#but he's fine with going hours without talking to me and he rarely if ever checks my blog :(

[freyito]

ʜᴀɴᴋᴇʀɪɴ' ꜰᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴀꜱᴛ

✭ pairing(s): boothill x gn reader

✩ in which: boothill's been quiet since he came back from penacony. way too quiet.

✧ a/n: little by little im chipping away at my depressive episode and building my motivation again

✦ taglist: @fffrost, @shinysora

🗒 cw: gn reader, 2.6 spoilers, mention of torture, hurt/comfort, not proofread

✎ wc: 2.4k

Ever since his most recent trip to Penacony, Boothill had been spacing out more when he got home. He insisted, very firmly, that you stay at home this time, leaving no room for any discussion. You were to stay home no matter what, and if he found you had tried to sneak out, even to the town, there would be words to be had. He was never this demanding, and he never barred you from going out. Yet when he told you, there was a certain look in his eyes. Fear. Something so rare within him that it made you obey without a word of protest. Now that he is back, he hasn’t been as energetic as you’re used to. In fact, he had practically stayed glued to the couch. 

You could poke and prod at him and he wouldn’t so much as smirk, and you hadn’t even gotten so much of a squeak out of him aside from why he had left in the first place. Despite his victory, he was just… quiet. You wake up to him staring at the ceiling, chewing on his lip. Even though he doesn’t necessarily need sleep, he’s always cuddling up to you when you go to sleep. So when you wake up next to him (quite a rare sight), it’s odd.

Not just that, but you notice he spends an oddly long time gazing out over the plains that surround your house, nearly unphased when you poke and squeeze at his cheeks. It’s not that he is entirely silent the whole time, but his words are few and far between. You can’t remember the last time he’d been so lost in thought.

After the third day, you’ve decided you’ve had enough. It was fine if he didn’t want to talk about it (though you are certain it would help), but you were starting to miss Boothill’s voice, or the silly things he would do. So, you catch him on the couch while he’s charging, deciding to lay on top of him. Cheek to cheek, you press into him with a smile.

“Hi,” You say simply. Boothill doesn’t react much, looking up at you with his eye and a small grin.

“Hey, darlin’,” He responds, his voice quiet.

“Whatcha thinkin’ about?”

“Mh, nothin’,” Boothill sighs, shifting awkwardly just a little beneath you. You raise your eyebrow, and he sighs, admitting defeat so easily. “Okay. Thinkin’ about a lot.”

“Care to share?”

“I dunno sugar, it’s kinda heavy,”

“Heavy is the cost.”

A silence stretches between the two of you, as Boothill ruminates over whether or not to share what’s on his mind. You lean further into him, draping yourself over him like a blanket, even though he wasn’t necessarily the most comfortable person to lay on. You weren’t going to say it out loud, and you have spent hours on him before, so it wasn’t necessarily a problem. There were days where his body was the most wonderful thing to lay on, when he had been lounging in the sun and you had been unbearably cold for Aeons knows what reason. In moments like those, he was like your own space heater.

“Well, I mean, there was a lot goin’ on in Penacony, and all these mind games, and…” Boothill sighs, his body relaxing slightly as he pulls an arm out from under you and slings it over your waist. “Got to rememberin’ a lot of things. Stuff I ain’t exactly keen on thinkin’ about. Now I can’t stop.”

“Do you think telling me about it would help?” You purse your lips, blinking at him inquisitively. 

“Haven’t I yapped enough? I swear you ask me about all o’ this at least once a week,” He pokes at your side, causing you to squirm and yelp, before he takes hold of your waist and readjusts both of you, so he’s sitting up and cradling you in his lap. “Gonna make me talk til my jaw falls off, you know that?”

“I’m sorry…”

“Don’t apologize, darlin’,” Boothill smiles, something gentle despite his normally cocky grin. “I know you mean well. You’re the only one I like talkin’ to about this stuff, anyways.”

You tilt your head, silently asking him to continue. For a moment he doesn’t get the hint, raising his brow and chewing on his lip. He’s always been avoidant of such topics like the past, not that you could squeeze much out of him regardless. The most he let you know was of his family, specifically why he held a grudge against the IPC, and who he held a grudge against. Not to mention, he doesn’t enjoy talking things out much. He enjoys venting whatever’s gnawing at him in other ways, such as shooting. Still, he always seems to relent when you ask…

“Ah! Uhm, well…” He wraps both his arms around you, finally sitting up. He readjusts, making sure you’re seated comfortably in his lap. “They got me thinkin’ about when I was a kid… Well, more than that, really. Hard to explain.”

“I can listen all day. I like your voice.” You reply smugly.

“I– That’s not what I meant…” He chuckles sheepishly, shaking his head. “It was like a… hm. Felt like the kind of stuff the IPC had done to me when they caught me.”

Suddenly, you don’t know how to react. Your flirty demeanor drops, and so does your smile. Part of you didn’t think it’d be this kind of conversation. While he said it was heavy, you really didn’t think it’d be on the same level. Boothill sighs, patting your back lightly at your reaction.

“It ain’t that bad. I’m back home now, right? All in one piece.” He consoles, his voice just a tinge softer than before.

“Yeah, but–”

“It didn’t do much to me, really. Just got me thinkin’,” He shrugs so nonchalantly, like torture is something he’s used  to. “You asked, right? Lemme continue.”

With a huff, you concede. He strokes through your hair leisurely at your complacence, taking another moment to enjoy the quiet moment. As if what he was about to explain wasn’t something as terrifying as torture.

“It was somethin’ goin’ on with Dr. Primitive. Or at least, someone who aspired to be like him. Really odd thing, actually. With these monkeys and bananas, people wanted to become one. People were becoming one. Freaky, really. I mean, the things were cute n’ all… Not the point.” He takes a deep breath, “Some sort of induction… they… I don’t know how they did it, but they were able to bring back some sort of past version of me…? Took almost everything from me, voice, hearing, colors, sight, anger… they took it all. And suddenly, I felt like I was a kid again.”

The silence continues, while you ponder if anything you’ll say will be right, or okay. There’s not much you can think of to say, without sounding out of place. Dr. Primitive was one thing, and something horrifying at that, but the monkeys threw you off. Furthermore, what Boothill had described made your body feel… cold. It felt like it was one step away from wiping his memory completely. 

“What’s with that look?” He chuckles, shaking off the heavy air so easily. “You asked me to tell you, right?”

“Yeah…” You sigh. It’s still quite hard to wrap your mind around such things, but you do your best to ignore it.

“Now you sound all sad. C’mon, I’m alive, ain’t I? Plus, I think I do feel a little better now that I think about it…”

His voice tapers off at the end, before pursing his lips as if he was thinking. Again. Before you can ask him what else he’s got on his mind, his eyes light up. Without so much as a grunt, he picks you up and sets you down on the floor. 

“Here, actually, I think I’ve figured out somethin’,” He says, placing a hand on the small of your back as he leads you to the front door. He makes no further effort to explain what he meant, simply choosing to lead you off with a smile.

As he opens the door, light spills into the cabin. The land looks practically golden, you’ve forgotten just how beautiful the plains are at sunset. When you two step out on the porch, a light breeze greets you, wading through the grass. Boothill lets out another chuckle, before stepping off the porch. He stands still for a moment, appreciating the art of the world, the way the wind whispered across the grass, the birds in the distance and their song, and finally, he lets out a content sigh.

“Can’t say it’s as beautiful as Aeragan-Epharshel, but…” He begins, looking back at you for a moment, waving you closer. “It’s close enough…”

“What do you mean?” You finally take a step down off the porch. He wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you closer with an even bigger smile.

“All that work they did, well it gave me a hankerin’ for the past,” He takes a deep breath, his voice wavering ever so slightly. “Don’t like thinkin’ about it too much cause then I miss it even more.”

He cocks his head down at you, before his hand slides from your waist to your own, interlocking fingers. They’re not cold, for once, about body temperature. Perhaps that’s what you get for laying on top of him. He starts to lead you through the grass, his other hand gliding over the soft blades, sometimes grabbing at one just for the fun of it. However, there’s a certain sadness pulling at his face, his stride, even. He’s quiet for another minute, before he stops.

“It’s odd only feelin’ the wind in my hair.” He states, allowing nature to fill the silence once more.

“Boothill…” You mutter, reluctantly wiggling your hand out of his, reaching up to cup his cheek instead.

“It’s okay, sugar, I don’t need any pity,” Despite his words, he leans into your touch so easily, eyes fluttering closed. “Just… expressin’ myself.” After a beat, he opens his eyes and looks back out on the landscape, sighing softly. “I miss all the mischief I’d get into. After I’d finished my work on the ranch, I’d… run off somewhere, mostly off to the town. I’d get into all sorts of trouble just to keep myself from gettin’ bored. So I could get a chance to run through the fields again.”

He turns to you with a somber look in his eyes, as if he’d tear up. Not that he could, he’d lost that function long ago. His hands fall to your waist, gripping gently at the fabric of your shirt.

“There’s nothin’ quite like that feelin’. Runnin’ through the fields, the wind in your hair, stingin’ your cheeks and fingers, heart beatin’ fast as you find somewhere to hide…” He continues. Again, his voice wavers, and he swallows. He does his best to hold off on his own sadness, something he hadn’t allowed himself to properly feel for Aeons knows how long. “I guess I sorta get it still… bein’ wanted ‘n’ all… but it ain’t the same. It ain’t never been the same since…”

He ducks his head, the wind causing his hair to obscure his face. His hat dips, and you raise your hand to catch it. You don’t know what else to do. You haven’t seen Boothill this sad, ever. He’s always so rowdy and practically radiant, and yet now he’s dour, forcing himself to get his words through. He sniffles, then lets out a choked sound that goes straight to your heart. You wrap your arms around him, pulling him in close and squishing your face against his chest. The minute your arms meet his body, he mirrors the gesture. He practically crumbles in your arms, knees buckling as if he were flesh and bone, sliding down in your arms until his knees are planted firmly in the ground beneath you. In turn he presses his ear to your chest, listening to the gentle sound of your beating heart. At this, he grasps your shirt so tightly, pulling you impossibly closer, letting out another whine.

You pet through his hair, doing your best to still your own thoughts. Not only have you never seen Boothill sad before, you don’t think you’ve ever seen him so… weak. Especially on the topic of his past. He could always speak of Clementine, of Nick and Gray, even of his hatred for the IPC with such confidence. Never once did his voice break, did his scowl turn into a frown. His body is wracked with shudders, biting his lip to quiet his sobs.

You two stay like that for a couple of more minutes, Boothill clinging onto you for dear life while you did your best to comfort him, scratching at his scalp and shushing him gently, whispering all sorts of cliche things to calm him down. Eventually, he finally lets up, with a soft breath. His grip weakens on your clothes, and he stands up. When he does, you card your fingers through his hair, moving his bangs from his face. He can’t help but let out a weak chuckle, allowing you to enjoy the feeling.

“M’sorry honey,” He mutters, his shoulders sagging slightly. “Didn’t mean to get all gloomy like that.”

“It’s fine, really,” You smile, your fingers lingering in his hair, before pulling away. “I think you needed it.”

“I… probably,” He sighs, “Just got too caught up in… all of this.”

Still, he nudges you, hand finding yours once more. He squeezes it, before leading you back to the cabin. The wind started to bite, the sun just peaking over the horizon as the sky went from orange and pink, to pink and purple. The clouds waned, the stars just barely visible as you two walked back. The silence is comfortable now, a small smile tugging at Boothill’s lips. He opens the door for you, taking one last look at the plains, before stepping in and closing the door.

“I’ll make dinner, then,” He says triumphantly, clearly feeling lighter than before. “As an apology. For makin’ you see me like that.”

“You don’t have t–”

“I want to, sugar. Let me? Please?” He cocks his head to the side, his smile turning gentler.

You wouldn’t fight it, either way. Despite how much he’s enjoyed literal bullets and oil, you wouldn’t dare stop him from cooking. He was like an angel, really, almost terrifyingly good in the kitchen. While you wanted to say that he didn’t have to apologize, if his cooking was on the line, you’ve found no choice but to concede.

© freyito, 2024 | masterlist | queue | kofi | discord server | star header by roseschoices DO NOT REPOST AS YOUR OWN, REPOST ON ANY OTHER PLATFORM, OR USE FOR AI/AI CHATBOTS.

[sadpuppyg1rl]

🧸🎀

[cocklessboy]

The biggest male privilege I have so far encountered is going to the doctor.

I lived as a woman for 35 years. I have a lifetime of chronic health issues including chronic pain, chronic fatigue, respiratory issues, and neurodivergence (autistic + ADHD). There's so much wrong with my body and brain that I have never dared to make a single list of it to show a doctor because I was so sure I would be sent directly to a psychologist specializing in hypochondria (sorry, "anxiety") without getting a single test done.

And I was right. Anytime I ever tried to bring up even one of my health issues, every doctor's initial reaction was, at best, to look at me with doubt. A raised eyebrow. A seemingly casual, offhand question about whether I'd ever been diagnosed with an anxiety disorder. Even female doctors!

We're not talking about super rare symptoms here either. Joint pain. Chronic joint pain since I was about 19 years old. Back pain. Trouble breathing. Allergy-like reactions to things that aren't typically allergens. Headaches. Brain fog. Severe insomnia. Sensitivity to cold and heat.

There's a lot more going on than that, but those were the things I thought I might be able to at least get some acknowledgement of. Some tests, at least. But 90% of the time I was told to go home, rest, take a few days off work, take some benzos (which they'd throw at me without hesitation), just chill out a bit, you'll be fine. Anxiety can cause all kinds of odd symptoms.

Anyone female-presenting reading this is surely nodding along. Yup, that's just how doctors are.

Except...

I started transitioning about 2.5 years ago. At this point I have a beard, male pattern baldness, a deep voice, and a flat chest. All of my doctors know that I'm trans because I still haven't managed to get all the paperwork legally changed, but when they look at me, even if they knew me as female at first, they see a man.

I knew men didn't face the same hurdles when it came to health care, but I had no idea it was this different.

The last time I saw my GP (a man, fairly young, 30s or so), I mentioned chronic pain, and he was concerned to see that it wasn't represented in my file. Previous doctors hadn't even bothered to write it down. He pushed his next appointment back to spend nearly an hour with me going through my entire body while I described every type of chronic pain I had, how long I'd had it, what causes I was aware of. He asked me if I had any theories as to why I had so much pain and looked at me with concerned expectation, hoping I might have a starting point for him. He immediately drew up referrals for pain specialists (a profession I didn't even know existed till that moment) and physical therapy. He said depending on how it goes, he may need to help me get on some degree of disability assistance from the government, since I obviously shouldn't be trying to work full-time under these circumstances.

Never a glimmer of doubt in his eye. Never did he so much as mention the word "anxiety".

There's also my psychiatrist. He diagnosed me with ADHD last year (meeting me as a man from the start, though he knew I was trans). He never doubted my symptoms or medical history. He also took my pain and sleep issues seriously from the start and has been trying to help me find medications to help both those things while I go through the long process of seeing other specialists. I've had bad reactions to almost everything I've tried, because that's what always happens. Sometimes it seems like I'm allergic to the whole world.

And then, just a few days ago, the most shocking thing happened. I'd been wondering for a while if I might have a mast cell condition like MCAS, having read a lot of informative posts by @thebibliosphere which sounded a little too relatable. Another friend suggested it might explain some of my problems, so I decided to mention it to the psychiatrist, fully prepared to laugh it off. Yeah, a friend thinks I might have it, I'm not convinced though.

His response? That's an interesting theory. It would be difficult to test for especially in this country, but that's no reason not to try treatments and see if they are helpful. He adjusted his medication recommendations immediately based on this suggestion. He's researching an elimination diet to diagnose my food sensitivities.

I casually mentioned MCAS, something routinely dismissed by doctors with female patients, and he instantly took the possibility seriously.

That's it. I've reached peak male privilege. There is nothing else that could happen that could be more insane than that.

I literally keep having to hold myself back from apologizing or hedging or trying to frame my theories as someone else's idea lest I be dismissed as a hypochondriac. I told the doctor I'd like to make a big list of every health issue I have, diagnosed and undiagnosed, every theory I've been given or come up with myself, and every medication I've tried and my reactions to it - something I've never done because I knew for a fact no doctor would take me seriously if they saw such a list all at once. He said it was a good idea and could be very helpful.

Female-presenting people are of course not going to be surprised by any of this, but in my experience, male-presenting people often are. When you've never had a doctor scoff at you, laugh at you, literally say "I won't consider that possibility until you've been cleared by a psychologist" for the most mundane of health problems, it might be hard to imagine just how demoralizing it is. How scary it becomes going to the doctor. How you can internalize the idea that you're just imagining things, making a big deal out of nothing.

Now that I'm visibly a man, all of my doctors are suddenly very concerned about the fact that I've been simply living like this for nearly four decades with no help. And I know how many women will have to go their whole lives never getting that help simply because of sexism in the medical field.

If you know a doctor, show them this story. Even if they are female. Even if they consider themselves leftists and feminists and allies. Ask them to really, truly, deep down, consider whether they really treat their male and female patients the same. Suggest that the next time they hear a valid complaint from a male patient, imagine they were a woman and consider whether you'd take it seriously. The next time they hear a frivolous-sounding complaint from a female patient, imagine they were a man and consider whether it would sound more credible.

It's hard to unlearn these biases. But it simply has to be done. I've lived both sides of this issue. And every doctor insists they treat their male and female patients the same. But some of the doctors astonished that I didn't get better care in the past are the same doctors who dismissed me before.

I'm glad I'm getting the care I need, even if it is several decades late. And I'm angry that it took so long. And I'm furious that most female-presenting people will never have this chance.

[tojissidewhore]

gojo isn’t the type of person to flaunt about how much money he has.

sure he’s wealthy, and boy he knows it. but why would that be of any concern to anybody else.

i definitely think his love language is gift giving, so he buys you a lot of expensive shit pretty much any chance he gets. weather it’s some expensive jewelry or something that reminded him of you.

point is, you know he has money, but exactly how much is uncertain to you. both of you never really talked about money, it all kind of sorted itself out naturally.

you tried to bring it up once, when you moved in together. you moved into gojos apartment so you had offered to help out with rent, but he shushed you pretty quickly, telling you not to worry about it and that it was no way near an inconvenience for him.

so instead you did more things around the house, it was your way of paying him back.

you had been dating for five years and living together for about two, when you found out just how rich your boyfriend actually was.

it was your five year anniversary and satoru wanted to make it special. so he had taken you out for dinner to a nice fancy restaurant.

"how was your food?" he asked, arms tucked underneath his chin looking at you as you finished your plate.

"good" you answered with a smile. yes your food was good, and yes the restaurant was nice. but after 3 hours of sitting there, watching the waiters put on a show and what not, you were ready to go home and have your man all to yourself.

a grin formed his face reading your thoughts exactly. when the waitress came to get your plates gojo made sure to ask for the bill, and 3 minutes later she was back with the check.

he fumbled through his wallet searching for his credit card. he paused for a second looking up at you, then back down to his wallet pulling out a card you didn’t recognize.

this credit card was black, while the one that you knew was a basic gold one. of course you knew the significance of the card he had just retrieved from his wallet (and the waitress very obviously as well, by the way her face changed at the sight of it) but you didn’t know that your boyfriend possessed such a card. he hadn’t mentioned it once.

“so, how is it that i did not know about your black amex card?” you asked discreetly. you weren’t trying to pry on him but you were genuinely curious about it.

“I guess because I almost never use it?” he said, looking at you without turning his head. “why?” he asked pulling your body closer, a small smirk forming.

“just curious” you answered cuddling into him.

“you sure?" he asked raising concerned brow.

"yea, i just didn’t know you had two cards."

"actually," he paused grinning. “i have three, or rather two and a half."

you pulled back confused. satoru lifted himself up a little bit, enough to reach over to the night stand to grab his wallet. he took out another card which you did not recognize.

"here," he said handing you over the card. “i set up a dual account for us. i know you have your account and you’re good, but you know. just in case." he smiled happily.

"i can’t accept this satoru. how the hell can you manage three accounts?"

"it’s fine baby, it’s yours as well as mine. you don’t have to feel bad about it. presides i don’t ever use my black card, i don’t need it. i just forgot mine at home earlier."

you knew the requirements or reasons to get to own a card like that, yet he rarely used it? what kind of things did he buy with this card? okay, yea. this boy had money.

later that week, after getting all of the account information from satoru, you decided to register with your phone just to have a view of the account. and god let me tell you, you almost dropped your phone.

[deakyjoe]

Absolution

Pairing: Obi-Wan Kenobi x Reader (afab, fem)

Category: smut, sex pollen

Summary: Obi-Wan really should have let his curiosity go and avoided that flower.

Warnings: 18+, smut (!!), sex pollen, slight dubcon (because of sex pollen but all consensual), unprotected p in v sex, master kink, slight sub!obi-wan, slight dom!reader, reader talks obi-wan through it basically, suggestions of inappropriate use of a lightsaber, virgin!obi-wan, religious guilt, hints of reader’s past feelings, reader kind of ignores some Jedi rules, kissing, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, a lot of talks of fluids I feel, slight angst I guess, let me know if I missed anything!

