could but of course she was forced to submit. When the alpha tried to reach for her, that's when Bucky blocked his way.

Bucky's demeanour completely changed into something different. His meek presence vanished and now turned into a pure and primal rage. Good thing was he contained it quite well so he won't cause a scene but his gaze degrades the one before him.

Though the alpha was slightly taller but Bucky was certainly bigger and being a veteran, of course he'd be stronger. One wrong move, he might get a chance to meet the grim reaper sooner than he'd expect.

It felt as if Bucky was towering over the alpha, as he challenged him to come a step further, "Touch her and you're dead." Bucky let out a deep, murderous growl as he threatened.

The alpha was about to protest but was forced into a frozen state as he look into Bucky's sapphire eyes; there was something ominous about it, something dark and dangerous.

Being overwhelmed by Bucky's strong scent of rage, Vivian quickly pulled her alpha away, "Let's just go... They're not worth it." She coaxed, and the alpha agreed.

Before they leave, she managed to slip a last comment, as she wishes luck to Bucky, "Goodluck keeping this one." She thought she was being sleek when she whispered so quietly but Y/N heard that just fine.

When Y/N snapped out of the alpha command, she grunted, "I'm gonna kill her." What a menancing look in those coffee-stained eyes of hers.

Bucky only softened to her threatening aggressions, "No, you're not " he rubbed his hand to the sides of her arms, trying to calm her down.

Which failed miserably when she replied, "Watch me." She spun around, eyes searching in the crowd, trying to spot a glimpse of the rude couple.

"Hey hey, omega." Bucky quickly catch her before she could walk further, pulling her back to his chest, both of his arms securing her waist, "Calm down. Shhh shhh." Bucky let out a calming rumble from within his chest, coaxing her softly,  "Killing is not necessary, sugar."

Despite her tensed body were starting to relax, her mind certainly wasn't, "And why the hell not?" Her small hands gripped onto the fabric of Bucky's jacket on his arms.

"No one deserved to be treated like that." She whispered softly as Bucky continued to kiss the top of her head, mumbling quiet 'I know, doll. I know' 

"You don't deserve to be treated like that, Bucky." Her voice shivered despite her efforts to conceal them.

Bucky loosen his grip and turned her to face him. His loving gaze took in every single one of Y/N's sweet features; from her teary eyes to her redden nose and pouty lips.

He wanted to kiss each of them, in hopes of making her feel better. But he doesn't want to take any chances as he had already made a bold move to hug her from behind and kiss her head prior.

Bucky looked down at his dark midnight glove, and Y/N took his lead. Before she could say anything, Bucky started pulling each one off. Revealing his calloused right hand and a shiny black and gold prosthetic on the other.

He can't see her reaction to his vibranium arm, but he imagined the worst. He took in a shaky breath before he spoke, "Alpha is supposed to be perfect. They supposed to be capable. So that they can provide and protect their omega."

He paused as Y/N wrapped took both of his hand in hers but then continued regardless, "And I am far from being perfect or ideal. I lost a limb and gained pounds in return. I can't hide that fact."

"But I swear to god y/n, I never intent on tricking you or using you, in any way." In the end, Vivian's gaslighting effect of Bucky was still stronger as ever.

Why couldn't he see that there was nothing less about him.

"It's pretty." Y/N titled his left hand back and forth, watching the glow on the gold lines reflect the lights of the carnival; each move create random sparkling dots on its smooth surface, it looks like stars.

Bucky didn't understand at first until she looked up at him, with eyes gleaming with mixture of intrigued and infatuation, "It's so pretty, and Bucky..." She reached her hand to his face, gently rubbing her thumb on his stubble jaw, "You're beautiful. All of you." She confessed.

She carefully pulled her hand away from his cheek, and grabbed his left hand with both of hers, allowing it draw near to her lips before she placed a loving kiss on it, "This arm," Then her hands caressed the softness of his tummy, "this body," before they stopped at his chest where his beating heart resides, "this heart. Every single part of you is beyond beauty itself."

Bucky frowned as he find it hard to believe and Y/N knew that, "I mean it, Bucky."

A short chuckle left her lips as a thought run through her mind, "God, you'd be running scared, if you know half of the things I would love to do to you."

Bucky bit back a smile as he let his teeth sink into his bottom lip.

Y/N continued as she held onto his hands, "But, above all Bucky, you are the sweetest man I've met." There was nothing more sincere than her words, "Yeah I know we just met and what not, but if I can see that just in one night, imagine if I get to know more of you tomorrow or the next day and next week?"

Her grip on him grew stronger as she reminded him, "Don't let an impudent omega or anyone even, convice you otherwise."

"Because Bucky, you are as lovable as a person can be." She placed his palm on either side of her cheeks, purring as the sensation on skin felt so right, "And I am absolutely honoured and proud to be standing here with an alpha like you." She smiled like she was the happiest omega on earth.

And Bucky could not control the overwhelming joy within his thundering chest as it bursts with endless fluttering butterflies. He had never felt such comfort, such reassurance in his life, especially after returning home from the army.

Flickers igniting as he leaned in closer and closer until their lips touched, tentively for the first time. The smell of her cotton candy and caramel, so sweet and so soft, it was almost dizzying, but he was more than thrilled to let it consume him. 

