#but sometimes (like tonight) it just hits me all once .the weight and burden of all that I hide from everyone.

[sillywebz]

we have now reached the stage of family vacation where i have a meltdown

[theramblinghockeydude]

The tough days

Each day is a struggle and has it's own unique set of challenges for me, I get that and for the most part I have figured out how to maneuver myself through those challenges and remain fairly positive and happy. Then there are days when it just seems like nothing goes right and you are a complete burden to those around you and to the world. The days where you question what your purpose on this planet actually is anymore and what you have to offer others. Days and moments where shame and anger take over and you are not really sure what to do with all of it. Days when the easy thing to do would be to retreat back into your corner of your mind and never let anyone back in again because at the time, you feel like that is the only place you can feel safe. Thing is, I am no longer alone so even if I retreat to that safe area of my mind I am still a burden to others, there is no escaping that now, it is what my life has become and sometimes the weight of that is too much to bear. These are the times when your mind wanders and you think about all of your failures in life and conjure up a list of failures yet to come. Basically, your mind throws itself a pity party and you are not even sure if it has invited you or not, but you rash that party anyway and you pile on, because at the heart of it is the simple fact that some days you are not that strong. You do the things that you think will drag you out of that state of mind...listen to music, talk with God, but none of it works on this particular day because you have convinced yourself, if even for just a few hours or a day that you are completely and utterly useless and there is no talking yourself out of it. So you sit in that mental misery for as long as it has it's hold on you, hoping it just a few hours, but being hit, yet again, with the stark reality that your life as you once knew it is gone and it isn't going to return, no matter how many times you wish it so, no matter how many times others say it will, the simple fact is things have changed and there are going to be good days, bad days and utterly awful days. The trick is figuring out how to navigate those bad and awful days without letting your mind go down that rabbit hole of darkness.

I am not sure which part of all this I hate the most. The part where my mobility is crap and I am unable to do a lot of the things I used to do and am in need of help each day, or the part where I struggle mentally. The mental side of all of this is just so overwhelming sometimes and it is a place that I never saw myself. Sure, I had my struggles through life like everyone else and I was a worrier, if there was something to worry about I would do it, but this is so different. The anxiety that I now feel most days and the feeling of, what is the point, that comes and goes. I wonder to myself, am I strong enough to stay out the darkness for good? I would like to think the answer to that is yes and I feel like my faith can help me in that area, but faith alone cannot keep you out of that spot if you just simply stop trying, and that is the fear, that one day it will just all be too much and I will give up again. Definitely not a place I want to go back to, but one that I feel would be easy to go back to. I feel like it is always right there within reach, taunting me, calling me back. At the moment I have the will to not go there and not heed that call, but that little voice in my heads asks the question...will it always be that way?

So, for tonight at least the struggle wages on and I will listen to some Disciple and I will talk with God while I surf the interwebs as sleep will not come right now.

[starks-hero]

I Remember All of Them

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Bucky has a nightmare and it leads to a late night conversation.

Word Count: 2,029

Warnings: angst, mentions of canon-typical violence, mentions of alcohol

You'd woken up to an empty bed. You had turned on your side and lazily run your hand along the mattress, hoping to find a broad chest or metal arm but instead being greeted with an empty space beside you.

Your feet met the cool floorboards as you swung your legs over the edge of the bed and stood. You couldn't help but worry as you pulled on one of Bucky's shirts and left the room. You tried rationalising your thoughts despite your tired mind. Maybe he just couldn't sleep and went out on a run, he could have been in the bathroom, there were multiple harmless and simple possibilities. But the fear that it might just be something else, something bad, was enough to stir you from bed and go looking for him.

Your footsteps echoed in the hallway as you made your way to the kitchen and you sighed when you found Bucky sitting on a stool at the counter. Your relief melted away as you took in his appearance. He was hunched over the counter, arms crossed and hair dishevelled with what you recognised as a glass of scotch sitting idle in front of him. A weight set in your chest.

"Bucky," you said timidly and he jumped at your voice. He turned to you with a fearful expression, the metal of his arm whirling and clanking in defence as if he were ready for a fight. But when he realised it was you his tough, soldier facade fell away and he exhaled slowly. He didn't say anything, slumping further down in his chair as you joined him in the darkened room, not bothering to turn on the light.

You gingerly placed your hand against his shoulder and he almost unnoticeably flinched away. Your heart sank.

"Nightmare?" You asked and he nodded silently, hardened glare boring into the marble of the counter. "Why didn't you wake me?"

"Didn't want to scare you," he grumbled.

He didn't say anything else as you took a seat next to him, your hand slipping from his shoulder and resting against his bicep.

"You think when I wake up in the middle of the night and you're not there it's any less scary?"

Bucky sighed and scrubbed a hand down his face. He glanced at you with tired eyes.

"I'm sorry."

He hadn't meant to worry you. When he'd woken up in a cold sweat with a scream dying in his throat and turned to find you sleeping peacefully beside him he felt panic swell in his chest. The nightmare wasn't any different than the rest of them. It felt just as real as the others. But it's what had happened in the dream, what he'd done, that filled him with the overwhelming urge to get away from you. His subconscious couldn't help but torture him further by replacing the image of his victim with you. And replacing their screams with your voice, begging him to stop.

"It's okay, baby." Your voice pulled him back and grounded him. "Why don't you tell me what happened," you coaxed gently and he immediately shook his head.

"Don't want to."

"Bucky-"

"I can't," he said quickly, his voice sharp. He swallowed and shook his head and you noticed the tears building in his eyes. Gently, you slowly ran your hand up his arm and brushed it through his hair. He exhaled frailly.

"Why not?"

It was quiet for a moment as Bucky wrung his hands. His gaze lingered on the intricate workings of the vibranuim for a few seconds more before he closed the prosthetic hand into a loose fist.

"I don't want to lose you," he admitted quietly. His voice was barely above a whisper and he refused to look at you as you listened attentively, comfortingly rubbing his back. He felt his chest grow tighter as everything else fell past his parted lips all at once. "You're all I have. You're the best thing that's happened to me in a really long time and I can't risk losing you. I can't."

Your expression saddened as Bucky hid his face in his hands. You carefully wrapped an arm around him and pulled him into your side and he went willingly, flesh arm wrapping around your neck. You shushed him gently and his aching muscles relaxed against you. Horrifying images from his nightmare flashed to the forefront of his mind but he did his best to dismiss them as he clutched onto you tighter.

"You won't lose me, Bucky. I'm not going anywhere." You pulled back slightly and cupped his face with your free hand, your thumb tracing his cheek. "Your past doesn't scare me. I promised you that I'd stick by you no matter what happens and I meant it. You don't have to hide from me, Buck."

Your hand fell from his cheek and gently rested against his forearm and he did his best to focus on your touch. He took a deep breath as he sat up and cleared his throat.

"When I have them they feel so real it's like I'm reliving it. They're not just nightmares, they're memories. And I remember all of it." He said quietly, eyes not leaving the counter. He felt his stomach tie itself in a knot and an uncomfortable weight setting in on his chest. Yet he willed himself to keep going.

"Tonight it was a mission in Germany, sometime during the eighties. A hydra intel agent had gone rough and they sent me to take care of him. Hydra couldn't afford to have any loose ends so it was my job to tie them all up. I eliminated the target like I was supposed to but-"

He hesitated and inhaled sharply. He was fidgeting anxiously, his fingers tapping relentlessly against the counter. His hand was itching to reach out and take the glass of liquor still sat in front of him. If anything just to feel something other than the pain in his chest. But he with-held the urge. He knew it wouldn't help, but telling you would.

"A young couple saw. Jesus, they were just kids." His voice broke. "But I had my orders. No witnesses. So, I killed them."

Tears pricked his eyes and he found it difficult to hold them at bay. A lump was forming in his throat and he felt moments away from breaking.

"I killed them."

He gritted his teeth as he grappled with himself and the tears began to fall. The nightmare had been among the worst he'd had in months. He'd learned to find a certain peace in some, knowing those he killed were bad, corrupt people who had hurt others. But this time that wasn't the case. They were innocent and young and had simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time. They could have had a life together. Bucky couldn't help but think how if it had not been for him then they could have been married with children, grandchildren by now. But they weren't. Their lives had been cut short by him.

You stood and pulled him into a gentle embrace as a quiet sob left his lips. Your hand ran through his hair as he rested his head against your stomach. Still seated, his arms encircled your waist.

You let him cry as he held onto you like a lifeline. Only when the tears had stopped and his voice had been reduced to a hoarse whimper did his grip ease ever so slightly. You pulled away and sat back down facing him. His expression was blank as he glanced at his hands, pale cheeks still stained by tears and his eyes red and puffy.

You reached up and gingerly brushed away the tears still clung to his cheek with the pad of your thumb.

"Bucky," you tried timidly but he didn't look at you. "Baby, listen to me."

He sighed and brokenly lifted his head. The vulnerability in his eyes made your heart ache. You kept your tone soft and reassuring.

"What happened wasn't your fault. You didn't have a choice. You're just as much of a victim as they were. Hydra killed those people. Hydra created him, the winter soldier. And he's not you, Bucky. He never was."

With a tired shake of his head, Bucky huffed.

"How can you be so sure?"

"Because I know you." You answered simply and Bucky's expression softened. "I know the real you. I know you don't like it when people call you James because it makes you feel old. I know that you love reading books and drinking green tea. And I know that even though you say you're not a people person you're really good with kids."

Bucky's brows creased and his lip trembled slightly as he looked to you and hung on to each and every one of your words. You smiled, tenderly tracing his jaw with your hand and he sighed, leaning into your touch.

"You're not a killer, Bucky. Don't blame yourself for something you had no control over. And don't compare yourself to the people who forced you to do it."

Your words hit home and Bucky found himself standing from his seat and pulling you to his chest before his mind could completely catch up with him. He held you tightly, composure threatening to slip away again but this time for a completely different reason. You softly uttered words of comfort as he pressed you to his chest.

"I love you," you said quietly after a moment and you heard, or rather you felt, Bucky chuckle quietly.

"Sometimes I can't help but wonder why."

His hands didn't leave the small of your back as you pulled away just enough to look up at him. Your reassuring smile sent a wave of warmth through him.

"Because you're a better man than you give yourself credit for. And because you're kind-hearted, strong, sweet, brave. I could go on forever. You're a hero, Bucky, and a good man. Whether your mind lets you believe it yet or not."

Sighing with a teary smile, Bucky pulled you closer and pressed a kiss to your temple. You felt the tension slowly melt from his shoulders and tensed muscles. As if a weight had been lifted from his burdened mind.

I love you too." He mumbled against your forehead and you hummed quietly, nuzzling into him. You stood together in shared silence for a few minutes, or maybe more, neither of you were counting. The chill gradually making its way up your spine and nipping at your exposed skin, along with the growing urge to yawn was the only thing that caused you to pull away and break the serenity of the moment. It was still pretty early and a few more hour in bed sounded ideal. You both needed it.

As you pulled away from the warmth of Bucky's embrace your eyes landed on the counter and you heard Bucky quietly sigh beside you.

"I didn't drink any," he explained, motioning to the untouched glass of scotch sitting on the counter top.

You smiled sadly and leaned up to kiss his cheek. He was always so hard on himself. Sometimes he seemed to forget he was only human.

"Don't worry about it, it's okay." You said comfortingly and he let his head fall gently against your shoulder. "Let's get back to bed, hm? We don't have to sleep if you don't want to. You can just rest and we can talk a little more?"

Bucky smiled against you. "I'd like that." A gentle kiss was placed to your shoulder. "Sounds perfect."

You gently caught Bucky's hand as you both left the kitchen and trudged back towards your shared room. The covers and sheets had grown cold as you crawled back into bed but Bucky didn't mind. He didn't mind at all. Certainly not as you lay beside him, his head coming to rest against your shoulder as your hand worked its way through his dishevelled hair. The nightmares were nothing but a thing of the past as he closed his eyes and sighed. He was home, safe and not alone.

tag list: @miraclesoflove​ @bakerstreethound​ @nahthanks​ @doozywoozy​ @the-queer-dungeoneer​ @kealohilani-tepsie

[dailyreverie]

helloooo ~

May I please have numbers 1 & 25 from the touching prompt with the one & only Bucky Barnes?

Thanking you & have a lovely week~ ❤️

Dream a little dream of me

A/N: Thank you so much for your request! The song "Dream a little dream of me" is played at a point in the story, and yes, the song did exist back in the 30s (as it is said in the story). You can listen to that version right here. I really hope you like it!

Touching prompts: 1. touching foreheads 25. stroking the other’s arm soothingly

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem. reader

Word count: 1.4K

Warnings: Mentions of anxiety, mentions of nightmares, mentions of PTSD.

Since the moment you see Bucky coming out of the bathroom, suit and tie hugging his shoulders, you know something’s wrong. He tries, you see it every single day: He tries hard to shake off the burden from his body and put on his best face. But sometimes, like tonight, the weight somehow is heavier and his head somehow seems cloudier.

“We don’t have to go.” You speak softly, grabbing his face when he tries to escape his gaze from yours.

“You want to go, and you look gorgeous.” And no, that’s not an answer, but that’s how he justifies his hands circling your waist and his lips pressing softly against yours.

“Bucky…” You warn him with a sigh.

“I’m alright, doll,” You see how he pushes it all back, nightmares and the remains of them still pulling at his mind. “I can handle it.”

You want to believe him, you even give him the pleasure of it, but you still feel how his fingers are fidgeting against your own on the ride to the gala, you see how he keeps tugging at the knot of the tie every couple of minutes, and how his breath halts when you enter the crowded room.

“Buck, seriously, I don’t mind turning around and going home.” He shakes his head quickly, his jaw clenched as his eyes scan the room. Force of habit, you suppose. “Bucky?”

He squeezes your hand softly, breaking from whatever image was playing in his mind. “It’s alright.” Bucky’s voice is a shaky whisper, but once again you believe him and you walk into the elegant room, sitting with your fellow teammates as Bucky’s nervous breaths hit your neck.

You had expected a good amount of people to show up, it was charity after all, but never as much. As everyone prances around your table with their elegant gowns looking at the artworks around you, the anxiety that Bucky was feeling was beginning to claw into your body too. A shiver goes down your back every time his hands clasp yours when someone walks too close to where you are, and when he lets your hand go to rest his own on your leg, you can feel the air leaving your lungs every time a loud noise startles him, making him clutch your thigh.

There’s only so much you can do, but reassuring touches and soft smiles do little to calm him down as his nerves get more on edge throughout the night. Sam notices, Wanda and Nat do too, the uneasiness of his reactions making everyone turn to you. But you can’t push Bucky harder than he’s already pushing himself just by being there, so you let him squeeze your hand every time he needs it, kissing his jaw softly as he does.

A glass fell on the other side of the room - because, of course, a glass had to fall and break the night your super soldier was on edge - and you wondered if blood would ever make its way back to your hand after how hard Bucky held it. You don’t flinch, you don’t even wince, you just lean into his body, trapping his hand in both of yours as he lets out another shaky sigh, closing his eyes to try to slow his agitated heartbeat.

“Hey, Bucky,” You whisper close to his ear, a soft press of your lips on his cheek making the job to restore his usual heartbeat. “We don’t have to stay, let’s go.”

His whole face turns into defeat, dropping his head and rolling his eyes at himself. “No, y/n, I promise I’m-”

“You are not, and it’s alright.” One of your hands travels up and down his arm, a sweet smile on your lips as his anguished eyes meet yours. “I’m kind of tired anyway.”

Bucky snorts quietly, looking at you and how you truly don’t mind being the lifeline he can always pull at to be back in a safe place. He wonders, sometimes, how all he did in his past made him deserve your kind heart.

A kiss against your forehead and then he is up, your hand still in his pulling you up with him. “We are heading out, guys.” You announce to the table. Sam’s eyes look from Bucky to you, worry all over him. “I’m tired, it was a long week.”

“Have a good night, you two.” Sam chips in, nodding his head knowingly with a smile.

Your hand reaches Bucky’s back, guiding him through the room with soft traces against his back as you navigate through the crowd. “I’m sorry, doll.” He suddenly says, his eyes glued to the floor. “I don’t know what’s going on with me today.”

Both of your hands grab onto Bucky’s arm, moving up and down softly in an attempt to calm him down. “There’s nothing to be sorry for, Bucky.”

“I wanted a fun night with you, I thought I would be able to do it.”

“We will have plenty of Stark’s galas to have fun at.” Your fingers lace together without your other hand losing the grip on his arm, kissing his shoulder as he pulls you even closer to him. “Let’s get home and-”

Bucky’s steps suddenly stop, his head turning around back to where the party was still going as the band starts to play a song. You can see every emotion going through his eyes: confusion at first turns into recognition, and after a couple of seconds his gaze is completely relaxed, looking at a distant point.

“Bucky? Everything alright?” You can’t help the worry that comes out of your voice.

“My parents used to play this song.” He sounds different, not like a man or a soldier, but almost as a little kid at the sound of the familiar chords of the music. “1931 or maybe 32. I must have been 14.” His nostalgic smile gets to you as he turns to look at you.

Just as the voice of the singer sounds around the room, Bucky's eyes glisten and his hand begins to pull you back into the party, making his way to the dancefloor. “What are you doing?” You ask, surprised by his sudden change of plans, but his arms are quick to spin you around and hold you in place.

Stars shining bright above you

Night breezes seem to whisper "I love you"

Birds singing in the sycamore tree

Dream a little dream of me

Bucky expertly places his hand on the small of your back while the other one keeps your hand in his, blue eyes shining at you as they had not been able to do all night. You suddenly are back in time with a younger version of him. “It sounds modern.” He says, his mind still trying to pull the pieces of his childhood and present day together.

“They have made a ton of new versions, at least 2 or 3.” Behind Bucky you can see Sam and Nat looking at the scene in awe, you couldn’t care less. “I didn’t know it was around back in the 30s.”

Bucky smiles; the slightest, tiniest of smiles that show how at peace he finally got to be after a night of his mind playing against him. “It was my parents' favorite song.” You let yourself melt into his arms, his warmth surrounding your body as he guides you slowly through the dancefloor.

Say "Night-ie night" and kiss me

Just hold me tight and tell me you'll miss me

While I'm alone and blue as can be

Dream a little dream of me

The embrace you had on Bucky gets tighter, chests pressed against each other as your hands rest against his shoulder blades and his forehead touches yours. You can’t be sure if you are dancing at all, but his feet are moving you from side to side, turning around as the lyrics come to Bucky in a happy memory.

Stars fading but I linger on, dear

Still craving your kiss

I'm longing to linger till dawn, dear

Just saying this

“Are you feeling better?” You ask in a whisper, feeling his hands down your back tracing small circles with his fingers.

His lips find yours, lingering on them for a moment as a long lost memory of his past life keeps playing around his head. Somehow, you are in there with him too. “I am now.”