Word count: 4.9k

A/N: Happy May the Fourth! Happy Star Wars Day! Wrote an Obi-Wan fic last year so thought I’d keep up the tradition this year as well. It’s not the best thing I’ve ever written, certainly not the best smut, but I did end up rushing it a little to get it posted today so… sorry! This is for @lightwxlker who I told about this over lunch at uni <3 (feel free to read but please never look me in the eye again if you do). Can’t wait to see you later to see The Phantom Menace!!

Consider buying me a coffee :)

Absolution:

(Noun)

Formal release from guilt, obligation, or punishment.

Declaration that a person’s sins have been forgiven.

It felt like you'd been trekking through the dense forest for days. Really, it had only been a few hours. But with no end in sight, and Obi-Wan's continuous promise of almost there, you were convinced that the two of you had been lost for about a week.

The Jedi had told you that you were in search of a hidden community that had answers to some questions that the Council had about... something. You didn't know. You rarely paid attention when Obi-Wan explained these things. As much as you respected him, these briefings started to sound the same after a while. It was the thing he reprimanded you for most often.

"Can we-" You wheezed. "Can we stop for just a minute?"

"Soon." He called over his shoulder simply, pushing aside a leafy branch for the both of you to pass through.

You considered pushing him over, tripping him up maybe, and even just stabbing him with your lightsaber. Just to have a break for a moment. It was unclear how he managed to walk through dense forest for hours on end without even a hint of fatigue peeking through. You envied him for it.

Luckily, your prayers were answered when a clearing appeared. It was small, sheltered by the canopy of trees above you, but it was a good place to stop. You didn't even have to say the word, Obi-Wan already knew what you wanted.

"Fine, rest here for a moment." He sighed, pointing at a rock.

You collapsed quickly, thankful for the brief reprieve, and watched as the Jedi made a slow circle around the clearing. He was inspecting every little thing there was to see. If there was one thing you had in common with the man, it was your curiosity and thirst for knowledge.

"Rather fascinating." He mumbled to himself, ignoring the burning of your stare on his back as he moved, poking at a fungus of some kind with the tip of his finger.

"Be careful. It might be poisonous." You warned, stretching out your legs in front of you.

"I know my living organisms." He replied steadily, pulling up and moving on to the next one.

It was a flower. Rather large, with pinkish petals and an indigo centre extending on from a bright green stem. It looked vaguely familiar to you. You racked your brain, thinking about the botany books you'd spent your spare time reading when Obi-Wan had insisted that you should know more about the planets you were constantly visiting.

Nothing was coming to you. Maybe you hadn't seen it in one of those books. Your head tilted as you watched the Jedi stroke gently at the petals with the backs of his fingers, mumbling about how it felt soft, and something came back to you when the flower seemed to move of its own accord.

"Get back." You shot up from the rock you were previously sitting on and took a quick step towards him.

"It's fine." He insisted, not looking at you - too entranced by the flower as he continued to caress the petals. He didn't know this one. He found it intriguing.

You remembered where you'd seen the flower before. A book hidden deep in the archives, where you ventured when you knew no one was looking, part of a collection of things that the Jedi were not supposed to have interest in.

Your pace picked up as the flower curled in on itself, the fleeting look of disappoint clear on Obi-Wan's face, reaching for his shoulder to wrench him back.

"No! Obi-Wan, stop!"

But it was too late.

As you made contact with his robes to pull him away, the flower blossomed open. A bright cloud of purple pollen burst out and coated the two of you, settling itself over your skin and infiltrating your lungs, and therefore your blood stream, as you breathed it in.

You coughed, scrubbing at yourself to try and get it off. But you knew you were past that.

The Jedi turned to you, surprised to see the panic in your eyes. "It's just flower pollen, nothing a little water won't wash away."

Your voice was shaky as you spoke. "What have you done?"

He frowned and glanced back at the plant. It wasn't one he recognised, granted, but he also hadn't been warned of anything dangerous in this area. So he really wasn't concerned. "I don't understand. What's wrong?"

"It's a flos venerem." You whispered. "We need to find shelter."

As you turned around in a slow circle, trying to decide which way you were more likely to find somewhere to figure everything out, Obi-Wan watched you with a curious gaze.

"And what is a flos venerem?"

You scoffed over your shoulder at him. "Do you ever read?"

You knew it was an unfair question considering the place you'd read about the flower wasn't one he, or any other Jedi, frequented but you were angry and frightened. Angry at him for not listening to your warnings. And frightened for yourself since you knew what the flower was going to do to you.

He looked on as you closed your eyes, feeling out with the Force. "Now is not the time to insult me. Tell me."

You whirled on him. "It's an aphrodisiac. A powerful one. And if we don't find shelter soon then you're going to be doing some strange things to these trees."

Obi-Wan frowned, puzzled by what you were saying. "Is there a cure?"

You laughed humourlessly, turning away from him again. "Is there a cure? Is there a cure, he asks. Ha!"

"An antidote?"

"No, there's no antidote." You hissed.

The effects of the pollen were already weighing on you. You imagined Obi-Wan was also feeling something as well, just unaware of it. At least you knew what you were supposed to be feeling. The Jedi Knight had no idea.

Your mouth felt dry, like sand on your tongue, and your skin was hot to the touch. A dull headache was forming at the base of your skull too and you knew these sensations would only get worse if you didn't do what the flower wanted you to. There really was only one way to fix it. But you couldn't find it in yourself to tell your companion the solution. You were ignoring the heavy feeling in the base of your abdomen.

Sensing your apprehension wasn't overstated, Obi-Wan pointed back in the direction you'd come from. "There was a cave a little while ago. We can go there and you can tell me more about this... aphrodisiac flower."

You only nodded, lacking the strength to tell him that you wouldn't be able to listen to his voice out of fear of what bodily responses that would cause in you. Your existing attraction to Obi-Wan would only be increased by the influence of the plant. And you were scared what you'd do, or what you'd suggest, to ease the feelings.

You started marching in the direction the two of you had come from, jumping away from Obi-Wan as he fell into step beside you and his shoulder brushed yours.

"Keep- keep your distance for a while." You muttered, pushing away the lick of heat that had shot through you at his proximity.

He frowned back at you, feeling bad for making you so clearly uncomfortable. "My apologies."

"It's okay. I'm just-" You cut yourself off with a groan.

Obi-Wan's stomach lurched at the sound. "You're just what?"

"The flower is making it difficult to be next to you." You turned your head away from him, desperately trying to breathe in the clean forest air and nothing else. But all you could smell was him. The scent was so strong that you could practically taste him, his skin, and it was making your mouth water.

"You're already feeling the effects of the flower?" He hummed, pondering. "I feel nothing so far."

It wasn't true. But he was completely unaware of what he was feeling. He put the dry mouth and headache down to minor exhaustion, the hike through the forest finally catching up with him. And the stirring he was feeling... down below was foreign. The Jedi secretly believed that maybe he was immune to the flower's influence.

He was severely wrong.

You glanced back at him, instantly looking away when you caught his wide-eyed gaze. His eyes were so blue, so familiar.

You marched ahead of him, ignoring his quiet protests as you urgently sought out the cave. It came into sights quickly and your pace picked up, practically running towards it now. When you reached it, you discarded your top layer of robes, the heat your body was producing making it feel as if you were melting, and left your lightsaber by the entrance to the stone shelter. You feared what you may do with it when the flower's effects got even worse.

Obi-Wan followed closely behind you and watched with curious attention at your actions, slightly puzzled when you made your way towards the back of the cave and sat down facing the wall.

"Sit over there." You pointed over your shoulder to a spot far away from yourself. "I need to think."

"Trying to remember an antidote?" He asked, wondering what there possibly was to think about right now. And without his help as well.

"Sure." You sighed, closing your eyes as you took a deep breath. You weren't thinking about an antidote since you knew there wasn't one. You were considering your options. Even though you knew they were limited. Very limited.

He trusted your word however, which was mildly foolish of him, and took a seat where you'd instructed him to do so. He kept his gaze on you, fixated on the back of your head, as he observed your breathing pick up and then slow back down several times of the course of a few minutes.

What Obi-Wan failed to notice was how his breathing was in tune with yours, increasing when yours did and lowering when yours did.

It didn't escape him though when the flower's influence started to manipulate his body even more. The dry mouth, dull headache, rapid heartbeat, and hardened dick were becoming increasingly difficult to ignore. And Obi-Wan couldn't stay in denial for much longer.

So he called out your name.

Big mistake.

You jumped at the sound, having to bite your tongue to prevent noise slipping from your lips, and glanced at him over your shoulder."Yes?"

"I believe the flower is finally setting in." He decided that was the best way to put it and not that the sight of you was making him think things he hadn't even considered since he was a lot younger.

You looked at him silently for a second too long, eyes flicking downwards before moving back up to meet his again. "Meaning?"

His brows creased for a moment. "You know."

You did. So you turned back towards the wall and stared at it. "I'm thinking really hard about it, okay? I'll work something out."

Lies.

Time progressed slowly, moving at a sluggish pace that had you wanting to claw your way out of the cave in temporary insanity, and you could hear Obi-Wan's condition growing steadily worse by the minute.

You were finding it a lot easier than him to control yourself, probably due to your more extensive knowledge on the subject of simple carnal pleasure. But Obi-Wan was losing it.

You kept your eyes focused on the stone in front of you, desperately trying to ignore the sounds that Obi-Wan was making behind you. The breathless whimpers that were leaving his mouth were heavenly to your ears, creating a pulse that shook through your body regularly. Despite the sounds making you feel good, it was getting harder and harder to stop yourself from giving in and crawling over to him. Especially since you could hear him tearing off at least one layer of his clothing.

"Obi-Wan, please be quiet." You whispered, just loud enough for him to hear.

To the Jedi your voice sounded husky, tempting almost. "I cannot help it. Please help me."

His voice was desperate, almost whiny, as he begged you for some sort of assistance. If only he knew what that assistance was.

You squeezed your eyes closed, resting your face in your hands. "I'm trying."

It was a lie. You knew that nothing could be done. The passage from the book you'd read about the flower had been very clear. Death was inevitable. Unless you engaged with someone... intimately.

It was the only method that would get your bodily reactions to calm down. If not, the next few days would be painful for the both of you. You'd be extremely aroused the whole time, heart racing at a million beats per minute, sweat would pour out of you and cause severe dehydration that would be impossible to remedy, and finally your body would give up from the sheer exhaustion of trying to handle it all. Then, you'd drop dead.

Just how exactly were you supposed to voice that to Obi-Wan, the man who'd boasted about his ability to follow the Order's rules for years, that the only way for the both of you to survive this was to sleep together? And how were you supposed to recover from possibly finally having the man you'd wanted for so long for just one night and then never again?

"I can sense that you're keeping something from me."

Your head snapped up at his statement. He was correct, sure, but you hadn't expected him to pick up on it in his state.

So you turned around to look at him, legs crossed in front of you and back against the wall to keep yourself as far from him as possible.

"There is one solution that I know of." You confessed, still thinking of a way to tell him.

"Just tell me. I know it's troubling you. It's okay." Obi-Wan's tone was soft and comforting.

You took a deep breath in. "You won't like it."

"Do we have a choice?"

You let the breath out again. "Death."

He released a tired and humourless chuckle. "I can assure you that I'll prefer whatever solution you have to death. So tell me."

You debated what words would spook the Jedi less. Were you clinical and informative? Or soft and subtle? The sweat dripping from his temple, begging to be licked away by the tip of your tongue, was telling you to be harsh and raw with him.

Your gaze fixed on his mouth. "We have to have sex, Obi-Wan. Multiple times probably." The last part was added on for emphasis, meant to draw a reaction out of him.

He gave it to you. His already flushed cheeks reddened some more, eyes darting away from yours momentarily. It's not that the antidote was unexpected, he figured that it would lead somewhere like this considering the two of you had been contaminated by an aphrodisiac, but he thought maybe that there would be another solution. Or that you'd at least beat around the bush a little more.

Obi-Wan didn't know how to tell you that he'd never done something like that before so wouldn't even know where to start.

Little did he know that you were already well aware of that fact.

"I'll guide you through it." You paused. "But once we get started I don't think you'll need much guidance. The effects of the pollen will probably lead you."

His eyes snapped back to you, a frown pinching between them. "And what do you know of it?"

"Obi-Wan..." You mumbled, tilting your head down slightly to give him a meaningful look.

He didn't look thrilled at the notion.

You scoffed, annoyance bubbling at his obvious judgement. "We all have a past."

He knew what you meant. Sure, everyone had a past. He just didn't realise you had that sort of past. Still, he realised he had no place to pass judgement against you.

Heat pulsed between your thighs at the sudden wide-eyed apologetic look he was giving you. A groan rumbled in your chest and you squeezed your eyes shut.

"I see that this is hard for you." He whispered and you attempted to hold back a laugh thinking that this probably wasn't the only thing that was hard. "So, how about you come over here and... show me what we have to do."

You looked back at him, surprised by the boldness he was showing. Yes, he wasn't a shy man by any means but you thought he'd have been a bit less confident in this situation. Or maybe the whole thing would just be so meaningless to him that he thought it'd be easy.

Obi-Wan could feel random muscles in his body clenching as you stared at him. He'd never felt like this before. He'd always known that you were beautiful, it was impossible to ignore, but he'd never thought much else of it. But now? He couldn't do anything else apart from think about it.

You slowly pushed yourself up from your seated position and fell onto your hands and knees, too tense to stand up, and made your way towards him steadily. He was surprised to find himself practically buzzing at the sight of you crawling towards him, a ravenous look on your face. You stopped about a foot in front of him, looking up into his eyes through your eyelashes.

A hand reached out for you.

You took it.

With his help, you settled yourself over Obi-Wan's lap, a leg either side of his thighs so you straddled him. You didn't let your weight rest on him just yet, wanting to check in quickly to make sure he was okay. It was taking everything in your power not to start touching him all over despite your overactive brain basically screaming at you to do so.

His eyes moved rapidly, taking you in as he searched across your body. A hand landed on either of your hips, encouraging you to move closer to him. So you did, chest pushing slightly against his and weight pressing into his lap as you sat down. The both of you let out a sigh at the contact, pain eased for just a few moments.

It was then that you noticed you'd sat on something extremely hard.

"Is that a lightsaber in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?" You chuckled, about to reach down to remove the weapon from the inside of his robes.

But Obi-Wan's eyes flickered over your shoulder to somewhere behind you. Slowly, you turned to see what he was looking out, a small pinch between your eyebrows, and saw where you'd discarded your own lightsaber earlier. What you were surprised to find was his lightsaber resting up against a rock beside yours.

"Oh." You croaked and looked back at him, eyes shooting to his crotch for a brief moment. "You are just happy to see me."

"The flower." He grumbled lowly.

Your heart fell momentarily, your face along with it, before you recovered and looked downwards towards his chest. "Right, of course."

Realising he'd made a fatal mistake, Obi-Wan placed a finger under your chin and tilted your head up to make eye contact again. "A combined effect of the flower and... you."

Your mouth dropped open for a second, dazed by his statement, before a smile blossomed along your face. "There was one thing I forgot to mention."

"And what was that?" His eyes were fixed on your mouth now.

"The flower's effects are stronger and fast acting if you are already attracted to the person you're with at the time of exposure." You leaned towards him closer, the tips of your noses brushing against each other. "I expected to feel the influence at least an hour or two before you did, Master."

A soft sound, somewhere between a moan and a whine, escaped his lips at the use of the title. It surprised you, you hadn't thought he'd be into that kind of thing. You didn't give him a chance to give you a real response though, the noise he'd just made finally pushing you over the edge.

You cupped his face in your hands and kissed him, thumbs swiping over his cheeks to wipe the purple pollen away. He let out another sound at that, this one more shocked, but equally as unrestrained. Your mouth opened just in time to catch it and swallow it against your own moan at finally feeling his lips melding with yours.

Usually, in the past, you’d have some sense of patience in this situation. But it’s like the feeling of his skin under your palms and his lips against yours, your tongue in his mouth, sent the pollen vibrating in your bloodstream. And before you knew it, your hands were tearing at his clothes, absolutely desperate to get them off.

And while Obi-Wan was a little more hesitant than you, inexperience slowing him down, once he felt how eager you were he could only join in on the action. His hands were soft, almost silky, like they hadn’t ever seen a day of hard labour in his life, and they sent warm bursts of electricity through you as they slid against your skin.

All barriers between you were removed in less than a minute, although time seemed to be flying now that you’d actually gotten beyond just staring at each other and ignoring all feelings your body had been screaming at you to address.

“Do you know what comes next, Master?” You questioned, wondering how out of practice he really was.

Obi-Wan seemed to pause, taking a long thought, before saying anything. “I’ve never done this before.”

“I know.” You said and he seemed both embarrassed and surprised. “That’s not what I was asking. Do you know what happens?”

“I’ve heard things.” He admitted slowly.

Up until this point you’d been trying to avoid looking down at his naked body. Sure, the two of you had been pretty enthusiastic in taking the other’s clothes off but neither of you had verbally stated what you were comfortable with actually doing. That didn’t mean you couldn’t feel every inch of him pressing against you though. Somehow in the tumble of robe removal, you’d slid forward on his lap which had caused your torsos to connect. And you hadn’t bothered to move back again.

You searched his face for any sign of discomfort, finding none. “Can I touch you?”

He sputtered. “You already are.”

“No-“ You took a deep breath. “Can I touch you… down there?”

You were hesitant to say certain words to him, cringing at just the thought of them coming out of your mouth and entering his ears. You shouldn’t be shy about this, having done this countless times before. But now you were doing it with Obi-Wan, someone you admired with the deepest affection, it felt different. A good different but different nonetheless.

“Oh.” The flush he’d been sporting across his face stretched to meet the tip of his ears and you reached up to tuck some hair back away from them. “Yes, you can.”

You could see that the lust the flower caused had taken over all rational thought as his irises, usually so blue and bright, had been consumed by his pupils dilating. Was this a good idea, you silently wondered? Did he truly want this? Or was the flos venerem speaking for him?

Before you had the chance to ponder over that even more, the animal instincts in your brain took over and your hand was wrapping around his, pretty sizeable, cock.

He hissed at the sensation of your warm palm touching him and you observed his reaction with hungry curiosity. You liked the way his eyes fluttered closed and his teeth sunk into his bottom lip, the way his head snapped back against the cave wall and he didn’t even seem to notice that it should’ve hurt. He was too absorbed in the pleasurable way that you were touching him.

You were touching him.

Obi-Wan felt as if he were flying amongst the stars.

Your hand slid up and down his length, taking in every minor reaction he gave you to see what he liked. The answer was: he liked all of it. No matter the pace of your strokes, the pressure of your squeeze, or the angle of the twist, Obi-Wan revelled in it all.

Every sound he made caused what felt like a flood to pour from between your thighs, skin prickling with flames of desire. You increased the speed of the pumps against his shaft, feeling him twitch in your hand. Obi-Wan started babbling to himself, something you couldn’t quite understand but realised were certainly happy mumblings. It didn’t take much more until he was orgasming, cum spurting out of him in hot ropes and coating both of your stomachs.

You weren’t surprised to see that he remained hard. At least the botany books hadn’t lied to you about the multiple times thing.

“Need you inside me now, Obi-Wan.” You whispered, pleased when his eyes seemed to spark with something akin to excitement. Pushing yourself up slightly, you took him in your hand again and aligned him with your entrance. Notching him against you, you inched down onto him slowly, feeling your hips stutter willing you to go faster, and watched his face scrunch up in pleasure.

“Does that feel good?” You asked despite knowing the answer. You just wanted to hear him say something, even a noise of approval would work for you.

He nodded rapidly and whined. “Yes, yes.”

Pleasure rocketed up your spine, walls clenching around him and he whimpered again. His hips bucked up underneath you and your eyes rolled back in your head.

He did it again.

You came.

A shocked laugh escaped your throat as the orgasm rippled through. You hadn’t realised it would be that easy but given that you’d denied yourself any friction and stimulation for way too long considering the situation you were in, it only made sense.

Obi-Wan’s eyes widened. “Did you just-?”

“Yes.” You sighed and rocked your hips against his, thighs still trembling with the aftershock.

“Stars-“ He gasped, head falling forward to bury his face in your neck. You smiled at the feeling of his beard scratching against your skin and moved faster.

Time became a haze, multiple orgasms rolled into a blur, and before you know it you felt like you couldn’t move anymore. Your legs ached, your body dripped with sweat and your breathing was shaky and uneven.

But you were determined for one more.

Obi-Wan gasped about it being too much but couldn’t stop himself from continuing to thrust up underneath you. Which you were thankful for considering you could feel your thighs cramping up and barely managing to support your weight. His arms locked around you, trapping you against him, as he pounded into you urgently like he was chasing something. He was really. And you could understand.

“Come on, Master, just one more.” You murmured against his temple.

It took only those words of encouragement for Obi-Wan to spill inside you once again, the feeling of that setting you off as well. And finally the two of you relaxed, the pollen’s effects wearing away.