Y/N briefly parted her lips to let him in and leaned into the kiss, wanting more of the delicious sensation of his lips, his tongue on hers. Bucky wanted nothing more than devour her, memorizing of every single moan that fell into his mouth.

It felt so right; it was exactly was his soul had been yearning for and more.

Breaking the kiss was the reminder to both of them they need air to breath, and Bucky rested his forehead on hers as he took in everything that just happened.

While Y/N found herself completely drunk to the feeling of love within her body and soul, she whispered dearly as she scatters most tender kisses all over Bucky's face, "You're so pretty. So perfect. So... mine."

And that caught Bucky in another spiral of confusion; she could see it in face especially with his sapphire eyes being as wide as they were.

She giggled amusingly before she proposed, "Will you be mine, James Bucky Barnes?"

God, he was supposed to be the alpha here. But what can he say, his omega is quite a special one.

He breathed a relief sigh, "Yes." Leaned in for a quick taste of her lips before asking his a question of his own, "And you're mine?"

Her nose crunched as she booped its tip on his, "Always." She replied. Bucky could feel her smile against his lips and so does she.

Unbeknownst to the happy couple, a few feet away from them was Peggy who was busy clicking her camera away, trying to get the best shot she could out of the couple while Steve was trying hard to hold back his proud sniffles as he stood guard near his omega.

End.

Read my other works here: Masterlist

A/N: Sooooooo what you think? Feel free to give feedback I love reading your thoughts!

[m00ngirl777]

Baby Kiss It, Better

Peter Parker x Reader

kiss number...13

You were half awake half asleep, in the couch of the living room, in your floor, facing the doors to the terrace Peter would climb in every night to you, your laptop on your lap with the lowest possible light setting displaying a halfway done crossword and soft music playing, nothing but some distant lights and the soft glow of the candles you liked to turn on, the velvety blanket on top of you, shielding you from the lingering cold in the room from the floor to ceiling windows, that, no matter what, kept cool, the calmest of scene suddenly disrupted when he stumbled in.

summary: Patching him up, ANGST, bby boy was shot and hes scared.

A/N: I kinda had in mind like Tobys and Andrews stories obviously, and I just feel like Peter would blame himself forever for not doing more or not being there, and getting shot for the first time ever would trigger something like this, poor baby boy needs a hug and a kiss...anyways hope you love it, thxx for reading, love u, byeeee. xoxo. -N.

p.s. my requests are open my loves<333

tw: blood, wounds, death, guns.

wc: 1569

You were half awake half asleep, in the couch of the living room, in your floor, facing the doors to the terrace Peter would climb in every night to you, your laptop on your lap with the lowest possible light setting displaying a halfway done crossword and soft music playing, nothing but some distant lights and the soft glow of the candles you liked to turn on, the velvety blanket on top of you, shielding you from the lingering cold in the room from the floor to ceiling windows, that, no matter what, kept cool, the calmest of scene suddenly disrupted when he stumbled in.

Seeming perfectly alive standing right in front of you, lifted a little weight of your chest, instantly replaced with something worse when you noticed he might not be as well as you thought. He struggled to catch his breath and kept tripping on nothing, his hand never leaving his side, you quickly scrambled to him, the previously serene ambient long gone.

“Peter? Are you okay?” You tried steadying him, hands trying to hold him upright, “talk to me baby, what’s wrong?” 

He tried taking his mask off and failed completely, falling on his knees and then back on his ass, grunting to take his mask off, breathing hard, his hand left a print of blood in the carpet making you gasp out loud. You went to kneel beside him, helping him with his mask, helping him get it off, revealing the look on his face matching that of a scared, hurt, little kid, breaking your heart.

Sweat, blood, dirt, and tears were on his face, along with that look, he was still grasping his side, you went to place your hand over his, trying to push it away lovingly to see what was wrong, cradling his head, pushing away his hand, your heart stopped seeing the shot wound. 

“Oh my God, Peter…fuck, baby talk to me please, what happened?” You pledged for him to make you understand the scene, but he was quiet, traying to catch his breath, his head fell back on the carpet, he closed his eyes. 

“Peter, I need you to stay awake,” You grabbed his face and gently shook it, needing him to keep his eyes open, feeling and being grateful for finding an exit wound, he just needed a patch. 

“Baby, I’m gonna go get the kit, just a minute, yeah?” You said, going to stand up, to with he grasped at your arm hard, panicking, pleading with his eyes, “I’m right here… baby, breath, look at me, I am right here… just going to the kitchen… one minute Peter… you're still bleeding…please,” So unwillingly you pushed his hands away, running to the kitchen for what you needed, then running back to him, with shaking hands first thing you pushed his suit dow to his hips, grabbed the alcohol from the kit and splashed your hands before throwing gloves on. 

“This is gonna burn, baby, I’m sorry,” You poured on the wounds, he groaned, one hand on your thigh, squeezing hard enough to leave a nasty bruise, “I know, I’m sorry… I’m sorry,” You scrambled thinking of what to de. Everyone was out on a mission, it was two in the morning, there was no one on call, you hoped and begged to a greater force that internally he was fine, and that it was just the enter and exit wounds you needed to worry about. 