✨✨✨

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[floralseokjin]

;middle of the night (m)

FIRST LOVE, LAST LOVE

After a silly argument, Jungkook wants to apologise… at 2 o’clock in the morning…

pairing; jeon jungkook x reader  genre/warnings; established relationship, domesticated goodness, fluff, they have a dog now, or as Jungkook likes to call him ‘the cock block’, smut  words; 2,150

more﹆chapter index

“You awake?” Jungkook whispered into the darkness, murmuring your name for good measure. 

You kept your eyes shut tight, back to him, pretending you were actually in fact, asleep. Damn love, all these years together had made you so in tune you both could sense when the other was awake. You hadn’t been able to drop off properly ever since you’d hit the hay at 10pm. Tired but unable to switch off. Jungkook hadn’t been beside you the first three times you’d woken, this time however, he was, and just like him, you had known he was awake too. 

You wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of being correct though, so you clenched your jaw and stayed silent. You were still mad at him after earlier this evening, and if he thought he could just give you a lousy sleep ridden sorry, he had another thing coming. 

But then you heard him let out a tiny sigh, deflated if anything, the mattress dipping with his weight as he turned around. Back to back. You hated that. Even after so long you both loved to tangle up in one another right before bed. No wonder you couldn’t get to sleep properly. You were having withdrawals. Plus, you hated going to bed on an argument. You hated arguing with Jungkook altogether. 

“What do you want?” You whispered, lifting your head up a little. 

He rolled over slowly, the mattress dipping again as he thought of what to say. By now you’d settled your face back into the pillow, waiting patiently. “Can’t sleep,” he mumbled. Ever so gently he outstretched his arm, hand caressing your side as he slid closer. He was really being cautious here. Unsure of your mood. It was actually pretty comical. 

He leant in, voice a whisper. “I’m sorry.” He sounded sincere you’d give him that, but the wood in his underwear made you kind of dubious. 

“Do you mean that? Or are you just sorry because your dick is hard?” 

“No,” he insisted softly. “No, I’m sorry because I’m sorry. I don’t know why my dick’s hard.” 

He was being honest, years of being together also meant you knew when he was telling the truth. You stayed silent though, waiting for him to continue. One little sorry wasn’t enough. 

“I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.” 

“Hm?” You pressed. 

He tried again. “It wasn’t your fault.” 

“What wasn’t my fault?” 

He sighed quietly, resigning himself to the inevitable. “The steak being fatty. It was childish of me.” 

There it was. You grinned to yourself, thankful he couldn’t see your face. He probably felt like an idiot for getting so mad over something so trivial. Although you knew why. He was stressed over work; opening his own tattoo parlour had been amazing but he still wasn’t used to needing to be switched on practically all day, every day. Being your own boss had its perks of course, but there also came the downsides. Working six days a week, getting home late. He was exhausted. And stressed. 

It was the steak with too much fat that had set him off tonight, and when you had laughed at his overreaction, it was you who’d been on the receiving end of his frustration. You’d ignored one another for the rest of the night and you’d gone up to bed way before he had. Now, with the moonlight slipping through the shades, Jungkook’s body beside you, the touch of his hand against your waist, you softened. You would easily forgive him over something so silly. 

“That’s okay,” you reassured, shuffling onto your back to get a look at him. You reached for his face, cupping his cheek. You could just make him out, eyes still adjusting to the darkness. He was shirtless, hair in his eyes. You pushed some behind his ear, wanting to see his face. “We’re allowed to be a bit childish sometimes,” you smiled. “Sorry for teasing you.” 

You weren’t exactly innocent in all of this. You admit you liked to get a rise out of him sometimes just because he was so easy to goad. You should’ve known better lately. Even if he pretended like everything was alright, it probably meant it wasn’t. He hated being a burden, and he already felt guilty for using your shared savings on the parlour – it didn’t matter how you’d agreed to it as a couple with careful consideration, it still weighed on him heavily. 

Jungkook’s mouth curved up into a small smile, you could make out that much, settling his head on your pillow as he cosied up to you. “I hate going to sleep without cuddling you.” He whined, face in the crook of your neck. 

“Same,” you agreed. Like you said: Withdrawals. You felt him kiss your skin and then began to pay attention to something else. “You really don’t know why your dick is hard?” His erection was still there, pressing into your thigh as he cuddled up to you. 

“No,” he chuckled thickly. “It’s confused.” 

You slipped onto your side, facing your boyfriend as you reached for his mouth. You kissed slowly, lazily, just enjoying the closeness more than anything, before a few pecks turned to something more. Of course it did. If his dick was hard you weren’t going turn it down. You pulled back just as Jungkook was about to slip in some tongue. “What time is it?” 

“Gone two,” he replied immediately, before reminding you of something, his mouth back on yours. “It’s Sunday tomorrow.” 

“Mm,” you hummed, tongue meeting his, arms wrapping around his shoulders to pull him over you. 

Excitement real, he was breathing slightly heavy when he broke apart to ask you the obvious. “Do you...?” You nodded wildly, yanking him to you, hands travelling all over the expanse of his back. It had been a while since you’d last had sex, maybe close to two weeks, which for you both may as well have been a year. Not that you were annoyed. Like you said, Jungkook was exhausted because of work, mind too preoccupied. Sex was a great stress reliever though, so it was about time you tried it out… 

However, not soon after, lamp on, Jungkook’s mouth on your neck, one of his hands up your t-shirt, cupping a boob, you suddenly remembered something, instantly panicking and pushing him away. “Giuseppe’s not in here, right?” You demanded, eyes wide.

“Huh?” He sounded, confused by the sudden change, needing a moment to make sense of the question. “Uh, no. No, he’s not.” 

“Are you sure?” 

“I’m sure,” he chuckled, reaching for a kiss. “He didn’t follow me upstairs.” 

Giuseppe was your pet dog. A long haired golden retriever that was already the height of your house despite not even being a year old. Jungkook loved him, treated him more like a brother than a pet, and of course he had named him. You’d just rolled with it. But there was one rule. The dog did not stay inside your bedroom when s-e-x was happening, and seeing as he had his own bed at the foot of yours, this was obviously a reoccurring thing. 

“Okay?” Jungkook pressed, kissing your nose as he waited to continue. 

“Okay,” you nodded, grinning up at him. 

“Okay!” He sung cutely, jumping up to tear his boxers off. 

Five minutes later there was some very eager fingering going on, Jungkook knelt between your legs as he stroked you to complete and utter pliancy, the sinful squelch filling the room. You were trying to return the favour, your fist wrapped around his cock, but your movements were sparse, too distracted by the pleasure coursing through your veins. “Jungkook,” you moaned against his lips, trying desperately to stay attached. 

He groaned, straightening the fingers inside of you, going a little faster, loving how wet you were. “God, you sound so good.” 

You moaned louder as his thumb circled your clit, hips jutting up. “Ohh—AHHH!” Your pleasure soon turned to surprise as you roared out, something heavy and large leaping onto your bed, attempting to bound all over you. “Oh, my god! Oh, my—Jungkook!” You exclaimed, sitting up immediately, his fingers slipping out of you. “You said he wasn’t in here!” 

“I didn’t think he was!” He insisted, a hand cupping his junk as your dog practically jumped up and down in excitement. “Honest. I thought he was downstairs.”

You grumbled, moment well and truly over, but you weren’t giving up. You were having sex tonight. It may be nearly three in the morning, but you were getting laid. “Seppe, out,” you ordered, pointing to the door. “Out!” He didn’t listen. It was Jungkook that called the shots, he told you it was some type of “bond” they had. You called bullshit. “Jungkook, get him out.” 

He instantly looked put out. “Babe, I’m ass naked.” 

“I don’t care. If you want to have sex he needs to be out of here.” 

“Fine,” he sighed, standing up, not bothering to cup his dick now – free and easy. Giuseppe instantly followed. “I swear if you didn’t make such a big deal about it he wouldn’t get so excited. He can sense these things.” 

“Exactly!” You cried. “He can sense when we’re just about to do it.” 

Reaching down to stroke him, Jungkook complained. “Giuseppe, you’re such a cock block.” The dog looked unbothered. Amazing. “Come on, boy. Let’s go.” And off he trotted, listening straight away to your “ass naked” boyfriend. He swung the door closed after him, looking your way with a satisfied grin. “There.” 

You pulled a face. “Now I feel guilty.” 

“Don’t change your mind,” he whined. “He can come back in once we’re done. He’s used to it.” Like you said, it had been a regular occurrence these past nine months. Jungkook made his way over to you, caging you under his body immediately. “Now where were we...” 

This time there was no messing about with foreplay, your legs wrapped around his waist as he fucked you. Jungkook had already admitted he wouldn’t last long, unable to curb his excitement, so it was more needy and fast than skilled and indulgent. Not that you were complaining. This was the best type of sex in your opinion. Just sheer want for one another, nothing else. When he came inside you with a groan, you glowed. Felt alive. 

“I really am sorry,” he murmured a few minutes later, still a little out of breath as he laid over you, stealing slow kisses. 

You grinned, teasing him slightly. “It’s okay. I forgive you.” He chuckled and you ran your fingers through his hair, admiring him fondly. “I love you.”

“I love you more.” He sang.

You wrinkled your nose, pushing your head back into the pillow. “Don’t.” You hated when he made it a competition.

Amused, he laughed, rolling onto his back beside you, folding his hands behind his head to look up at the ceiling. You turned onto your side, propping yourself up with your elbow so you could see him properly. He looked really worn out. Not particularly tired from lack of sleep tonight, but just exhausted in general. His eyes weren’t twinkling. You hated seeing him like this. “You sure you’re okay?” You asked, needing to make sure. At least he had some time off tomorrow. 

“Mm,” he nodded, looking your way. He gave you a small smile. “You know what I’m like. I need to learn to talk more about my feelings more.” 

You agreed with that. You knew him too well to prod when he wasn’t ready. This was the most you’d gotten out of him for weeks. “Well, you know where I am when you’ve learnt,” you chuckled. 

He laughed back. “On it. It’s probably better than bottling it all up and exploding over shitty steak.” 

“Definitely better,” you agreed. “But let’s not buy that kind again. My man deserves meat not fat.” That just made him laugh harder. You loved that sound. Kissing him on the cheek, you knelt up. “Okay, I need to pee.” And you both needed to actually sleep tonight.

“Can you have one for me while you’re there?” Jungkook joked. 

“Sure thing,” you nodded, up and already walking towards the door. 

You opened it and before you knew what was happening, Giuseppe had bolted in, jumping up on the bed. You heard Jungkook yell and yanked your head to see him balled up, hands protecting his crotch. 

“FUCK!” He cursed, twisting around in agony. “My balls! Damn dog trampled my balls.” 

You definitely shouldn’t laugh. Not at all. However the visual of Jungkook writhing around ass naked on the bed with the dog bouncing around and barking in excitement, totally oblivious to the pain he’d just caused, was enough to break you. So much for that bond they had… 

“Giuseppe, bad boy,” you scolded playfully. “Daddy needs those.” 

Written 2020.  Please refrain from posting my work elsewhere. No translations allowed. © floralseokjin 2020

[sup-hoes-its-me]

To Be So Lonely (Gaara x Reader)

A/N: my first ever attempt at a gaara one shot. Essentially, you are permanently disabled due to an accident involving evil jinchuriki gaara, but you never gave up on him. friends to lovers. dramatic confessions. gaara is just so pure and sweet, he deserves all the love and more. perfect baby boy. precious.

ps. this was a very quick write. there may be mistakes, idk. just hopefully someone enjoys.

Word count: 3600 (soo short lmao)

The pair of them walked the aisles of the bakery. He adored how her eyes grew wide when they landed on a particularly shiny loaf of bread or a decadent chocolate cake that she couldn’t help but gush over. Today, after work since it seemed he had a break, he decided he would go with her to the dessert shop she’d been begging him to go visit.

He watched as she hobbled forward on her crutches, leaning some of her weight on walls or tables when she got the chance. He felt genuinely awful. It was his fault she was in that position after all. Nearly ten years ago when she enveloped her in his sand and crushed her leg brutally. He was so lost and hopeless back then, and a mere sparring match was enough to set him off and permanently injure the woman.

He felt like the worst man alive as he watched her walk around, and he followed on soft feet behind her. They were friends. It seemed that even after all he had done, she still cared about him. She walked up to his office the day he became Kazekage, and asked to be his assistant. He couldn’t say no, not with the way she smiled so beautifully at him with those soft lips and sparkling eyes.

Admittedly, he wanted her to be at his side.

She often sat with him in his office when there wasn’t anything too urgent going on, her legs tucked under her and her crutches leant against his desk. She would tell him stories about her day or things that she found funny, and he would listen intently to each word. He adored her voice. It was perfect, the perfect pitch and tone, just enough enthusiasm to blow him away. How she could be so positive when so many things had gone wrong, he wasn’t sure.

He knew that if he asked Naruto, the boy would have the answer for sure. He was so wise with people in that way. After all, Naruto was the reason Gaara was able to change into the man he was today, the man that had Y/N laughing and giggling in the evenings before she went home.

Y/N’s smile was so bright. It practically glowed when she entered the room. He wanted to bottle it up and keep it forever, that is how much he admired her enthusiasm. He couldn’t imagine the pain she went through, and the struggle she goes through daily. He couldn’t imagine the strength she must have to work for him and maintain that attitude that he admired so deeply.

She was so beautiful. He found himself waking up multiple times in the morning with her still on his mind, her eyes and her smile and the way her hair fell around her face. He found himself so lost in the mere thought of the woman, he thought he might be going crazy.

He’d asked his siblings about the situation, on separate occasions, just gauging what two more adjusted people thought of the situation. Each time, they laughed, and told him he simply had a crush on his closest assistant. His sister told him to act on his feelings before she was swept away by some other man from the village. His brother told him she was quite a catch, and he would be lucky if she liked him back. He thought she was only kind to him because he was her boss, essentially. Needless to say, that was a bit rough for Gaara to hear.

He wasn’t sure what he would do if Y/N shared his feelings. She certainly was kind, and the woman he wanted to be with, but he just couldn’t be with her, not after everything he had done. He couldn’t imagine her ever caring for him like that after he took away a huge portion of her mobility. He stole away from her the ability to become a shinobi like she always wanted. He felt like a monster.

There was no way in good conscience, he could accept her affections and burden her with his own. She was too perfect. He wouldn’t ruin her in that way. He couldn’t.

And so he was content just following her around, buying her little goodies here and there to make her happy just one more time before he had to see her off for the night. No doubt, he would dream about her once again tonight, after spending so much time staring into her eyes and hearing her melodic laugh. Sometimes, he found himself looking forward to those nights where she would plague his mind. He could truly be himself in those dreams without any constraint, without an ounce of guilt. He could love her during those nights, and he found himself longing for more and more each day.

She spun around in front of the final glass case in the near empty bakery, and she pointed to some fruit tarts in a little box.

“You want those?”

“Yes, please.”

He pointed them out to the staff, and they bagged them up and slid them across the counter. He got a discount as the Kazekage, and he was more than willing to buy a few things for her. It was the least he could do. Even though he paid her a decent amount for her work, he still felt generous. He liked seeing the way her eyes lit up and her ears perked up with happiness each time he bought her a simple cake or tart. It was so cheap and simple, he felt like he was robbing her. He got so much enjoyment out of seeing her beauty over and over again and all she got was a little dollar dessert.

They walked out of the store, and she sighed, reaching into the bag and taking out the little box. She pulled out the cake and took a quick bite, sighing loudly at the flavor. “Wow, Gaara, this is one of the best ones yet. Try it,” she held out the other side to him.

“No, I’m okay. I’m sure it’s great.”

“Oh, come on.”

He sighed, and took the tart from her hands, taking the tiniest bite from the side opposite of hers. She was right. It was really good. He nodded, his lips curving into a tiny smile as she grinned, giving him a thumbs up. “See, I told you it was really good. I don’t go around picking out crappy sweets.”

“Here, eat the rest. You haven’t had a chance to eat today, have you?” he asked, urging her to take the tart back. She did, and nodded. “You really can’t be doing that, Y/N. It’s not healthy to skip meals like that.”

“I know. I normally don’t but during my lunch break today, I was busy talking to your brother and I lost track of time.”

“So it was Kankuro’s doing? Of course.”

“Oh, jeez. It’s not a big deal. My parents are going to the market today so they’ll no doubt be home with some food for me to eat for dinner. Plus, you got me these awesome tarts for dessert.”

He nodded, a hum leaving his lips. “Still, I’d like if maybe you started eating lunch with me, just so I can make sure you’re getting proper nutrition.”

Her eyes widened, and she began to smile once again. She felt her cheeks begin to heat up from his offer. How could he so casually say something like that? He was never one to really think through the things he said, just saying exactly what was on his mind. “Are you asking me on a lunch date?”

“What?! No-that’s not what I meant,” he blurted out, his own cheeks turning red under her stare. “I just meant it as a friend thing.”

She averted her eyes back down to her dessert, and she took another bite. After giving him a moment of time to cool down, and after she’d swallowed, she replied giddily, knowing it would stir him up once again, “Alright, well, I wouldn’t mind if it was a date thing, just saying.”

He was now nearly as red as his hair, and she burst out laughing. “What?! Y/N, don’t laugh at me!”

“Okay, Kazekage-sama.”

He huffed as he tried to calm down, following as she started off once again to her home. On days like this one, he would walk her home from wherever they had gone, and in turn, he said it was a way for him to see the village. In reality, he had seen the village more than enough time to count, he really just wanted to walk with her home, to feel like he was doing something for her by providing company on the short journey through the streets.

As they approached her home, he knew that this was going to be the end of their outing and he would have to leave her once again. He really enjoyed their time together. It was the only part of the day he looked forward to most of the time, and to see her go always filled his heart with a bit of sadness. It was unreasonable to want anymore time out of her day to himself, but he couldn’t help but want it.

She opened her front door and stepped inside, holding the door open so she could see him standing at the edge of the walkway to her family home. He shifted awkwardly under her stare, one that was absent of a smile and that familiar glimmer in her eye. Things felt serious all the sudden, and it made him nervous.

What had changed all of the sudden? He never expected her next words. They hit him in the chest like a stone, and knocked the air from his chest.

“Gaara, I think I’m in love with you,” Y/N called to the boy standing in her doorway. One outing after another, she found it harder and harder to maintain a neutral guise around him. Y/N really liked him. He was strong. He was a hero. He was a beautifully kind creature whom everyone came to adore.

He stood there in shock, his eyes wide and lips just agape. He wanted her to take back what she’d just proclaimed. He couldn’t accept it. Not when her crutches were right in his view, and her leg was missing right below the knee. He couldn’t handle that confession. Not now, not ever.

It was all his fault.