The two of you sat against each other breathless for a moment before you eased up off of him and settled beside him. He immediately collapsed against you, sliding down until his head met your lap. You placed a hand in his hair as his breathing slowed down to a normal pace.

Now that the high had passed, guilt was setting in.

“What have I done?” Obi-Wan croaked, burying his face against your thighs.

You froze, knowing you should be feeling this same shame but not finding it in yourself to care. At least not right now. “It’s okay.”

“No!” He almost wailed. “I broke- I broke rules. Sacred Jedi code.”

“You had no choice. It was either that or death.” Tears stung at the backs of your eyeballs, willing yourself not to crack and break down. He needed you to be strong. “There was no other way.”

He knew you were right, a small seed of relief buried deep in his chest. He didn’t have another choice. But then there was another matter…

You continued to try to make him feel better. "The council will forgive you, Obi-Wan. It couldn't have been helped."

The Jedi could only nod in reply. That wasn't what worried him anymore, your logical argument had been enough to reassure him of that. What did worry him is how much he wanted it to happen again.

He glanced up at you. "What about you? Can you forgive me?"

You paused, hand stilling against the side of his head. "There's nothing to be forgiven."

"Please." He whispered against your skin. "Please just-"

It hurt you to hear the break in his voice. A man, usually so confident, reduced to this. All because of something out of his control.

You took a deep breath, stared straight ahead at the cave wall opposite you, tears in your eyes and a hand combing through his hair. "I forgive you, Obi-Wan."

A/N: I listened to Star Wars ambience on YouTube as I wrote most of this. Hope you enjoyed!

[2amriize]

˚⟡˖ when you beg them to not break up with you - RIIZE

ᡣ𐭩 masterlist genre angst pairing bf!riize x reader

ᯓ★ SHOTARO

From the moment you started dating Shotaro, you knew his family didn’t approve of your relationship. Neither of you understood exactly why, but you knew this was the main reason Shotaro had shown up at your house unannounced to tell you he wanted to break up. At first, you couldn’t believe it, but as you thought about how distant he had been since spending time with his family the past week, it started to make more sense. You had been asking him for over an hour for a proper explanation, but all he could say was that it was something he had to do.

“Are you serious, Shotaro? Is this really what you want?” you asked, your voice trembling.

“You know it’s not what I want, but I have to do this…”

You had been holding back tears the entire time, not wanting to cry in front of him, but at that moment, you couldn’t help it. You broke down, covering your face with your hands. Shotaro gently placed a hand on your back, rubbing it softly in silence. After a few minutes, when you had calmed down, you looked up at him and grabbed his hand.

“We don’t have to do this, Shotaro… Please don’t leave me over this. I’ll try harder to win your family over, okay?” you pleaded, your voice full of desperation. Shotaro sighed softly, looking concerned.

“I don’t know, y/n… I guess we can try.”

ᯓ★ EUNSEOK

You always knew Eunseok was a bit jealous, but he rarely showed it during your relationship. If he ever hinted at jealousy, it was usually in a joking way—except this time.

There was a particular friend of yours that Eunseok always complained about, saying he was too close to you and constantly watching you. You always told him that this guy was just a friend because that’s how you saw him. However, when Eunseok saw this friend standing too close to you at a party, he couldn’t hold back anymore.

You weren’t sure if it was the alcohol or something else, but Eunseok grabbed your wrist firmly and pulled you out of the party, telling you right then and there that he wanted to break up. You couldn’t understand what was happening.

“What are you saying, Eunseok? You’re not serious…” you said in disbelief.

“Yes, y/n, we’re done. Now you can be with your friend freely,” he muttered, turning to leave, but you quickly grabbed his hand.

“Eunseok, please, you don’t have to do this. Don’t leave me, I can stop talking to him if that’s what bothers you, but I can’t be without you… please,” you begged.

ᯓ★ SUNGCHAN

Sungchan had been acting strange over the last few days. Nothing had happened between you two—actually, everything had been perfect the last time you saw each other. But for some reason, he had become distant, taking longer to respond to your texts, and when he did, his replies were short and cold. Not understanding what was wrong, you decided to go to his house to talk to him face to face. You didn’t expect the reason for his behavior to be that he was thinking about breaking up, which hit you hard. Your eyes filled with tears as you begged him for an explanation, but Sungchan couldn’t even look at you.

“But… Sungchan, everything’s been fine between us, why…?” you asked, voice shaking.

“I just feel like we should break up, y/n… I don’t think I’m good enough for you,” he said quietly.

You couldn’t believe what he was saying. Not good enough for you? He knew how happy you were with him, so why would he think that? Searching for his gaze, you placed your hands on his cheeks, making him look at you.

“Sungchan, you’re perfect for me, and you know it. Please, don’t leave me… I can’t even imagine my life without you right now. Please, think this over,” you pleaded, tears falling.

ᯓ★ WONBIN

You had been with Wonbin since the very beginning of his dancing journey. You loved watching him dance, unable to take your eyes off him whenever he showed you a new routine he had learned. That’s why, when he got offered a job as a dancer in a show, you were so happy for him. Neither of you expected him to get this far so soon. But the joy quickly turned into something darker when you found out he would have to move to another city.

Initially, it shocked you, but you thought you could handle a long-distance relationship, especially since you could still see each other on weekends. However, Wonbin didn’t feel the same way. You couldn’t stop trembling when Wonbin said the words:

“I think we should break up.”

You knew his reasoning was because of the distance. You understood how anxious and stressed he was about moving, but you couldn’t comprehend how he could come to this conclusion. You couldn’t imagine being apart from him. Tears streaming down your face, you looked at Wonbin, who was avoiding your gaze, trying not to cry himself.

“Wonbin, please… Don’t say that. You know we can make this work, we can try. But please, don’t leave me, I can’t even bear the thought of it… please…” you cried.

ᯓ★ SEUNGHAN

You had been with Seunghan for so long that you sometimes lost track of how many years you’d been together. You had seen each other grow up, witnessed each other’s achievements and failures. You’d been there for each other through the highs and the lows. You always thought your relationship with Seunghan would last forever because it felt perfect. One night, while reminiscing about the early days of your relationship, something you often did, Seunghan said something you never expected to hear.

“I feel like our relationship is stuck… and sometimes… I think about ending it. Don’t you feel the same?”

You froze, staring at him. Had you heard him correctly? Did Seunghan just say he wanted to break up? Tears filled your eyes and streamed down your cheeks as Seunghan remained silent, not saying anything more, but also not trying to comfort you. Once you managed to calm your sobbing, you spoke.

“Seunghan, we’ve been through so much together… And yes, sometimes it feels like we’re not moving forward, but please, don’t leave me. I can’t imagine my life without you. We can try new things, do anything to change things, but please, don’t abandon me… not after all this time.”

ᯓ★ SOHEE

You hadn’t been dating Sohee for long, just a little over a month. You thought things might be awkward at first since you had been friends for so long before dating, but you had been adjusting well. You loved the closeness and intimacy you were developing in such a short time. But apparently, Sohee didn’t feel the same way. While cuddling on the couch watching a movie, Sohee let slip a thought.

“Do you think our relationship was better when we were just friends?”

You laughed a little, thinking he was joking, but when you looked at him, you realized he was serious. How could he say that in this moment? The fact that he had been thinking about this for days broke your heart. While you thought everything was going well, Sohee had been considering breaking up and going back to being just friends.

“Sohee, I think I’m much happier being your girlfriend, much happier. Sure, we had fun as friends, but I love you, Sohee… and hearing that hurts. Please don’t leave me… I swear we can make this work, please…”

ᯓ★ ANTON

The day before, you had one of the best days with Anton. You spent the whole day together, going from place to place, eating at your favorite restaurant. That’s why, when he said he “needed time” and thought you should break up, you were confused. It was morning, you had just woken up after spending the night together, and during breakfast, that’s when he dropped the news.

“Anton, did I do something wrong?” you asked, voice trembling.

“No, you didn’t do anything… I just need some time to…”

“Then I don’t understand,” you interrupted him, feeling the lump forming in your throat.

Not only did his words hurt, but the calmness with which he said them hurt even more. It felt like he had been thinking about this for a while. But if he had been thinking this way for so long, why did he act so normal yesterday? None of it made sense to you, and the more you thought about it, the more you wanted to cry. You reached across the table, grabbing his hand tightly, looking at him with tear-filled eyes.

“Anton, please… I’m begging you. Don’t leave me, don’t leave me alone. I can give you a few days to think if you need, but I need you, I need you by my side, please… just don’t leave me.”

ᡣ𐭩 masterlist

taglist: @regularsuh @gacktsa @totheseok @kkumistars @taroddori

@enhacolor @ladylilith @electric-hearts @astrobymarwa @layluv123 @sunflowers1610

[barleyo]

Build-A-Bride.

Enji Todoroki X F! Reader (smut)

A/N: i can't stop writing broken enji... he's so depressed and lonely i LOVE it ^_^ isn't he just so dreamy? all downtrodden and sad? anyways this is so half-assed, sorry!

Tags: dub-con, forced/arranged marriage (sort of), age gap, mostly plot tbh (minimal smut), brief mentions of dehumanization, breeding, creampie, p in v, size difference, language barrier

Wordcount: 1.8k

Women don't like divorcés. It's a mark of failure. It brings down one's stock value. Enji's mistakes with Rei were numerous. He knew it was for the best, that he had nothing to fight for when she had the papers mailed to him. Why would he argue with her about it? The kids had all grown up and moved out. Their assets were easily separable. She did not ask for much in the split, and even if she did Enji would have given it up without pushing back. 

He was a man defeated. What point would there be in chasing after Rei again? He did not love her; not truly, at least, and she certainly did not love him. They had been living stagnantly ever since she was released from the hospital. It would be a feat for them to even speak to each other over breakfast. Idle chat about the weather or what their adult children were doing was a rare treat. 

Enji's life had slowed significantly. No children to fill his too-big-for-one-man house and no woman to be kept company by. Work had slowed down. Younger heroes took the top spots, slowly but surely. Even his own son was predicted to soon surpass him. Old timers, or "Golden-Age Heroes", as the media titled them, were losing fame and fortune alike. No longer the hot commodity, old was out, new was in.

He expected it, really. His goal was to be the number one hero, and he was for a while. Was it his dream to remain number one? He didn't have time to think about it before he got knocked down to a measly third place in the ranks. 

He had thrown so much of himself into the hero life. It crossed his mind a few times, it all ending, but he never realized that it would come crashing down so soon. What friends he had, using the term very lightly, were less than helpful in his condition. 

None less so than Hawks, of course. That damned fool.

Keigo had been dragging Enji out to these annoyingly quaint cafés for a while now. He'd force piles of biscotti and scones onto Enji's plate while blabbing on about some new excursion of his or the other, taking up the prime hours of Enji's day in the name of socializing. 

Seldom it was that Enji left the impromptu meet-ups with anything but slight annoyance at best and utter exhaustion at worst. He could hardly pay attention to the meaningless drivel Keigo threw his way. Sometimes it was talk of the current hero ranks, which Enji immediately tuned out. Other times it was about a concert or movie Keigo was going to. 

Lately, though, Keigo had an interest in trying to play matchmaker for Enji. 

"You should really get out there," he said, smug little smile plastered on his cheeky face while he sipped his espresso. "You aren't getting younger."

Enji's response was the same as always, in that he was too busy and too old to be worrying about such things. "I do not have time to woo a woman like a schoolboy. I'm fine where I am," he responded with his arms resting on the café's comparably small table. 

Keigo chuckled, curling his lips upwards. "You can only spend so many nights with your right hand, Endeavor."

"Shut your damned mouth."

"If you won't let me set you up with someone," Keigo said, not taking Enji's gruff tone seriously, as usual, "there is another option."

Enji pressed his mouth closed tightly, eyes narrowing into a judgmental squint. "It had better not be online dating."

Defensive hands flew up. "No, no. You've made that pretty clear, man. I'm talking about getting, like, a mail-order bride or whatever they're called."

"You do realize how much that sounds like human trafficking, right?"

"It does not! They still do it, you know. There are websites and everything." 

Enji sighed and leaned his head back to look up at the ceiling. The idea sounded horrible. God only knew how sketchy something like that would be, and besides, how horrible were the moral implications of that? Some old bastard like himself purchasing a young girl like a farm animal. 

It wasn't completely unheard of. Plenty colleagues of his had foreign brides ordered for them. Even his own cousins had done similar things. Hell, he wasn't far off from trying it out to get the perfect quirk marriage before he found Rei. 

But now? It sounded cruel. Unnecessary. He already resented himself for how he treated his family— he didn't need to ruin the life of some other woman too.

"I am not going to order a wife," he said, voice strained, "like a spare part off of eBay. Do you not see how horrible that would look on me?"

Keigo waved his hand dismissively, unbothered. “It’s not like that. These women are looking for a chance at a better life," he explained before teasingly adding, "just like the lonely men who send for them." 

Enji stared at him, trying to decipher if he was serious. “You really think I'm desperate enough to buy some random woman?"

"Don't think of it like 'buying.' Think of it as rescuing. How will the press feel about that, hm? Imagine the headline: ‘Endeavor, the hero with a heart, saves a foreign damsel in distress by bringing her to Japan to live a new life of riches and mind-blowing sex!'"

"You disgust sometimes, you little brat."

Keigo leaned over the table, teeth flashing briefly as he spoke. "Just think about it, okay? I'll send you some links tonight." He got up and pushed his chair in with his foot. "Besides, I'm tired of being your only friend. These little 'dates' of ours are cutting majorly into my work." 

Keigo had compiled a ridiculously long list of websites and companies that specialized in international marriage deals. He had definitely committed to the bit too much or he had researched this topic heavily before presenting it to Enji via text.

Either way, Enji peered at his cell phone screen in distaste. Link after link, scrolling through the masterlist Hawks compiled, he just felt more unsure of the idea. The names of the sites left a strange feeling in his gut. 

GoldenBride, Rose Brides, Latidate. For fuck's sake, UkraineBride4You dot com? "Legitimate & Cheapest Mail Order Bride Sites! Click here for more!" 

He clicked his phone off. The light from the vibrant ads and taglines disappeared from his face as quickly as they appeared, leaving him in the dark of his bedroom. He didn't speak, he just stayed in his bed, leaning on the headboard in silence. 

He had gotten used to his house being quiet. It was never especially loud, but at least when the kids still lived at home, he could hear the sounds of life. Of Shoto's feet padding through the halls. The sound of Fuyumi's books opening and closing. Natsuo's grumbling under his breath. Proof that he had gotten them all this far— that he had done something right for them. 

No. He couldn't stay this way, living in the dark silence, figuratively and literally. He turned his phone back on and clicked the highlighted link with the least concerning name. 

Well, you were just the perfect little thing, weren't you? Young, pretty, doe-eyed, and sweet. After perusing a website that looked less criminal than he thought it would, Enji decided on you. He had to have you. 

You stood out immediately from the pages of other women. All of them were, of course, gorgeous. They would not be advertised if they weren't. You, though. There was something about you. You were small—Enji liked that—but not frail. Built for carrying children was what you were, he decided, with your soft curves and buxom build. 

Your profile did not give much away. Basic information and a little greeting. It intrigued him enough, so clearly it worked. 

The two of you chatted for a few weeks, if you could call it that. There was little getting to know each other and more plane tickets being purchased and pick up times being arranged. To say that you had him hooked was an understatement, especially considering the only tools you had to connect with him were shitty translations of your language to his from Google and emojis. 

Everything about you read as gentle. Docile. Probably the only personality Enji was equipped to deal with. He would just die if married to a combative woman. His enemies would love to see him nestled up with a loud, abrasive one with a temper to match his own. 

No, you would do quite nicely, with your limited speaking and non-provoking nature. You were the perfect escape, a blank canvas onto which he could project his hopes for a new life onto. He could start a family over again. He could fix his mistakes and move on. Maybe, just maybe, he could forgive himself.

The flood of ideas filled him each time his phone buzzed with your messages, even if they were often short and punctuated by misunderstandings and screwy sentences due to poor translations. He found himself counting the days until your plane would take off to bring you to him, to his home. He had plans for you.

Things moved quickly with your new husband. Just last week your flight landed. Then you were  saying "I do," and now he had you bent in positions unimaginable. 

He worked fast. His hands were large and rough, but God, they were efficient. Thick fingers rubbed at your clit. A thicker cock  prodded at your entrance. You wriggled beneath him a bit, eyes widening at the stretch. 

You didn't have the words to tell him you were a virgin, but you didn't have the desire to stop him either. 

"Hold still, you," he said, voice gentle in comparison to how rough his strokes were. "You've got to let it adjust." 

Even if you could understand his words, the heat burning your ears drowned out any sound completely. Fullness filled you everywhere. Like a missing piece you never knew you didn't have. 

"Ah, you still aren't broken in yet for me," he muttered to himself. He watched as your struggles to swallow him into your walls. "Virgin, yeah?"

You mumbled incoherently to yourself, feeling his words cast over your face. More or less, you understood the tone of his words and hummed in agreement, hands playing with your tits absent mindedly. 

Pain tinted moans escaped you. Enji felt good, sure, but a warmth of discomfort passed through you with every inch of him. Your mind told you yes, but your body tried to reject him. He was simply too big, and too much. 

Not that it would stop him. 

He spat on his length to ease the friction. A steady hand stayed over your clit, abusing it to the point of overstimulation. He wanted this to be pleasurable for you, but he had a goal in mind. 

The load or two he had pumped into you earlier wasn't enough. He wouldn't dare give up yet, especially not with the adrenaline rush hearing you whine gave him. 

Besides, your plane ticket was expensive. He planned on getting paid back in spades.

[intrepidacious]

almost believing

summary: You and Bucky aren't exactly on speaking terms at the moment. That doesn't mean you're getting out of having to pretend to be married for a mission.

pairing: bucky barnes x f!reader

word count: 5.4k

warnings: miscommunication dialled up to eleven bc it's me; friends to lovers with lots of seething in between; set around christmas, but not a christmas fic; slight spoiler warning for wakanda forever just to be safe

please note that my blog is rated 18+. minors dni. ageless/empty blogs will be blocked without warning.

prompt: fake dating, baby 😌 title and initial inspiration for this fic were taken from "so close" from enchanted. yes. that scene.

a/n: this was written for my wonderful tiff's sweet as sugar writing challenge!! @traitorjoelite i'm so proud of you and i hope you enjoy this fic. i really thought this one would be short i swear. big shoutout and thank you to @sweetascanbee for listening to me rant about this for weeks, i appreciate you so much!!

masterlist | read on ao3

Here’s the thing: It’s supposed to be a simple mission. Just gathering intel at the hotel for one single night, the two of you pretending that everything is fine for a couple of hours more.

After all, it’s Bucky’s last mission with you before his reassignment goes through.

Well, it’s not like it’s going to make a difference to how much you’re seeing him, to be honest.

You’re not sure when he started making himself rare or why, but once you noticed it, it was impossible not to.

"Sorry, I’m heading out," when you ask him to grab lunch together seems inconspicuous enough, as does, "Ah, I’m already supposed to meet Sam," when you try asking him about that trip to IKEA you’d been talking about for ages.

But it doesn’t stop there. One excuse follows the next, and suddenly there’s always something more important than the two of you hanging out.

Of course, you try to rationalize it at first. Swallow down your hurt feelings, because Bucky is your friend, and sometimes people just need space. You’re fine. The two of you are fine.

Once he starts scheduling dates for Friday night, though—which has always been movie night, always, every week since you met him—you know that something’s wrong.

"Is he angry with me?" you keep asking Steve, who looks very uncomfortable and definitely knows what's going on.

"Just give him a little space," he suggests timidly. So you do. You let the whole thing go.

For like a week.

"I just don’t know what I did," you tell Sam over drinks, your head held in your hands.

"Nope," he answers, downing his dregs. "I’m not doing this. Nuh-uh."

"You know, too?" you cry, accusingly pointing at him.

"I don’t know anything," Sam deadpans. And then he puts his scarf on and leaves.

"Maybe try talking to Bucky about it?" Natasha suggests, either incapable of hiding her amused smile or unwilling to try.

"I would if I ever saw him for longer than a 'hi, how are you' at the gym," you mumble. Fact is, you’re getting pissed about him giving you the silent treatment without even knowing what you did wrong.

Because before this, whatever this is, things were fine. Great, even. Free afternoons were spent on each other’s couches, introducing him to your favorite tv shows and letting him teach you that stupid card game he loves so damn much. You’d even been starting to imagine that there might be something …

Clearly, you were wrong.

Now, you can’t even look at him without your throat closing up. It’s like you woke up a few weeks ago and he’s become an entirely different person around you, much more like he was at the beginning of your friendship, distant and cold.

He didn’t even tell you that he’d signed up for a transfer.

The mission call feels like your last chance.

A whole evening of teamwork and espionage, of him basically having no other choice than talking to you and finally telling you why the fuck he would get himself reassigned without even telling you beforehand. You could’ve hugged Fury for the opportunity.

That is, until you’re handed the file containing your fake identities for the op a few hours before you’re supposed to leave.

"You’re joking," you say as soon as you open the door.