Peter healed too fast for stitches, so you grabbed some of the special glue that had been synthesized for him, that dissolved as he clotted and other medical whatnot, squeezing some into the edges of the wound then going to squeeze to push it all together, his hand on your thigh moved to your arm, if he grabbed your a little harder you're sure he’d break something. 

“Just a little more, baby, i know it hurts,” You repeated the process with the exit wound, now making sure both openings were sticked closed, stopping the bleeding. With some cotton and more alcohol you cleaned around the wounds, Peter relaxing back, silent tears falling from the corners of his eyes, you knew for a fact this couldn’t have hurt him this much, not physically, there was something else. 

Letting the painful silence settle, you patched the wounds, with gauze then tape so he could maybe take a shower, just thinking of how to make him feel better, he was still, and quiet, the tears had stopped, an empty look in his eyes. 

“Baby, please talk to me,” You raked fingers through his hair, he closed his eyes, lip trembling again, as he weakly shook his head no, shattering your heart. 

“Can you stand?” He nodded, “okay, I’ll help you sit up, 1…2…” You helped him get up into a sitting position, he groaned. You stood up and pulled him with you, successfully getting him to stand up, leaning on you. 

You looked back down at the mess of gauze, gloves, the scattered contents of the kit, blood everywhere, stench of alcohol, and a carpet you'll have to replace, making your stomach turn. You walked him to your bathroom, setting him on a counter, drawing the loveliest of baths for him, you helped him undress, stripping him of everything, the lost and scared look in his eyes, momentarily changed for a flustered one as he stood naked in your bathroom, letting you walk him and sit him in the warm bath like he was a little kid, but soon went back to empty. 

You scrubbed and washed his body, the water darkening slightly, you washed his hair, and he closed his eyes, letting out a breath, frowning softly, face riddled with something you couldn’t point… guilt…pain…remorse…and so on.

“Please talk to me Peter… I’m terrified,” Soft fingers played with his wet curls. He shrugged gently, not being able to find anything to say. 

“I got shot,” He said, after a long pause. 

“I know…why?” he glared at you, then closed his eyes, the look on his face worsening. You took a deep breath, then pulled the plug to drain the tub, you helped him get up, rinse, and get out. You wrapped him in a big fluffy towel, drying him, careful with the wounds, wrapped in the towel you dragged him to your bed, sitting him down. You went to your closet and brought back a pair of boxers for him. 

“Can you get these on?” You asked, handing them to him as he nodded, you climbed in bed as he got them on, dropping the towel, before slightly struggling to get in bed, he sat back in the headboard, letting you pull the covers over his legs, eyes still empty, head somewhere else. 

“I’ve never been shot before…” he said in the smallest voice, tears welling up in his eyes.

He was scared.

“Baby…” You cupped his face, hugging him carefully, “It must’ve hurt so much… and the sound… I’m so sorry…” 

“I-I’m okay…” He looked down, the tears in his eyes falling, he squeezed your arm, trying to talk.

“M-my…” His face scrunched in a quiet sob, you wiped his tears with your thumbs, kissing his temple, pulling away to look at him, trying to understand, he sniffled.

“My… my uncle… was s-shot…he died… when I was 14…” He squeaked the last bit out, sobs wrecking through him as you brought him in, and suddenly everything made sense, he wasn’t just scared, he was sorry. 

“I… I looked for the guy…for weeks…I had him…I wanted him dead…I-I couldn’t… h-he stabbed me in the leg… got a-away…but now I… now I know what he felt…and he was all alone…” The sobs came back, and your heart broke further for Peter, tears of your own starting to sting your eyes. 

“You were just, a boy, baby… it wasn’t your call…there’s no way it could ever be your fault…even if there’s something you could’ve done… it’s not your responsibility” He held on to you, and your sweet words he wanted to believe, that his tortured savior complex wouldn’t let him. 

“Let me see… it was on this one?” You placed your hand over his left thigh, he had calmed down, sobs stopped, he looked sad, exhausted more than anything. He nodded, looking away and closing his eyes, you pushed his boxers up, feeling and scanning for the scar, when finally right at the side of his upper thigh you felt it, he bit his lip, not wanting to keep sobbing like a child. 

“Peter, you’re a hero… but you’re human…sadly, there’s not a single thing you could’ve done… we make choices, and I am so sorry the choices all the people around you made that night hurt you this much… but this is not your fault, baby…” You rubbed gently on the scar, and leaned down slowly, placing a feather like kiss on it, making him let out a quiet sob.

“I’m so sorry for everything you’ve lost,” You kissed it again.

“And I promise to always make sure you know that it wasn’t your fault,” You placed another kiss, sitting back up, to look in his eyes. 

“I love you, Peter, and I will always be here to remind you of that” You kissed his lips, sealing your promise, to always love every part of Peter, even the ugliest darkest scars life has left on him.