He turned his head away to the street and sighed, shutting his eyes tightly. “Y/N, I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what?” she asked, fiddling with the bag of groceries in her hands. It took a lot of nerve to confess to him. It takes a lot to go out and profess your love to the Kazekage and the famous Gaara of the sand. He was a celebrity, practically. He wasn’t simply a childhood friend. She was rightfully nervous.

“I’m sorry you feel that way about someone like me.”

“Gaara, stop. Please. What happened, it’s over now. You’ll never be that same person again.”

He grit his teeth, another sigh coming from behind his teeth. “I cannot accept your confession. I’m sorry, but I have to go now. Please, keep this between us, alright?”

It seemed that the end of their rope was near. He had said what he wanted to say, or what he felt needed to be said. He cared for her, he’d cared for her since he could really remember. She was always kind to him, so beautiful and sweet and generous. Y/N was forever forgiving, and he knew that. He was fully aware that she’d forgiven him for what he’d done to her when he was lost in violence all those years ago. He just couldn’t forgive himself. He was forgiving of those who had wronged him, but to give mercy to the person who brutalized the one woman who’d shown him kindness from the beginning, he just couldn’t bear it.

Gaara was a lonely man. He would always be a lonely man, surrounded by people but always just far enough to protect them. He couldn’t let someone like her become close again and risk something else happening. Even if he was non violent now, what’s to say someone else wouldn’t have a grudge against him and target her?

It was all too overwhelming.

“You can’t deny it, Gaara, you love me too,” she called back to him, quiet enough not to disturb the neighbors but loud enough that it rang out in his chest like a gong, echoing there for a minute. She continued softly, “You can’t just pretend there’s nothing between us just because something happened almost a decade ago. You can’t abandon me, not after everything we’ve been through.”

“Y/N, it’s not that easy.”

“It really is that easy. If you care about me, and I care about you, then that’s all that matters. Forget about my leg, please. I’m over it. I’ve grown used to it, so much it’s not a problem,” she explained, “In fact, you treating me like I’m some injured lamb is the real problem. I’m a strong woman. This injury is nothing when it comes to my sheer force of will.”

He felt terrible, really, he felt like every move he made was the wrong one. He felt like he’d travelled down all the wrong paths with this woman, and she still loved him. Despite everything, she loved him without fault. He was her best friend. The friend who stole her leg from her so young. He was beyond conflicted.

His eyes flickered around the street, and she could feel his paranoia. It would be quite scandalous if someone caught them out here talking about something as personal as this. He was the Kazekage after all, whether he was experiencing normal 22 year old emotions or not.

Y/N grabbed his hand and tugged him quickly into her home. Her parents were gone for the day to the shops, so they weren’t there to intervene, not that they would be too pleased to see their daughter with the red haired boy. Yes, they were proud to have him as their Kazekage, standing strong and tall for the nation. But the injuries he had inflicted on their daughter were a bit too severe to ever completely forgive him. They could never give Gaara their blessing, nor did they truly approve of their friendship. Y/N and Gaara knew this. It only caused his guilt to hang heavier in his chest.

She shut the door behind him, and sighed as she leant her shoulder against the wall, a bit of pressure taken off her sole leg and her arms propped up on the sticks.

“Gaara, how do you feel about me? Really?” she asked.

He wanted to say nothing, to just turn away and pretend he hadn’t heard the question. But he knew that wasn’t an option. He would tell her everything. “I enjoy your company, more than I care to admit. You are so beautiful and kind, I always want you around, especially when work gets rough.”

Y/n stood silent as she let him keep going, to get what he was feeling off his chest. There wasn’t really an outlet in his life to get out all these pent up emotions. He could use a shoulder to lean on sometimes, just as much as anyone else.

“You’re right,” he groaned, “I love you.”

A soft breath caught in her chest at his words. It was true that she had a feeling he felt that way for her, but it was a different thing to hear his words reach her ears. His breathy, raspy voice and the exasperation carried in his tone. The way his eyes refused to meet hers he was so afraid. She felt a shiver run up her spine, and she had to take a deep breath to calm herself down. “Then what’s the point in fighting it?”

“It’s wrong. What I did to you, you’ll never be the same again and it’s all my fault. I don’t know if I could bring myself to look at you everyday knowing that I hurt you so badly. Back then, I didn’t even have remorse. I-I…”

“It’s okay! You’ve changed, time and time again, you’ve shown me that you’re not the same man you used to be. You are so brave and caring and considerate. You care about me and all the other villagers. You changed, and I love the man you’ve become.”

“Does that mean you can forgive me for what I’ve done?”

“I would forgive you a thousand times over.”

“Y/N…”

“You’re the man of my dreams. Please, don’t deprive me of that.”

When his eyes met hers, he wanted to melt away in her arms. She really didn’t care about what he had done, she just wanted him for who he worked so hard to become, the man that Naruto pushed him to be. She raised his arms, and found himself walking right into them. Her head hit his shoulder, and he let out a long shaky breath. “I love you, Y/N.”

“I love you, too, Gaara. I truly do.”

And when she pressed her lips to his, he found himself falling deeper in love with her. She was so soft and gentle in his arms, against his skin, flush and warm like he’d always imagined. He never really expected himself to find someone, not after all he’d done and the man he made himself out to be. He never imagined the kiss of a person on his lips, or the feeling of someone’s arms wound around his body. He only imagined pain.

Yet, here she was. The most forgiving angel in the entire world.

“Y/N L/N, what the hell is this? Dammit, can’t you do this somewhere else, you foolish girl?” a voice called through the door, and when they peered between the curtains, the sight of her mother and father walking up the path to the front door, grocery bags piled in their arms. Her mother’s face was quite red, a small smile gracing her mouth, while her father was another story. Completely exhausted with everything.

Gaara pulled away quickly, his head ducking down so his eyes only met the floorboards. He was Kazekage, why was he so afraid of some old man and his paper sack full of rice? He wasn’t completely sure. All he knew was that Y/N stood there with that beautiful smile, her cheeks puffing out from embarrassment. “It’s okay. They aren’t angry. You might want to head on back home, though.”

The elderly couple opened the door, and he found himself face to face with her mother who smiled, corners of her eyes crinkling. “It’s about time, you sweet boy.”

Her father roared, feeling himself growing hotter with every second that passed. “About time for what, Rise? This man to come in here and violate our daughter-”

“Shush, dad. It was all me this time,” Y/N piped up from the back, which only fueled the fire.

“Of course! You’ve always been so promiscuous, Y/N. How could I expect any less?” he rolled his eyes. “And about you, Kazekage boy.”

“Be gentle, Tanaka.”

“Instead of hurting my daughter, I expect you to protect her as if your life depended on it, you hear me? I won’t have someone coming into my house and hurting my children,” he demanded, and Gaara could only nod. He had never been in a situation quite as terrifying as this one, he had to admit. He felt like he had been caught in the middle of some heinous act, even if it was only kissing the object of his affections. He was more than embarrassed, he thought he might crumble into a million tiny pieces.

He replied, “Of course. I’d never let anything hurt Y/N, sir.”

“That’s what I thought. Now get out of here. You can see your little girlfriend some other time, she has chores.”

“Dad!”

“Enough.”

Gaara nodded to the family of three before opening the door and walking through the threshold. “Goodbye, Gaara!” As he peered back over his shoulder, he was once again stunned by her smiling face, her small hand waving to him as he shut the door behind him. He felt his heart beating faster as he walked down the street back to the Kazekage’s mansion.

Has life always felt this good? He wasn’t too sure. He felt high, like he was floating above the ground with each footstep. Maybe giving the good life, giving Y/N, a chance, was going to work out in his favor. He could feel happiness creeping up his chest and rumbling through his stomach. His cheeks turned red at the thought of his now girlfriend in her home getting scolded by her father, and he couldn’t help but imagine the next day when she would report to his office to pick up paperwork and maybe he could swipe another kiss.

When he walked into his home, he brushed by his brother whose brows perked up upon seeing his expression. “What’s got you looking so whipped, Gaara?”

“It’s nothing, Kankuro.”

“Y/N, right?”

“Maybe.”

His brother's loud laughter rung out in the empty hall. He patted his brother's back with a firm hand, practically congratulating him for getting a girlfriend. It was strange in that way, thinking about it like that. He now had a girlfriend to hug and hold, to keep tightly clasped in his heart for as long as she would allow.

Life was too good. He slept better that night than he had in a long while. All because of this one person who’d wormed their way so easily into his heart.

[aminiatureworld]

Time and Chance II

Characters: Kaeya, Xiao, gn!reader

Word Count: 2,702

Warnings: Swearing

Premise: Confessions are tricky things. Sometimes it takes week, maybe months, maybe years of building up courage for one to happen. And sometimes life throws the oddest wrenches in our paths.

In which the reader confesses.

Author’s Note:

Sorry for the lack of Zhongli. I feel completely awful currently and though I wrote part of his scenario it was really poor in quality so I decided to stick with Kaeya and Xiao. I’ll get to him and Keqing another time I promise. Also don’t worry this isn’t life or death I just need to sleep it off lol. I realize between this and my computer there’s always something and I feel a bit guilty about it. At least I hope everything’s up to par!

This also probably won’t get proofread tonight.

 I hope you enjoyed my extra fic for Valentine’s Day! To all the lovely people who requested prompts I will be getting to those next week. Have a lovely night and thank you so much for your patience!

Kaeya

Perhaps falling in love with Kaeya wasn’t the most original thing you’d ever done, but by the time you’d come to that conclusion you were too far gone to care.

You loved Kaeya, or at least you liked him a lot. As someone who looked up to the Knights of Favonius there was something intriguing about the man who was simultaneously one of its lynchpins, and a sort of rogue state of a human being. It didn’t hurt that he was stupidly good looking, and a bit of a smoother talker. Okay, maybe more than a bit, but you didn’t really mind that. It was nice to be flirted with sometimes, and Kaeya had the sense never to take it too far.

You figured that Kaeya was at least somewhat aware of your feelings. Though you never asked about it, it seemed somehow too brash. Instead you figured that, in the months that had passed since your friendship had begun – for you did see it as a friendship by now – Kaeya had become aware and decided not to comment on it, as to not hurt your feelings. Though you wouldn’t go as far as call it noble of him, you certainly appreciated it.

So this charade continued on. You two remained close friends, or rather close friends in your estimation. Kaeya continued to flirt and you continued to ignore your personal feelings. It was truly an odd song and dance, but it wasn’t one you were about to change, not willingly anyways.

It’d become a bit of a tradition to patrol together. Seeing as you were an adventurer yourself and Kaeya was, well, Kaeya, you two had eventually decided it was better to make one long patrol together than two shorter patrols apart. Besides wasn’t the rule safety in numbers?

It was an exceedingly boring patrol, and as it neared its end the atmosphere between you two grew from semi-serious to absolute buffoonery. Kaeya had challenged you to see who could pick the most flowers the fastest, then who could control their vision’s element the long, then eventually, seized by some divine genius, he suggested that you might see who could run the farthest on the walls of Monstadt without falling over.

“This has got to be the stupidest thing I’ve ever agreed to.” You grumbled good naturedly. “Don’t blame me if you go tumbling off and end up with a broken leg.”

“I trust you’ll lift me to safety before that happens.” Kaeya answered back, eyes alight with his daredevil proposal.

“My anemo vision isn’t your personal elevator captain.” You reminded him. Hauling yourself up on the walls so you were on the farthest side you flashed a thumbs up. Kaeya nodded.

“Okay. Three… two… one and three quarters.”

“Kaeya.” You huffed, eliciting a chuckle from the knight.

“Okay, okay. Three, two, one, go!” The two of you ran as fast as you could, scrambling up the turrets, too concentrated to talk. Kaeya was laughing though, and eventually you found yourself laughing too, thrilled by the recklessness you were indulging in and the freedom to be doing it with someone apparently as stupid as you were.

“I’m getting ahead~” Kaeya chimed. You scoffed, quickening your pace. Kaeya did likewise, and for a moment it seems you two were going to be running the entire wall in this position. That is before Kaeya slipped.

“Shit.” He cursed, waving his arms like a madman. This only lasted a few seconds before he truly tumbled off, heading towards the stone paved ground. You didn’t say anything, though your brain was screaming various incomprehensible things. You simply clambered off your perch, hands already outstretched, praying to the god Barbatos that you could manipulate air you couldn’t see.

Luck was on your side as it turned out, and your swirl of wind caught Kaeya before he hit the pavement. Gliding down you shook your head wildly.

“Great gods Kaeya you scared the shit out of me!” You knew that you were screaming slightly, but you couldn’t help it. The whole situation had riled you up, leaving you panicked and not fully in control of your emotions.

“I’m fine! Honestly I am. I’m only sorry I lost.” Kaeya chuckled, but his laughter was weaker than before and his expression was slightly shocked.

“It’s not time to joke around Kaeya!” You shot back. “You can’t be so reckless! I know that it was also my fault for agreeing to it, but honestly! What would Monstadt do without you? What would I do without you?” You paused then, realizing that what you said held certain implications you’d been hoping to keep under wraps.

“What do you mean?” Kaeya’s expression immediately became brighter. Figures he’d read the meaning into your words. Honestly the man was too emotionally intelligent for his own good.

“I meant was I said.” You replied, figuring that there was nothing else to say. The truth was all but out now. “I really don’t know what I’d do without you Kaeya. Now I’m going to tell you something I’ve been hiding for a while, and since I saved your life and revealed it in the process I just want you to take it seriously, okay? I’m not joking, and now that I’ve said it I want to make it explicit. I like you. Like, I like, like you. And I know that I’m just your friend and that you’ve probably been aware of it for ages, but it’s out in the open now, okay? You don’t have to reciprocate or anything, that’s not it. I just… want to let it out.”

You stared at Kaeya, trying to gauge his reaction as much as possible, unwilling to look away. Unsurprisingly the news hardly seemed shocking to him, but instead of his smile slipping from his face it only grew wider. “You’re kinda oblivious you know.”

“I – what?” You sputtered, slightly offended. This wasn’t where you expecting it to go. “I don’t expect you to reciprocate, but leave the teasing alone for now at least!” So much for calling Kaeya emotionally intelligent.

“You’re reading this the wrong way!” Kaeya held up his hands, before stepping closer to you. “I just can’t believe that you’ve been my friend this whole time, had feelings on top of it, and never noticed that I was just as interested in you. I mean I’ve been flirting with you for months.”

“You flirt with everyone.” You scoffed, although the argument seemed to hold a bit less weight when compared to the jubilant, slightly smug look on Kaeya’s face.

“You may be right about that.” He admitted. “But c’mon. I don’t flirt with them like I flirt with you. I certainly don’t take them out on patrol.” His expression turned softer then, and he shook his head. “I know that I joke around a lot, but I promise, I wouldn’t joke about this. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you though, that was a fault on my part.”

“So you mean I’ve been hiding my feelings all this time for nothing?” You deadpanned, feeling overwhelmed. The situation still seemed too good to be true.

“Sounds about right.” Mischief was creeping back into Kaeya’s voice. “But it’s all right now! Your prayers have been heard! So, since you were the one to admit your feelings, I’ll be the one to ask the question. Want to date?”

“Yes.” You replied, sure of your answer.

“Good.” Kaeya replied, before pulling you into a hug, one you gladly reciprocated. It had been a hell of a day, and while you wouldn’t relieve Kaeya’s fall for anything you felt somehow lighter, as if a great burden had been lifted off your shoulders. He liked you, Kaeya liked you. For you, for now, that was all that mattered.

 Xiao

Once you’d decided to admit your feelings to Xiao you’d immediately followed up that decision with the knowledge that you were going to have to break it to him slowly. You’d been friends with Xiao for over a year now, and though you were cautiously optimistic as to how the adeptus would take it, you still knew that he wasn’t the kind of person who would be at all comfortable with a sudden confession.

Confessing your feelings was in itself an act which required all the courage you possessed. You weren’t sure when you’d truly started falling for Xiao, it had come about so gradually. But before you knew it you had grown to love him. You loved the way he talked, the soft cadence of his voice though often impatient was still filled with enough softness to make your heart flutter. You loved how, despite all he’d suffered, he still retained a begrudging love for the world, especially Liyue, which he once revealed to you would always be the one thing he loved, even if he loved nothing else. You loved everything, his hands, his eyes, the way he walked, the way he kept going despite it all. You loved it so much it hurt, and now you found that your love wasn’t something merely to be pushed away. If the odds of Xiao rejecting you were almost 100 so be it, at least then you’d be proud of yourself.

You spent quite a bit of time mulling the whole thing over, before the answer struck you. Xiao refused the gifts you brought him after some of your adventures, and when you’d once asked him what he might accept he’d shifted his gaze slightly towards the side, one hand running itself through his hair. “…Almond… Tofu.” He’d admitted. You’d been delighted by the revelation at the time, promising yourself you’d learn to make it. And what was a better way to show your feelings than to do so now? Not only was it something he’d like, it was something you’d made yourself.

So you gathered all the ingredients, borrow a receipt, and set to work in Wangshu Inn’s kitchen.

Unfortunately you’d failed to predict how difficult Almost Tofu was to make. It’d been hours and you had nothing to show for it but dirty utensils, a scarcity of ingredients, and a few mysterious blobs that looked about two steps away from inedible. Leaning your head on the counter you let out a groan. Why the fuck did you think this was a good idea?

“What’re you doing?” A familiar voice broke through your reverie.

“Xiao!” You exclaimed, glancing around you. There was no use hiding the project, although technically nothing was looking even close to Almond Tofu right now. “I was, I was trying to make Almond Tofu. But I guess I’m no good at cooking.” You laughed, more than slightly embarrassed.

Xiao’s eyes narrowed, and he raised an eyebrow. Saying nothing he walked over to the counter. Grabbing a cloth he started wiping down the counter.

“What’re you doing?” You asked, slightly confused and extremely surprised.

“Teaching you.” Came the reply. “Come on, let’s start again. Have you washed your hands since your last attempt?”

If cooking was difficult without Xiao it was impossible with him. The whole time you couldn’t help butbe aware of his presence, the way he stood behind you, leaning forward ever so often. Once you hadn’t been mixing fast enough and he placed his hands on yours, pressing his chest against your back. Your grip had immediately lost all strength, and you were sure that Xiao was the only one actually working. His breath was warm against your neck, and his palms were warm and dry. It was all too much, and you spent the rest of the lesson only half paying attention, too wrapped up in his proximity to you.

Despite the distractions this batch turned out, well looking like Almond Tofu. You couldn’t help but smile when seeing the finished product. Even if you didn’t make it completely yourself, there was still something about creating that gave you a sense of pride. Even if you did need help from the person you were going to give it to.

“It’s done.” Xiao proclaimed, a slight smile of satisfaction on his face. “I hope you enjoy it.”

“Oh, well actually I made it for you.” You grabbed the plate and approached the adeptus. “I know you said it was your favorite, and the only thing you’d accept, so, I made it!” You smiled slightly, though inside you were a bundle of nerves. This was happening. Holy shit this was happening.