"Great, you’re here as well," Steve says dryly. "Again, a) you both gotta learn how to knock, b) the whole thing wasn’t my idea or my decision, but I also think it’s the best directive for what you’re trying to do, and c) no, there’s no one else available for the mission. Anything I missed?"

Bucky deliberately doesn’t meet your eye, his arms still crossed as he stares Steve down with a look you can’t decipher. He doesn’t even acknowledge you standing in the door, but his foot is doing the tapping thing again.

You purse your lips and join the staring.

Steve sighs, rubbing his temples with the palms of his hands. "Listen, you two work well together and I know these past few weeks have been … strained"—you almost laugh at that—"but it’s just one night."

"We need to pretend we’re married," you say. "How’re we going to pull that off if he can’t stand being in the same room as me?"

"I trust that there won’t be any issues." Steve raises an eyebrow at Bucky as he says that, but of course he doesn’t get a reply. That would necessitate talking in your presence.

"One night," Bucky repeats through gritted teeth.

Not for the first time, there seems to be some sort of silent conversation between the two of them that you’re not privy to. You roll your eyes.

"I’ll see you later."

You leave with your back straight and without a glance over your shoulder, the door slamming shut behind you.

For a moment, you’re tempted to barge into Natasha’s office next, but you have a feeling like she’d just give you another one of her looks again, which really won’t better your mood. So instead, you slam another door and flop onto your bed, blankly staring at the ceiling for a while.

Surely, there’s some twisted sort of irony in this whole situation, but you’re not laughing.

Usually, before a mission, you’d get bagels together from the bakery around the corner. You haven’t done that in a while, but you’re still quietly begging your phone to show a new unread message when you look at the time however long later.

Instead, there’s just your lockscreen picture of Bucky’s grinning face that you can’t bear to get rid off, no matter how many times it stings you. It’s almost a year old, now, back when you’d taken him to go do your holiday shopping with you, insisting that "no one’s gonna recognize you, look at that great cap you’re wearing".

It’d started snowing halfway through the afternoon, and he’d kept reaching for your hand in order not to lose you in the crowd. You both gave up halfway through your list and just went to get coffee instead, strolling through Central Park and talking about nothing and everything.

That’s when you’d realized you'd been falling in love with him, laughing and fingers freezing around your paper cup, a strange new warmth spreading throughout your body.

You need to change your lockscreen.

***

Half an hour before pick-up, you leave your room with a duffle bag slung over your shoulder and almost run into Bucky. He’s leaning against the opposite wall like he’s been waiting for you, and it stings because that’s what he always used to do, back when you were still talking. When you could still pretend that maybe, just maybe, your feelings weren’t quite so hopeless.

Now, though, his easy smile is missing. Instead, an ever-present frown is furrowing his brows again, his mouth opened just a little, but nothing comes out.

"Look, I don’t want to do this any more than you do," you sigh. "But it’s a two-person job."

He nods, his tongue poking his cheek. "I know."

"Do you think you’re gonna be alright with us pretending we’re madly in love for a whole evening?"

Bucky’s jaw tightens. "I’ll be fine."

Of course he’s going to be fine.

You grab the strap of your bag more tightly. "I wish you would just tell me what I did."

"You didn’t do anything." If he’s telling the truth, though, why does he look so numb?

For a moment, you want to shout at him, cry, beg, make him tell you when and how this went wrong, but you don’t. You just stare at him in silence, hoping he’ll get it anyway, and he refuses to notice it.

"So," Bucky finally says. "You ready to get hitched?"

There’s the ghost of a grin in his eyes, and even though it’s not enough to mask the uncomfortable tilt of his shoulders, you sigh. At least he’s trying, you suppose.

"Let’s just get fake-married so we can fake-divorce and go our separate ways," you say, walking past him.

"I’ve got something for you."

You turn around again, raising your eyebrows as he holds up a ring between the fingers of his left hand. There’s a giant stone set in its center, striking and sparkling and not subtle in the slightest. Tony really went all out for appearance’s sake. Your fingers involuntarily tighten around the strap of your bag.

Bucky drops the ring in the palm of your hand.

"Quite the present," you chuckle nervously. You don’t even want to know how much this thing costs, and you feel like they're going to chop off your head if something happens to it.

"Try it on, then."

It’s a bit too large on your finger, and it feels foreign. It’s not you at all. Then again, it’s not supposed to be you.

Before you can say anything, though, Bucky shakes his head. "What?" you say with a roll of your eyes.

"That couldn’t look more fake if you tried. Wait a sec."

He turns his back towards you and rummages through his bag for a while, his jaw still set as he holds out his hand once more. With a sigh, you pull the ring off again and return it, but before you can pull your hand back, he catches it in his own.

This one slides onto your finger perfectly, and your eyes widen at the sight of it. It’s a lot subtler, with only a small emerald for decoration, but it’s so delicate and beautiful it takes your breath away.

Bucky’s mouth opens and closes, but he swallows whatever came to his mind. "That’s better," he says instead, and his voice sounds oddly rough.

"They gave you a backup?" you say, angling your hand this way and that to see how the gem catches the light.

"Mhm."

Something is off about this whole situation, but then you feel like you don’t really know Bucky anymore. Not like you used to, anyway. It used to be so easy to get a read on him.

You stand there in silence for a moment, and it’s only then that both of you realize he’s still holding your hand. He drops it immediately, and you pretend it doesn’t sting.

"How come you don’t get a ring?" you ask.

"Says who?" Bucky says, clearing his throat and activating the camouflage sleeve Tony had installed for his arm. Sure enough, there’s a ring on his hand as well.

You grab his hand curiously. When you touch it, there’s no difference between his fingers and the pseudo-platinum band, all of it just cool vibranium in disguise.

"It’s fake," you say. "It’s not the same."

"No," he agrees and pulls his hand away. "Looks real enough, though."

You notice the red splotches on his neck and wonder what it is that you’ve said this time, but it’s pointless anyway. He’s not going to tell you even if you asked.

Maybe you should be used to him icing you out by now, but it still hurts.

***

"Yes, Steve, I know," you sigh. "We’re just gathering intel, nothing else."

"I just wanted to have you say it again so we’re all clear. You both love taking risks when it’s not necessary."

"Alright, punk, we got it," Bucky says, tugging at his tie again.

You can’t even blame him for the nervous habit; you’ve been twisting your fake wedding ring around your finger for the entire drive.

This isn’t the first time the two of you had to go undercover as a couple; hell, it’s not even the first time you’ve pretended to be married. Usually, though, you could have a laugh about the whole thing together.

Now you barely know how to act around Bucky as yourself, let alone as some made up woman.

"I think we’re going to attract a lot of attention if we don’t get out soon," you say, readjusting the collar of your blouse underneath your coat.

You notice Steve staring at your hand for a moment, a frown between his brows, but his lips curve upwards a split second later. "Ready to do this?" he asks and you smile a little in confirmation.

Bucky takes another breath and then he nods curtly. "Let’s go."

The change that goes through him as soon as the two of you climb out of the car is so stark you almost turn on your heels again and beg Steve to let you off the hook, after all. His hand sneaks around your waist and pulls you closely into his side as you walk towards the hotel, all soft smiles and charm.

"Sorry for the holdup," he tells the bellman waiting next to your bags with a wink. "The missus and I just needed another minute."

You lightly slap Bucky’s chest in fake indignation. It’s quick thinking on his part, really.

When you’re checking in under your assumed names for the evening, he keeps his arm around you, and the content look stays in his eyes. A subtle glance at your surroundings tells you some of your persons of interest have already arrived early for the event tonight, looking around the sparkling lobby with the same feigned boredom.

Bucky nudges your cheek with his nose and then smiles again when you look at him. It makes your brain shut off for a moment.

When he looks at you like this, it’s so easy to forget the past couple of months and just pretend for a moment. What if there was no mission at all, and it could simply be the two of you?

But of course, that’s not possible. All of it is fake, including the way he looks at you. You know that.

So how come it doesn’t feel fake to you at all?

***

You hate this dress, you hate these people, you hate this dinner, and most of all, you hate how much you enjoy spending this much time so physically close to Bucky.

It feels so natural when he links your hand with yours, so fucking meant to be, even though he’s just putting on a show for the band of creeps you’re tasked to keep an eye on.

But damn if he’s not good at it.

It’s amazing, really, how his eyes immediately soften when you turn your head towards him, like you’re the only person in the whole room. He looks at you during this charade like you wish he’d look at you daily, even far from prying eyes around you; especially then. It makes your breath shorten, your heart pounding erratically because it thinks it’s getting everything it’s ever hoped for.

Hearts are often stupid like that.

A full night of glances and touches and the pretence of secret whispers will do all kinds of twisted things to your feelings.

There’s a lull in the conversation, and when Bucky squeezes your hand you realize he’s no longer the only one who’s looking at you.

You chuckle nervously. "I’m sorry, I got … distracted for a moment. What were you saying?"

"Ah, newlyweds," one of the investor goons laughs. He’s a particularly vile looking man whose suit is way too big on his spindly limbs.

Bucky, academy award winning actor in another lifetime, chuckles politely while the fondness in his eyes seems to increase tenfold. "We’ve been married three years, actually," he says, sticking to your official cover story.

It’d been Tony’s idea to keep your fake timeline as close to the truth as possible to avoid any slip-ups. It’s a great move on paper, really, but in reality it just adds another nail to the coffin.

Three years ago, you were on a mission in Brussels, only the second one ever where it was just the two of you. It was mostly surveillance, so one of you usually had downtime while the other kept lookout. It became customary that you’d entertain each other during those long hours, getting to know each other intimately for the first time, taking the first tentative steps towards the friendship you now share.

That mission was the groundwork of your falling in love with him in the first place.

"You seem to be doing something right if you’re both still so enamoured with each other," Spindly Arms says.

"I’m the luckiest guy in the world," Bucky responds, still looking into your eyes. "It’s hard not to do the right thing, then."

He presses a kiss to your cheek and you smile timidly. His lips linger for just a moment, and then he moves to whisper into your ear, something you’re sure looks like sweet nothings to everybody else but is actually a, "Don’t fall asleep on me."

You tilt your head, shove him teasingly as if he’d said something inappropriate, and because he’s always been quick to catch on he winks, obvious enough so that the other people that are part of this conversation can clearly see it.

It’s not long after this that you excuse yourselves, walking around the room with apparent aimlessness. Everything is sparkling with pure gold decorations and countless little twinkling lights that have been scattered around the room like millions of fireflies. You spot an actual orchestra right underneath the massive Christmas tree.

"Kind of tacky, don’t you think?" Bucky murmurs with a sideway glance at you.

"Maybe a little," you say.

The truth is, though, the room looks oversaturated and expensive and magnificent. Something straight out of a Hallmark movie, more like a movie set than a real place.

It’s the one thing that keeps this whole thing from being completely unbearable.

He must have seen the truth in your eyes, because he ducks his head and says quietly, "I’m gonna go check out the terrace."

You just nod and smile as he kisses your cheek again and then vanishes through the crowd with a few long strides. Sighing, you take another drink from the tray a waiter offers you, absent-mindedly rubbing your cheek.

"What a lovely surprise," a voice says next to you and you freeze for a moment before forcing yourself to calmly take a sip. "Miss … Winter, was it?"

"Mrs," you say with a pleasant smile. "Good evening, Director."

"Right, of course." Director de Fontaine eyes her martini warily. "I don’t suppose these olives are fresh, do you?"

Your mind is racing. If she’s here on official business, then your entire operation might be compromised.

"So," she continues, looking rather bored. "Met any interesting people yet, Mrs Winter?"

"Oh, yes," you say lightly, clinging to your role of unassuming young wife. "It’s all rather exciting."

"I’m sure. These kinds of events are all very … shiny." She looks into your eyes and there’s an almost explicit warning written in hers. "It’s surprisingly easy to get blinded."

You swallow heavily even as she smiles. "If you’ll excuse me, I think I see someone …"

You quickly walk over to the buffet table where some of the wives have formed a semi circle of gossip, trying your best to hide your sigh of relief when the director doesn’t follow you.

For a few minutes, you lose yourself in pointless gossip, until one of the women takes hold of your forearm.

"You must tell us, what’s your secret?"

"Excuse me?" you chuckle nervously.

"Your husband!" she exclaims, earning a few nods from some of the others. "He clearly adores you," she goes on. "I don’t think he’s looked away from you once since you joined us."

You steal a look around your shoulder. She’s right. Bucky’s gaze immediately locks with yours, an almost bashful grin on his lips. You caught me, his eyes seem to say, and you feel a rush of heat go through you.

He should be nominated for an Oscar with this performance.

Quickly, you turn around again to meet several expectant pairs of eyes.

"I don’t know what to tell you," you say. "He’s just … always been like this. I mean, he’s my best friend. I really don’t know what I would do without him."

There’s not a word of a lie in what you’re saying, and it elicits a round of coos and murmurs even as your heart gives a sharp pang.

"Dance with me?"

You flinch, turning to look at Bucky’s outstretched hand, at the sad, hopeful look in his eyes, and the line between reality and fiction blurs a bit more.

You take his hand, and he pulls you onto the dance floor, some cheery Christmas song ramping up to its big finale. Then, the band switches to a slower song. To you, it sounds mournful.

"That was nice," Bucky mutters into your ear. "What you said."

"I meant it, you know," you whisper, but he turns, and you don’t think he’s heard you.

Bucky places his hand on your hip and you hide a shudder. His gloved fingers wrap around yours, and then you start moving again.

You barely know the steps, but he’s a great leader, and he doesn’t say anything when you step on his toes. In fact, his gaze softens even more when he looks at you after the third time, the hand around your waist pulling you a little closer.

"How are you doing this?" you say without stopping to smile.

"Easy," Bucky says, and the way he says it almost makes you believe it’s true.

You bite your lip, trying to stop yourself from breathing him in. "I didn’t mean the dancing."

With the last note of the song, you stumble over his foot again and he snorts. "Me neither."

The melody changes and neither of you lets go. His steps are getting slower, smaller, like he’s just trying to keep both of you in motion. Your head is spinning. The twinkling lights are starting to blur into a great mass of stars in the background, like you’re at the center of a music box and everything else is just background noise.

You wrap both hands around his neck as you’re swaying, then, your foreheads only inches apart. You could stay in this moment forever, you think, as it stretches into blissful infinity. Somewhere, a clock strikes ten.

Bucky leans in a little closer and your breath hitches again.

"It’s time," he whispers, and your eyes fly open.

You’d almost forgotten about the mission.

"Val is here," you say quietly.

His expression hardens for just a second. "What?"

"She came to talk to me earlier. She knows we’re here."

"Why didn’t you say something?"

"I … There wasn’t time."

"We’re just gonna have to be quick and discrete."

You open your mouth, but then you see the distance close in again between you two, and so you just nod.

The plan is almost laughably simple, but it’s probably going to work out just as you’ve laid out beforehand. Everyone in the room has watched the two of you staring at each other for the past couple of hours, so no one bats an eye when Bucky nudges you gently and you make your way up the stairs to the fancy elevator that’s going to take you up to a bedroom.

Or, more specifically, to a bedroom that’s being used to store all kinds of evidence, but no one else needs to know that little detail.

You notice the director talking to Spindly Arms and a couple of other people, but you force your gaze not to linger on her. Instead, you grab Bucky’s hand more tightly.

He lets go of you as soon as the elevator doors close behind the two of you, dragging a hand through his hair and messing it up. There aren’t any cameras in the elevator, but you’re both pretty sure there will be on the floor you’re going. "CIA exposure, that’s exactly what we needed."

"There was nothing I could’ve done," you say, tugging your sleeves down your shoulders.

"I’m not blaming you, sweetheart," Bucky says distractedly, loosening his tie. Your heart makes a very heavy thud. "But if Walker shows up tonight as well, I’m gonna shoot first and ask questions later."

"No, you won’t," you say with a grin, mostly because you know he didn’t bring his gun because the male attendees were all frisked at the entrance.

"Maybe I’ll throw a knife. I could say it was an accident."

The conversation lasts barely a moment, but it reminds you so much of what the two of you used to be, it hurts.

You follow him stumbling out of the elevator onto the right floor with a breathless laugh. There’s no one in sight as you subtly check the room numbers before making him follow you with a coquettish smile for the security camera.

You find the right door without much trubble, pulling the keycard out of your inconvenient little handbag. "Come on now," you murmur as the lock rejects it at the first try.

Suddenly, Bucky’s hand is on your waist again, and you gasp as he spins around. The keycard drops to the floor.

He presses you against the wall, effectively trapping you in his embrace. Your hands are laid flat against his chest, his heart thundering madly underneath your fingertips. Bucky’s eyes flit around madly, like he’s trying to come up with something on the spot and, for the first time since you’ve known him, is left without ideas.

You gasp as his nose brushes against yours.

"Sorry," he whispers hoarsely. And then he kisses you.

Your body responds immediately, lighting a fire in your core as his lips press against yours, hungry, gentle, almost apologetic. You can taste the champagne on his tongue.

You arch your back against him on instinct as his hands travel down your arms, brushing your hips, your tighs, slowly parting your dress at the slit. Your eyes fly open the moment you realize what he’s doing, even though he swallows your gasp.

In one smooth motion, he pulls the I.C.E.R. out of the garter on your thigh and fires a single, silenced shot. The guy with the earpiece barely has the time to grunt before he sacks against the opposite wall, unconscious, his hand still in the pocket of his jacket.

"Fuck," you hiss, pushing Bucky away from you. He stumbles slightly, the gun loose in his fingers. His eyes are almost black as he blinks at you. "You could have told me we’re being shadowed."

Bucky’s mouth is stained from your lipstick, and the sight of that alone makes your head swim. You can still feel the ghost of his hand on your leg.

"It’d have blown our cover," he replies, infuriatingly calm. "Hate me later, our window has just narrowed by a bit."

You swallow, blinking to try and gain control over your breath again, grabbing your gun back with a short nod. "Let’s finish this, then."

***

Back at the Compound, you both give an exhausted report about the events of the night, leaving out nothing but your improvised kiss on floor fifteen.

Your lips are still tingling with it.

Finally, you and Bucky are left alone in the briefing room, and for the first time in weeks, he doesn’t just get up and leave as soon as the silence takes hold. Instead, you both sit next to each other, staring straight ahead.

"I guess we should talk," he says slowly, reluctantly, and you can’t help it.

Your defenses shoot up again.

"I don’t know what you’re talking about," you say, squinting.

"Yes, you do." He’s lost the tie hours ago, but he keeps tugging at the fabric in his hands as if it could give him the words he’s looking for. "I shouldn’t have kissed you, not with … Not like that."

"Like you said, the guy would’ve blown our cover," you say, crossing your arms.

"Doesn’t make it right."

"What do you want me to say, Buck?" you say sharply. "That you should’ve talked to me before? Well, I’m kind of used to you not doing that anymore, so just forget it."

"Y/N—"

"No, really, it’s fine. Like I said, you’re leaving, anyway, so what does it matter. Didn’t tell me you were planning to do that, either. You just did it."

"You know why I’m leaving."

"No, I fucking don’t!" There are tears in your eyes now. "I have been trying really hard, Bucky, but you’ve just shut me out. I thought you needed space, which is fine, by the way, but you just—one day you decided you were done with me and that was it."

He stares at you incredulously. "You seriously don’t remember."

"Don’t remember what?!"

"That you were talking about me. To Natasha."

The memory rushes through you so violently it’s almost ridiculous you hadn’t thought about it in months.

You’d just come back from another undercover op, and you’d called her right as the door to your room had closed behind you because not for the first time, your feelings had threatened to spill over again.

"You should talk to him. Be honest."

"No, Nat, come on, I can’t—I can’t do that to him. I can’t risk … you know, he’s my best friend. And that’s all it can ever be. I don’t want to ruin what we have. I just wish he’d make it easier."

"You’re making excuses, you know. Both of you deserve a bit of happiness, don’t you think?"

"I tried," Bucky says now, barely looking at you. "I tried making it easier. But you’re so …"

"So what?" you ask hollowly, ignoring the fact that you can feel the tears starting to trickle down your cheeks now. "So pathetic? That’s what this is about, isn’t it? That’s why you asked for the transfer, so you can be rid of me."

"Rid of you?" Bucky starts, but you ignore him.

"You know what, Bucky, fuck you if you think my feelings for you are so much of an inconvenience that you need to leave the state. Silly me for thinking we could be adults about this."

"You’re the one who wouldn’t just tell me."

"Well, now you know anyway and I’m sure once you’re off to Cairo or wherever the fuck they’re going to send you, you can have a big old laugh about the stupid girl who fell in love with you despite the fact that—"

"Love?"

"I mean, obviously?!"

"You … you’re in love … with me?" There’s something very soft and vulnerable in Bucky’s eyes.

"Are we talking about two different phone calls?"

"I thought you hated me."

You huff incredulously. "Why would I hate you?"

"That’s why I gave you space, I thought … but then …" He grabs your hands. "Sweetheart, I’ve been in love with you for years."

It punches the air out of your lungs. "What?"

Bucky’s eyes are devastating as he looks at you, then. "I’m so sorry, I—I got it all wrong, I was just—I thought you know and you didn’t see me like that and that’s why I …"

"You …?" you say, still not quite comprehending what’s going on.