[satinestales]

❝paint me a heaven of love with your bloodied mouth❞ | qimir x reader, ch1

pairing: qimir x fem!reader!yord's sister

summary: You were never confident about the retreat mission on Khofar, always fearing for your safety and that of your friends. Your worst nightmare comes true when a mysterious masked man kills your brother. Driven by grief and rage, you launch a desperate attack, which leaves you unconscious. You wake up, surprisingly unharmed, on the stranger's home island. Consumed by anger and a thirst for revenge, you set out to avenge your brother, only to uncover secrets you never imagined.

warnings: MDNI!, english is not my native language, violence, major character death, mentions of blood, mental illness, smut in upcoming chapters, enemies to lovers, vulgar language, angst n comfort

a/n: planning for this to be a mini-series, around five chapters, and for the idea I have to thank @ladysw01 . Hope y'all like this one too, and also stay tuned for he turns me scarlet pt2, it's in the works!

now playing, when it's cold i'd like to die by, moby

Shadows loomed, their rough forms twisting in the dim moonlight, filtering through the dense canopy above. The forest floor was a maze of roots and underbrush, but you navigated it with the agility of a creature born to the wild. Sweat poured down your face, stinging your eyes, blending with the fear that clawed at your heart.

You felt it—the tug in your heart, tearing at its edges. You experienced it once before and hoped you’d never have to again. But now, it was back, and far worse than ever. You dared to imagine what might happen but quickly dismissed the thought. He was your only family. You couldn’t let it happen.

Your breath came in ragged gasps as you sprinted through the oppressive darkness, the hum of your ignited lightsaber a solitary beacon in the gloom. Branches whipped your cheeks and tangled in your hair, but you pushed on, driven by the urgent sense of danger thrumming through the Force. You had felt it, a disturbance sharp and sudden, a vision of your Yord in mortal danger.

"Yord!" you screamed; your voice swallowed by the infinite, uncaring wilderness. Your steps faltered as the sense of dread intensified, leading you closer, ever closer, to the source of your terror.

Bursting into a clearing, you slid to a halt, your heart crashing at the sight before you. Yord was hanging mid-air, his feet dangling uselessly, held above by a dark force. The stranger you heard so much about, stood before him, one bloody hand outstretched, the other resting at their side with an eerie calmness.

Your eyes were only glued on the man and your brother, dangling in the air. You failed to see Master Sol and Mae standing close by, both standing there in shock, not daring to breathe.

Before you managed to move or cry out, in a fluid, almost nonchalant motion, the stranger twisted their wrist. Your heart stopped. A sickening snap echoed through the forest, and Yord's body went limp, his lifeless form flung aside with a casual flick, landing in a crumpled heap against the base of a tree.

Numbly, you stared at the lifeless body, discarded like a ragdoll, as if he meant nothing. No tears left your eyes, but you swore you couldn't feel your heart beating, as if it had stopped when your Yord’s did. You didn't know how long you stood there, staring at the person who once made you laugh and helped you become a better person. His soft laugh, his insistence on following the rules, and his desire to please others—all gone. He had taught you how to read. Now, everything was gone. His laughter faded into the darkness along with his heartbeat.

You felt like you heard faint voices in the background, but all your focus was on Yord's empty eyes.

It was Sol, shouting your name, desperately warning you to move. But no matter how hard you tried; you were frozen in place. The shock and grief had paralyzed you. Then, out of the corner of your eye, you caught a glimpse of the creature in the mask. The small flicker of its movement shattered your paralysis, and a surge of anger erupted within you, erasing all other thoughts. The need for vengeance overtook your grief, fueling your every breath and heartbeat.

It all happened like a fever dream—foggy, with only a few clear fragments. You heard a scream, unable to tell if it was yours or someone else's. But you didn't care. Your legs moved on their own toward the stranger, your eyes fixed on his dark, long waves of hair.

Your lightsaber slipped through your fingers, the weight of it suddenly too heavy to hold. Your arms seemed to move of their own accord, rising toward the sky as if reaching for something beyond grasp. The air crackled with a threating storm, ear-shattering roar that drowned out all other sounds. In that moment, you locked eyes with the stranger, fear etched deeply into their features, mirroring your own uncertainty.

Time slowed to a crawl as lightning split the sky, casting an eerie glow over the scene. The thunderous boom echoed through your bones, shaking you to your core. The stranger's expression twisted in horror, as if they knew something you didn't, something that would change everything.

Then, as swiftly as the storm had gathered, darkness enveloped your senses. Your consciousness faded into the cool embrace of the moss beneath you, leaving behind unanswered questions and a lingering sense of dread.

*· . ✶

As you woke up, cold air embraced you, raising goosebumps across your body. Your head pounded with such intensity that you considered it might explode, while your arms trembled in lingering unease. You slowly lifted yourself up on your elbows, trying to figure out where you were and recall anything that had happened.

Your head throbbed painfully, your legs were covered in bruises, and your hands were wrapped in bandages. Confused, you tore them off, only to reveal deep burns etched like tree branches from your palms down to your forearms, resembling thunder silhouettes in the sky.

You had no memory of what had happened, until you spotted your lightsaber next to the mouth of the cave you found yourself trapped in. Yord.

Yord.

Yord was dead. Your brother was dead. My brother's dead. Dead.

Your heart sank into your stomach, and suddenly, you found yourself lying on your side, vomiting beside your makeshift bed. Your hair fell like curtains around your head, your eyes fluttering shut. The reality of your Yord’s death was almost too much to bear. Thoughts swirled chaotically; you wanted to scream, cry, and even trade places with him. Emotions blurred together in your mind, but one stood out starkly: anger. It surged within you, painting your vision red. You yearned for revenge, for the murderer to suffer, to experience the agony you felt in that moment.