The surprise on Xiao’s face was evident, but he nevertheless took the plate. Grabbing a pair of chopsticks he pressed into the tofu, causing it to almost immediately separate. Taking a bite a smile crossed his face. “Thank you,” he said, “it’s very good. I’m surprised you remembered.”

“Of course I did!” You replied, voice slightly hurried. “And, um, well I’d like to tell you something.”

“What is it?” Xiao’s slightly concerned look returned. Setting the plate down he crossed his arms.

“Well… you see.” You glanced at the floor. “I know this will probably seem very sudden, and maybe not very proper; and I know that this is something that’s purely one sided, but the fact is I like you. I like you more than a friend and, well… yeah.” You finished, feeling as if you’d just spoken some utter nonsense.

Glancing up you noticed how rigid Xiao had gone. Mouth twisting into a nervous frown you shook your head. “I’m so sorry! I know that you aren’t really, well you’ve said you aren’t familiar with the way humans experience the world. And I don’t want to put you on the spot, that’s the last thing I wanted to do. I’m sorry it’s so shocking.” Glancing away you started worrying your hands together. This had gone so much worse than you’d expected it.

“I don’t understand,” Xiao finally spoke, dropping his arms to his sides, “I don’t understand why you’d like someone like me. I’m not a human, and in terms of adepti I’m far more cursed than most. You shouldn’t, you shouldn’t like some like me. I bring disaster.”

“No you don’t!” The objection came naturally to you, horrified as you were by Xiao’s view of himself. “You’re one of the most wonderful beings I’ve ever met, human or adeptal! You’re kind, and you try to understand the pain and emotions of humanity. And you never push your burdens onto others despite carrying such heavy ones. If that’s not the mark of a good person, well then I don’t know what is!”

“I still don’t understand.” Xiao said, voice softer than usual but just as matter of fact.

“I’m sorry I pushed this onto you.” You said, suddenly feeling a burst of regret, turning around you made to leave the kitchen.

“Wait!” Xiao’s voice was loud and slightly jarring, his hand caught your wrist in a grip that, while gentle, was still firm. You turned around, unsure what to expect. Xiao sighed, closing the distance between you two. “When I said I don’t understand, that doesn’t mean I don’t want to.” There was a pause as he collected his thoughts, looking down, shaking his head slightly. “I don’t understand how humans think, nor how they feel. But, when I’m around you I’m happy, happier than I’ve been in a millennia. And I want to be around you, all the time sometimes. I want to know more about you and I want you to know more about me. So, if that’s what you mean, then… I also like you.”

Xiao glanced back up towards you and your eyes met. You felt slightly floaty all of a sudden, as if you’d gotten very, very drunk. Everything was too sudden, your emotions had changed too quickly. But through all your confusion you understood one thing. Xiao liked you, he liked you. He wasn’t going to reject you or push you away. The thought was enough to bring a smile to your face.

“So you really like me?” You asked. Though you knew the answer now you still wanted to hear it again. Just in case.

“Yes.” Xiao replied, a smile once more adorning his face. “I like you.”

And that was all you needed to hear.

[xseaxwitchxkpop]

Too Much Overthinking

A/N: This fic is pretty reflective of my own thoughts and pretty self-indulgent. While I kinda wanted to keep this to myself, I felt that there’s other people that could benefit from the comfort of the fic that I tried to go for. Self-love, or at very least self-acceptance, is such a hard journey and sometimes our heads get the better of us. The reader is not necessarily female, so I used no female pronouns, but the reader is framed as femme-presenting, so keep that in mind when reading. So many of fics like these end in sex and it irks me because us fat people are not fetishes, we are people, and deserve to be comforted as such, so I decided to write what I want lol. Also I chose Jongho because he comes off as very emotionally mature and very emotionally intelligent (ignore the fact that he was one of two members that caught my attention and made me stan Ateez lol).

Genre: Comfort

Reader Type: femme!reader, plussize!reader

CW: very negative thoughts, body image issues, a little emotional lol

Requested: NO

Group: ATEEZ -- Jongho

Word Count: 1,491

The boys stayed late at the studio, the night steadily getting darker as you stare out the window and watch the moon climb into the sky and shine. The day feels over already and Jongho once again misses the dinner you made him earlier, complete with missing the cute lunchbox cake you got to celebrate your two year anniversary.

Your heart sinks and your mouth turns into a frown -- you never considered yourself clingy or codependent, but there are times when perhaps you would like him to think about you a little more or that you wanted to stick to his side and never let go. 

But him missing this special dinner tonight triggered your negative thoughts and began a less-than-savory night for you; no, you don’t blame him for your thoughts because he didn’t force you to think the things you do, but the current situation certainly doesn’t help.

The soft blankets welcome you with arms of warmth and the mountain of pillows cradle your head as you stare at the ceiling with horrid thoughts running through your heads. You’re too fat, anyway, didn’t need the amount of carbs in the noodles. Your stomach sticks out and sweeps the edge of the counter in a way it shouldn’t, time to lose some! You’re nothing but a good fuck for him, he’s definitely trying to get another woman that’s thinner...they’ve been using a lot of female backup dancers lately…

You whip yourself around in your blankets, trying to squash the thoughts or at least put a temporary stop to them. 

You’re not sure how much time has passed, but you hear the door to your apartment opening and closing, accompanied by shuffling that indicates Jongho came by and took off his jacket, shoes, and made his way to the bedroom. 

You feel the bed dip down behind you and a solid chest snuggle against your back; his arm threw itself around your body and squished you against him, squishing your stomach in the process and making you feel extremely uncomfortable. His breath lingered on the back of your neck as you heard him whisper that he’s sorry for missing the dinner and that he’d make it up to you tomorrow.

You certainly didn’t want him to know you’re awake, but your mouth moves faster than your brain: “Are you actually?”

His breathing hitches, not realizing that you are still awake. The grip around your midsection loosened and you take the opportunity to lift his arm off of you and scoot away from him. He props himself up on his elbow and peers at the back of your head -- you can’t see the hurt and confusion in his eyes, but you can at least feel the searing gaze aimed at the back of your head.

“What do you mean by that?” he asks, wanting to reach out a hand and rub your arm, but forcing himself to stop. He knows that he fucked up by missing the anniversary celebration, but the synergy of the group was radically off kilter today and it took longer than it should have for all of them to perfect the choreography and he was going to explain tomorrow. But he can’t figure out why this bothered you so much -- you were always understanding and that’s one of the reasons you had his heart.

All you can do is sigh, not wanting to burden him with your negative thoughts, but your tear ducts have other ideas and so thus did your brain.

“What I mean is why stay so late? And without so much as a text or phone call?” you mumble.

“Hmm?” he says, not quite hearing you.

You sit up and turn yourself to face him, barely holding back tears. “Do you not love me any more? Am I not attractive to you any more? Am I just a good fuck for you at this point?”

Jongho’s face fell (not that you can see it in the darkness of the room) and he reaches out to your vague silhouette, wanting to caress your face. “Y/N --”

“No!” you shout at him, hugging yourself and scooting yourself further from him, the hard surface of the wall hitting your back.

“There’s gonna be a day where you wake up and realize that you don’t love me any more, realize that my fat stomach is not cute or good for gripping but repulsive, that my back rolls aren’t sexy but gross, that you’re just lying to yourself and lying to me! You don’t find me sexy, you don’t find my body attractive, and you’ll wake up and realize that and leave me! There’s so many better people out there, yeah, with thinner bodies, with no protruding stomach, with slim arms and a defined jawline, no fat poking out in their bras, with legs that don’t rub together and chaff and can fit beautifully into short skirts…one day, you’re gonna wake up and look at me the way I look at myself.”

Tears leave streaks down your face as you ramble. You tighten the blankets around you in an effort to hide yourself. And Jongho, your boyfriend of two years who has done nothing but make you feel loved, that shows you off in public and is proud to have you for a S/O, feels his heart drop so low he doesn’t know if it is in his body any more. His eyes also sting with tears hearing how you view yourself and he’s at a loss for what to say; he knows that you don’t think highly of yourself, but to hear it in its entirety, with you in tears and hearing, unfiltered, what goes on in your head hurts him. He remembers the intense struggle that Seonghwa had with his own image and how he still slips into that mindset sometimes, but you’re not Seonghwa and can’t be reassured the same way.

Jongho crawled his way to you and cupped your face, forcing you to look him in the eyes as much as possible. At a loss for what else to do, he places his lips gently on yours and just stays there; he feels the wet tracks from your eyes to your chin and the ragged breaths through your nose from your crying.

He eventually pulls away but stays close to your face, rubbing his thumb across your cheekbone. “Why are you thinking these things, hm? Was it because I stayed late? I really am sorry about that,” he whispers into the space between you two.

“I...I don’t know...I just...you’re using more female backup dancers...and you missed my...missed my dinner.”

“What do female backup dancers have to do with anything? Do you think any of them can take me from you?”

You look up at him as he hits the nail on the head, pathetically sniffling in an attempt to not only regulate breathing but also not to open the floodgates again.

“Oh, sweetheart, nothing like that will happen,” he says, pulling you into a tight hug, fighting you, fighting him because the last thing that he wants is for you to think he’s gonna leave you high and dry. 

You sink into him, trying even harder to not cry and trying not to think about how you look when crying, trying to ignore the thoughts that tell you that you being an ugly crier is part of the reason that you are horrendously unattractive.

“But what if it does? They’re fit, they’re healthy, they’re attractive…” you start, muttering into his shoulder.

“Who said that?” he counters with lightning speed, not letting you finish the statement. “You? You can’t trust your opinion of yourself in the mirror, how are you to judge what I do and don’t find attractive? You say they’re attractive to me because you don’t find yourself attractive enough to be with me, which your heart will tell you is not true.”

You can’t hold anything in any more and let yourself cry, and not just a small one. You soak his shirt with tears, you claw your way onto his lap and hold him in a death-grip, and you cried, a cathartic one that poured at your emotions into this one cry.

Jongho can’t do anything but hold you with a heavy heart; hearing you cry your heart out hurt him to a degree and he had to hold back his own tears threatening to spill. 

He leans back against the mountain of pillows, pulling you with him, and rubbing your back and squeezing your shoulder. You cry yourself to sleep, eventually becoming dead weight on your boyfriend’s chest, which he wholeheartedly embraced. He slowly falls asleep after you, promising himself that, despite the good communication you two had, he’d try to be more mindful of how much you feel loved and ensure that he doesn’t leave doubt in the future for his love for you.

[dreamywriterinthedark]

Losing you pt III: Picking up the pieces

Pairing: Spencer x Reader

Category: angst, slight fluff.

Resume: Reader struggles to get over a traumatic experience and isolates themselves. They have an outburst, Spencer finds them in the middle of it and offers a helping hand.

Trigger warnings: death, blood, trauma, anger issues, alcohol (please let me know of something was forgotten)

A/N: I don’t know how I feel about this series. Let me know if you like it or what you would like to see. This is what would’ve happened if Linda Barnes was leader of the team. I’m guessing this is a bit of homage to Elle who deserved better. I would love to hear your feedback and whether you want a fourth part. Thanks <3

You slipped off your blind fold, your calmness was interrupted by the broad figure in front of your eyes. The hooded man slowly made his way towards you.

“Please, don’t kill me!” you screamed at the top of your lungs. He looked at you with such viciousness as if he was planning all the horrendous things he was going to do to you in his head. You rose up panting from another hostile episode slapping the light switch of the lamp on your nightstand.

You were on your bed completely exhausted yet wide awake. You could not allow yourself to sleep because every time you did you woke up in sweats due hallucinations and nightmares. You could not differentiate what was real and what was an illusion anymore. You walked to your kitchen pouring yourself a glass of water, your hands were so shaky you dropped the glass and flenched at the sound. By trying to pick up the pieces you cut your hand, the sight of blood on your hands brought you back to that night when you almost died and your boss hardly bat an eye.

Your vision was getting blurred whether it was your brain making you depersonalise or your tears clouding your view you couldn’t tell. You were uncontrollably sobbing. That’s when it hit you, you needed help. You hated yourself for it, it flet like you were a burden. However, you felt guilt creep in furthermore when you saw your phone light up with all the texts, all the calls you ignored making the team even more worried. You swiped the notification from your 13 missed calls making your phone call Spencer. You felt a rush go through your vein, a rush to abort whatever mission you were on, the rush to flight. The kind of rush that could’ve saved your life.

After two rings you hung up feeling stupid, now wondering if you woke him up for nothing. You slammed your phone on your kitchen counter. The anger levels spiking, overtaking the small amount of rational thoughts in your head. You sighed running your hands through your hair. Completely numb, more and more glass shattered on the floor. Once the energy was in too limited quantity in your body. You grabbed a bottle of wine chugging from it in your bathtub like a child trying to avoid family gatherings. You cried until you were too dehydrated to keep the tears flowing, until your eyes were swollen.

The ring of your doorbell caught your attention. Or was it another cruel hallucination ? You were going to ignore it until you heard it be rung once more. You checked who it was through the lense.

“Shit,” you swore, it was Spencer.

“Open the door, Y/n. I know you’re here.” you rolled your eyes at Spencer’s request your back pressed against the cold steel.

“I’m a mess.” you responded trying to dissuade him to come in.

“Your mess is my mess. I’m your home, remember ?”

You smiled detaching yourself from the door unlocking it. He pressed the handle letting his weight make the door shift open. You were brushing with a broom the glass pieces to the side to allow him to circulate safely in your apartment. He saw the blood on your floor, the bandage on your hand; he solved the puzzle himself. You turned to him, no words were needed, he saw the look in your eyes. He cupped the back of your head with one of his hands and wrapped his arm around your torso carefully, gently as if you were as fragile as fine china. You wrapped your arms around his waist breathing in his scent. He pulled away, both hands at the side of your head.

“I want to be that person you can tell anything to. The good and the bad.”

You looked up at him. “Barnes is considering suspending me because I did not follow his orders. Spencer, I had no choice…” he could hear your heart break in your voice.

“She’s not allowed to do this.” He informed you.

“She’s not ?” He nodded in response.

“She violated protocole in the first place by using governmental fund for a case too personal to him. He got his proof only by putting you in a position of danger when she needed it to act. Like you said you had no other choice. I’ve done it before, I was never reprimanded me.”

“Yeah cause you’re a man. If a man kills a rapist, he’s a hero but if a woman does it, she’s a cold-blooded crazy murderer. Gosh, I miss Emily.”

“Talk about double standards.” Spencer said, “You know, she misses you too, we all do.”

“I doubt it, honestly. I was so determined to get her validation it almost cost me my life. Maybe I should just let her know how I feel.”

“Yeah, you definitely should.”

“But what am I even gonna say to her ? What if she’s right ? What if I’m actually delusional or dangerous ?”

“Hey, hey, Y/n. Slow down.”

“Please talk some sense to me. It’s like I’m going out of my mind!”

“It wasn’t your fault. It was legitimate defence. I saw it, the whole team saw it and has your back.” he reassured you, his face closer to yours.

“Should I write her a-“

“No, you’re not doing anything tonight.” He interrupted you. “Just go take a shower then we can talk about it. Sounds good ?” you nodded to respond to him which he, as usual didn’t mind even after going on an endless monologue.

While you were in the shower, he cleaned up the mess your anger made. Once you were done, you sat down on your matcha green sofa watching the sunrise. “It’s already 4am ?! I’m so sorry for keeping you awake.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m a night owl anyways so it’s nothing out of the ordinary. Did you know that falling asleep late is linked with a high IQ ?” he said making his way to you with two cups of tea.

“Then I must be a genius.” you answered half jokingly. “Oh thank you.” you took hold of the warm but not steamy cup in your hands. You remembered Spencer once telling you that the reason why so many dislike tea is because they think it tastes like dirt, it’s not supposed taste like that, see, if the water is burning hot it’s going to burn the leaves and speed the infusion process making it too concentrated. You turned to look at him, he was already looking.

“Sometimes I wonder how you can put up with me.”

“Because I love you.” He never failed to remind you how much he loves you even especially on your worst days. You explained what had been going on, he debunked and dismantled every question pending in you head, every lie your brain told you. It felt like a weight was lifted off your shoulders. For the first time in a while, you felt safe in your own home. Instead of your alarm clock, the sound of the birds were ringing in you ears. You both agreed to go talk to Barnes to solve whatever the problem was that morning. “I’m not going down without a fight, especially not when it comes to that bitch!” Spencer boldly commented to your surprise. You weren’t healed just yet but at least you got out and socialised. At least you opened up to someone you could trust.

You stepped out of the elevator one hand holding coffee, the other holding your boyfriend’s hand. Everyone walked up to you giving you a hug and greeting you. Penelope was so enthusiastic it was overwhelming.

“Long time no see,” commented Luke. “You too,” you hugged him back.

“What happened to your hand ?” asked JJ.

“I dropped a glass.” you nervously responded, you were telling the truth…at least part of it.

“Welcome back!” said Tara squeezing an embrace as well.

“Oh I don’t know about that just yet.” you said to her.

“We need to talk to Barnes first.” added Spencer.

“Whatever happens, we’re with you, Y/n” said Garcia. The others agreed, it felt good to be supported, so much you regret isolating yourself for so long.

Silence made its way into a conversation that was once filled by joy. You threw your coffee in the trash can before turning your body towards his office. Spencer, resting his hand on your back, asked “Are you ready, darling ?” You took in a deep breath sharply, nodding your head yes without taking your gaze off the door.