His thumb caresses your knuckles, halting when it makes contact with the ring you’re still wearing. "I'm in love with you," he says quietly.

"I don’t understand," you whisper.

"Please tell me I didn’t fuck this up completely."

This time, you’re the one to lean in.

Where your first kiss in the hallway had been feverish, this one is soft, almost unbelievably sweet, both of you still breathless with the fact that you’re allowed to do this. Finally, it feels like all the pieces are falling into place and you’re home again.

You press closer into him and Bucky smiles against your lips, pulling you in with his hands on your hips just like he did when you were dancing earlier.

The loudspeakers overhead crackle. "Alright, kids, we’re gonna break this up until you’re back in your own quarters, I don’t want to expose FRIDAY to the creation of your sex tape."

You break up with a snort.

"Fuck you, Tony," Bucky shouts, but he’s still smiling as wide as you’ve ever seen him do.

You giggle as you nudge your nose against his, curling your fingers into his hair. "That reminds me, you know."

"Of what?"

"Quick and discrete," you mumble, repeating his words from the hotel. "Title of your sex tape."

Bucky groans and shuts you up again.

(A few years later, you get the ring back.)

happy holidays, y'all 💛 thank you for reading!! if you want to see more of my writing, check out my masterlist or follow @intrepidacious-fics for update notifications!!

[fatuismooches]

Imagine Arlecchino being worried that her lover would be put off by her blackened hands, but then they just yank off any gloves Arlecchino might wear to hide them, and kisses her hands to assure her that they love them.

It had come to your attention that Arlecchino only wore gloves in your presence.

It was an average day, and you were at the orphanage again. The kids there liked when you went over to play with them. Today, you were reading them a story, a fairy tale that ended with the two characters falling in love. Soon enough, the children were asking non-filtered questions about if your relationship with Arlecchino was similar.

"Yes yes, Arlecchino and I are in a romantic relationship," you quickly eased their concerns, a bit embarrassed to be speaking about this.

"Is that why she smiles around you? She never does that," a child tilted their head at you.

"Well, sometimes love can make you do funny things. It brings unexpectedness into your life."

"She even dresses differently around you. That is a funny thing," another kid piped up and you looked at him curiously.

"What do you mean?"

"Father always wears gloves around you!" You raised your eyebrows, still unable to see why that was strange.

"So? She always wears gloves."

"That's not true," he shook his head. "Father never wears them around us, or the other Fatui, or around anyone else. She always wears them around you though." Your brain had a hard time processing this information, but you knew it was true since a bunch of kids wouldn't lie to you about something like this.

A lot of Fatui wore gloves, it was useful for the kind of dirty work they did, so you didn't think it was strange when Arlecchino wore gloves. But now you were incredibly confused and intrigued at why she felt the need to cover up her hands. And kind of stupid that you never noticed until now.

"Well, what do her hands look like without the gloves?" you questioned.

"Her hands are-" Before the child could finish, the familiar click-clack of heels echoed throughout the room. Immediately the children straightened up and quieted down at the sight of Arlecchino, and even your heart hammered a bit from the anticipation of the kid's answer.

"Good afternoon, Father," all the kids spoke at once, showing their respect, and she simply nodded her head at them. Her attention was mainly focused on you.

"I see you've been keeping them occupied, [Name]. Thank you." You smiled at your lover. Regardless of the whole glove situation, you were still happy to see her. "Would you care to join me for a walk now? I have just a bit of spare time," she held her hand out for you to take.

"Of course, Arlecchino. I'd love to," you placed your hand on her gloved one, the mere touch of it making you wonder once again what was under the fabric.

She intertwined her fingers with you. Gloved ones. And now more than ever you wanted to hold her bare hands, no gloves getting in the way of the skin-to-skin contact. You'd have to wait until the two of you were home and alone, however.

—

Thankfully it was one of the rare days when the two of you could have the luxury of falling asleep with each other. Even hours later, your mind raced with possibilities as to what she hid under those gloves. Scars? Burns? No matter what, you'd still love her. She was so beautiful to you regardless. But it seemed that you weren't so good at hiding your emotions on your face.

"[Name], are you alright?" you nearly jumped at Arlecchino's voice, not noticing her next to you.

"Oh! Well, I-, it's nothing really-" You glanced up at her face and you already knew that she wasn't going to buy that excuse. "Okay, fine... the truth is, I think we need to... talk." At that, the Knave was on guard, immediately needing to know what troubled her beloved.

"Tell me what plagues you, and I shall have it taken care of immediately," her eyes narrowed at you, fully intent on solving whatever issue this is, even if she had to... teach someone a lesson, right now, in the middle of the night.

You took a deep breath and mentally prepared yourself. "We need to talk about us."

"Us?" The Harbinger echoed. She was not expecting that. You nodded, and you reached for her two gloved hands, holding them in front of you two.

"This is..." you were unsure of how to voice your thoughts regarding the gloves. Your fingertips danced to the cloth around her own fingers, gently grasping it and-

You had barely been able to tug the long glove a little teensy down when Arlecchino swiftly grabbed your wrist, stopping your movements.

"What are you doing?" For how serious her voice sounded, you swore you could hear it waver for a split second.

"Arlecchino, I-I know you only wear gloves around me. I don't understand why... you know you do not need to hide yourself around me, right?"

Arlecchino closed her eyes, knowing that the jig was up, and appeared to think. "You may not like what you see. You may consider it... unattractive." Your heart broke a little bit.

"Oh Arlie," you sighed. "I would never think that, not ever. No matter what your hands may look like, I can assure you that I'll love them wholly, just like I do for the rest of you." She did not respond other than her thumb slowly rubbing circles on your entrapped palm.

"Please, may I see them? As your lover, the one you said has the sole privilege of seeing every part of you?" You reminded her tenderly. She opened her eyes once again, the ones everyone found terrifying but you loved.

"As you wish." She let go of the grip on your wrist and you were free to pull it off. And you did, in one fell swoop the glove fluttered to the floor. There laid Arlecchino's completely blackened hand, adorned with darker patterns and beautifully manicured nails.

Well, you certainly weren't expecting that. Arlecchino carefully gauged your expression, looking for any signs of repulse or discomfort. For once, she was worried if she had made a mistake, if you would be put off by her hands. But she didn't need to worry, as you found her hands completely alluring.

Without hesitation, you placed a kiss on the top of her hand, making Arlecchino stiffen at the sudden affection. But you did not stop there of course. You had a lot of area left to cover. Your kisses reached up past her elbow as your hand was loosely linked with hers, fingers massaging her palm. It was unexpectedly smooth.

"Your hands are so pretty. I don't see why you would ever hide them from me," you stated honestly. The other glove on her other hand received the same treatment - yanked off and discarded, and soon a victim to your ceaseless kisses, peppered up and down her arm. Arlecchino did not move or speak while you did this, her eyes remained trained on you like a hawk, taking in your every move. Taking in every motion of your lip, drinking in the passion in your eyes as you boldly looked at her as you continued your dauntless display of affection.

After your little stunt, you pulled away for a quick breather, but Arlecchino being Arlecchino, had to regain dominance of the situation again, and she briskly caught your chin with her hands, the one you daringly made your stake on. Before you could speak, she hungrily kissed you, her free hand pushing you down on the bed. She kissed you again and again, determined to make you feel the same things she just felt, her hand running up and down your arm. By the end of it, you were panting, but you felt triumphant. It was hard to change Arlecchino's mind, but you did it anyway.

"It seems like I've successfully proved that you're hands are quite lovely to me," you mentioned breathlessly.

"It seems you have," Arlecchino agreed with you, her usually blank expression had a sliver of softness, her thumb running over your lip. "Thank you." You smiled and gently grasped her wrist.

"So, no more gloves, right?" You asked teasingly. Arlecchino sighed at your tone but a small smile adorned her face as she kissed you once more.

"No more gloves, [Name]."

[bagerfluff]

Nico Di Angelo x Will Solace x Son of Chaos reader?

AN: Thank you for requesting and I hope you like this. I also took the liberty of picking my own prompt since you didn't give me one so I hope you are okay with that. It is perfectly okay to not give a request without a prompt but that just means I pick one myself.

Chaos Follows You, But We Don't Care

Nico di Angelo x Will Solace x Son of Chaos Reader

Prompt - Angry Confessions

You didn't know what you were doing.

You were currently sitting on a high branch in a tree. You had ran here after the most embarrassing thing that has ever happened to you. You've been here for a couple hours and you were still scared and embarrassed.

You want to know what happened?

You might have confessed to your two closest best friends. Nico and Will. They were your friends since you first came to camp. You've been friends with them for years. And you've had a crush on the both of them for as long.

You always knew you liked guys and that you were Polyamorous, but why did you have to fall in love with both of them. It was even worse when they told you that they were dating. It made you feel like a third wheel.

It hurt.

But you couldn't tell them; they didn't love you like you loved them. So you kept it hidden. No matter how much it hurt. Watching them act all lovey dovey. It made you a little sick. The pain in your heart when you watched them.

You couldn't even describe it.

So one day when you were hanging out with them at the beach, the sun beating down on your skin. The sounds of the crashing waves. The whispers of Nico and Will. It was pretty shitty. You were sitting a few feet to their left.

They weren't even talking to you. They were your friends, but they were too distracted with each other. You started to get angry and you yelled. You stood up and yelled at the two boys about how you loved them. But how it hurt that they didn't love you back and how they ignored you.

After you were done yelling you realized what you had said you had ran. You took one look and Nico's shocked face and Will's sad one and ran. You ran, even when you heard Will calling for you, you ran till you found this tree and climbed up it.

You've been here ever since.

You didn't want to go back. You didn't want to face Nico and Will. You didn't want them to have to tell you that they didn't love you like that. You didn't want them to tell you that you couldn't be their friends any more. So you stayed here.

Even when you heard the dinner bell you didn't move. You were fine. Though you were hungry you didn't move. You felt like crying. You blew it. You were going to lose your only friends. You made chaos. You did what every one you would do.

You were a son of Chaos. Her name said what she did just fine. That's why people were never your friends. Even before you knew you were a demigod, you made chaos. Everywhere you went chaos followed like a lost puppy.

You always made a mess of things and added stress to everyone's day. You never meant to, you were a kid. But people didn't know that. They thought you did it on purpose. Even when you found out you were a demigod.

People were still wary of you.

Nobody talked to you, nobody went near you. You tried to stop the chaos you made. You tried to stop your powers. You had the powers to cause chaos from nothing. But that never worked. Chaos was all that you knew and you were fine with it.

That was until you met Nico and Will.

Since there was no cabin for you they just placed you in Hermes. But since the Hermes kids didn't like that a claimed kid was with them, plus you made lots of chaos that they didn't like. Chiron had placed you in Hades cabin. Nico was rarely there and it was away from everyone.

So you met Nico first. He knew what it was like to be an outcast. He talked to you and he didn't mind when you made chaos. He even helped you control it. Nico was kind and understanding. He was a nice person to talk to when you needed someone to listen for a bit.

Nico was fun to hang out with. You both were outcasts so you two got along well. You both scared the shit out of campers. Especially new campers that saw the two of you leaning or sitting by a tree in the shadows.

Then you met Will. Some people decided that it would be fun to hurt you. They would try a little harder to knock you down during sword practice. People would miss fire really close to you during target practice. So every once and a while you would show up at the infirmary with a new bruise or cut.

Will would be the one who would patch you up most of the time. He said that he heard about you from Nico because they were friends. That might have made you blush. So you and Will got to talking since Nico was friends with you both.

Will was really nice and he really cared about his friends. Will was like a ray of sunshine. He brightened up your day whenever you see him. Especially when you walk into of the infirmary. Since you were all friends you started to hang out with the both of them.

It was hard since Nico was rarely at Camp Half-Blood and Will always worked but you guys managed it. Some of your best memories were with the both of them. They were your best and only friends. You loved them more then anything.

Now you were going to lose them.

Tears started to fall out of your eyes and onto your lap. You tried to stop them but they were coming whether you liked it or not. You started to quietly sob and you brought your knees to your chest. You wrapped your arms around your legs and placed your head on top of them.

You cried onto your knees but you stopped when you heard a twig snap. You glanced down to see Nico and Will looking around. Why were they here? Were they looking for you? You stayed quiet. You didn't want them to find you. You weren't ready for them to break the news to you.

You weren't ready to lose the ones you loved.

Unfortunately that didn't last long because Nico looked up and saw you in the tree. You and Nico held eye contact until Nico grabbed Will's hand and pointed up at you. Will looked at Nico for a second before following Nico's finger up to you.

Nico and Will looked at you while you looked at them. The boys on the ground looked at each other. "Hey Y/n? Do you want to come down?" Will asked. Will was always better at calming your nerves. He knew what to say to calm you down. Nico tried but it never really worked.

But it was the thought that counted.

"N-no", you said with a wavering voice. You didn't want to talk but you knew you had too. "Okay. we'll wait", Will yelled up and you watched as Nico and Will walked over to the base of the tree and sat down. You could tell that they were talking to each other but you couldn't hear them.

You needed to talk to them. You needed to bite the bullet and get this over with. Though the thought of that made more tears slip out of your eyes. You wiped them away and started to make your way down the tree. It took a bit but before you knew it you were standing in front of Nico and Will.

Nico looked a little scared while Will still looked sad. You sat down criss cross in front of them and stared at them. None of you spoke. You were scared and something told you that they were too. "Do you know why we're here Y/n", Will asked.

You knew but you didn't want to say it so you nodded. "We're not mad Y/n", Nico said. It was the first time he had spoke and you could tell from his voice that Nico was scared. "In fact we wanted to tell you something", Will said.

This was it.

You were about to lose your friends. You got ready to run away after they said it. You placed your hands on the ground and closed your eyes. You couldn't look at them while they did this. You heard more whispering and heard moving. Then you felt something touch both of your cheeks.

It felt like a kiss.

You vaguely remember your father placing a kiss on your cheek before he left for work. You opened your eyes and looked at Nico and Will with a shocked expression. They were now sitting a foot in front of you. They both had a smile on their face. Will's was bigger Nico's was bigger but they both looked really happy.

"Wha-", you tried to ask what happened but Will and Nico both spoke, cutting you off. "We like you too". You were so happy and shocked, and still a little sad. This was so much that you started to cry again. You didn't know why but you did.

Nico and Wil got a little scared but you were quick to ease their worries. "No I'm fine I'm just", you didn't even know what to say. Will smiled again and pulled you and Nico into a hug. You and Nico were shocked but you both hugged back.

They liked you back. You were so happy. Will pulled away and looked at you, "we're sorry for making you feel like that". Will was referring to when you were scared and how you felt when you left them. "It's fine, as long as I get a kiss as an apology", you smiled at the both of them.

Will let out a little laugh but kissed you any way. You smiled, it was quick because you heard Nico's grumble. You pulled away and kissed Nico too. "Does this mean were dating?" You asked and Nico rolled his eyes. "yes Y/n, we are all boyfriends", you smiled again.

Nico and Will loved you, chaos and all.

[fiapartridge]

will smith dating hughes!sister headcanons! ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

🕊 - 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: will smith head canons! <3 🕊 - 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: not proofread, all sfw

💌 - 𝐇𝐄'𝐋𝐋 never tell the guys, but his favorite thing to do with you is wear face masks and watch romcoms. sure, at first you had to really coax him into doing it, but as time went on, he would literally wait for sundays (which is the day you two usually did it) to come.

"i'll get the movie ready, you go grab the masks," he would say before kissing you on the forehead and gently pushing you toward the bathroom.

💌 - 𝐇𝐄 has a drawer at your place just for his clothes. he also leaves a bottle of cologne at your apartment so you can spray it on his hoodies in case he's on a roadie and his clothes are losing their smell. you probably wear his clothes more than he does but he doesn't mind. he loves seeing your tiny frame get swallowed in all of the fabric, especially in his t-shirts.

💌 - 𝐘𝐎𝐔 are his personal stylist. his friends would always dog him for getting styled by you, but tbh his outfits have gotten so much better ever since you guys got together - even the fans have noticed.

💌 - 𝐎𝐍 that note, the fans have no idea you guys are together. it's not like he's embarrassed of you or is like actively trying to hide you from the public eye, he just never posts unless it's like for a brand deal or he's announcing something to his followers. you post him all the time, but you have a small, private instagram account filled with friends and family. most of the time, the comments are just your brothers clowning your guys' relationship or the bc hockey team talking about how much a simp will is for you.

💌 - 𝐌𝐀𝐉𝐎𝐑 napper/cuddler. he cannot go to sleep without you in his arms. like if you guys are in the same bed and you're far apart from him, he either thinks he did something wrong and is apologizing profusely throughout the night, or that something is wrong with you in which he is doing the most to make sure you're okay.

"do i need to turn up the ac? should i remove some blankets? why don't you want to cuddle with me?" he is a baby.

💌 - 𝐇𝐄 makes playlists for you ALL THE TIME for every single occasion. he has a "love of my life" playlist for when he's feeling extra lovey dovey, a "pls don't be mad at me anymore, i'm so so so sorry" playlist for when he fucks up (which is rare but happens), a "y/n/n" playlist for when you're in the car with him -> it's your fave songs that has also become some of his fave songs (lots of taylor swift and sabrina carpenter), and a "gains with my hot gf" playlist for when you guys are working out together, which is much less intense than his normal workouts but still makes you work up a sweat.

💌 - 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐔𝐈𝐍𝐆 off that last note, you love working out with him. he's the best personal trainer. he'll hype you up, push you harder but not too hard because he still knows your limits and your body, will do every single workout with you, and it's also a plus to just watch him work out iykwim.

💌 - 𝐘𝐎𝐔 over think soo much!! and he's like relax, we're fine, we're okay, you're not annoying me, you never annoy me, it's impossible to annoy me because he just loves when you're around him and when you're talking. like he will literally put down his phone and just listen to you talk for hours. you never have to feel clingy with him because he just always wants you. he's always reassuring you <3 his texts are the cutest 📲📲📲 :

will: stop overthinking bub will: we are ok will: i love you will: i'll be over in 10

💌 - 𝐇𝐄 loves when you have your hands in his hair. like he will literally grab your hands and bring them to his hair. like he loves that shit. like brushing it with your fingers, braiding his tiny strands, or just playing with it like he doesn't care-- he just loves it.

💌 - 𝐇𝐈𝐒 love language is physical touch and words of affirmation!!

physical touch! he loves holding your hand, having his arm around your shoulder, hugging you, kissing you, just touching you whenever he can, even if it's just having his hand on your thigh or something. your brothers ! hate it ! they always pretend to gag if they see him touch you lol, but mama hughes always shuts their shit down and tells them that you're a grown woman that can make her own choices. i love mama ellen <3

words of affirmation! he will tell you he loves you every second of every single day. he loves telling you that you're pretty, especially when you feel the opposite. he just worships you. like you're literally a goddess to him. ⭐️ "i'm happy when you're around," he would whisper into your skin when you're cuddling in bed. ⭐️ "you are the prettiest girl i've ever seen." ⭐️ "fuck, you're hot." & he would have the most shit-eating grin everrrr. like he can't believe that he gets to be with you type shit.

𝐀𝐋𝐋 in all, someone let will know that i'm here and single and ready for him whenever he's free and available <3 thank you <3

-fiapartridge

[doc-pickles]

voicemail | mat barzal

summary: you’ve left mat many voicemails in the last few months, but he finally listens to them

warnings: mentions of pregnancy and childbirth

a/n: head empty no thoughts. enjoy!

xoxo nina

“Hey you’ve reached Mat. Leave a message after the beep.”

“Mat it’s me… I know we haven’t talked for few months but I would really appreciate it if you called me back.”

“Hey me again. Please call me back, I really need to talk to you.”

“Listen I know we broke up but… This is super important. I wouldn’t be calling if it wasn’t. Please Mat.”

“Since you won’t pick up the phone I’ll just say it. I’m pregnant, Mat. It’s yours. Please… Just let me know you’ve gotten my calls and texts.”

“I don’t want money or anything, I just want you to know about our son and have the chance to be there for him. Call me please.”

“Hey, me again… If you don’t want to be apart of this that’s fine I just… I need you to tell me so I’m not sitting around with this false hope that you’ll show up for us.”

“Mat my water broke and I’m so scared. All I want is you. If you were ever going to pick up the phone now would be the time. Please babe, I can’t do this without you.”

“Matty…. He looks just like you. Please… please pick up the phone.”

+

“Fuck… C’mon Grey,” you groaned quietly as you rocked your two week old son. He was crying loudly and nothing you’d done yet seemed to help. “Bubs please, mama is trying her best.”

His wails continued, your shoulders slumping in defeat as you rocked back and forth. You were seconds away from crying right alongside your little boy.

A knock on the door interrupted your thoughts. Your brow furrowed but you moved toward it anyways. With a wince you glanced at your reflection in the hallway mirror. Your hair was messily piled on your head, the dark circles under your eyes were almost purple, and you had spit up on your shirt.

“Hold on Greyson, I’m just gonna answer the… door…,” your voice faltered as you pulled the door open to reveal Mat standing there. His hair was sticking up as if he’d been running his hands through it and his eyes were puffy. “Mat?”