You didn't dare count how long you bent over, vomiting on the cold cave surface. The bitter taste of vomit mixed with your salty tears woke you up, pushing you to pull yourself together and look around. You struggled to breathe and see through your watery eyes, so you reached out through the Force. Finding yourself in a small cave on an unfamiliar island, surrounded by a wild ocean, you caught sight of a shadowy figure. A dark force enveloping their silhouette.

Your heart skipped a beat as your eyes flew open. There he was—the one who had taken Yord’s life. And now he has brought you here. Was it to end your life as well? To make you suffer? But you were already in agony. Doubt lingered whether he could intensify the pain any further.

You reached out through the Force again, seeking a clear vision of the target's location. You saw him taking slow, deliberate steps, carefully navigating around sharp rocks until he reached a shore where water brushed around his ankles. Following his trail from your current position, you discovered a path that would lead you to him.

It took you minutes to find the strength to get out of bed, ignoring the messy curls in front of your eyes and the dirty clothes from the previous night. Grabbing your lightsaber, you made your way out of the cave. Trusting your intuition, you followed the stranger's path, mentally preparing to face him. Fear wasn't in your heart—only fury and grief. You wanted to see his head separate from his body.

The trail was longer than expected, but you didn't stop once you reached your target. He swam peacefully in the calm water, his back facing you. His long, wet hair draped over strong shoulders marked with scars. You watched as he ran his hand through his hair—the same hand that had killed Yord and torn your family apart. Anger surged within you; your fury fueled by the simple sight of him.

He sensed you; you could feel it. Your anger was loud enough for the entire galaxy to hear, and you wanted him to hear it the loudest. Without thinking, you began walking towards the water, lightsaber ignited, ready to strike.

You focused solely on him—his strong back and raven hair. He didn’t even turn to face you, though you knew he could feel all your emotions. He remained motionless, confident that you wouldn’t attack. Or at least, he thought so.

Lifting your lightsaber as you closed the distance, the water now up to your hips, you struck his back. The stranger was slow to react, barely managing to block your attack. Your lightsaber grazed his shoulder, leaving a scorching scar. Realizing he was wrong about your intentions, he moved quickly in the water, turning and twisting your arm until you dropped your lightsaber, just as he had done with your brother. He pressed you against his chest, his hands gripping your arms, but before he could strangle you, you drove your elbow into his ribs, pushing hard until you heard a crack.

He released his grip to catch his breath, giving you a few precious seconds to summon your lightsaber from the depths of the water. As it returned to your hand, poised to strike, you felt the stranger's hands clamp down on your shoulders, his fingers digging in fiercely. The pain seared through you, his nails tearing at your flesh. Taking advantage of your vulnerable position, he seized your lightsaber and snapped it in half effortlessly, as if it was a mere stick. You watched in disbelief as he threw the broken parts into the deep ocean behind you, leaving you stunned. Before you could react, he swiftly wrapped one arm around your neck while the other pinned your hands behind your back, pressing his body close against yours.

"Not the morning greeting I was hoping for," he purred against your ear, his arm tightening around your windpipe, robbing you of breath. You felt a strange sensation in your stomach as he pressed closer, the warmth of his body making you shiver involuntarily. It was unsettling, making you feel nauseous.

You fought back, struggling to break free from his grasp, but with each attempt, his hold on you tightened, leaving marks on your neck and wrists. You fought against the tears threatening to fall, overwhelmed by feelings of helplessness and humiliation. You yearned to threaten him, to make him scream for what he had done to Yord and to you.

But you couldn't move an inch, forced to endure his deadly grip on you. You felt his breath tickling the hair on your neck, his damp, bare body pressed against your back, his hand crushing your wrists together.

“Do you remember me?” he asked, his voice low against your ear, his nose pressing against your cheek. You felt his smile as you struggled to breathe and move, fighting against his overpowering grip. The fury surged through you even more intensely, his mocking tone fueling a desire to scream out in defiance. How could you not? You saw him twist your brother’s neck and you were certain he was about to do the same thing to you.

As if he could read your mind, which he likely could, he chuckled softly to himself.

"Not from yesterday," he murmured into your ear, his arm around your neck loosening slightly to allow you to breathe, yet he did not release you. "We met a few days ago, in my shop. You were there too." he continued.

You resisted the urge to struggle against his grip, realizing you had no other choice but to listen. Attempting to calm your anger, you unwillingly focused on his words. You recalled visiting the suspect's shop a few days earlier—a place with a man with long, greasy black hair and an odd voice. Uncertain of where he was leading with this revelation, you listened intently.

"So lost in your own selfishness that you didn't even recognize me?" he mocked, twisting your wrists to inflict more pain, as though hurt you didn’t recognize him. Then, the realization struck. He had been there all along, pulling the strings and mocking everyone. Mae's master. The stranger beneath the mask. Yord's killer.

"You—" you choked on your words, barely able to speak. You recalled visiting the apothecary in the days before, noticing him as the new face in the city. He had pretended to be new, and you had enjoyed his company, visiting him several times. A wave of humiliation washed over you, and you sensed that he felt it too.