[ready-to-obeyme]

[OM!] 7 Demon Brothers + Alcohol 🥂

tw: alcohol consumption and things related to it

Note: Ranked the brother’s alcohol tolerance from best to worst at handling alcohol and added some alcohol-related headcanons too like how they’d act at parties :0

I may have used some people I’ve seen at college parties as inspiration

Asmodeus

what can I say except: King 👑👑

the man goes out to parties often and you BET there’s alcohol 

and yeah it’s fun to get buzzed, but ya boy gotta be sober enough to woo all the demons and dance the entire night!!

he’s built a lot of tolerance against all devildom drinks and even some human alcohol-- which is why he’s so shocked when he loses to you in a drinking contest in the storyline

he’s not used to losing especially when it comes to drinking and he takes pride in being the one on top every time

is there to have a Good Time with alcohol, and he’s usually an instigator when it comes to its consumption because he wants people to have a good time too!! (but only if they actually want to drink-- he ain’t forcing anyone!)

would know when to stop; knows his limits and the limits of others pretty well, so he’s actually really good at taking care of people when they’ve gone overboard

alas is the burden of the sober (or less drunk); is definitely the one who throws back a shot but is also the one offering you a glass of water or a trashbag to throw up in or hold up your hair 

he is SO good at taking care of you after a night out 

like I said: 👑👑

Beelzebub

bigger mass, bigger muscles = better alcohol tolerance

doesn’t drink that often to be honest, but he can hold his own 

doesn’t like drinking because it tastes nasty and doesn’t really fill him up-- though the fruity drinks are ok

heavy weight drinker when he does drink tho--- voracious appetite is matched with his ability to down shots like it’s no biggie

also, considering he eats so much, that also helps him in terms of alcohol tolerance

like asmo, his ability to not get drunk easily makes him the Guardian Angel Demon of Hydration

“have some more water” he says as he bends down and rubs your shoulders as you yak into a black trashbag 

could probably shotgun a beer--- smash the butt of the can against his forehead and chugging it all down 

ESEPCIALLY if it’s for a bet for food-- the man is unstoppable 

will be part of clean-up crew and also eat all the snacks

Mammon

that’s right, he can drink Lucifer under the table-- but barely

but he’s the type to go too hard too fast so no know actually knows/thinks he can, but the man is WILDIN’

what can I say about the Avatar of GREED??

shotgunning beers, slappin’ the wine bags, funneling alcohol-- HE’S GOT IT ALL

gets super hyped up when drunk and is definitely a big instigator when he gets some alcohol in him

kind of endearing to watch his inhibitions completely disappear as he reigns as the Big Brother who will definitely win against you in any alcohol related games like beer pong, rage cage, anything!!

the man is good at gambling, math, and probably loads more that we don’t know about yet, so I’m not surprised if he’s actually super good at any games related to dexterity and hand-eye coordination even when he’s drunk 

usually doesn’t really control himself with alcohol, so despite his tolerance often ends up bent over with a trash bag in hand

but if you’re there with him and aren’t familiar with alcohol, he’ll definitely tone it down and look out for you BECAUSE HE’S A SWEETIE 

Lucifer

more of a wine drinker, less of a SHOTS SHOTS SHOTS type of person

you think he’d be all suave and haha alcohol np--

but the error message of him hugging the router because he’s drunk tells  you he’s not as tolerant as people think he is AT ALL

he’s just very good at hiding when he’s inebriated, but even he can’t hide the tell-tale sign of his cheeks reddening  

against his brothers, he’s very good at controlling himself and taking in enough alcohol to amuse himself but not go out of control

unless he’s provoked and Diavolo (or you ;) ) are there

lowkey competitive, especially when he thinks he can win

for some reason always finds himself drunk as hell despite telling himself “ok, easy on the alc tonight” and starts to slur his words and be suuuuuuper relaxed (which is really endearing for you to see because he softens and is more affectionate and less shy about pda)

I hc that he’s actually a talkative drunk because he’s usually so composed and careful with his words that without the ihibitions, he’s freely speaking his feelings more (uwu) 

when he lets himself go though it’s so easy for him to embarrass himself LMAO and he’s lucky that most of his brothers are black-out drunk or too busy taking care of other people

Belphegor 

“MC, I’m so sleeeeeeepy”

“Belphie, you’re always sleepy”

super cuddly when he’s buzzed

after a few drinks, settles himself into a couch and just chills and fuzzily watches people chaotically chugging drinks

pretty happy with just doing this because he sort of enjoys just being in the background and seeing his brothers enjoy themselves

if he was honest before, oh he’s super honest now-- but in an extremely affectionate way:

“MC have I ever told you that your hands are super soft?”

“Ahaha Mammon you dance funnyyyy”

absolutely no filter on the love, the mad man

definitely conks out at like 11pm even if the party started like only two hours ago, blissfully unaware of any of the party aftermath and thus never really ends up helping during clean-up 

pretty hard to wake up-- but then again, he’s always hard to wake up 

you could probably pick up the couch he’s on and push it into a lake and he’d just wake up confused??? or stack things on top of him and he’d never wake up or move 

reminds me of that one vine where someone pours water on this girl’s face and she just wakes up and says “hello????”

Satan

the man wishes he had the tolerance of beel or lucifer or mammon god he wishes

but he does not-- not even CLOSE

is usually the designated driver and pretends he’s real cool with alcohol, but whenever he does drink, he’s out of the game SO QUICK 

maybe it’s because everyone expects him to be tolerant to alcohol because he sometimes sips wine when he reads, but he is not great at alcoholic party games so ends up being drunk really early in the party 

also, shots??? not the same

definitely the type of person to have taken a few shots at a time and be like “hm nothing is happening” and then feel it all at once 

he’s definitely learned from that first time he’s drank so NEVER AGAIN

so whenever he does drink, he knows his limits (and boy it is low) 

get super happy and-- not giggly persay, but he definitely has an easier time laughing considering he’s lost his inhibitions

not much can bring him down from this mood when he’s in the perfect zone between buzzed and drunk-- tries to aim for this zone every time but doesn’t always hit the mark 

has probably tried reading after drinking and just ended up sleeping with the book on his face

Leviathan 

doesn’t drink that much, doesn’t handle alcohol that well

...but people think he does because he always wins at party games 

the man has the best hand-eye coordination from gaming; he is the MASTER at beer pong and rage cage

hates shots because it takes him out so quick 

low-key one shot wonder, and his face gets so red after a few drinks 

handles himself with beer a lot better, but easy to get pulled into the chaos and gets challenged by MUCH more experienced and alcohol tolerant brothers (COUGH MAMMON)

usually tries to find excuses to not drink and prefers to sit and drink other beverages 

he is the master of the NAVY, give him WATER

would be part of clean up crew reluctantly, but if you need to be taken care of he is there for you--- no doubts about that

shyly puts an arm around you if you’re sleepy and makes sure you’re comfortable if you do end up falling asleep

also would end up taking care of other people (and actually does it really well), but does grumble under his breath bc he’s a tsundere

definitely has been on the bad side of drunk so is actually very protective of you if people are pushy with their drinks (it’s kind of sweet)

if you’re sober, you definitely have a friend with you who can watch on and remember EVERYTHING that goes on in the party and share inside jokes and good memories

[consulaaris]

star light, star bright 

shepherds of haven ( @shepherds-of-haven )

red antiqua x f! MC (rhiannon vasi)

2.9k words, pre-relationship fluff

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Falling is a strange thing, Red decides. 

Falling in love is more so. 

He’d never meant to fall, not really; it had just happened, as natural as breathing. Little by little, detail by detail, until before he knew it his heart was in so deep he couldn’t stop it if he tried. It was like he’d merely woken up one day and known. For everything that’s come easy to Red in his life, he’s never fallen often- has never opened himself fully to all that many people. Rhia was the first, all those years ago; he thinks of secret letters and laughter, and all of the stolen kisses that feel now like they were taken on borrowed time. The memories are sweet, even if tinged with the sharp ache of realizing she hadn’t felt the same. 

Yet now Rhiannon has wandered right back into his life, waltzing into the space in his heart he’d never quite filled since she’d left- like the missing piece of a puzzle he hadn’t even known was incomplete. 

To be fair, right now he should probably be more focused on trying not to fall off the roof of this building just outside the Shepherd’s compound than on his theoretical romantic prospects. But there’s a fire in his chest and his thoughts are running wild and Rhia’s presence ahead of him certainly isn’t helping on either front. 

Red scrambles up onto the roof, wincing at the roughness of the shale on his knees, and Rhia turns to him, lips curling up in a wider grin than he’s seen from her in a while- one which he can’t help but return. “Need a hand?” she says lightly, reaching out to offer him a lift up to his feet. She’s not wearing her usual gloves, and he catches a glimpse of the jagged scars spanning the length of her hands. But her skin is calloused, cool to the touch, and he finds himself lingering, unable to resist the temptation of holding onto her for maybe a few seconds longer than he should before pulling away. 

(He’s in too deep again, and he knows it; feels a truth lingering in his heart which he’s not quite yet ready to voice.)

The building whose roof they’re on isn’t particularly tall, but it’s still larger than many of the surrounding ones and the landscape of Haven unfolds before them, windows and alleys lit here and there by lamplight. It’s a city of layers that Red hasn't even begun to fully explore. Somewhere behind them, he knows, the Sun Palace lies in all its glitter and glory, but here in the night when he feels like he’s on top of the world, the Autarchy doesn’t seem to matter quite as much. The air is crisp, cold; the bitter chill of winter clinging to life even as it begins to give way to spring. Both moons are narrow crescents in a sky wreathed by thin clouds, yet though he can see the faint flickering of the stars they’re largely obscured by light emanating from the city.

But his gaze is drawn in particular to Rhiannon, silhouetted against the night as she takes in the view. Enough of a nearby streetlamp illuminates where they now stand, and its orange glow flickers across her face. Dark hair- normally kept in a loose braid- hangs in loose waves tonight, the strands teased into a gentle dance by the wind and its white streak seeming almost to glow in the dim light. She looks more at peace than he’s seen her in a long time. 

“Beautiful,” Red says quietly. He’s not entirely sure what he’s referring to. 

Rhia turns, but doesn’t quite meet his eyes. “Isn’t it?” A rueful expression crosses her face. “I used to come here a lot in the beginning, when I was first conscripted. I needed my own space to think.” 

It takes him a moment to process that. “You were conscripted?” The words leave his mouth before he can stop to think, and though he curses himself inwardly for ruining the moment Red’s not sure he’s able to keep the note of surprise from entering his voice. He’d always thought that she’d joined willingly, and nothing she or any of the other Shepherds had said had indicated otherwise.  

She winces. “I… yes.” Rhia’s mouth tightens slightly at the admission, and he can see the rest of her body tensing. “The Inquisitors would’ve killed me otherwise. I’d used magic to save Caine-” her expression softens slightly at the mention of the boy “-but declined to join the Shepherds after they’d taken me to their compound, and those dogs were waiting for me as soon as I’d left.” Although Rhia’s voice is light, he knows her well enough to know that that’s a facade. Gone is the relaxation of her previous posture; trembling hands bely the emotions she tries so hard to conceal, but there’s a vaguely defiant set to her shoulders, a glint in those stormy eyes- like she’s on the defensive, justifying her actions not just to him, but to herself. There's a sharp hurt in his chest as she realizes that she’s scared. 

Red opens his mouth to respond, to reassure Rhia that he doesn’t blame her, that he doesn’t think any less of her for it, when she speaks again in a rush. 

“I’d like to think I would’ve gone back to them, joined up later. But I guess we’ll never know.” A laugh bubbles out of her, sounding more desperate than amused. 

“You would have,” Red says earnestly, stepping forward to take her hands in his. “I know it.” Of that he’s certain, because if he knows Rhiannon at all, he knows she cares. Even if it seems like she’d tried so hard to bury that part of herself over the years they’d been apart; even if it seems like she’s still burying it, sometimes. 

“Maybe,” she whispers, looking down at their hands. Something in her feels fragile, small, an expression fixed on her face that reminds him of broken glass. All at once she’s the Rhiannon he knew and someone else entirely; she’s sharper now, quieter- all lines and angles and expressions that are oh so strange, yet achingly familiar. He knows what would’ve helped Rhia then.

He’s not as sure he knows what would help her now. 

It’s harder to tell than it used to be, since she’s wrapped herself in that angry mask, since she’s hidden herself away beneath layers upon layers he’s only just begun to unravel again. And though Red’s seen deeper than most, he thinks, there’s… something still hidden. Something new just under the surface of her, like she’s full of secrets that seem to be eating her alive.   

Or maybe it’d been there this whole time, and he just hadn’t been able to see it. (He’s not quite able to suppress the lump of guilt that rises in his throat at the thought.) 

Red just hopes she’ll share it with someone someday. Even if not him, if only to ease the burden on herself. 

“You’re with them now, though- and that’s what matters, right?” He pauses, searching for the right words. Gray eyes cling to his every move like he’s a lifeline in the night. “We just have to do the best with what we have, and make the best of the choices we’ve already made. It doesn’t make you a bad person. I think you’re a very good person, as a matter of fact.” 

Rhia shakes her head once, as if in vague disagreement, and a few strands of dark hair fall into her eyes before she brushes them back again, swallowing thickly. “I just… I want to do something good, y’know? For once.” Red feels his brow furrow at her wording, can’t help but wonder. But he must not be as good at hiding his reactions from her as he’d hoped because a wry smile crosses her face.

“I’m sorry. I ruined the mood, didn’t I?” 

“Never,” he says, the corners of his lips tugging up in a crooked grin- chasing his curious thoughts away as he brushes his thumb across her cheek. “A moment with you could never be ruined.” (A brief moment of internal panic hits him like a jolt when he realizes how that sounds, but the expression on her face is soft enough to make his heart beat just a little too fast. And when his smile is rewarded with a small one in reply... he can’t bring himself to regret having said it.)

She lets out a shaky breath, one Red hadn’t realized she’d been holding. It feels like a weight has been lifted off of Rhiannon, but there’s a tension that lingers between the two of them, so thick it seems like he could reach out and cut it with a knife. He can see it in the set of her shoulders, feel it in the grip of his hands on hers, the look in her too-bright eyes, and her lips part as though she’s about to say something more. 

But then Rhia shivers. 

Her whole body jerks slightly with the force of it, pulling her hands away from his, and he can sense rather than see her surprise that mirrors his own. An instant of silence passes between them as their eyes meet… and suddenly they’re both keeled over laughing, the tension shattered and given an outlet by the suddenness and unexpectedness of the motion. It’s not funny, it really isn’t, but it’s the nature of people to do strange things under stress and so they laugh until they run out of breath, only to look at each other and succumb to the peculiar hilarity of it all over again. Spots of color bloom high in Rhiannon’s pale cheeks, her head tossed back even as she tries to cover her mouth to suppress her giggling (and if there’s something that looks suspiciously like tears glistening in the corners of those lovely gray eyes, Red decides he’s not going to press the matter). 

When he’s finally calmed down enough to speak, Red grins at her from where he’s half bent over with his hands on his knees, his chest sore from their fits of laughter. “You always have run cold, haven’t you?” he says teasingly. 

Rhia glares at him playfully, but the pout on her lips is easily overtaken by a smile of amusement and another chuckle. “Some things never change.” 

A lot of things, Red thinks. But he merely settles himself down to the roof, beckoning Rhia towards where he’s now sitting. She complies, but frowns as he opens his cloak in an offer to share. 

“I’m not-”

“You’re not what? Not cold?” He raises an eyebrow. “I think you clearly proved the contrary just a minute or so ago.”

Watching Rhia’s face go completely scarlet is probably more satisfying than it should be, but Red can’t stop the little smirk that grows on his face as she splutters in protest. “That’s not true! I just-” she falters at Red’s expression, her resignation punctuated by another shiver “-fine. Fine. You win.” Still grumbling, she scooches herself closer until they’re practically huddled together, the cloak wrapped around them. Despite wearing her own cloak and even a knitted scarf- one he’s sure he saw Caine buying not so long ago- Red’s surprised at how cold to the touch Rhiannon is still (even if having her pressed to his side has him feeling warmer than ever). 

“See, isn’t this better?” he says teasingly, and though Rhia makes a little face at him, still blushing, she doesn’t deny it. He’s reminded suddenly of all those nights at the Circle when they’d snuck off to the rooftops or the lake, and how easy things had been then. How strangely difficult they feel now. It’s hard to resist the urge to put his arm around her; part of Red wants to hold Rhia, pull her close until there’s nothing left between them and he’s lost in the touch of her skin and the heady lavender-and-snow scent of her. But the more logical side of him shies away. Red has always been confident in his relationships, but he knows all too well how this ended last time. 

Not like his heart has ever listened to logic, though. 

Unaware of his internal struggle, Rhia’s gaze shifts upwards, a little sigh escaping her. “I know it’s just part and parcel of living in a city as big as Haven is, but I do wish we could see the stars better. That’s one thing I miss.” 

An idea lights itself in Red’s mind and he purses his lips, tilting his head slightly to the side in consideration. “Well, it's not the stars, but…” He lifts his hand up, palm raised to the sky, and a little mage light appears there. Then another. One by one the sparkling lights- in faint shades of gold, and white, and red, and blue- rise into the air around them, held aloft by the power of Red’s concentration. Glittering around them in various sizes and pulsing with a gentle glow, amidst the lights it seems for a moment like they’re sitting in their own personal galaxy. Just the two of them in their own little world, their own set of stars. Rhia’s lips are parted ever so slightly as she takes in the scene, eyes wide in an expression of wonder- and when she turns to him she’s brimming with an emotion he can’t quite interpret, peering at him as if maybe he holds the answers of the galaxies in his eyes. 

“Show off,” she whispers affectionately. There’s something almost painfully fond in her gaze, in her voice. 

Red doesn’t even bother to deny it, but it doesn’t curb the smile on his face as he winks at her. Yet while Rhia’s attention returns to the lights dancing slowly above them, enraptured by their glow… his focus is entirely on her. And when Red looks at her, really looks at her,  it crosses his mind that maybe some of the worlds he’s been trying so hard to find are right here next to him, hidden away in a heart for which he hasn’t quite yet found the key. Something builds, aches, growing in his heart and throat until he knows beyond a shadow of a doubt that he wants to learn the shape of her all over again, relearn every little piece of her he’d already known and more. Even if there’s the fear he’s going to get burned, again every instinct of his urges him to reach out, to hold her close. But he refrains. For now. Time is one thing they have, and he’s never been one to rush the important things. 

(His heart sings with the quiet joy of it, the quiet hope.)

Lost together in the silence they sit with no need for words between them. Eventually Red lets the mage lights fade from existence, winking out one by one until they’re left just with the soft half-darkness of the city and the warmth of each other. Rhia leans into him ever so slightly. He swallows nervously, but though he doesn’t- can’t- look at her then, keeping his gaze fixed towards the sky, he can’t keep his lips from curving upwards. The breeze sweeps his hair back from his forehead, and he inhales deeply- relishing this, relishing the moment like some fragile thing he’s not sure will last. 

Movement at the edge of his vision causes him to frown, turning a little to better make out whatever it is, and when he does Red’s mouth opens in a perfect “o”. 

“It’s a shooting star! Quick, make a wish,” he says, grinning, and he feels Rhiannon stirring at his side. The star’s movement is faint but clear across the sky and they trace its path until it disappears beyond the horizon, although the sense of elation Red feels at having seen it remains. Maybe it’s a little silly, but there’s a sense of childlike wonder that fills him at such a small thing, and it feels… fitting, for tonight. 

“What did you wish for?” he says cheekily, turning towards Rhia (who merely stares at him with one eyebrow raised, unimpressed).

“You know you’re not supposed to tell your wish,” she sniffs. “Otherwise it won’t come true.”

“Ah, so it’s something you really want, huh?”

She rolls her eyes, shoving his shoulder playfully, and the familiarity of the gesture warms him. “Would I have wished for it if I didn’t?”

Red laughs then, and she joins in, and again it’s just the two of them in their little bubble above the city, just the two of them like he’d once hoped it would be. And he knows they’ll have to rejoin the rest of the world, that it’ll have to be soon because he can feel the heaviness of sleep tugging at his body, but in that moment he doesn’t really want to. 