Mat didn’t say anything as his eyes locked on Greyson who was still loudly wailing, unaware of the tension boiling between his parents. He blinked a few times before he looked up at you with watery eyes, “Is… Is that him? Is that our son?”

Your lip trembled as you looked up at Mat, heart aching in your chest as your eyes met, “You didn’t answer my calls.”

“I know.”

“You missed my whole pregnancy.”

“I know.”

“You weren’t there to hold my hand when he was born. I…,” tears welled in your eyes, quickly spilling over as you and Mat stood across from each other. “What- why now? What the hell are you doing here Mat?”

You fell into full on sobs as Mat stepped forward and pulled you into his arms, both you and Greyson crying against his chest. His arms held you close as he whispered apologies and sweet words to you.

“I’m so sorry baby, I’ll explain everything. Okay? I’ll tell you everything,” Mat whispered against your hair. You couldn’t do anything but cry along with your son, your shoulders deflating as Mat held you. “It’s okay, I got you. I got you both.”

When Mat gently grabbed Greyson from your arms you didn’t hesitate to hand him over. You’d been rocking him for close to two hours and you were delirious and exhausted from trying to calm your son.

“I’ll hold him while you take a nap,” Mat pressed a kiss to your forehead, holding you close for a moment. “I’m here baby, I got you.”

You laid in bed for a few minutes simply staring at the ceiling. You and Mat had gone through a civil breakup, ending things solely because you rarely saw each other. Between his job and yours your schedules were hard to coordinate and it had put unnecessary stress on both of you.

When you’d both decided to break off your relationship you spent the whole night in bed together. You couldn’t even begin to count how many times you and Mat had made love, chuckling as you realized that’s probably when Greyson was conceived.

With a sigh you laid down, your eyes immediately shutting as you drifted off to sleep thinking about you and Mat and your son.

+

Your body wakes you up, the breastmilk leaking through your top a sure sign that you’ve missed a feeding. With a groan you changed before going to hunt down Mat and Grey.

Stretched out across your couch is Mat, Greyson on his bare chest. His eyes scanned over every inch of your son as if he didn’t want to miss a single detail.

“Hi,” you whispered from the doorway, Mat’s eyes finally breaking away from Grey to meet your eyes. “I need to feed him, my boobs are killing me.”

Mat didn’t make any jokes, much to your surprise, as he sat up and handed Greyson over to you. You sat on the opposite end of the couch and quickly latched the baby onto your breast before you looked back over to Mat. His head was in his hands, bent over as he heaved a deep sigh.

“Mat-“

“I’m so sorry,” he cut you off, eyes still locked on the floor. “I… Fuck… After we broke up I was a mess. I started- ah, hooking up with this girl Hayley. It was casual, I literally never saw her outside of our hookups but she clearly wanted more.”

Your heart clenched as Mat told you about this other woman, but you let him keep going. You knew he wouldn’t be telling you this if there wasn’t a point to it all.

“We started casually dating. Just dinner or a movie before we… You know… Anyways last night I woke up to her going through my phone,” Mat stopped, finally pulling his head away from his hands as he looked up at you. “She had been deleting all your messages. I kicked her out and they were all there so I… I listened to every single one and then I drove over here. As soon as I knew I was on your doorstep. I’m so sorry. If I’d known, if I’d heard that first message I would’ve been here for everything.”

You hadn’t even realized you were crying until Mat leaned over to brush the tears staining your cheeks. You met his eyes, hurt and sincerity floating in them.

“I can never stop apologizing for missing all of this but I swear I’ll be here for every moment from here on out,” Mat whispered as he caressed your cheek. “Okay?”

You nodded as Mat kissed your forehead just as Grey let out a whine in your arms. Mat chuckled as you gently patted his back and coaxed a burp out of the infant, “He didn’t wanna be ignored.”

“He’s an attention seeker, just like his dad,” you snorted and watched as Mat’s face lit up. You handed Grey back to him, smiling as your son curled right into him. “He also already looks just like you. Figures since he has your name.”

Mat’s brows furrowed as he looked from Greyson to you, “My name?”

“Greyson Mathew,” Mat’s eyes widened as you grinned. “I knew you wouldn’t have ignored me on purpose or out of spite. And I don’t know what stopped me from just marching down to your place with my huge belly and waiting until you talked to me. I think a part of me was scared that maybe you would reject me to my face. I don’t know but… I’m glad you’re here now.”

Mat pulled you into his side, cuddling you into him as he pressed a kiss to your hair. Grey squirmed around for a second but calmed as you put your hand over Mat’s on his back. The scene was sweet and intimate, what you’d been dreaming of since you found out you were pregnant.

Everything was perfect.

+

“Grey’s screaming,” you groaned as you cuddled into Mat’s chest. “It’s too early for screaming Mathew.”

Mat chuckled as he slowly extracted himself from your hold, “I’ll go get the gremlin. You just lay there and look pretty.”

You grinned up at Mat as he left the room, heading down the hall towards Greyson’s room. A harsh kick landed against your stomach and you groaned, settling your hand against the slight curve of your belly.

“Your brother is already causing a ruckus, I don’t need you too,” you chuckled as another kick hit your hand. “Calm down sweet girl or daddy is gonna come in here and rile you up.”

“My girl is awake?” Mat asked excitedly from the doorway, Greyson on his hip with an identical smile to Mat’s as you rolled your eyes. “Lemme feel her.”

Greyson plopped himself onto the bed and curled into your side, watching with wide eyes as Mat leaned down to whisper to your belly.

“Baby!”

“Yup that’s your baby sister,” you giggled as Mat pressed a kiss to your belly. “Enough Mathew, you already know she’s gonna be a daddy’s girl.”

“I know,” Mat groaned as he looked up at you with a smirk. “But I didn’t get to experience this with Grey. I want to make the most of this.”

You smiled and ran a hand through Mathew’s curls, your wedding rings glinting in the morning light as his cheek pressed against your belly, “You’re an amazing dad Mat, have been from day one. We’re very lucky to have you.”

“I couldn’t imagine my life without you three,” Mat smirked at you before he leaned up and kissed you softly. “Thank you for giving us a family.”

“Thanks for listening to your voicemails,” you grinned as he leaned into your side.

[sleepyparalysisdmon]

To You

The three times that you thank Seungkwan for nagging, and the one where he finally accepts it.

Word count: 1.6k

Warnings: mentions of not taking care of yourself

This is part of the Three Times series. This one is inspired by this and this reaction.

One

The coffee is almost in your hand before Seungkwan pulls it back, clicking his tongue. “Nevermind.” 

You gasp, outraged. “But you got it for me, didn’t you? You don’t even like the sweet stuff in it.”

Your best friend gives you a deadpanned look. “Y/N, I can see the two other cups in your trash can right there. That’s too much coffee.”

“Those are from yesterday,” you excuse, but Seungkwan is tsking again, holding the coffee high out of your reach. 

“They aren’t. Custodians empty it every night without fail. Why bother lying to me? I see right through you.”

You scoff. “Fine, it’s all from today, but it’s totally necessary! I was up late last night working on this report and my stack just keeps getting bigger every hour I’m here!” You gesture wildly to the growing, haphazard stack of papers in your incoming basket. You could really use the coffee and was even banking on Seungkwan stopping by since it’s his day off. 

“Y/N, that’s way too much caffiene. I really can’t let you drink this.” You give him your best pout, big eyes and all, and he huffs. “Fine. If your heart beats out of your chest, it’s not my fault.” The cup is lowered and you snatch it with a triumphant laugh. 

“Thank you!” The first sip makes you sigh in relief that maybe you’ll get through the rest of the day. “Can you stick around? It’s just me and these reports today.” Your supervisor is rarely ever in and only cares that the reports he needs are in his inbox when he needs them. Seungkwan’s presence has never kept you from making that happen.

Seungkwan shrugs, plopping into the seat across from you at your desk. “Sure. Since you can’t be without my company.” 

You scoff, mostly at the little mischevious twinkle in his eye. “You’re right. I could never.”

Two

You practically fall into the chair at the restaurant. “I’m so sorry I’m late. Don’t hate me.”

Seungkwan glances up from his phone. “I’m trying. What kept you so long?” 

“Accident on the way here. The detour sent me half way across the city, it felt like. I cannot wait to get dumplings,” you sigh, not even bothering to pick up the menu. You both frequent this place so often that you aren't even sure why the waiter still gives you one when he seats you at your usual table. 

“Too late, I already ordered stirfry. You need some vegetables in your life,” Seungkwan says bluntly. He raises an eyebrow at you when you huff.

“Seungkwan, you know I love the dumplings here.”

He hums, nodding. “Tell me what you had to eat today.” Your silence is answer enough. You often forget to eat on busy days, and today certainly classifies as that. “That’s what I thought. Stirfry first. If you’re still hungry after, we’ll get some dumplings.”

This feels like a non-negotiable and it’s his turn to pay, so you relent. “Fine, have it your way.”

“It’s what I prefer.” His voice drops to a whisper. “Now do you want to hear about the new comeback we’re planning?”

You totally forget about the dumplings, leaning in to whisper yell, “yes!” He tells you about the concept and the complicated choreography they’re working on. You’re so distracted that you don’t even realize the waiter leaves a to-go box on the table when he brings the check. On the way out of the restauraunt, you ask, “Did you get dessert?”

Seungkwan shoves the box into your hands. “No, they’re your dumplings, dumbass.”

You stammer. “When did you even order them? We were talking the whole time.”

“I ordered them before you got there and asked them to be boxed up to go. Do I know you or what?”

You pout up at him. “Thank you, Seungkwan. That was really thoughtful of you.”

“Yeah, yeah. Please eat healthier. You’ll feel better if you do.” You hum in aggreeance, walking with a pep in your step to the car. He shoves you towards the passenger side, taking your keys when you pull them out of your bag. “Go on. I know you want to eat them now. I’ll drive.”

“Thank you!” You let out a little squeal, falling into the passenger seat of your car. You hear him grumble an ‘uh huh’ as he starts the car.

Three

The interrogation starts as soon as you slide into the passenger seat. Your hair and clothes are wet and so is your face. You hope it looks like rain, but you are sure it doesn’t with how wild Seungkwan’s eyes are. 

“What happened?” 

“I’m sorry for calling. Were you busy?” You busy yourself with buckling the seat belt. 

“It wouldn’t matter if I was. I’m more worried about why you called,” Seungkwan says firmly. “I thought you were supposed to have a date tonight.”

“I did,” you sniffle, kicking up the heat and readjusting the vents to point to you. Seungkwan blindly presses the button for the seat warmer too. 

“Then why the hell does it look like you’ve been waiting in the rain? Why didn’t he drive you home?”

“I really don’t want to talk about it right now, Kwanie. Can we go?” You’re begging. Relief floods you when he bites the inside of his cheek, turning to put the car in drive. 

“Home. Shower. Movie. Then I need you to tell me just how much I should ruin his life.” There’s little room for debate, so you go straight to the shower when you both arrive at your apartment. 

When you come out, Seungkwan is standing at the stove with his back to you. “Ramen?” You ask. 

He looks over his shoulder at you and curses. “Y/N, why didn’t you dry your hair? You’re going to get sick.” 

“Too tired. Can I have an extra egg in mine?” 

Seungkwan is still huffing about your wet hair. “Already in the pot. I’ll dry your hair after you eat.”

Nearly an hour later, Seungkwan shuts off the hair dryer behind you, doing one final brush of your hair. He’s taken his time, making sure it’s completely dry. “Thanks, Seungkwan,” you say sleepily.

You can’t see him, but you know he’s shaking his head. “Stop it. Come on, let’s put on a movie.” You pass out with your head in his lap within the first twenty minutes of whatever comedy he puts on. 

Four

Seungkwan’s cursing again. He tosses the thermometer onto your bedside table and it clatters loudly. “I warned you about the wet hair. How long were you waiting outside the other day exactly?”

“Not long.” It comes out choked with a cough. You know Seungkwan knows it’s a lie based on how hard he rolls his eyes. He’s been doing that a lot since he arrived a couple hours ago. 

“Sit up,” he all but demands. “Your soup should be cool enough to eat now.” You’re weak as you prop yourself up against your headboard, taking the bowl from him. You hum after the first bite, complimenting his cooking. He shrugs, crossing his arms. When you set the empty bowl on the bedside table, he finally asks, “Better?” His tone has lost a bit of its edge.

“Yeah, my throat feels a little better. Thank you.” It’s not convincing because the soup has broken up all of the mucus and your cough is worse now. He huffs and hands you a tissue. 

“You’re a mess. Go to sleep,” he stands, grabbing the bowl from your night stand. 

“Are you leaving?” You can feel your eyes water pitifully. 

“I’m just going to the living room to watch TV. You need uninterrupted sleep,” he insists. 

“Will you stay, please?”

He looks at you for a few beats before sighing. “Let me go wash your dish first. I’ll be back.” As promised, he comes back a couple minutes later, climbing into bed next to you. You curl into his side and he only grumbles a little, threatening that you better not get him sick. 

“Thank you for taking care of me.” 

“Stop it,” he mumbles. 

“No, really! You might nag, but you always take care of me. I don’t deserve it.”

“Are you kidding me?” Seungkwan scoffs. “I’d do this for the rest of my life if you’d just let me.”

“Of course, I would. What are best friends for? I’d do the same for you,” You say simply. 

“It’s more than that.” You hum questioningly for him to continue and it takes him a minute. “If that’s all you want it to be, that’s okay. I’ll still bring you coffee and buy you dumplings and pick you up from a bad date and take care of you when you’re sick. But I wish I could do all of that as more than your friend… Maybe minus the bad date, because I’d prefer it to be with me… and not bad.”

You can tell he’s getting nervous, but you’re rethinking the context of everything he’s ever done for you. All the times he’s brought you things like he’s read your mind from across the city. All those times he’s picked up the phone and gotten in the car to come help you with something. Times like now, when he nags and makes you soup and gives you medicine to get you to feel better. It’s always been with so much love, despite the eye rolls and refusal to accept a simple ‘thank you’, but now you’re realizing you’ve misinterpreted some things. 

Finally, you clear your dry throat. “It could never be bad with you, Seungkwan. I’ve always kind of thought you were my soulmate in that way. It’s nice to know the feeling is mutual.”

“How about dinner in a few days?” You nod into his chest. “Great. Now go to sleep.”

You chuckle. “Nag."

[luveline]

Hiiiiii!!! Since it’s back to school season you should write a blurb where Steve and Reader get emotional sending Avery to school for the first time in your KBD universe!!

thank you for your request ♡ kisses before dinner —you and steve have a tumultuous morning on avery's first day of school. mom!reader, 3k

"Oh, fuck," Steve mumbles into his pillow, cheek wet with drool. "Shit." He drags his face up to look at the alarm clock for the third time that morning, having slept on and off for hours. He can't believe he's awake again. 

"I think you have to admit defeat," you say softly from the vanity. Steve turns, finds you sitting slouched with a brush in your hands, applying powder to your cheek carefully. "I couldn't sleep either." 

Steve groans at his ever present back ache and sits up. The comforter falls down into his lap, his naked chest exposed. He scratches at his collarbone mindlessly. "You think it'll be really hard?" he asks, knowing you'll know what he's saying. You always do. 

You put down the brush, turning a very sympathetic smile his way. "I think it will be awful. But you'll be okay, Steve. She needs to go. And she's excited!" You nod toward Avery's room. "Can't you hear her?" 

Steve gets up without checking for himself. He slinks out of your bedroom and onto the landing, where Avery's door is ajar. 

"Hey," he says, opening the door with his foot. "You okay?" 

Ash blonde hair like a riot around her face and pyjamas in disarray, Avery sees Steve in the doorway and beams, doing a wiggly half dance by her dresser. "Daddy! It's my first day at school!" 

"I know," he croons, or attempts to, his voice still hoarse from sleep. "I'm just gonna shower, and then we'll start getting ready. You hungry?" 

"Are you still gonna do my hair like mommy's?" she asks. 

"Yeah, just like mom's." 

Steve's reassured by her smile even if he's feeling about as anxious as the day he found out you were pregnant the first time (ecstatic, terrified, in love and bricking it). He showers in three minutes, an expert in the art of wicked fast washing and in anticipation of Dove's imminent waking. Sure enough, he's crossing the landing back to the master bedroom with a towel around his waist when a cry sounds from behind him.

You appear in the doorway dressed for work and somehow prettier than you were yesterday. It doesn't fade no matter what people say, Steve still has a huge crush on you, and it feels like a gift to have you stroke a line down his tacky arm as you pass. 

"I have it, handsome." You take a step back and he pauses on instinct. Your hand cups his face. "It won't be as bad as you're thinking. I promise." You stroke his cheek. "Yeah?" 

"I'm fine," he lies. 

Dove cries louder. You take your hand back. "Okay. Get dressed. I'll make breakfast." 

Steve does as he's told. Bethie tries to barge into the bedroom while he's changing, and he laughs at her dejected sigh. "It's not opening," she says, nearly three and a half and sounding it, her voice still cutely disjointed. 

"I'm just getting dressed, Beth. Mommy's making breakfast, you want waffles or something?" 

"I can't get down the stairs," she mumbles. Steve almost misses it. 

He throws a shirt on and yanks a comb through his hair. Bethie's standing expectantly by the door when he opens it, your image completely. Steve's seen the rare baby photo of you and he's surprised every time; you could switch it out with a photo of Bethie and he's sure he wouldn't notice, though her nose might look a little different. 

"Hey, pretty girl. Trapped?" 

"They'd left me up here with you," she says. 

Talkative this morning, he thinks. "I can see that. Excuse me then, babe, and we'll get this gate open." 

Steve hates the baby gates. He doesn't think they're necessary, but he knows he'd think that until the day one of his poor girls took a dive. You hate them too for being so finicky. Maybe in a couple of months when Dove's walking you'll take them down. 

He opens the gate and takes a few steps, holding a hand out for Bethie. Fingers wrapped around hers, they descend the stairs and approached the second dreaded baby gate where Avery's waiting. She pinches the lock and pulls up the handle for them surprisingly easily. 

"Thank you," he says to her, stepping over the lip of it and assisting Beth down those last few steps. She wobbles. 

"Dad, when can we get ready?" Avery asks. 

Steve checks his watch. "Uh, soon as you finish breakfast." 

"I finished already."

"No you didn't!" you call. "Come on! Come and eat this egg before it goes cold." 

"I wanted a waffle," Avery says. 

"Don't tell me, tell your mom. I'm sure she'll make you something else."

Avery spirits away. Steve watches her go and decides maybe he can't do this after all, sweeping Bethie into his arms to hug close to his chest. "Don't grow up, Beth. Promise?" 

She looks at him lovingly. "Promise." She offers her tiny pinky. 

You're not so stressed in the kitchen. Or, Steve may not think so. Inside you're a ball of agony. You're acting as normal as you can, knowing Steve will take the change harder; he's spent almost every hour of every day with Avery for nearly six years, to suddenly have her gone will feel wrong, and strange, and achy. 

He'll understand how you feel going to work every day. Missing your family becomes a second feeling that trails behind you, not always sad, but there nonetheless. You'll be sitting at your desk wishing a little back was pressed to your chest, or that there were a hand in your hair. Or, when things are especially boring, you long for a whiny shout, "Mommy!" said over and over. 

It isn't his fault, of course, and it's not even the thing that's hurting. Just. Avery's getting older no matter how much you wish she'd stay the same, for a day, an hour. If you could just stop time and hold her for a bit, you'd feel better. 

Time doesn't stop. You make her a waffle and eat her cold egg, Dove spits up on your blazer and you have to get changed. Steve struggles to get Avery ready in her bedroom while Bethie crowds his legs, and you can't help. Your second blazer has a peach juice stain and the third has been personalised with a blue marker. You can't find anything to wear. 

You scrub the spit up off of the shoulder in the bathroom and trudge to Avery's room to ask Steve if he can tell. 

Avery's standing in front of her mirror, and she looks perfect. 

And she looks so old.

Surprise spreads like a bruise, like you've been winded, a flat palm pressing with force against the gentle structure of your diaphragm. You grip the blazer in your hands until the fabric squeaks, eyes on Avery's hair, her shoulders, her new dress and shoes. She spins on her heels when she sees you in the mirror and poses proudly. 

"Doesn't it look nice, mommy?" she asks. 

You frown at her. Your breath catches in your throat, your eyes turning warm, your whole face. "You look really nice, sweetheart," you say, blinking to dispel the moisture in your eyes before it can turn to tears."Daddy did a good job." 

"Are you okay?" Avery asks. 

You try to turn your frown to a smile, the expression one Avery isn't used to seeing. Panicked, she looks to Steve, who's already looking at you tenderly. 

"I'm sorry," you say. It aches in your cheeks. Being a parent means hiding how you feel when it's bad, but you're grasping at the air for a reassurance that isn't there. She's never going to stop getting older. And this is a beautiful thing in reality. 

Right now, it's terrifying. 

"You look lovely," you say, swiping at tears as they tip. "I'm really sorry, Avery, I'm okay. You look so beautiful, honey." 

Steve crouches down by Avery's side, hands on her waist. "This is going to sound silly, because you're so excited about going to school, but me and your mommy are just a little sad." 