“That’s right,” he whispered into your ear, his hands briefly leaving your body before firmly gripping your waist and pressing you against the nearest rock. Finally, you got a clear look at his face. In the darkness of the previous night, you hadn't seen him clearly, and moments ago, you hadn't cared. Now, his gaze met yours directly as he pushed you against the rough surface, leaving your hands free, hanging by your side. You had the freedom to strike him, to fight your way out, but you remained still.

He allowed your eyes to roam over him. You scanned his high cheekbones and sharp features, framed by dark waves, curtains to his deep dark eyes. Pink, full lips, and set above a clean mustache. Your gaze then fell to his visible collarbones, adorned with salty droplets.

He was undeniably beautiful, and you felt sick you didn’t even try to deny it. He looked like a fallen angel, someone straight out of religious legends you would read about.

He savored your shocked gaze, but what intrigued him more were your thundering thoughts. Inside your mind, thoughts clashed and screamed over one another, leaving no room for silence or clarity. You instantly recognized his intent from his intense stare and tried to block him out of your mind. But it was too late. He effortlessly stripped you bare, reading you like a mythical book.

"You're scared," he uttered with total seriousness. You struggled to comprehend how he could read you so easily and attempted to use your powers to cloud his thoughts. Yet, after years of suppressing them, you failed once more. “Not of me. Of the Order.” He tilted his head, a gesture that suggested surprise at what he had uncovered.

"Get out of my head," you hissed at him, delivering a punch to his chest, but he didn't even flinch. The water was cold, and the chill in the air only worsened it. The only warmth came from his body—and from another place you tried to ignore.

"You lie to yourself," he added, ignoring the punches to his chest and the barrage of curses you hurled at him. "The Jedi were never your family. You live in delusion." He looked down at you, a hint of pity in his expression.

“You killed Yord,” you cried out, feeling his grip on your waist loosen.

“He was never your brother. Not really.” His words struck you like a blow, and in a surge of rage, you punched him in the chest with all your strength. He stumbled back, the warmth of his grip vanishing from your waist, leaving you both separated and gasping in the cold air.

You stared at him, eyes wide with uncertainty, unsure of your next move. You watched his chest rise and fall, strands of hair falling over his forehead. Fear gripped you, worried that he had seen through you, revealing memories you wished to forget.

"You lied about who you were. You murdered Jedi like they were cockroaches. My brother!" you screamed at him, tears threatening to spill as you fought to hold them back. You slowly made your way back to the shore, ignoring his presence following in your footsteps. The wet pants clung to your body, making each step more difficult than the last.

As you reached the shore, small rocks stabbing at your feet, you heard him speak.

“Then why did he never consider you as his sister.” His voice was cold and low, monotone with no emotions on the surface. Your movements stopped, listening as he made his way to the shore as well, standing just a few centimeters away from you. Your chest hurt like someone was pinching the flesh of your heart.

You forced yourself to turn around, facing him and his ethereal beauty. There he stood, bare before you, vulnerable and exposed. You tried to focus on his words, your heart sinking into your stomach.

"You heard me." He tilted his head, taking a small step toward you. His eyes locked onto yours, unwavering. "You know I'm right. Ever since you became Padawans, he kept you apart. No matter what you tried, even resorting to tricks just to see him, he always pushed you away. Following rules that made it harder for you to be together, like the Order meant more to him than you did. You were just a little girl, and he chose duty over your bond." He continued, every word a fuel to your anger. But now you weren’t sure who the anger was meant for.

“Shut the fuck up!” You raised your voice, stepping down to him. “You don’t know anything. You’re a Sith! A murderer! You don’t know anything about me or my life.’”

"Except I do." He allowed you to approach, keeping you within arm's reach. "You think things changed after you both passed the trials and had more freedom. They didn't. He feared you. He feared your power. An empath, right? The most dangerous ability one can possess. Even the Order feared it. With one emotion, you could overthrow everything overnight. They couldn't trust you. Not even your own brother could."

You lunged at him, aiming a punch at his jaw, which connected solidly. He stumbled back, a red mark blooming on his cheek. However, all you received in return was a smirk on his lips and the sight of him licking a drop of blood from his lip.

"That's not true," you replied, your voice stinging with anger. "They knew about my abilities, but no one feared me.”

You heard a laugh coming from him, lifting up his head, staring you down.

“Why do you keep lying to yourself?” He stepped closer, his breath almost brushing your face. “You knew they wanted to be rid of you from the moment you began showing signs. Master Sol? He distrusted you the most. Yord feared you. Jecki was too naive to form her own opinion and just listened to the elders.”

“Stop,” you failed to form a normal sentence, not knowing what to do or how to act. You were scared he was right. You didn’t want to admit it to yourself.

"Last night, when you attacked me, I took you before they could wake up," he confessed, gently brushing his hand over yours. You stared at his chest, too ashamed to meet his gaze. "What do you think will happen when they discover you used forbidden power? Do you believe they'll spare you when you're already hanging by a thread?”

He is right.

No.

He’s a liar. A murderer.

But he’s right.

"Kill me, and return to your naive trust in them," he urged, leaning closer with a mix of pity and understanding in his gaze. "Or stay here and let me help you."