Something in tonight has made it all feel a bit like a new beginning- because though he doesn’t say it aloud, he knows what he wished for, tucks it away in his heart until the time is right.

Part of him can’t help but hope that maybe, just maybe, Rhia had wished for the very same thing. 

[jae-writes-fanfiction]

omgggg im stoked ur on the slasher train now!!! for ur spooky event could you do drabbles for them comforting a really kinda sad s/o??? ik this wasnt on the prompts list but 2020 has been v rough and i just wanna be held 😔

Pick Me Off The Ground

Notes: I ended up writing this for Pelle, The Candyman, Hannibal, Tiffany Valentine, Jennifer Check, and Susie Bannion. It’s been a long ass time since I got a drabbles request, I hope the formatting is okay.

Warnings: Refernces to being sad, I struggle with depression/anxiety so some of the terminology and descriptions I use can be trigger or relate to depression, also they’re all murderers. Enjoy Responisbly ❤️

- - -

Pelle

Your shoulders slumped and you hid your face on the cot trying to muffle the chocked sobs racking through your body. This entire trip was a disaster. You’d woken up that morning with a positive outlook, sure the Hårga wasn’t what you expected. But their beliefs and rituals, although grim, were fascinating as far as anthropology and psychology go. Pelle had shown you around all day, even letting you see pages from their sacred text. But when you got back to the center of town you were confronted by the other angry tourists complaining your friends had taken the only transport and left.

You were embarrassed by their rude behavior, and absolutely heartbroken that they hadn’t cared to wait for you. Members of the Hårga had calmed the other tourists and promised to take them to the airport as soon as possible. You felt utterly alone, and displaced. You froze when you felt a hand on your shoulder, your mind scrambling for an apology to send whoever was there away.

“I’m sorry about our friends,” Pelle said quietly, his voice soothing and remorseful.

You sniffled and sat up, wiping your eyes. “I’ve felt for a while I wasn’t fitting it but I didn’t know...” you bit your lip but couldn’t keep your eyes from welling with tears again.

Pelle sat closer to you, and pulled you into his arms. He didn’t say anything, just let you cry and for the first time in a very long time, it felt like someone truly cared about you. You felt warm, and safe.

- - -

The Candyman (Daniel Robitaille)

Every bone in your body ached, you were exhausted body and soul. Life had gotten to be so draining, so stagnent and empty. Your career felt stale and the late hours impossibly fruitless. You had just enough energy to kick your shoes off and drop your things at the door before collapsing into bed.

At first you were restless, tossing and turning your body unable to relax. Desperately you turned to gaze and whisper at the mirror over your dresser. You knew he didn’t like be summoned without a more malevolent purpose, but you were always the exception. You couldn’t feel his weight on the bed, but you could feel his presence in the room instantly.

You smiled softly as you felt his arms around you. You turned in his arms wishing he could appear in something other than the cloak, although you appreciated the added warmth.

“Daniel,” you whispered pressing a soft kiss to his cheek, you could feel him faintly but the smile on his face was plain enough to lift your spirits slightly.

“Hush, my love. Rest.” His voice, like always, filled the room around you yet at the same time sounded miles away. For a moment you felt as if the burdens weighing you down were just phantoms. In another minute you were asleep, pleasant dreams and your lover beside you keeping you at peace.

- - -

Hannibal Lecter

The rain outside soaked into your jacket as you got home from work. Classical music was already playing as you shucked your jacket and boots off in the mud room. Keeping your head down you walked directly to your room and closed the door. Sometimes when you had a bad day, Hannibal overstepped the line between psycho-killer boyrfriend and professional psychologist. You knew him, and he knew you all your darkest secrets. Yet sometimes when your own mind turned on you for no reason, you didn’t want to come home to another therapist.

You peeled the wet clothes off your body and dug around for your favorite pair of flannel bottom, and that one shirt of his that always ended up in your laundry. The softness of the fabric, the warmth of the flannel, the hint of his aftershave- they were all impossibly small comforts in the wake of what you knew to be a wave large enough to drown in.

Felling a little better you emerged from the non-confrontational sanctuary of your bedroom. You wandered into the living room and curled yourself into the corner of the couch. You picked up a book and turned the pages but the words weren’t sticking. You looked up from the pages, as Hannibal walked into the room carrying a tray.

“It’s your favorite,” he said smiling softly setting the tray down on the end table next to you. The food smelled perfect, the dish was one from your childhood and the drink along with it was your absolute favorite year and type of wine. The pairing was one you had never thought to put together, another glaring example of Hannibal’s particular genius. He sat next to you on the sofa reading quietly. Although it couldn’t fix or change how you felt, it was helpful to know even now, someone cared about you.

- - -

Tiffany Valentine

You were curled up in a ball, the tears still fresh on your face when Tiff got home.

“I swear to god I’ll kill him!” She said looking over your saddened state. Mascara ran down your face, your hair was disheveled and your eyes looked so sad it broke Tiffany’s little black heart clean in two.

Your boss had become a problem. He acted too familiar in private, around other employees he made jokes about your appearance, about your performance, hell he even made fun of your picture of Tiffany once. Nothing was off limits because he was the boss.

“He kept jokin’ during the meeting about firing me,” you said between sniffles, “I’ve worked there for five years I don’t understand what I’m doing wrong.”

She crossed the room quickly to pull you into a hug. “You didn’t do anything wrong hes just a dick,” she said firmly. You laughed, and couldn’t help smiling through the tears as she held you. The soft curves of her body were inviting and promised you nothing would ever hurt you again.

“Now let’s get you all cleaned up we’re going out!” Your protestes were silenced with a quick kiss. “There’s nothing better than a hot date, and a little retail therapy,” she said with a wink pulling you to your feet.

You nodded and let her lead you by the hand back out to the car. Anytime you had a bad day she pulled out all the stops until you were absolutely spoiled and tonight would be no different- except tomorrow morning at work you’d get another present. And Tiffany would add another man to her list of recently deceased assholes.

- - -

Jennifer Check

It was past midnight when your girlfriend came home, covered in blood. It wasn’t an unusual sight but the dress she had been wearig was in tatters and you were certain some of the fluid was hers.

Panic quickly set in, and you ran to her side your hands flashing over her body trying to stop the bleeding. You pulled your shaking hands away, they were covered in dark blood. As She gasped and fainted you ran to catch her and smeared the dark substance over her skin.

As her surprisingly human looking body hit the ground, you woke up. The nightmare made your skin crawl, and you could feel tears streaming down your face. Jennifer, who wasn’t dead yet wasn’t exactly alive, laid next to you.

She lazily threw an arm around you and pulled you closer. “I’m right here,” she mumbled sleepily. You shuddered as she kissed the lines of tears on your face. The gesture made fresh tears threaten to spill over, but you bit your lip and instead snuggled closer into her chest. For now she was there, for now things would be okay. You felt her stroke and play with your hair as you drifted off to sleep.

- - -

Susie Bannion

You stormed through the dormitories, stopping only at your bed. You haphazardly grabbed shirts and linens stuffing them into the suitcase on top of your mattress. If the other girls didn’t think you were up to snuff, that was their problem. You didn’t have to stay.

Your bag was mostly packed when you started biting back tears. You’d worked your whole life for this chance, would you really give up now just because they wanted you too? You didn’t know that answer but you did know something inside you felt broken. Shakily, you sat down on th edge of your bed and held your head in your hands.

“Are you okay?” You quickly looked up and saw Susie standing there her head slightly cocked to the side as she observed your hastily packed case and distraught appearance.

You shrugged helplessly and tried to wipe the tears from your face.

“I don’t belong here,” you said. Your tone sounded like a challenge and Susie wasn’t one to back down. She dropped herself to sit next to you, and started stroking your hair as you began to cry openly.

“You’re the only one that belongs here,” she whispered wrapping an arm around you. You felt her kiss the top of your head, and it was like magic. As if she had chosen you to be her person, and in that moment the world changed and you were no longer an outsider.

[angst-king]

Seeing red pt 1

(TW mention of sexual exploitation/abuse, ablism, physical and verbal abuse, transphobia, homophobia, emotional abuse, & attempted suicide)

(i will also be using she/her pronouns on Kiri for the first chapter and half of the second chapter) “That was fun, damn you were so good for me tonight kitten.” A soft out of breath voice calls out, the girl quickly grabs her things, slipping her clothes back on and she's almost out the door before the girl on the bed adds. “Hey, money’s on the dresser, take what you want kitten, you did so well~” Her voice purs, taking the money she hurried out the door, and soon out of the apartment complex. Walking the cold dark streets in the chilly night, the girl grabs her phone and calls someone. “H-hello?”  Her voice was soft and shaky “hey there Ijima, did you have to ‘go out’ again?” “m-mhm, I d-don’t wanna go home Ashido.” “I know you don’t, just come on over, I’ll get you some clothes okay.” “O-okay, s-see you in a bit Ashi” “See ya Kiri” The two hung up and her steps quickened into a run.

She was so glad the ashido house had always welcomed her, whether it was after school, or late into the night to the ass crack of dawn. Her quiet feet brought her to a familiar street and soon to the house she could finally rest at. She was tired, barely holding herself up shaky legs that were weak from her previous activities. Knocking on the door, she could barely hold herself up, the door had opened just in time. A girl with pink hair and black roots opened the door, she was dressed in her pajamas with a slight look of sleep on her face clouding those bright yellow eyes. “Th-thanks Ashido” She says, hurrying into the house, stumbling. The girl catches her waking up more. “God Kirishima be careful, I’ve got ya, let's get you showered and into some better clothes. Ashido says softly to Kirishima who tries to balance herself but still needs assistance.

“I’ve got ya, now come on, you need a bath hun.” Ashido closes the front door, and leads Kirishima up the stairs and into a bathroom, giving the girl privacy. Ashido found some comfortable clothes for Kirishima.

Kirishima wasn’t in there long seeing as she could hardly stand up straight it was quick but good enough to get the smell of sex, and stickiness of shared bodily fluids. Her hair loosely tied up as she comes out in a towel, Mina hands her the clothes. Kirishima heads back into the bathroom and changes. Coming out once more, she’s shaking but clothed and dry, Mina hated to see her friend so hurt. There was a dull look in those ruby eyes, her lips small and barely able to hold the weight of a smile during a time like this. She was tired, sore, and worst of all, she was numb. She sunk to her knees on the floor in the pink haired girl’s bedroom. She began to shake harder, holding onto herself, fingers tightly gripping her slim biceps. Face towards the floor, only light snivels and whimpers could be heard from the ravenette. 

Coming over to comfort the girl, Ashido knelt down and gently pulled her into her loving frame. Flinching, it only took a second before a choked sob erupted and the young Kirishima started to cry. Her body going slack in her friend’s hold as tears rained down from her eyes dampening the shoulder she cried on. All the other could do was rub her back and hold her close and offer advice. There were moments upon moments of quiet sobbing before her words came out in a stammer. 

“A-Ashido, I-I wanna die, please.” Her voice pleaded, shaking her head the pink haired teen tried to persuade her. “No Kiri, i’m sorry I can’t let you do that-” “pl-please, just give me a bottle of pills, cough syrup, a knife, something! Please Mina! Let me die already!!” She exclaimed, pressing her friend into allowing her to silence her inner demons. “Shhh Kiri, I’m sorry I know you do but, I can’t let you do that please, we’re gonna get you help, i know you need it, but we still gotta figure out a way to do that. Just hang in there please, you’re safe with me.” All Kirishima could do was nod and cry till she fell asleep.

Morning came and Kirishima was soon returned back home against their will yet she knew she couldn’t stay with the Ashidos forever. She already felt like a burden to them for having to come to them for food and clothes and even comfort or a place to escape. Walking up to the door, she knocked and waited for the door to be unlocked. A soft jingle jangle came and the door opened, stepping in she saw her mother smiling. “Finally you’re home, so how’d it go hun, did ya have fun?” She asked excitedly, the memories of the night before made her queasy to think about so she shook her head. “M-mom please I-I need to go lay down, I don’t feel good.” Frowning, the woman closes the door, rolling her eyes. “Oh please Ijima stop that, you’re fine, you’re always saying that or doing that stupid thing where you fall and pretend to have a seizure. I know you’re just doing it for attention.” Ijima sighed, rubbing her temples. “I’m not faking seizures for attention, why can’t you just believe me?” That earned her a harsh shove into the wall behind her, piercing red eyes glaring into scared ones that were once dull a second ago but now filled with fear. “Because I said so! Because I don’t have to believe you, I am the parent and you are MY child!” The more she spoke the louder Ijima’s mother’s voice got to the point of yelling. Ijima began to cower and shake from terror. “Honestly Ijima you have all of these stupid ‘problems’ like your ‘epilepsy’ or you saying you want to be a boy. Do you really think anyone’s gonna love a retarted tranny?!!” The slurs hurt but her phrases hurt the worst “Do you honestly think someone’s gonna wanna take care of you? No one is going to love you like that, no one wants someone like that! Get that through your head!” Her last words, Ijima was grabbed by her hair and her head was repeatedly bashed against the wall. Each slam made her feel weaker and weaker.

Dropping to her knees, Ijima went limp on the floor, the pounding radiated through her skull, causing her hands to tremble but she forced herself to silently walk up to her room. Each step, she wants to cry but biting her lip is the only thing keeping her from letting the floodgates break. She could feel her mind filling with static so she’d better hurry her pace, or if she didn’t she wouldn’t know what hit her.

Once in her own room, she let go, her entire being was weak. She collapsed with a thud onto the floor. Tensed and tight her body spasmed and jerked, eyes rolling back, she was defenseless and unable to do anything if anyone were to find her with plans in their head. Luckily her mother decided to leave her be for the time being. She’d wake up feeling sick, her body sore and tired, her vision gone. She was vulnerable and she hated it, unable to speak properly, ask for help, or even think of it. Who would help her anyway, it's not like she couldn’t do it herself. It took a bit of trying but she’d manage to get herself up right and into bed, which would lead to sleeping the day away or laying in bed until the nausea got worse enough to get sick.

 When she woke up, she had no idea as to where she was. Her vision black, her skin was ice cold, and her stomach was sloshing queasily. Even without knowing her surroundings she forced herself to move. She stretched uncomfortably, her body was sore and achy from the seizure. Once she had stretched, she scooted her way around her room until she found her bed. Blindly searching the climbing up into her bed to lay down. It was exhausting and not to mention her nightly activities from the day before still left her exhausted. She ended up going back to sleep, she wanted to sleep away her days, she hated waking up. She hated opening her eyes and would sometimes pretend to be ‘out’ longer after a seizure just so people would leave her alone but. That didn’t always work, sometimes she would actually have another seizure, or someone would try and hurt her. Mainly the girls at school, they would just watch her convulse on the floor, step on her, take pictures or videos and post them around the school, or just gossip about her in general. Ijima wished she never had to wake up, and those urges grew stronger and stronger with each day until.

Today. She’d slept through yesterday but even now she felt horrible. Her vision hadn’t returned fully yet, it was spotty and blurry. She wasn’t mentally awake yet either, she had such horrible brain fog she could hardly register the screaming coming from outside her bedroom door. It was too late and in came her screaming mother. “IJIMA YOU CAN HEAR ME I KNOW YOU’RE AWAKE!” Ijima flinched, her eyes weren’t adjusting as quickly as she’d like and neither was her brain. Even though the screaming woke her up as the woman came barging in towards her. “WHY THE HELL HAVE YOU BEEN IGNORING ME?!! I CALLED YOUR NAME SO MANY TIMES, YOU OVERSLEPT AND YOU’RE LATE FOR SCHOOL AND DON’T GIVE ME THIS ‘I HAD A SEIZURE' BULLSHIT CAUSE YOU’RE JUST A LYING BITCH WANTING ATTENTION!” The screaming scared her into a panic, she hated screaming, especially when her vision wasn’t right. If her vision was faulty her hearing would pick up the slack and so did every other sense. It made every sound more pronounced to the point where she could feel the venom in her mother’s words. Ijima was shaking as tears unknowingly ran down her face, she only knew this when she pointed it out. “Oh stop acting like this you brat, you’re so pitiful Emma left because of you. She didn’t want someone like you! She’d still be here if you weren’t so selfish!” A pillow was shoved over her face and held there but that didn’t muffle Ijima’s hearing. Ijima although used to hearing her mother say this, always hurt deep inside and the woman knew that. Emma was Ijima’s other mom, Emma joined the military a little after Ijima had started showing signs of epilepsy which only made Ijima more inclined to believe what the other woman known as Ito had told her. It was always a reminder, Ijima always felt responsible for Emma’s leaving but also felt betrayal and pain that no one would love her. Her own mother left her to join the military in order to avoid taking care of her. “Just go, get ready for school” Ito said coldly, getting up and releasing the pillow that suffocated Ijima. Ijima did her best to rise on her feet, steadying herself on the floor as her mother left her to get ready.

 Ijima did her usual routine even when she’d had epileptic episodes that left her still rather disoriented. Though while in the bathroom a little voice in her head spoke to her. ‘Get those tums and take ‘em at school, see how many you can take before you die?’ With the suggestion she went through her medicine cabinet which really only held a bottle of tums, extra toothbrushes and toothpaste. Ijima grabbed the tums and snuck them into her bag before continuing her routine. She skipped breakfast. On her way to school, she always stopped by Mina’s house knocking on the door, it isn’t long before the pink haired girl appears. “Hey there Kiri!” Ijima didn’t bother to make a smile, she couldn’t, the weight of it was too heavy for those weak lips. Her hands were shaky, and her eyes were dead on the outside but if you looked deep enough you could see the pain. Ijima was quieter than usual, all she did was pretend to listen to Mina talk about gossip, magazines, typical girl things that she always spoke of. Ijima wasn’t truly listening, she was spacing out, her mind was filled with static but also the obsession of death. She didn’t want to live any longer and she’d take any out she could. Maybe if she downed the entire bottle of tums it’ll be enough to kill her? Though if another opportunity presented itself to her, she’d take it. She couldn’t stand being on this earth any longer. She couldn’t stand being around girls, they were deceptive, deceitful, demanding, cold, and selfish. The only girl she could trust was Mina, Mina always proved to Ijima that she was a loyal friend. Mina was actually the only one who treated Ijima well. Even though she had met some bad men or boys, awful girls or  women were a lot more prominent in her life. Ijima was done with it, why should she have to suffer due to her mother’s ideologies?!

As they made their way to school they had to cross busy streets that were filled with cars rushing to their destinations. When Ijima got an impulsive thought ‘jump into traffic’ She could hear the cars coming and would Mina even be able to stop her in time? And would the car even stop in time? She’d have to time it just right. The cross walk was still being held up as the car zoomed down the lane when Ijima saw a truck coming barrelling down the street. Her mind raced yet was clouded by multiple loud ones that screamed ‘DO IT! JUMP!’.’DO IT YOU WORTHLESS PIECE OF SHIT’ ‘YEAH DO IT, NO ONE’S GONNA MISS YOU!’ ‘FINALLY AN ESCAPE, YOU CAN’T FAIL NOW!’ ‘DO IT! JUMP’ The truck was getting closer and Ijima didn’t even fight the voices.