"You're sad because I'm going to school?" Avery asks. 

You nod, shame-faced, "A bit." 

"Well, I won't go," she says in confusion.

You close the distance between you and hold her chin in your hand. "You have to go! I want you to go, I promise. I want you to meet new friends, and learn new things. I can't wait for you to see the whole world." 

"Then why are you crying?" she asks. 

You push your thumb into the corner of her mouth and make her smile. "You'll understand when you're older," you say. 

She groans. "Mom, I want to know now." 

"I can't explain it." You kiss her soft forehead. "Sorry." You kiss her forehead again. "Sorry. You really look beautiful, and I know you're going to have a good day. They won't know what to do with you." 

You arranged to start work late so you can see her off for her first day and help if drop off becomes too much for Steve to do alone. Now that Avery's old enough for school, she'll need to be dropped off and picked up everyday, and your working hours don't allow for you to do it. This means Steve will have to get all three girls ready every day. They can't wait in the car by themselves. It's a lot more than he's used to doing, which isn't to say he doesn't keep his girls clean and clothed in fresh jammies. He takes them grocery shopping and to the movies and Aunt Robin's house by himself all the time, it's not a difficult task (most of the time) but it takes work. It's going to be a lot for him. 

He can do it, obviously. You just wish you could be more helpful. You tried to talk your boss into an earlier start time so you could finish in time to grab Avery and save him the trip, but it meant you'd start work at 6AM. Nobody would be there to let you in, and it was deemed 'unfeasible'. 

You worry about it on the ride there. Three girls in car seats, you in the front, they're hard to handle. Avery's far away in the very back, the third row, while Dove whines in the second, Bethie behind you asking if she can come and sit in your lap. 

"Sorry, lovely. Two minutes, okay? Two minutes and we'll be there." 

Steve shouts over your placating, "How are you feeling, Avey-Bear?" 

"I feel good, dad!" 

"It's the left entrance, right?" Steve asks you. 

"Yeah, with the big crayon mural. Dove, I know! I can see it! Is it too tight? Let mommy have a look." 

You lean through the seats. Steve takes a hand from the wheel to hold your side up and stop you from collapsing forward as you fiddle with Dove's seat straps. This chaos cannot be a good sign, you think.

You pull into the lot. Kids are everywhere, hundreds of them flooding toward the elementary school like ants carving paths through grass and sidewalk. The air smells like pine trees as you step out of the car. 

While grizzly, you're pleased to find that your girls look good. Smart, well-loved. You grab Bethie, her seat behind yours, and Steve takes Dove. Avery unclasps her own car seat and climbs over the second row to slide out by your legs. 

"Nice job, babe," you say, holding up your hand. Avery high fives you. 

Soon as Steve's ready, you take Avery's hand with Bethie perched as a heavy weight on your hip. She's too big to need carrying and you'll have to put her down sooner rather than later, but for now you hold her, mind racing as she asks, "Mommy, do I go with Avery?" 

"No, sweetheart, I'm sorry. Avery's going by herself." 

And what the fuck? you think, looking down at Avery where she squeezes your hand, the skirt of her dress swishing side to side as she skips. How can she be doing this by herself? She doesn't seem old enough. How can anybody expect her to do this? 

Bethie rests her cheek on your shoulder. "That's OK. I want to be with you." 

She's not going to be pleased in another half an hour, then, but that's a future problem. 

Steve trudges behind you like a man walking to his death. You're not exaggerating when you think to yourself about how pale he's gone, his cheeks devoid of any colour. 

You follow the path past the school gates and into its playground. Most kids stay waiting with their parents while younger ones crowd the jungle gym, though there are some you recognise from playgroups and the local playground. You've accidentally cut it a bit close, not expecting the girls to be as hard to get into the car as they'd been, and the bell rings to call everyone inside only thirty seconds later. 

Children call goodbye to their parents. Avery had an orientation day a little while ago and knows where she has to go, but for the first time that morning, she hesitates. 

"You okay?" Steve asks her. 

She looks between you both and her sisters with a funny kind of smile. Altogether too grown up. "Will it be okay?" she asks. 

"What, school?" he asks. "School is going to be awesome. You are going to have so much fun." 

She licks her lips, thinking. You step forward ro fuss with her hair, every bit of it perfect. She looks up into your face and you plaster a smile over your worries. The longer you look at her, the more authentic it becomes. 

"You make things amazing everywhere you go. School won't be any different," you promise. 

"Quick, kiss before you go to the classroom," Steve says. 

You get yours first. Avery goes on tiptoes to kiss you, then Bethie, who laughs. Steve crouches down to get his, stealing a too-long hug with her as Dove wriggles under his arm. 

"Love you." Steve pats her shoulder. "See you in a couple of hours. We'll go get a treat for you being this brave." 

Avery holds her lunchbox to her stomach and nods excitedly. "Okie dokie. I love you." She waves at Dove. "Bye-bye, Dove." 

Dove looks at Avery like she's an alien. Her confusion lasts, lips puckering into a pout as Avery races toward the school door and disappears from view. 

"Ready to go?" you ask Steve gently. 

"I think I'll just… we'll just wait for a bit, in case she forgot something."

You fight another wave of heat as it gathers behind your eyes. Steve looks so sad that it's making you sad too. "Sure, honey. Let's wait a bit." 

You aren't expecting Avery to have actually forgotten something, but she rockets from the door looking terrified. Steve seems surprised that she really needed something too, though he doesn't waver. 

"We're still here," he calls as she runs up to you. 

"Dad," she says, breathless, putting her hand on his knee, "what do I say?" 

"To who?" 

"To the other girls!" 

Steve rubs her cheek with a forefinger fondly. "Hello is a good start. You could say… Hi, I'm Avery Harrington. I have two little sisters, a pet fish, and my favourite colour is lilac." 

She nods like she thinks this is a great idea. "I'm Avery, and I have two sisters and my fish and my favourite colour is lilac," she repeats verbatim. "What about you and mom?" 

Steve blinks, pleased. "Uh." 

You grin, saying, "What about, my mom and dad are best friends?" 

Avery nods again, little chin dipping severely. "My mom and dad are best friends. Okay. Okay, thank you, I'm going back now." 

Steve steals another kiss before she can run off. "Have a good day, honey."

"I will!" she shouts, spinning on her heel. You listen to her leave, her lunchbox making a metallic clicking sound, her shoes squeaking on paving stones. 

She's gone a full minute before either of you attempt to leave, a strange silence between you. Eventually Steve wraps his arm around your shoulders, and you make your way back to the car. 

"You okay?" you ask him. 

He's pink around the eyes, but he says, "I'm okay. She looked really excited, right?" 

You kiss his cheek. "It'll be alright." 

"I know. Just feel really fucking weird." 

Bethie claps a hand over her mouth with a little pop. Steve imitates her, eyes glowing with bemusement. "Who said that?" he asks. 

She giggles in that syrupy way kids do when they know they're doing something naughty. "That's a bad word." 

"I'm allowed one bad word today, Bethie. They said so." 

"Who?" Bethie asks. 

Steve shrugs his shoulders. "I don't know. You expect me to know everything, little miss, how'm I supposed to know everything?" 

Bethie wraps an arm behind your neck. 

"What's he doing to you?" you ask, arms on fire from carrying her this long and with no intent to put her down. "Daddy's not being very nice, is he? Asking my little girl all these big questions." 

Your soft crooning has her like jelly in your arms. Steve relaxes in turn looking at her, his hands petting at Dove's back. "They're ganging up on me," he says to her, in a similar sweet tone, searching Dove's face for some affection. "You're not going to pick their side, are you?" 

Dove pouts for a kiss. 

Steve is ecstatic, Dove never so generous. He kisses her gently, and rubs his forehead against hers to tickle her with his hair. 

"Mommy's gotta go to work," you remind him. 

"Do you?" he asks, not looking up from Dove's affection. 

"Unfortunately." 

"They're taking my girls from me one by one. I thought missing you every day was bad enough, now I don't get my Avery… I hate everything." 

"I know. It doesn't feel this awful all the time, I promise." 

He makes a grateful sound. "I'll take your word for it. Thanks, honey." 

You squeeze his bicep. "You're welcome." 

[aphroditelovesu]

The Lost Queen - XII

— summary: You woke up near a military camp without remembering how and why you got there, you didn’t understand why they were dressed like ancient Greeks, all you knew was that you weren’t safe and you needed to get out of that place as soon as possible. Too bad for you that you found yourself attracting unwanted attention from the Macedonian King and he won’t let you go so easily.

— genre: yandere, dark!au.

— warnings: time travel, obsessive and possessive behavior, murder, mention of torture, kidnapping, angst, fluffy (very rarely), dub-con, possibly smut.

— pairing: yandere!alexander the great x female!reader, yandere!generals x female!reader.

— word count: 3,070.

— tag list: @devils-blackrose, @faerykingdom, @hadesnewpersephone, @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 , @kadu-5607, @zoleea-exultant, @borntoexplore11-blog, @silmawensgarden.

— the lost queen series masterlist.

Chapter 12

When you regained consciousness, you were no longer in the Macedonian war camp.

You knew this because your body was lying on something soft and comfortable, softer than your cot and far more comfortable than anything you had experienced during your time here.

Your eyes looked around, looking at everything with fear and curiosity. You quickly realized you were in some kind of tent and a luxurious one at that. There were exquisite tapestries and gold, lots of gold. It was a richness that you could only imagine, seen only in old period films and something you never thought you would ever witness.

It was beautiful. And disturbing. Absolutely disturbing.

You were no longer with the Macedonians, you knew just by looking at the wealth that tent had. Not even Alexander's tent had so much wealth, he preferred to maintain a more Spartan style, a way of getting closer to his soldiers and generals. You respected him for that.

You had no idea where you were and who you were with. Genuine dread and fear filled your insides and you had to try to hold back the rising bile, the imminent urge to vomit that took over your aching body.

Now was not the time to vomit. You needed to find out where you were, what had happened and how to get out of there.

You carefully got up from the small bed you were half-sitting and half-lying on and began trying to walk through what appeared to be the opening of the tent. You stopped abruptly when the flap opened and you had to stay strong when the person you least expected appeared in front of you.

"Perdiccas." You whispered his name, your legs shaking weakly and your heart beating wildly. You were about to have an anxiety attack and needed to try to stay alert.

Perdiccas looked at you, concern shining in his dark blue eyes. He stepped forward and gently held your shoulders.

"Are you well?" He murmured, looking at your face, searching for any sign of a bruise. You shook your head in denial, trying to understand what the hell was going on.

You were no longer in the Macedonian camp, that much was obvious, so why was Perdiccas here too?

"W-Where are we?" Your voice cracked a little.

Perdiccas shook his head, "You will find out soon enough. You must rest now."

"What do you mean by that? I..." You felt yourself being pulled more and more by the panic that was growing inside you. No, you didn't want to go through all that shit again.

"Everything will be fine." Perdiccas assured, "They swore to me that you would not be harmed."

They? Who were they?

"Who are you talking about? Perdiccas, what's going on? Who are they?" Your mind seemed to spin with every question you asked.

Perdiccas pursed his lips and sighed heavily and after a moment's deliberation, he replied, "The Persians."

"The Persians." You repeated his words, trying to make sure you heard him right. The Persians, yes. You were with the Persians. You and Perdiccas.

Perdiccas just nodded, unsure of what to say. He had thought during the hours when you were blank on what exactly to say to you, but everything he had rehearsed had gone to waste.

"Why are we with the Persians?"

Perdiccas bit his lower lip as he contemplated your words. He didn't seem to want to tell you but you were going to find out one way or another.

"Because I brought us here." That's all he said.

You nodded your aching head, trying to stay calm. Perdiccas brought you here.

"Why?"

"Because then we can be together." He murmured, looking at your face calmly.

As his words registered in your mind, you replied weakly, "You betrayed Alexander." It wasn't a question, but a statement.

"Yes," Perdiccas began to walk in a circle, "I did it for you. For us."

You looked at him, your eyes flashing with anger, "Do you realize what you did? Alexander is going to kill you!"

"I did what I had to do. Darius offered me a good deal and I couldn't say no."

"W-What did he offer you?" The words were louder than a whisper, but he heard them well.

Perdiccas approached you and placed his hands on your bare shoulders, "That you would be mine in exchange for information about Alexander."

Your heart began to beat painfully inside your chest and a wave of nausea took over your body. You pushed Perdiccas away and unable to hold back the bile, you vomited on the floor of the tent and some on Perdiccas' boots.

Perdiccas just looked at you with cold, hard eyes. He didn't seem disgusted but rather irritated.

"So it is true."

You looked at him confused, your breathing labored and the bad taste of vomit on your lips. How you wish you had a toothbrush now.

"You are pregnant." He said, clenching his fists.

You didn't respond, you just closed your eyes, trying to hold back another wave of nausea.

"It's all good." Perdiccas said, placing a hand on your head, "Soon you will be free of this burden."

You opened your eyes quickly, scared of what those words could mean.

"Don't worry, I'll take care of you. Now come, let's get you cleaned up and you'll be introduced to Darius."

When Perdiccas helped you straighten up, you didn't fight it. Fear paralyzed you. Perdiccas seemed very calm about the news of your pregnancy and something told you that what he was planning would not be good. But you wouldn't let him hurt your baby.

You would kill him before that.

A few days after your wedding night, at the Macedonian War Camp.

Perdiccas was in his tent, with a cup of wine in his hands and the other gripping his sword tightly. He was livid. The wedding was over but the sounds of the festivities still echoed through the camp for days. The soldiers all seemed excited about their choice of Queen.

Although you were clearly a foreigner and an unknown, you had earned their respect during your time there. You helped the injured, helped save Cleitus, and worked with the doctors to heal them. You were a kind of hero to the soldiers and they adored and respected you.

Perdiccas liked knowing that you wouldn't have any problems with them, but he hated the fact that you married a man other than him. He felt sick just thinking about your wedding night, about Alexander taking your virginity, about him entering you and hearing the sweets sounds your lips would produce. And in the nights that followed, he pretended not to notice that Alexander seemed to spend most of his nights in your tent.

Perdiccas wanted to gut Alexander for this.

Gripping the cup of wine tighter, Perdiccas' knuckles turned white. The more he thought about it the angrier he became. He needed to control himself or he would end up walking into Alexander's tent and doing something he would regret.

Well, maybe he wouldn't regret it so much, but he didn't want to die now. Not when he had you to conquer.

Sighing heavily, he stood up from his chair and put away his sword. He wanted to sleep, he didn't want to think about you in Alexander's arms.

But the gods had other plans for him. Perdiccas frowned when a messenger entered his tent without asking permission. He didn't recognize him as one of his men. Maybe it was a message from you? He was excited by the prospect.

"General Perdiccas?" The messenger asked in broken greek. Perdiccas heard a strong accent and he didn't like it at all.

He quickly reached for his sword and in one swift movement, Perdiccas cornered the man.

"Who are you?" He growled, his sword pressing into the man's throat.

The messenger gasped, "I-I bring a message from King Darius." His words were harsh and scared, but Perdiccas understood them perfectly.

Darius. The fucking King of Persia.

Darius send him a letter. Why?

"Why?" He asked, still not removing the sword from the man's throat.

"A proposal." The messenger murmured and pointed to the sword, "Can you take it out? I just want to talk."

Perdiccas stared at him with a raised eyebrow but nodded and slowly removed the sword from the messenger's throat. The man stood up and introduced himself.

"I am Aslan."

"I don't care who you are. Just tell me why you're here and why I shouldn't report you to Alexander."

Aslan muttered something in persian and said, "Darius has a proposal for you.

"Which proposal?"

"One that might be of interest to you. One that involves your new Queen—" Aslan couldn't even finish the sentence before Perdiccas had him cornered again.

"What about her? Is she in danger?! ANSWER ME!" Perdiccas growled furiously in the messenger's face. Aslan swallowed.

"She's not in danger!" Aslan managed to choke out, "She'll be fine. I just came to talk."

Perdiccas narrowed his eyes and slowly walked away, "Say it at once."

Aslan straightened his robes and said, "Here is a letter from Darius." He handed him a papyrus envelope.

Perdiccas took it suspiciously and said, "I can't read persian."

One corner of Aslan's mouth turned up, "It's written in greek."

Perdiccas sighed and opened the letter, reading its contents.

''General Perdiccas,

I address you in this correspondence to propose an agreement that I believe could be of great interest to both of us. I have been aware of your feelings towards your new Queen, as well as the supposed tension towards your King since he married her.

I therefore present my proposal: if you are willing to share information that could contribute to the success of our endeavors in this war, I undertake to assist you in fulfilling your wishes in relation to the Queen. She will be entirely at your disposal, whether to join you in marriage or to be taken as a concubine, as you wish. I assure you that all measures will be taken to guarantee your well-being and safety.

If you agree to the proposed conditions, I will take the necessary steps to transfer you from your camp to mine. I await your response.

Yours sincerely,

King Darius III.''

Perddicas's eyes widened as he read the bold content of this letter. When he finished, he took it to a candle and set it on fire. Destroying any possible evidence.

Aslan watched him with interest.

Perdiccas turned to the persian messenger, his eyes shining with determination and mischief, ''Tell your King that I accept his proposal.'' There was no hesitation and not an ounce of remorse. He had made his choice.

Aslan smiled mischievously and nodded.

Perdiccas stared at the candle with a dark expression. You would be his. It was everything he needed. He knew he would be turning a traitor, but he didn't care. The prospect of living a life with you was more than he could have wanted.

Maybe he would be cursed by the gods for this choice but it would all be worth it if he could hold you for a moment, feel the taste of your lips again, touch your body, join you as one.

It would all be worth it for you.

A few days before your kidnapping,

You walked around your tent bored and distressed. It had been a few days, weeks in fact, that you had been feeling increasingly anxious and this was due to several reasons. One of the main ones was that you noticed a significant change in the story.

You were supposed to go to Sogdian Rock, where Alexander would meet Roxanne and marry her, but instead, he was preparing for a battle against Darius that you knew was Issus's. This was wrong, very wrong indeed. You had already changed history too much and you feared what those changes might mean for the future.

You needed to leave soon before you screwed everything up once and for all.

You took a deep breath and thought about your other problem. Your period was late. Okay, you didn't keep track of your menstrual cycle here, but you knew it should have come to you by now. You thought maybe this was due to the fact that you were no longer a virgin and that this could have changed your cycle, but that didn't make any sense.

The truth was what you feared. A few days ago, you started to feel strangely sick and had some nausea.

You assumed it was the food that was bad, but when those symptoms only increased, you knew the truth.

You were pregnant.

This was bad, very bad. You shouldn't be pregnant. You could not. Alexander should have taken years to have a child with Roxanne, not you. The idea of pregnancy was scary for you, what it could mean. This could keep you permanently stuck in the past but could also be catastrophic for the future.

You needed to find a way out. But you had no idea how to get back. Your only clue was that strange man in the market but you never saw him again, which left you with no way out.

''(Y/N)? Can I come in?'' You were startled when you heard a voice outside your tent. You took a deep breath and replied,

''Yes. Come in.''

The flap lifted and you smiled gently when you saw Leonnatus enter, dressed in a simple white chiton. He smiled widely and ran to hug you, pulling you tightly and crushing you in a bear hug.

You laughed softly and hugged him back. A few days ago, you found yourself very close to this officer, he seemed to like you and you liked him. He reminded you a little of Perdiccas, due to how kind he was to you.

''How are you?'' He asked when you separated.

''I'm fine.'' You mumbled and he raised his eyebrow.

''Tell me what's wrong.'' His voice was slightly harsh and you looked at him, ''Please.'' He added when he saw your incredulous expression.

''I...'' You sighed and sat down in a chair, ''If I tell you something, will you promise not to tell anyone?''

As soon as you uttered these words, the tent flap was opened again and Seleucus entered unannounced. You frowned and he gave you a guilty smile.

''Sorry. I couldn't help but hear you talking and I want to know too!'' Seleucus said, approaching you.

Leonnatus raised his eyebrow, ''You are a gossiper.''

You laughed when Seleucus looked at you indignantly. Oh, these two were comedy and you loved them for it. You were happy to have found an unlikely friendship in them.

''I am merely concerned for the well-being of our wonderful Queen.'' Seleucus defended himself.

''I'm sure you are.'' Leonnatus scoffed.

''Okay, okay! I'll say it but you two have to promise, no, swear to me that you won't say anything to anyone, you hear?'' You said nervously. Noticing your nervousness, both men nodded quickly.

''I…'' You took a deep breath, gathering courage, ''Well, I think I'm pregnant.''

Leonnatus smiled widely and Seleucus even jumped for joy.

''Ah, by the gods! That's great!'' Leonnatus said, very excited.

''YES! You have to tell Alexander! He's going to be so happy!'' Seleucus added, joining his fellow officer in his joy.

You quickly stood up, ''NO! You swore to me not to say anything!

They stopped celebrating and looked at you confused. That was good news, wasn't it?

Leonnatus approached carefully and placed his hand on your shoulder, ''Why?''

''Because I don't want him to know yet. I'm not sure if I'm pregnant or not, but I want to know for sure first.'' It was a half-truth and thankfully they seemed satisfied with it.