You failed to notice that your hand was in his, unsure of how long he had been holding it. Your gaze remained fixed on his chest, searching for any hint of deceit or manipulation, but you found none. The weight of uncertainty bore down on you, and you wished to crumble, to disappear and never resurface again. Lost, confused, dizzy, you were paralyzed, uncertain of your next move.

“They’re my family.” You whispered, mostly to yourself.

"A real family wouldn’t betray you," he whispered back, his thumb tracing small circles on your palm. You felt the anger within you slowly melt away, replaced by an unfamiliar, strange sensation.

Raising your head slowly, you met his gaze, surprised by the softness you found in his eyes. Before you could gather your thoughts or resist, a waterfall of tears began pouring from your eyes, and the only arms there to catch you were the same ones that had stopped your heart just a few hours ago.

[heartfullofleeches]

Pretty Crooked Teeth

Fem Creep Yan + Creepy Reader

Warnings: Mentions of death and gore. 

-

She'd be numb to it by now if anyone else said it. Those four haunting words. 

“You should smile more.” 

She was only six years old when she first caught ear of the phrase. A permanent stain on her self image before she could even button her sweater properly. The holes were aligned correspondingly to their clasps yet her small, tear eyes were useless to guide her through the thickened wool of her sweater. Her hands weren't of much use either, bandaged thumbs mistaking splits in the fibers as their true goal. 

After that day she questioned whether people saw her the same. A pretty sweater with too many holes. 

“I heard your parents left work early to see you perform in the play today, Callie. Why don't you show them a big smile to show how happy you are to see them?” 

The worst part was she was already smiling. A tight lipped fraction of the cheesy grin common for girls her age,but a smile nonetheless. 

It was her teeth they wanted to see. It was her teeth that ruined any chance of finding her place in a new world. 

“Oh… Calliope. Maybe it's better if you showed a little less teeth.” 

And the cycle began. 

When her permanent set grew in she thought she had second hope. Away from the neglect and abandonment of her birth family, she had the proper resources and the firm, yet patient hand of her new parents to start her on the right path. If there's one thing that people will do, it's pointing out flaws you never knew you had. 

“They're a bit crooked don't you think?” 

“What happened to your front tooth? You'd look so much prettier if you got that fixed.” 

And the list went on. She was used to it by the time she began high school, made new friends, met you. To call herself your friend felt like misjudgment of whatever was going on between you, but when you spoke she clung onto every word. It was a relief to know she wasn't the only freak there. It was comforting to have someone listen to her even if they never replied to a word of her suffering. 

Then why…. 

“Because you want to.”

Does she?...

“I saw it. Back when that guy who spilled cola all over me tripped and broke his nose. You were laughing along with everyone else- until you saw me staring at you. You always hide your smile when I look at you.” 

After hearing the same crap for the bulk of her life, her mouth has become her biggest insecurity. So much so her happiness is an afterthought in the presence of the person she cares for most in the world.

“Smile more, or don't. Are you even living if you allow people to dictate every action you make for the rest of your life? If I acted on my impulses, I'd likely be in a padded cell somewhere, but if one of us can have what they want then take it.... If it helps, I think your teeth are cute. They'd leave an interesting bite wound.”

Smile more, huh….

Calliope shifts anxiously on her feet, knees burning with anguish and the fading rush of adrenaline. Her nose crinkles as she levels herself with the potent stench of her sweat, fusing with the aroma of death. 

Hooking her arms beneath the body's armpits, Calliope props their limp weight against her chest - grabbing a fistful of what remains of their hair as she positions her phone on the window above her. Slicked fingers tamper her progress. The woman cleans her blood drenched fingers on the front her first, before finally setting the timer on her phone. 

Calliope yanks back on their hair, angling the mangled head so that its shattered jaw welds itself close. This is her time. Though there aren't many teeth left, their pearly shine might take away from her moment. Had she brought pliers it would've been another story. Bashing their skull in any future might leave you stumped as to who this person was. And she doesn't want that. 

Posing two fingers up with her thumb and remaining thumbs clumsily gripping her prized possession, brain matter drips from the head of the hammer like butter off a hot knife.

“C-cheese!” 

-

It's after midnight when you receive her text. Crimson blooms along the back wall of your darkened bedroom as the photo loads in full. Your single word reply gives Calliope the key to the shackles that have chained her to an existence filled with misery and torment.

“Cute. ♡” 

[soo0hee]

Overload

Pairing — Xu Minghao x Reader

Summary — An outing with your coworkers quickly left you spiraling and all you want is to be home...

Genre — fluff, established relationship, idol!au

Warnings — anxiety, sensory overload, alcohol mentioned

Word Count — 1.3k

Rating — pg-13

A/n — The setting is quite literally what i went through yesterday so this is me just working through my weekend... pls bare with me :((

Disclaimer: this fic is written and copyrighted by ©soo0hee on tumblr. do not rewrite or repost on any other plattforms without my permission.

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED!

Going out with your coworkers was something you regularly did. You were a good team, not everyone had the fortune of being able to say that.

You also liked going out with them, however often times, you found yourself overwhelmed by everything around you. It was when suddenly your social switch flipped and everything became to much for you.