Everything was a blur, a scream and sickening thud and crunch. Then it went black.

Waking up to a loud beeping sound, Ijima’s eyes struggled to open and adjust to the bright lights and whiteness of the hospital. The brightness was blinding to her eyes as they’d been used to the dark for some time now. Eyes looking around, they’re met with white walls, white sheets, white bandages wrapped around her wrists and even around some of her torso. As she became more and more awake, Ijima started to feel the pain. It was a dull aching pain, but it wasn’t just physical. Oh no this was mental. Sure her ribs had been cracked, she sustained a mild concussion, lacerations from the truck, and had a few seizures. The mental pain was way worse, she didn’t want to wake up today, she didn’t wanna wake up ever! She didn’t want to make it, this wasn’t her goal to wake up in a hospital! She wanted to be dead! Gone, away from the hell her mother puts her through even if she deserves it! ‘Why?! Why couldn’t they just leave me for dead!??’ She thought to herself as tears welled up in her eyes. Everything was building up at once, her emotions filled her even if she still felt numb to some extent she finally screamed as her emotions spilled like an overflowing sink.

“Why! Why couldn’t you all just let me fucking die!?!! PLEASE JUST KILL ME!” Even with her voice breaking between her words it was loud enough to be heard from out the door. Grabbing harshly at her long black hair, tangling it between her fingers tightly with white knuckle gripping. She cried, sobbed more like it. It was so overwhelming to try and find another way to just end it as she wanted her life to be over so badly. She wanted to bleed out on the floor and never wake up again. Her eyes darted around but she noticed that the only thing in the room was her bed, the vitals machine, and an IV pole with a line or two or fluids that were connected to Ijima. Seeing the bandages around her arms she unravels them revealing several lacerations that were still rather fresh looking. With her sharp shark-like teeth, she raises an arm towards her lips, opens her mouth and chomps down as hard as she could. Blood floods her mouth like an ocean flooding the tidal pools of its beach. The taste of Iron coats her tongue, discolor’s her teeth, and drips down her lips escaping to splatter onto her blue hospital gown. Hearing the screams, a nurse came to check up on Ijima who was horrified to witness Ijima’s desperate method of self harm. She ran to get a doctor when Ijima detached her mouth from her arm. Blood pouring and adding to the small drips and splatters on her gown.  Large splatters of the crimson fluid painted the blue gown discoloring it to a somewhat purple hue. When the nurse urgently returned with a doctor and another nurse the doctor was just as surprised!

First they had to tie Ijima down, placing straps over her to keep her from trying anything else.

While she was being strapped down the doctor and a nurse worked to repair Ijima’s arm, she tried to fight them but in the end she was immobilized. Tired of fighting the doctor all she could do was cry and mutter about why couldn’t they just let her die. The process of actually fixing her arm was a little extensive. They had to stop the bleeding, then see how far the damage went before deciding on what they’d have to do. Even though she didn’t break any bones, the doctor decided to cast both her arms to keep her from trying to bite herself again. She ended up being put to sleep this time.

[hopelikethemoon]

after the storm (Ezra x Reader) [smut]

title: after the storm rating: explicit  length: 3,600 warnings: angst, smut (female receiving oral, fingering, handjob, unprotected sex) notes: set after Prospect, dedicated to the queen of Ezra (as I have decreed it) @rzrcrst​. gif stolen from @lucy-sky​

Six years ago an arrangement was made. The casual sort of arrangement that comes about after a long night of drinking refined Jeev polish and falling into bed with the one constant in your life. 

You’ve known Ezra since the start of your prospecting career; when you were wide-eyed and green behind the ears and he was too damn cocky for his own good. You’d always had a little crush on him — how could you not? He’s handsome, rugged, charming, and his tongue can cut and soothe. 

You overlook the fact that he held a blaster to your temple on your first expedition. As it was, a few hours later Ezra learned that turnabout’s fair play when you pinned him down and stole his cache. That, you’re certain, was the moment he developed his own brand of infatuation with you. After that, there was always a heat in his eyes that scorched you. That made desire bloom within your soul. 

That look (and the Jeev polish) was what led you into his bed. You can’t forget the way his mouth feels against your skin, the texture of his hair between your fingers, the poetry he writes with his tongue between your thighs. You promise each other, then and there, in the hazy morning glow of twin suns, you’ll make time for this. To explore this connection further. 

But the nature of prospecting means you’re pulled to opposite sides of the galaxy frequently and without reason. It’s one of Keeva’s small miracles that you cross paths at all. You try to keep yourself clean; legitimate ventures on well-turned planets — while Ezra skirts around criminality in the furthest, vilest regions. 

Genuine connections are rare in your line of work. Everyone is out for themselves. In it to win it — with or without a little backstabbing along the way. Sometimes you question whether the connection you formed with Ezra was even genuine. It eats at you when you’re floating through the black; in the long expanses of loneliness between serendipitous moments with him. You forget the way flecks of light play in his dark eyes, the curl of his lips as he lazily smirks, the warmth of his voice when he’s murmuring to you. It feels like more than a passing arrangement. 

If only it were possible to pin him down. But he’s a bird you refuse to cage, so you let him go and hope he’ll come back to you when he’s ready. You cling to the fleeting moments; no more than a week strung together with the stolen nights dotted across five years. Like stars on a dark night — fleeting bright spots that were already fading the moment that they’re seen. 

You haven’t seen him in a year. You look for him at every bustling port, pore over ship-out lists on wayward adventures — hoping to see his name among them. You fear the worse as your hope wanes. He’s absent from his usual haunts, his name omitted from familiar voyages. No one has seen or heard of him in months. 

He’s dead. That’s the only event that would drive him out of the game. He’s dead or dying or simply gone. 

It burns you alive at night when your emotions get the best of you. Because you never told him how you felt. Never confessed that you lived for nights shared with him. That you looked for him wherever you went, that no one compared to him. That you had carried the burden of long-suffering affection despite fears that he would never feel the same way in return. 

He comes to you in dreams. Distant recollections like ghosts that cling to your skin in the morning. You miss the warmth of his body beside yours, a gift you only knew a half-dozen times. You wish you could pull on that feeling like an old well-loved shirt. But his memory is as fleeting as the moments you shared with him. Your recollection of him is slipping through your fingers. 

You’ll never see him again. You convince yourself that he is gone, his body reclaimed by the distant forests he traversed, reduced to merely nutrients that will feed new minerals to harvest. He’d laugh at that thought — you can almost imagine how he’d react to that. But you can’t remember the exact timber of his voice anymore and his response is silent as it slips past lips that fade from your mind’s eye.

There’s a hole-in-the-wall cantina on Vector 7B, it’s the birthplace of your arrangement with Ezra. There are strangers sitting in the round booth in the back of the crowded bar — strangers laughing and carousing in the booth where Ezra once sat. Can you still remember the weight of his hand as it rested on yours beneath the table? How did his lips feel when they first brushed against yours?

You tear your eyes away from the booth, lost in thought and comforted by phantoms of the past. As you turn back towards the bar, you doubt yourself. The phantom is there — sitting at the bar; made of blood and bone and the breath of life. He is travel-worn and weary, the weight of the galaxy rests on his shoulders. He hasn’t seen you yet, or if he has he pretends he hasn’t. 

His left hand curls around the copper cup of polish and your brows furrow. In all the moments you’ve played back in your mind, you’ve never once recalled him favoring his left hand. Faded memories return in flashes — his left hand had found your leg beneath the table while his right curled around his drink. 

It’s not him. 

The phantom turns, keenly aware of a stranger’s eyes on him. Only, neither of you are strangers. It is Ezra. Your eyes find that ridiculous patch of blonde among his tousled chestnut hair, before settling on his dark and stormy gaze. 

Your legs carry you towards him, fingers shaking as you rest them against the bar beside him. “Hey.” You offer casually, chest tight with anxiety. 

“I feared my prolonged absence would render our arrangement obsolete, little bird.” He murmured, reigniting something deep within your soul. His voice was warm, a balm that soothed worries, ushering them out the door. 

“Impossible.” You assured him, chewing on your bottom lip as you looked away from him in search of the bartender. “I’ll have what he’s having.” You remarked cooly, before leaning an elbow against the bar as you angled yourself towards Ezra. 

There’s always been an undercurrent of the morose about him. A looming darkness that settles just beneath the surface. But he masks it well with colorful prose, the charming curl of his lips, and the smooth comfort of his accent. It’s not until your eyes wander from his face that you realize why he’s holding his cup with his left hand. 

“Ezra—”

“Don’t.” He says with a short jerk of his head. “How have you been, little bird? It’s been nearly a lifetime since we crossed paths.” 

You pull your eyes away from his missing limb and stare at his face. “Not for a lack of trying. I looked for you.” You confessed, disregarding fears that you might sound needy. It’s always been casual, this thing between you. It only happens if you cross paths by happenstance, not if you force it into existence. 

He hums thoughtfully and the silence that settles leaves you feeling like your confession is tantamount to a sin. Had he intended to see this arrangement left to the past? A thought crosses your mind, leaving a bitter taste on your tongue. What if he hadn’t thought of you the way you longed for him? 

“I’m sorry.” You offer quietly, grabbing your drink off the bar as you start to slip away from him. Are you sorry you found him? Sorry you looked for him? Sorry that he’s not a phantom you can wistfully mourn over? 

“Wait.” 

You falter, half-tempted to keep your forward momentum. You glance back at him, brows furrowed. 

“Stay?”

You return to the bar, perching on the stool beside him. Ezra is never as quiet as he is tonight. Even on the bleakest days, he finds reason to speak. Whether it’s technobabble about some new device he’s encountered or tall tales from past voyages. He finds a reason to fill the silence, not let it hang between you in frozen suspension. 

“Tread lightly,” Ezra starts abruptly, dragging his fingers through his hair as he settles you with a look. “Keeva has chosen to remind me that I am merely a mortal, subject to the same weary tolls as the lot of them.” He jerks his head towards the other bar patrons. “I loathe the thought of departing from here into another night of solace in the inky black.” 

Your heart stutters as you stare at him, pulse thrumming in your ears. His earnestness gives you pause. His arm is not the only loss he’s suffered. There’s something less about him, something you overlooked in your haste to remember him.

“Little bird, do not claim to have looked for me if you only intend to release me at dawn break.” Ezra’s shoulders sag as he sighs wearily, rubbing at the back of his neck. “Spare me the allusion of forthright promises.” 

“Ezra,” You start, reaching out to rest your hand on his forearm. Your touch is light, afraid to startle him out of your grasp. “Any promises I intend to make, I intend to keep.” You offer him a small smile as you study his pained expression. “I missed you.” 

“And I you.” He carefully moves his arm beneath your touch, until his hand wraps around your own. You had forgotten how perfectly they fit together, they tingle that plays through you as his fingers glide between yours. “The Green tried to claim me. But how could it, when I was already claimed by another?”

The noise of the cantina around you fades away, the edges of your vision blurring so that all you see is him. This specter that has haunted your every moment. You can feel his pulse beneath the tightening grip of your hand. “By who?” 

Ezra’s lips part with the faintest wry grin. “By you, little bird.” 

You nearly knock the barstool over in your pursuit to kiss him. Your feet barely hit the ground as you throw all sense of decorum to the wind. You cradle his jaw as you bridge the distance between you, making up for the lost months that kept you apart. The memories of before are slowly rebuilt in your mind with the familiar tilt of his head as his lips drag against yours. 

You lose track of time. The bar is abandoned in favor of the accommodations he’s paid for down the street — closer than your own room that’s across town. Neither of you want to waste any time reacquainting yourselves with each other. 

Layers are shedded in the haste of the moment — your layers. Ezra remains steadfastly clothed, resisting your attempts to strip away the barriers between you. The heavy fabric of his program-issued cargo pants drags against your bare thighs as he drapes himself over you, your fingers catch in the soft knit of his shirt, clinging to him as his mouth retraces familiar routes. 

Ezra maps out a galaxy of stars on your skin, featherlight kisses left on freckles and scars, blemishes that earn lavish attention from a mouth you’d nearly forgotten. You realize, as he presses open-mouthed kisses down your lower belly, that he hasn’t touched you yet. His fingers had curled around yours at the bar, but his hand has been suspiciously idle. Fingers peel away your clothes, but they never dare to brush your skin. 

That concern is fleeting, however. Your worry about the warmth of his hand is traded for overwhelming bliss of his mouth as his tongue sweeps between your slick folds. It’s been so long since you’ve been touched like this — your own fingers are pale imitations of what his mouth can do. He knows exactly how to feast upon you. His tongue is his most talented tool. His lips encircle that little bundle of nerves, sucking until you keen out his name. His focus shifts, thrusting his tongue into you, shallowly filling your hollow center. 

You bow up off the bed, hips grinding into his devious mouth. He already has you trembling, your cunt clenching around nothing, save for the quick press of his tongue into you. His hand finally makes contact, pressing firmly on your lower stomach to keep you pinned down to the bed. You want more.

“Ezra.” You pant out, digging your heels into the mattress as you let your legs spread wider for him. His tongue focuses on your clit with short, tight sweeps. Right as you reach the precipice of your release, he works two rough fingers into your soaking center — sliding in with familiar ease, giving you something to clench around as you come apart. 

He doesn’t relent. You expect him to, you even anticipate his movements back up the bed. Shadows of past encounters, patterns still burned into your muscles. Yet he remains between your thighs, the tip of his tongue manipulating your throbbing clit. His fingers work in and out of you, a languid pace that prolongs your orgasm. It’s too much and not enough all at once. 

His fingers stay buried within you, curved just right to make the edges of your vision fade to black. His mouth abandons your cunt, lips trailing along your inner thigh. He peppers your skin with tender kisses, before he drags his teeth over the soft flesh. He leaves tooth-shaped indents in your skin, his tongue lavishing over the marks left in his wake. 

You sink back into the mattress, chest heaving as you feel a second release building in the embers of the first that burned through you. Your body throbs in response to his every touch, to the dance of his breath over your skin, to the subtle way he flexes his fingers within you. He bites down on your inner thigh again, harder this time. He roughly strokes his thumb over your clit as he curls his fingers within you. It’s enough to set you off again. You are unashamed of the way you bend to his whims, the rush of moisture that coats his fingers. The things he can make your body do. 

You hardly recognize your voice as you croak out a broken sentence, stringing together words that beg him to give you more. You want his cock, want the weight of his body over yours, the crush of his hips grinding into yours. But he denies you of that pleasure. He kisses your cunt sweetly as he pulls his fingers out of you. “I am not worthy, little bird.” He whispers as he settles onto the mattress beside you.

Your head lolls to the side to look at him. His soft mustache, lips, and chin glisten with your arousal as he lays there — staring up at the ceiling. The two orgasms he’s pulled from you have rendered you boneless; your mind swimming with pleasure but you manage to hone in on what he’s said. Your eyes follow a path down his left arm, where his hand is wedged beneath the waist of his pants. His breath stutters, face etched with quiet focus. 

Despite how heavily you’re weighed down by satiation, you move closer to him. “Ezra, stop.” His pace falters as he turns to look at you. The storm in his eyes has returned, you swear you can see the lightning in his dark gaze. “Will you let me?”

His jaw sets hard and with a faint jerk of his head your request is acquiesced. 

You curled your legs beneath you, sitting up beside him as you reach out to open his pants. First you unfasten the belt, push the button through the hole, before dragging the zipper down. You push them open, reaching in to free his cock from his boxers. The storm is put to rest as his eyes flutter close, his head sinking back into the mattress behind him. 

He groans out something breathy that resembles your name, the only word that seems to slip from his tongue as you stroke his cock. You take your time, twisting your fingers around his shaft, your thumb dragging over the weeping head of him. You want to make him feel as good as he made you. 

You want to know why he doesn’t think he’s worthy of you. Why he lays fully dressed, while you sit bare before him. He’s hiding something from you. His arm isn’t the only loss he’s suffered. Perhaps, you realize, it’s the revelation itself. The Green tried to take his life and through that he realized that you had already laid claim to his soul. 

He comes apart in your palm, hips rocking upwards as he spills over your fingers. He’s far quieter than you’re used to. It’s been a year and a few odd months, but you still remember the litany of filthy things he’s whispered to you in the heat of the moment. Your stomach drops at the thought that he’s changed and perhaps you’ve lost that man for good. 

He seems content to fall asleep like that and it’s an exhausting uphill battle to convince him to divest himself of his clothes. You want him laid bare as you are. He complies, burrowing into the covers beside you. Still not touching you. 

Your imagined reunion stood in stark contrast with the reality. You had imagined laughter, Ezra’s arms wrapped around you, the warmth of his words soothing your longing. Instead you feel small beside him, like it’s wrong to care about him as strongly as you do. But you know the war within him is not solely bound to your existence. He is not yours to fix. 

The morning welcomes you with rain. You hear it dancing on the metal roof of the Inn, the slow drip of it from a faulty downspout outside the window. It’s comforting, strangely. All the thunder and the lightning has given way to a downpour and you’re content to get wet from it. Perhaps the rain is the reason why Ezra is still resting beside you, breathing even and expression softened by sleep. It’s his room, but you had worried that you’d wake up alone. The rain has trapped him in this room with you. 

In the bleak light of the window you can make out the ruined skin at the end of his right arm. It’s a neat enough amputation, but you know enough to know that no medical professional performed it. He lost it in the Green. He lost a lot in the Green.

“I can feel your casual attempt at scrutiny, little bird.” Ezra drawled out as his eyes slowly opened. “Forgive me if I have no desire of being cast for your pity.”

“I’m not pitying or scrutinizing you Ezra.” You hissed with more venom than you intended. “I am simply wondering what happened to you.” 

He sighs, pinching at the bridge of his nose as he stares up at the ceiling. “I was struck down for being myself. Greed and treachery betrayed our cordial agreements.” He turns his head to look at you, brows furrowed. “Why is it that Keeva chose you? You tread a path towards righteous indignation and I wallow in the mire of deceit.”  

Ezra draws you towards him, wrapping his left arm around your waist as you lean against his chest. His breath is warm against the top of your head as he holds you. The silence is no longer oppressive — the steady beating of his heart and the pull of oxygen in and out of his chest is a comfort. 

“What happened last night?” You finally questioned, tilting your head so you could look at him.

“Oh, little bird.” Ezra sighed heavily and shook his head. “I resolved to put distance between us, to keep myself away from you. Foolhardy at best as I still managed to drag these weary bones here — with the shallow hope that you’d find me.” His eyes flickered to yours. “My soul longs for yours, but I don’t wish to taint it. To darken the brightest star in my sky.” 