''Alright, let's not say anything.'' Seleucus said and placed a hand on your other shoulder, ''You have our word.''

You smiled in relief, ''Thank you.''

Leonnatus and Seleucus hugged you in a group, making you squeeze between them. You didn't push them away, instead feeling calm about having friends and allies who clearly cared about you. That was good and it hurt a part of you to know that you would have to leave them eventually.

But for now... You would just make the most of this time as much as you can.

Present day, at the Persian War Camp,

True to Perdiccas' words, you were washed and dressed by servants. You looked like a doll in the hands of these women and you hated this feeling of helplessness.

When they finally finished dressing you, you found yourself sitting in a chair, waiting to be called to meet Darius. A part of you was apprehensive, while another felt a twinge of excitement at being about to meet another historical figure.

Sighing, you grabbed a glass of water, drinking it slowly as you reflected on the gravity of the situation you found yourself in. It was clear that big problems lay ahead.

You stood up abruptly as the tent flap was pulled aside, your heart beating wildly as your eyes locked on the figure entering. The glass of water slipped from your shaking hand, falling to the floor with a muffled pop, the liquid spilling onto the carpet.

A chill ran down your spine as you recognized who stood before you. You instinctively stepped back, your hesitant footsteps echoing softly in the tense silence of the tent as the figure approached.

"It's... you...", Your words came out in a fragile, almost inaudible murmur, your body seeming to weaken in the face of the imposing presence in front of you.

It was him, the man from the market. The same person who, in some inexplicable way, had been the catalyst for your journey through time. Disbelief and fear intertwined in your mind as you tried to process the significance of this unexpected encounter.

''Hello, (Y/N). It's good to see you.'' The man said, smiling broadly, ''We have a lot to talk about, don't we?''

— lady l: It took me a while to bring it but my days are busy and I barely had time to write! BUT, I hope the wait was worth it with this ending... Hahaha, what do you think will happen? 👀

I hope you enjoyed it and we'll see you in the next chapter, which won't take so long! Love you!! ❤️❤️

[shy-taylorsversion]

Want You Back | Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Inspired by Want You Back by Maisie Peters

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Summary: Over a year ago, Y/n started hunting with the boys. Her and Dean's friendship became more than anything she ever had before. Then he hurt her like never before. The worst part was she didn't really care.

Takes place somewhere in season 6 after Sam got his soul back. Flashbacks are during season five.

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: Cursing (minimal), canon-level violence, few innuendos, and mentions of things. Reader is kinda sad and desperate. Angst. no happy ending :(

A/N: Hi!! After a year of trying to write a complete fic to post, I finally did it. Please excuse any grammar or spelling errors, I relied on Grammarly lol Also I had no idea how to write the action scenes but tried my best. I really don't know if this is worth much but I had so much fun writing sooo I hope you enjoy it!! (gif not mine)

March 2010

  Y/n’s phone buzzed, drawing her attention from the hunter drunkenly blabbering in her ear. They’d just wrapped up a quick hunt, a werewolf somewhere in northern Montana. She didn’t even really know the guy but Bobby had given him her number to ask for help. She agreed, not really having anything more to do. He was fine for a hunter, other than he never shut up and was getting too handsy for her liking, and him being on his fifth drink wasn’t helping. 

She opened the message, not recognizing the number. Bobby had to stop handing it out to whoever.  

           “Hey, Sweetheart. Whatcha up to?”  

The phone fell into her lap. There was only one person she ever let get away with calling her that, or anything really, and he didn’t come around often. 

           “Depends, who is this?”  

    The response was almost immediate. 

          “Don’t do me like that, Y/n”

 She could almost see his stupid grin on the screen and had to look away to control the heat rising in her face. Within five seconds and two texts, Dean Winchester had turned her into a giggling schoolgirl with a crush. 

          “I’m at a bar, what do you want?” 

         “Ah, a girl after my own heart. Which one? I wanna see you.” 

In any other universe, she would have assumed he had ulterior motives. She had the first few times she’d received that text but ended up spending the night hiding her disappointment. He only wanted to see her. He’d meet with her wherever she was. A bar, a motel, a diner.   

They’d spend hours talking about everything. She’d tell him stories of her recent hunts and the hunters she was stuck helping. He’d tell her of whatever they’d been facing. On rare occasions, when it was super late and they were sprawled on her bed, in a half-drunken stupor, he’d tell her about Sam or their dad. He’d mention their childhood and what he was put through. One night, he even mentioned a girl named Cassie, he skirted around details but Y/n understood. 

   They’d fall asleep like that, on top of the covers of a dirty motel bed. The next morning, he’d take her to breakfast, hug her goodbye, and then he was gone. 

     Her phone buzzed in her hand again. 

       “I miss you.” 

Her blood ran cold as she stared at the screen. He’d definitely never said that before. They just never went there and maybe this wasn’t him going there but it was different. Without another thought, she sent him the address. 

Present, April 2011

  “What Dean did wasn’t ok, you know that right?” Sam said through the phone. “He never should’ve left like that. We just really could use your and Bobby’s help on this case.” 

  Y/n sighed in response. What could she even say? That she knew, that she understood. That it still didn’t matter because even through all of the anger and hurt, she’d take him back tomorrow. 

  Not that he’d ever actually been hers. It was only half a spring, barely two months. 

It didn’t matter either way. There was a job to be done and she had to do it. She could put her feelings aside for a few days. 

 “He always left like that, not like I’m surprised.”  

   “Look, I’ve gotta go but please, Y/n, call us if you need anything. We’ll be there soon.“ 

 “Bye, Sam.” 

  The call ended, leaving Y/n leaning against the railing of Bobby’s porch. The early spring wind whipped around her and she hugged her flannel closer, looking out onto the empty road. 

   It had been over a year since she’d seen either of them. She knew of everything that happened to them. Sam going to hell and coming back without a soul. Dean, living a normal life for over a year with a woman and her kid. 

 Y/n didn’t know her, only hearing about the situation from Sam and Bobby in passing. She knew her name was Lisa and that Dean cared for her. Maybe more. She knew that Dean had promised Sam to live a normal life after he jumped into the cage. And she was happy that he got a year of peace. She was. 

   She could picture him helping in the kitchen, wearing an apron with flour smeared across his face. He’d probably set up family movie nights and weekend outings and birthday dinners. He’d been happy and okay. Against all odds, he had gotten out. 

    That didn’t stop the wave of hurt that washed over at the thought of him, all domestic and soft.  

 The click of the door opening pulled her out of her thoughts. Bobby stood there, a knowing look on his face.  

     “C’mon kid, let’s see if we can figure out something before those boys get here.” 

A few hours later, Y/n stared at the book in her lap. She’d been rereading the same paragraph for thirty minutes. Every time she’d get drawn into the book, the house would creak or the wind would blow and she’d be snapped out of it. 

   She kept waiting for the door to open, for footsteps to trail down the foyer and into the living room. She couldn’t even begin to prepare for what the next few days were going to be like. Her only plan was to act as normal as possible, which was already proving to be difficult. 

  A pit formed in her stomach, there was a lump in her throat and her head was clouded. The whole room was hazy and it felt like she was watching herself exist.

    She didn’t even realize she was crying until something wet hit her hands and slid onto her jeans. She quickly wiped her eyes and tried to focus on the book again. The lines blurred together as more tears filled her eyes.  

    God, she was sitting here crying over some guy. She was a grown woman, she had to get over this. It was pathetic at this point. 

   “You know, what Dean did was wrong. Leaving like that, not telling you what happening.” Bobby said, walking into the room, a stack of books in his hands. “I love the kid but he’s a real dick sometimes.”

       He meant well but she swore if one more person said that Dean had done bad, she was going to go crazy. 

    She knew that. More than anyone, she knew. She was the one who spent months hunting with him, helping him and Sam figure out how to save the damn world. They’d spent nights wrapped up in each other, more than ever before. Farther than before.  

  She was the one who woke up to an empty bed with no trace of him anywhere. He never responded to a call or a text. Never even let her know he was alive. 

  He’d left like an assassin. 

   Part of her couldn’t even blame him. It probably had been for the best because if he’d told her what the plan had been, she’d have begged. 

     In the end, he’d got to be a coward and she salvaged some amount of self-respect. 

 “I know, Bobby.” She said, giving him a small smile, “I know.” 

The door creaked causing Y/n to jump, earning her a concerned look from Bobby. 

  She smiled at him again, trying to reassure him. She could tell he’d been worried about her lately. He was justified in it. She’d been on edge and closed off for the last year and a half. 

   She took a deep breath and steadied herself. She’d known these boys for the better part of her life, it wasn’t a big deal. 

     Sam rounded the corner first, entering with a slight grin. His eyes immediately found hers and without warning he pulled her off the couch and into his arms. 

   Y/n let out a surprised laugh as her feet dangled off the ground and the life was squeezed out of her.  

   “I missed you too, Sam.” She said, unable to hold back more laughter, “Put me down now.” 

   Her feet hit the floor and Sam stepped back. She looked him over, still smiling. 

     “I’m so glad you’re back.” 

   “Yeah, me too.” 

A set of footsteps grew louder causing Y/n to look up, only for her to meet two green eyes. 

  The breath was knocked out of her and she was all too aware of the pit in her stomach again. 

Ignoring the pairs of eyes on her, She spun on her heel to face Bobby.   

    “Let’s get started?” 

March 2010 

“I call shotgun!” Y/n yelled as they walked out of the diner and took off towards the Impala.

   She was probably being unfair. She’d barely shared the passenger side in the few weeks she’d been with the boys. Sam was getting huffy about it, she could tell but she enjoyed the view more from the front.  Sitting in the back she’d miss the way Dean’s hands looked gripping the steering wheel, the way his lips moved as he mouthed the lyrics to whatever was on the radio, or the way his eyes would flicker to hers for just a split second. 

 Dean had also finally let her DJ and she didn’t plan on giving that rare privilege away anytime soon.

   “C'mon, dude. It's my turn.” Sam whined, “My legs are starting to cramp.” 

Sam beat her to the car which wasn’t surprising since he was literally the size of one. She was close to giving in when an arm landed on her shoulder. Dean nudged Sam out of the way, ignoring his protests, and opened the door. 

     “Sorry, Sammy.”  Dean’s eyes never left hers as she slid into the seat, “Need my Darlin’ by my side.” 

Present, April 2011

   Cracked wooden planks creaked under Y/n’s feet as she followed the boys and Bobby into the abandoned house. It was pitch black. She blinked her eyes, trying to adapt to the lack of lighting.  

According to Sam, a nest of vamps had been holed up there for weeks. They’d started leaving a trail of bodies, teens who’d come through as a dare or curiosity. She didn’t know the exact numbers racked up in that time but it was enough for Sam and Dean to ask for help. 

   Dean motioned for them to split up, two taking the downstairs and two going up. She went to follow behind Sam who had taken off into the next room but Bobby beat her to it. She would’ve fought back but it wasn’t exactly like she could cause a scene right then. 

   She followed Dean up the stairs, cringing every time the stairs groaned underneath their feet. 

Dean slowed as he hit the final step before a long, dark hallway. Y/n was a step behind him. His body nearly covered her. She shifted to the side to peer around him. 

  Both raised their machetes, trying to keep their breathing quiet as they waited for any sign of movement.

    A crash came from down the hall. Dean started towards the sound, Y/n following close behind. The complete darkness put them on edge. Being minus one sense in a house of at least ten fanged bastards, not fun. 

      The floorboard creaked behind her causing her to flip around, just in time to dodge the first vampire of the night. 

       She swung her machete, hitting its arm. Distracted, she brought down the weapon. Its head hit the floor. 

        Dean yelled out from behind her. She flung herself around to hear him fighting off, what she guessed was three on his own. Her presence seemed to catch the attention of one of them because it charged at her. 

   She dodged, the vamp lunged again grabbing her by the arm. She twisted out of its grasp. Using the angle to her advantage, she swiped her leg around, knocking it off balance. Its head rolled away as its body hit the ground. 

     She wiped the sweat from her forehead and turned to try to find Dean. She still couldn’t see him but she could hear him panting a few feet away.

She was yanked forward. Hands gripped her forearms tight enough to leave bruises and slammed into the wall. Her head buzzed on impact and she forced herself to stay upright. Its fangs grazed her neck and then its head dropped to the floor. 

   Dean stood in front of her, so close she could feel him breathing, rather than hearing it. Without thinking, she reached out to him and landed on his arm. She went to pull away but his other hand grasped her wrist, holding her in place. 

“Thanks.” She breathed, “You good?” 

“Yeah, You?” 

She wished she could see him, make sure he was being truthful. He didn’t exactly have the best track record with honesty. But in the dark, she had no choice but to trust him. 

    “I’m fine.” There were definitely bruises forming in her arms and her head was still spinning but she’d had worse.  

   Dean’s hand dropped her wrist. She ignored the deflated feeling in her chest and dropped her arm back to her side. 

  Without warning, he ran his hands over her arms and up her shoulders. She tried to pull away but he didn’t stop. 

    “What are you doing?” She whisper-yelled. 

“I literally heard you hit the wall, Y/n,” He said, running his hands over her head, checking for any bumps. 

“I am fine.”  She tried to swat him away but he grabbed her wrists mid-air and pulled them to his chest.  

    The air was humid around them. She heard him panting. Leather and sweat invaded her senses. Any focus she had before vanished. 

He was here, touching her, after so long. 

  Silence enveloped them. The only noise was their panting. 

 This was wrong. Sam and Bobby were probably fighting for their life downstairs and here they were, doing whatever this was.

  She was about to pull away when a loud yell came from downstairs. 

   The moment was broken. They took off down the hallway and stairs. Staying close to not get lost in the dark. 

  They hit the last few steps as a vampire, charged at them. 

 Dean swung his machete and it fell to the floor.  

 They moved further into the first floor of the home, finding Sam and Bobby fighting off at least four vamps each.  

   They split up, him going to Bobby and her going to Sam.  

     None of the vampires were aware of her yet. She grabbed the syringe of deadman’s blood out of her pocket and plunged the needle into the closet to her. 

  Now they knew she was there.

 Two turned towards her giving Sam time to take down his remaining one. 

   Both charged at her, hissing. She ran in between them.She flipped around, slicing the blade in an arc. The one on her left doubled over at the impact. 

    She swung. 

The right one lunged at her. She pivoted and cut the blade up. 

Its head hit the floor. 

She looked around the room, a slight beam of moonlight flooded the house now. She made out Sam helping Bobby up from the floor, right as Dean took down the last vampire. 

   The room was silent other than everyone trying to catch their breath.  

Dean’s eyes found hers. She forced herself to look away. Sam interrupted the non-moment. 

“Time for drinks?” 

Y/n and the boys decided to go out. They were leaving soon but everyone needed time to wash off and get ready. 

   She dragged the black liner across her eyelid, double-checking to see if it smeared the shimmery brown eyeshadow she’d already put on. The cracks in the old mirror made it kind of hard to perfect the make-up but it would have to do.  She already changed from her bloodied hunting clothes into a clean pair of jeans with a simple tank top. She didn’t own much and traveled with less. 

“Broke mirrors are bad luck, ya know?”  

  Dean leaned against the doorframe, flannel pulled taut around his crossed arms. 

She ignored the pit that had reappeared in her stomach and continued applying her lipstick. She flipped through ideas for a response. She could yell at him to get out or cry about how much he hurt her. Instead, she opted to act like nothing was wrong. 

   “I’m pretty sure you’re the one who broke it.”  She said, shoveling her makeup back into the bag, still never meeting his eye. She stood and gathered the rest of her stuff into a neat pile on her bed. Her back was completely towards him. 

    She heard him walk into the room and the door clicked shut. 

“Y/n, look at me.”  

She turned around and looked up at him. Her eyebrows raised like he was boring her. In reality, she was struggling to breathe. Her hands shook and a lump was stuck in her throat.  

 Her eyes glanced over his face. His jaw was set but eyes were soft.  She knew where this was going. 

  Dean took a deep breath before starting.  

“Look, what I did-” 

“Do not finish that sentence, Dean Winchester.” She spat. 

“I just-”

“No. You don’t get to say anything. You don’t get to say that what you did was wrong or how sorry you are. You don’t think I don’t know that what you did was wrong? Everyone keeps telling me that. Bobby, Sam and now you. They kept telling me how horrible of you that was like it wasn’t me. Like I wasn’t the one who spent months with you, like I didn't help you figure out how to stop the fucking apocalypse. Like I didn’t stitch you up after every hunt or spend every car ride next to you. Like I wasn’t the one who would hold you after you woke up screaming or it wasn’t me who spent every single night in your fucking sheets.” 

 Every ounce of refrain she’d worked to keep was gone. Hot tears were streaming down her face as her eyes bored into his. He didn’t try to interrupt her but his jaw twitched and body tensed. 

  “Like it wasn’t me who woke up two months later to an empty bed. You were gone, Dean. You left without a word. No text, no note. Nothing. You fucking left me. And then I found out you were with some other girl for a year? So yeah, I know that what you did was bad.” 

Somewhere in her speech, she’d moved close enough for their chest to touch. Her finger was stabbing into his chest.  He didn’t move, was barely breathing but she wasn’t finished. 

   “Maybe it was cheap to you, or maybe it was some fling to pass the time but it was real to me. It was all I had. You were all I had.” Her voice broke at the last word and she dropped her hand. Her head fell as she cried. Over a year of built-up heartbreak exploding in one moment was too much. 

     His hand found hers and placed it back on his chest. She looked back up at him, his other hand reaching out to cup her cheek. She closed her eyes as his thumb wiped away the remaining tears. 

    “Do you want to know what the worst part is?” She whispered, eyes still shut. “I’d be yours again if you wanted. If you asked. How pathetic is that?” 

      “Y/n.” 

She opened her eyes to look at him despite her embarrassment.  

  “You are anything but cheap or pathetic.” His voice was thick and his eyes were glassy. She’d seen him in so many different states but she’d never seen so much emotion written across his face. 

   “Ask me then. Ask me to come with you.” 

His expression darkened and he dropped his hand from her face. He took a step back and looked away. 

   “It’s not that easy.” He said, shaking his head. “It's never that easy.” 

She let out a bitter laugh. 

 She wasn’t even surprised. She should’ve been disappointed or furious but she was just over it. She was tired and desperate. And if she couldn’t have him, he needed to go. 

  She wiped a hand down her face and glanced back into the mirror assessing the damage her outburst caused. She started wiping off the messed-up liner before starting to reapply. Dean stood behind her, brows furrowed in confusion. 

    “Get out.” She said without hesitation, her voice as steady as possible.  

He opened his mouth as if to speak but shut it. He walked towards the door but stopped with his hand on the doorknob. 

   “For what it's worth, I am sorry.” 

The buzz of conversation filled the packed-out bar. Sam found them a small booth in the corner and was now talking about a new piece of lore he’d found about some Egyptian god. Most of the time, she loved hearing what he had to say but right now all she could focus on was Dean's hand trailing up and down the woman’s hip. He never even sat down with them, finding himself a spot at the bar, next to a pretty blonde. She’d watched for half an hour now as he grinned at the girl, whispered in her ear, and bought her a drink. 

  She wanted to puke or cry or both. She decided to get drunk instead. 

She went to take a sip of her beer only to realize it was empty. Motioning to Sam she was going to get another, she slid out of the booth and made her way to the opposite side of the bar from Dean. 

   She planned to order a shot of some vodka and another beer but she couldn’t catch the attention of either bartender.

  A body bumped up against hers causing her to stumble. A hand wrapped around her waist to catch her. She almost jerked away but she looked up to find a familiarly unfamiliar pair of dark green eyes and dark blonde hair.  

   The man was by far the prettiest she’d seen all night. 

 “I am so sorry, It's packed in here. Isn’t it?  Nowhere to stand.” He had a slight southern drawl and a boyish charm about him. 

 “It is. Can’t seem to even order a drink.”  She smiled at him.

 “You see, now that had to be fate or something because I was just wantin’ to buy you one.” He grinned and waited, almost seeing if she’d allow it. His hand was still on her but she found she didn’t really mind. 

 The room was fuzzy and she could only make out the man in front of her. Even then, he was a little hazy and she had no idea what he was saying, only that his mouth looked pretty as he said it.    

  Y/n didn’t know how long it’d been since the handsome stranger volunteered to feed into her night of drunkenness or even how many she’d had so far. She vaguely remembered him buying her the first shot and then the second and maybe a third. They made small talk, she gave some bullshit story about what she did for work and where she was from. Somewhere in between she had a fourth, fifth, and sixth one. 

 And somewhere between the seventh and now, she’d lost track of Dean. She didn’t even know if he was still there. She did know that the new guy made her feel ok, at least for now. His hands never left her and the drinks never seemed to end.

  She could barely remember the events of the day. Maybe by tomorrow, she wouldn’t remember any of it, or at least a girl could hope.

But right now, she didn’t feel like crying or throwing up as long as she didn’t think of it. 

   She decided in her drunken haze that maybe this was what she needed. So when the stranger asked her if she wanted to leave, she agreed. And when he leaned down to kiss her, she let him.