The music was suddenly to loud, the crowd of strangers kept getting bigger and the pushing was constantly making you lose your balance. At one point your knees even buckled and you had to hold onto your drunk coworker who kept yelling a jumbled mess of the lyrics to a song you could recognize over her shrill voice that made your ears ring.

You winced involuntarily as another stranger pressed you against the bar as he tried to make his way through the crowd. Flinching slightly you tried to keep the tears threatening to spill over at bay, not wanting to cry in the middle of a bar or in front of your coworkers.

Swallowing harshly, you blindly reached for the stool where you knew your jacket would be and quickly tried passing one of your coworkers who looked as you with a questioning head tilt.

“I’ll be out for a minute!” you yelled over the loud music only to receive a nod in return.

Rushing out and running into more people then you would have liked in the process, until you reached the door.

Cold air engulfed you, chills running down your spine and a few deep breaths later you could feel your racing heart already calming down a bit. The alcohol running through your blood made your mind a bit fuzzy and your skin that was until a few seconds ago tingling uncomfortably now sporting goosebumps because of the cold.

You felt already way calmer then just before, sitting down on a bench just a few meters away to collect yourself.

You didn’t want to go back inside, even if you had fun earlier that night but now, you just wanted to go home.

You wanted to get rid of the make un your face, the glitter in your hair and the sweat clinging to your hairline only to fall into the arms of your boyfriend and not move a muscle for the rest of the night.

It was barely even 10:30 pm but your team had been parting since shortly after 7 pm and you were tired! You huffed quietly, not knowing if you wanted to hear the complaints of your coworkers about leaving already when 2 of them suddenly sat down beside you.

“Are you okay?” Carrie asked, slightly slurring out the words while Yurin giggled and clung to her shoulder.

Giving her a short nod and a, in your opinion, forced smile that you hoped she believed in her drunk state. Seeing her like that you suddenly felt significantly more sober then before.

“Yes, I just needed a minute. You two can go back in I’ll be fine here.” You nodded, hoping that you didn’t need to explain to them what was going through your head. That might be a dick move but what could you say, explaining what you felt was exactly your forte.

“You sure? We can stay with you for a while until you want to come back inside…”

You shook your head, telling them that it was okay and that you would text in the group chat if something were the matter.

They were unsure if they should follow your request, it was night after all but then they went back when they were convinced that you were fine out here alone.

Relieved to be alone again you checked your phone.

10:42 pm

You could just leave and text the chat that you were going home, but then you would probably have to answer a few questions on Monday.

I might be coming home soon – send 10:43 pm

Typing bubble appeared and vanished again.

Something wrong Băo Bèi? – received 10:43 pm

Want me to pick you up? – received 10:44 pm

No no, it’s fine you should be resting! I just- don’t know – send 10:46 pm

Typing…

I’ll wait for you – received 10:47 pm

It was simple, but butterflies still erupted in your stomach.

Yes, you wanted to go home. Now!

A text to the group chat and you were on the way.

Thankfully the bus station wasn’t far and so you sat in the bus towards Minghaos apartment barely 10 minutes later and 15 more and you punched in the code to open the door.

The Tv was running quietly in the bedroom and the soft glow of Haos bed side lamp through the gap was a sure sign that he was already in bed.

On soft soles you went directly into the bathroom where your pyjama was still hanging over the side of the tub from this morning.

You took a fast shower, tub now sparkly and you clean you finished of your skin routine before getting dressed. The clothes you were wearing before, carelessly thrown to the floor, waiting to be thrown into the laundry the next day.

“Hey…” was what you were softly greeted with by your boyfriend who had his glasses perched on his nose and a book in his hands. He looked unbelievably soft swallowed by the fluffy comforter in pillow and quickly you crawled in on the other side.

He put the book aside and took his glasses of so he could comfortably wrap his arms around your tired form.

“hi.” You murmured back, face hidden in his chest.

You felt his hand running down your spine soothingly, causing you to melt against him.

“Tired?” he hummed.

You nodded.

“Did something happen Băo Bèi?”

You looked up, eyes meeting his loving ones and you enjoyed the press of his plump lips against your forehead.

“Nothing bad, at some point I just felt like I needed to get out of there. It just-“

“Got to much?”

“Mhmm, there were so many people who kept pushing to get past us, the music wasn’t my taste after a while and if I ever have to hear my coworker sing again I will throw something! Seriously, my ears are still ringing!”

Minghao snorted at the last part.

He knew how you sometimes couldn’t handle your emotions well, always there by yours side when you had a hard time understanding them so this wasn’t the first time this happened. For you, in those moments, you felt like you had to escape the situation, your skin crawling as touch got to much, the noises surrounding you getting to much and every social interaction became a burden suddenly.

He was actually quite proud that in those moments you like to search for an escape in his arms.

To know that you considered him the place for your ship to seek safety from the storm in, that filled him with immense pride. You could have gone to your own place after all.

“Aigoo my Băo Bèi, sounds like you had an overload… how are you feeling now?”

“Better now that I’m here.” You smiled as you blinked at him sleepily.

Hao’s ears turned red and you giggled at the sight.

“You’re still blushing at this? After all this time?” You teased with a kiss to his now healed collarbone before nuzzling back into it. He shivered at the touch.

“You little-“ his finger poked your side in good fun and you squealed in surprise.

Yes, this felt right again.