You silenced him with a kiss. 

At first Ezra doesn’t respond, he remains stone-still until you shift to straddle him. Your hair tumbles in waves around his face as you lean over him. He tangles his fingers in it, clutching at the back of your head as he surges up to meet your lips. This was what you’d longed for last night; you’d touched the flames, but you hadn’t felt the fire. 

He lets you take control at first. Helps as you shove the covers down so you can wrap your fingers around his cock. Ezra roughly grasps at your breast as you sink down onto him. You’re still so sensitive from last night, but your body greedily accepts cock.

Your pace is uneven, it’s not enough. 

Ezra seizes the opportunity, ever the greedy lover. He pushes you back onto the mattress, his cock never slipping from your cunt as he moves above you. You can still hear the rain over the slap of flesh against flesh. It’s heaven to be under him again, to be full of him. He might be afraid to darken your soul, but you’ve opened the window to let the storm in. 

“Are you going to come for me, birdie?” Ezra questioned, lips dragging over your collarbone. “I long to feel your tight little cunt clutch at my cock.” His voice is nearly as rough as the pace of his hips. Raw and thick with desire. 

Your nails bit into his shoulders, into his hips. You left crescent marks on his skin in an attempt to keep him. You can feel your orgasm rising through you, your entire core is tingling with the intensity of the pleasure. 

“Fuck.” Ezra hissed out as you clenched around him. “That’s it little birdie, come for me. Let me feel you.” He lowered his voice, lips brushing against your ear. “Want you to spill all over my cock, like you came for me last night. Such a filthy little thing.” 

The rough tone of his words did you in. Your legs tightened around his hips as you came apart, your inner walls clenching around his cock as it split you open and pulled you back together. “Please.” You whispered, rocking into his driving thrusts. 

Ezra’s hips roughly pressed into yours as he buried the length of his cock within you. You could feel the throb of him as he came apart, filling you with everything he had to give. You moaned, unabashedly, dragging him down so you could kiss him. 

As you came down from the high of the moment; settled under his weight as he pressed his face into the crook of your neck, you realized that the storm had passed. Maybe he wasn’t the man you first met six years ago, but he’s still the man you came to love. It’s unfair that he thinks he’s unworthy of you. So you silently vow to always remind him that the stars still shine after the storm clouds part the night sky. 

[soulwillower]

circle the drain • richie tozier

(richie tozier x reader angst)

requested: richie comforting u when ur sad🥺    +     maybe fighting with your parents really bad so richie takes you on a drive and just soothes you and soft fluffy kisses

warnings: fighting with family, swearing i think, angst, comfort n fluff, richie being the best boyfriend!! and as always this is unedited

[title taken from circle the drain by soccer mommy, i listened to it when writing this but it doesn't rly have to do w the fic lol]

i hope everybody is feeling okay and knows that they are loved <3

[losers + reader are aged up 16+ in this.]

1.6k words

♡

your hands are shaking slightly as you send the text, setting your phone down and taking a shuttering breath. your head is swimming and the pit in your stomach makes you feel like you might get sick, the tears that had previously escaped your eyes fall onto your floor or dry up, salty and unforgiving on your cheeks.

he texts back only two minutes later, telling you he's on his way and to hold tight. that makes you huff out a quick sob, sniffling and running a hand through your hair as you try to gather yourself. 

you can still hear your parents' words in your mind, yelling and hissing some of the most hurtful things you've ever heard. the words cut you like tiny knives and before you even take a gasping breath, your chest feels like it's ablaze, torched by the vicious argument you and your parents had just had.

richie’s coming. a weight lifts off your chest and you start to breathe. 

you pull one of his hoodies off a hanger in your closet and sloppily pull it over yourself, immediately breathing in his scent and biting your lip, squeezing your eyes shut and hugging yourself. it smells like him. it smells like aftershave, his musk, three-day-old twizzlers and those life saver mints he always crunches on much to your dismay.

and your phone lights up a few moments later, richie's text telling you he's just outside your window.

you climb out your window and see his tall figure waiting for you on the ground, his face soft as he watches you, eyes brimming full with love and concern.

 you stumble to the ground with a sniffle and he wordlessly pulls you into him, engulfing you and taking you by surprise. he kisses you sweetly, thumb holding your chin lightly to tilt your head back. 

you kiss back softly, hoping he doesn’t taste the saltiness on your lips. if he does, he doesn't care as he pulls away, pecking you once and then twice again softly.  "let's go for a drive, yeah?" he says softly as he wraps you safely under his arm and guides you to his car.

you hold hands the whole drive towards the lake, your feet on his dash and your head propped against his window. he doesn't push you - you could tell it was hurting him to see you so upset but you knew if you spoke now all that would come out would be screams and sobs, neither directed at him. 

you know him; you know that he wants you to let it all out, and he's more than willing to take every single blow and hit if it meant that you could feel even the slightest bit better. 

you could never let him hurt like that, though. he’s too important, he’s too caring. you love him way too much to want him to feel the way you do right now. 

as he pulls up to the lake, only twenty or fifteen feet from the cliff, his hand on yours holding you down to earth. you're so thankful for his hand because you feel your mind trying to defy gravity, your brain longing to scour the universe for the answers to questions you never want to have to ask.

and he turns to you as he shuts off the ignition and you look into his eyes, finding love, concern, and wonder, but not pity. never pity. your heart swells.

he undoes his seatbelt as you do and he turns to reach something in the back so you admire his curls, his milky pale skin sparkling under the bright moonlight. how did you get so lucky?

he turns back and shrugs nervously as you look at him with wide eyes and an interested look.

"here's some gatorade. and flowers that i found on my way out of the house... they’re not very pretty, fuck. and... um, i tried cutting up an apple for you. but i almost cut myself, so..." he mumbles, cheeks slightly pink as he shows you a handful of daffodils, dirt on the bottom of them. you tear up at the sight of him, holding the flowers to you, other hand holding a ziplock with a terribly butchered apple, half of it in slices and half of it a complete nightmare of pulp. 

you smile softly as your heart pangs and goes fuzzy - he's the most incredible person ever. you take the flowers, a tear falling down your cheek. he’s so thoughtful. you then take the bag and set it on your lap, a grin on your face even though your cheeks feel puffy.

"thank you, richie. that's- you don't know how much that means." you say, biting your lip as one tear escapes your eye. nobody else would think to make sure you have something to eat, nobody takes care of you like he does. not like richie. he smiles at you sheepishly, unknowing of how one of a kind he is. "well 's just flowers and an apple, sugar."

you don't say anything, instead cupping his jaw and leaning across the console to plant a sweet kiss to his lips. he kisses back tenderly, hands on you and reminding you of how loved you are.

he leads you out of the car, grabbing two blankets and setting one down for the two of you to lay on, overlooking the beautiful lake, looking onyx and mysterious as it reflects the heavens.

you look at your boyfriend.

richie makes you feel like more than just a fading memory lost in someone's life. he reminds you that life won’t always fade to gray, that there are bright colors.

there are gasps of laughter, fierce kisses, late nights spent running wild with a pack of friends who know you better than you know yourself. there’s belting out songs at the top of your lungs and there’s whispering true secrets and admissions of affection. 

and he reminds you that there are sometimes nights like this - nights that start terribly with screaming and yelling in the halls and rooms of your own home, the place where you were always supposed to feel safe. nights that start like that, but always end with his arms around you and his lips pressing lovingly onto your hairline.

richie reminds you that you are more than your parent's child, you aren't defined by your relationship (or lack thereof) with them, you're more than just a footprint in the snow. 

richie tozier gives you so much, but most importantly, he listens to you.

he's listening now, as he's listened for the last hour, eyes wide and almost unblinking with focus as he absently rubs your shoulder, both of your heads leant against the laid-down blanket that barely levels the rocky ground below you. he's nodding as you express the feelings you have towards your parents and the fight you'd just had. 

you tell him how alone you feel sometimes, almost like a ghost floating through empty halls, and how other times you feel like you can't escape the scrutinizing eyes of those who are supposed to love you unconditionally. you tell him that you feel like sometimes you don't belong in your own family.

he holds you tightly, hands rubbing your back as he breathes your scent in. "y/n, you're never going to be alone. for as long as you'll have me." he says into your hair, "we're almost there, angel. we'll be out of here soon."

you nod, believing him. you'll be wherever richie is, where you belong.

"you are nobody's burden, sugar. you're our family. i love you. bev loves you, eds loves you, stan loves you, ben loves you, mike loves you, bill loves you. to the ends of the earth and forever."

something in his words is so honest, raw, and sudden that you can't help but kiss him. his palm flattens over your waist to hold you tightly as you pull him forwards with your neck, fully embracing each other, not a single part of your bodies left untouched. he tastes like the gatorade you shared, and you suppose you taste like the apple he watched you eat.

as you pull away, you whisper, "thank you, rich. i love you." you caress his cheek and he beams at your words, leaning into your touch.

he looks at you from behind his glasses, "stay the night with me? i'll get you back before they notice." he mumbles, kissing your hairline and knowing immediately what your anxieties were about staying with him. 

"if you'd rather, i can take you back. just wanna make sure you sleep well tonight and get something in that tummy tomorrow morning." he adds, squeezing your side softly.

your body fills with warmth at his words and you're overwhelmed again, this time by the sheer love that he's demonstrating. it makes you whimper, a blushing and grateful smile on your lips as you look up at him, cupping his jaw. 

a slight breeze jostle his curls to and fro and you brush them back lightly. "can i come with you?" you whisper meekly, thumb rubbing over his jaw. he smiles softly, nodding and kissing your forehead softly. it gives you butterflies.

"of course you can, sweetheart." he says it as he pulls away from you, rubbing your shoulder softly. "let's get to bed, hm?" he asks quietly, standing to his full height and pulling you up to him, catching your lips in a sweet kiss as you stand fully.

the cold air outside of richie's room seeps in through the poorly-sealed window panes, but richie's hand in yours and maggie's homemade quilt around your shoulders keep you warm as he pulls out sweats for you to pull on. you give him a grateful smile and he watches with fond eyes as you change, wearing his sweater and sweats. "i love you." he says, apropos of nothing.

even after all this time, his sudden affirmation makes your cheeks heat up and your chest swirl with affection. he pulls you gently into him, tucking both of you under his covers and turning off his lamp. you burrow yourself so your face is in the crook of his neck as his hands circle your torso, holding you impossibly close.

"why don't you go to sleep, sugar?" he says softly, fingers twirling softly through your hair. you nod against his shirt, the fabric feeling surprisingly soft and calming, but you tiredly suppose that it's because it's on richie and anything about him is calming to you.

"i love you, richie." you mumble tiredly, heart aching just a little less now that you're with him. 

"i love you more, y/n." he says into your hair.

[mhafiction]

Out & About (Pt. 3)

Read Pt. 1 Pt. 2 Pt. 4

Pairing: Bakugo x Reader

Fluff/Friends to Lovers (?), swearing

Synopsis: Reader is very close friends with the Bakusquad, except for the aloof and mysterious Bakugo. He still intrigues them however, and a night out with the group might actually be the the push they need to really get the ball rolling on transitioning their awkward comradery into something a little- more.

Note: It’s done haha. I didn’t spellcheck it that well... forgive me -K.

“There’s a shopping mall not far from here!” Mina squealed, her ink-black eyes glittering with excitement.

“It’s that new one that opened last week, right?” Kirishima mused. “We should totally check it out.

You stifled a yawn, then checked your phone. It was still considerably early, but for some reason your eyelids were heavy with exhaustion. It was almost as if an entire era had passed in the time you left the dorm. But maybe that wasn’t so bad.

Bakugo kept his gaze fixed squarely ahead. Unshakable, even with your charming presence. It didn’t matter to you. What was pleasing was the fact that he was walking side by side next to you, matching your stride with each step. Perhaps it was the lingering warmth of his jacket combined with the romanticism of snowfall, but you couldn’t help but wear a sleepy little smile.

Once arriving at the shopping center, you plopped down on a bench, waving for your friends to carry on without you. “I need to rest my feet for now, I’ll catch up.” The heat from the interior met your freezing cheeks, and you basked in the comfort for a moment. Bakugo hesitated, concern flashing in his eyes, before deciding to join you on the bench. “Huh? Bakubro, you’re not coming?” Kirishima asked, a playful grin dancing on his face. Bakugo met his boyish demeanor with a scowl. “No.”

“Ahaha, I see.” Sero nodded with a quiet understanding, glancing at your drooping form, then raising an eyebrow at Bakugo. The hotheaded blonde immediately flushed. “Tch.” He tossed back his head with an air of false nonchalance. “Go away.” Kaminari clicked his tongue. “Oh Bakugo, quit playing the tough card. We all know deep down you’re a big ole softie. I mean, you should just see the way you act around Y/N-” Bakugo had to be restrained by Kirishima to keep him from lunging at Denki. “GET LOST ASSHOLE!” Sparks flew from his hands. “Whoa, touched a nerve there.”

Bakugo was lucky that his friends abided with this demand, even if it was with some teasing. He was even luckier that you were so close to passing out, and therefore completely checked out of the conversation. He scrolled on his phone, watching you out of the corner of his eye. Sometimes you could be a real pain. What if some creep had cozied up to you while you were in this inebriated condition? His hands gripped his phone tighter thinking about that. Didn’t you care about yourself? He watched your head bob up and down, fighting to stay awake. Hmph. You’re lucky you’re so cute.

The shopping mall hummed with activity, not strange for a Friday evening. Girls flitted about from store to store, children cried and threw tantrums as they were led along by their parents, and some were waiting languidly on their benches just as Bakugo was. Why was he waiting, anyway? You probably wouldn’t want to move for a while, and deep down he knew you could handle yourself.

Then, while his thoughts were focused on his social media feed, Bakugo felt a weight on his right shoulder. Slightly frozen from shock, he stiffly turns his head to greet your sleeping face smushed squarely against his upper arm. He felt his cheeks grow hot, and he silently cursed you for being so damn pretty, even when you were unconscious. He drank in your features, trying to capture this moment in his mind. Wait a minute.

Slowly, very, very slowly, he shifts his phone to his left hand, gently angling it’s camera to capture your entire face. He prays you don’t wake up at the wrong time. Almost got it. Just adjust the light here and- Click. He let’s out a deep breath, a self-congratulating smirk on his face. Bakugo brushes a hair from your face, almost unconscious of the action, then winces at the memory in the restaurant. That had been so awkward. He had been overcome with a desire to help you, to be close to you, to touch you. What he had thought was just a passing crush had become something so intense that it scared him. He didn’t even know it was possible to like someone that much. And now, in this mediocre shopping mall, you were slumped over his shoulder. Your soft snores music to his ears and dulling his senses till all there was was you, and all that mattered was you. You stirred, your calm little face convulsing into a yawn. Bakugo held back a barking laugh at how your brows knit together, how you stretched like a shaking kitten, and how absolutely imperfect you seemed at the moment. His heart clenched as he realized that he was way too far gone. Bakugo loves you. He loved everything you did and how you did it, how you laughed and how you cried and how you woke up from a nap. It made him feel soft and warm on the inside. Gross. Pondering this for a while, he wondered how a person as good as you could even like him. I mean, you did, right? That’s why you tried to talk to him or train with him. Truthfully, he knew that he was a prickly type- he hadn’t met you halfway in the attempts to grow closer. But being around you was almost nerve-wrecking. He wanted to be better for you. After tonight, well, things probably wouldn’t be the same. In a good way. That’s a step at least. Bakugo gazed down at the picture he had taken of you. Your face made him unconsciously happy, and butterflies erupted in his stomach. What the fuck was this?? Was he dying??

He weighed his options, going back and forth in his head... fuck it. He set the photo to his lock screen chuckling with a quiet giddiness, then chastised himself for being so fanciful and indulgent. Now that was just sad. But he didn’t change it back.

You rubbed your eyes, blinking in the fluorescent white light. For a second, you forgot where you were. Your eyelids fluttered shut, your mind weary, hoping to return to your nap. It was so soft here for some reason...then, your nose was greeted with the familiar smell of burnt sugar.

“Bakugo?” You muttered, still in a daze. He jumped in suprise, hitting your chin, and the fact that you had been laying on him all this time snapped you awake. Oh fuck.

You wipe a bit of drool from your mouth, trying to compose yourself. Oh my god he probably thinks I’m disgusting and lazy and-

You make a quick effort to smooth out your hair, hoping to death that you hadn’t done anything embarrassing while you were unconscious. Awkwardly shrinking yourself so that you’d make as little physical contact with Bakugo as possible, you give him a quick glance. “S-Sorry.” It was the return of his soft, caring attention that almost caught you of guard. “Tch. Don’t worry about it,” he mumbled, the gentleness in his voice barely hidden with a raspy facade of annoyance. Your eyes catch on his phone for one second as a notification pops up. Was that... you? You quickly pull your gaze away from it, banishing the thought from your head. No way, no how. That was ridiculous. Why would he even put me as his lock screen?

You shift in your seat a bit, still tired but a little antsy. You couldn’t just sit here in awkward silence with him. Pushing yourself through the haze of exhaustion, you slowly stand up, offering a nod to Bakugo. “Let’s go find the others.”

It seemed that all your friends were refusing to answer your phone calls. “What the fuck?” You murmured. “I mean, Denki’s with them.”

“Bastards probably forgot a cord,” Bakugo sighed, not surprised by their ignorance in the least. “Better just search for them.”

You two walk across the mall, scanning the storefronts, shoulders less than an inch apart. Bakugo is aware of how close you are, and bristles every time your hand brushes up against his own. You aren’t. Your limbs are heavy with exhaustion, your eyes fight to stay open, and the warmth of Bakugo beside you...

You latch onto his arm, forgetting your previous aversions to touching him. Bakugo stiffens up, but says nothing. He watches you yawn, then cozy into the crook of his elbow, burying your nose in the fabric of his shirt. “Y’know Bakugo, you really are amazing,” you whisper, your light little voice slurring from sleepiness. Bakugo’s breath hitches in the back of his throat. Did you really just say that?

“For the record, I don’t care what everyone else says. You’re really nice.” You giggle, reaching for a spike of his hair, then patting his head softly. “And pretty.” That’s it for Bakugo, he panics, feeling his face go completely red. He’s dead silent, shocked that you were being so bold. You pout. “I think I really like you Bakugo.”

“You do?” He whispers back, his gravelly voice infused with disbelief.

“Sure. I think you’re gonna be the No. 1 Hero one day.” You press your fingers together, growing comically bashful. “Can I kiss you?”

Bakugo reels back at the request, eyes wide as he runs those words you just uttered through his head. Just exactly how tired were you?

You bury your face in your hands. “Oh god, I’m sorry Katsuki-“ you yelp. “Uh-uhm, Bakugo-“

“No, it’s okay. I-“ he gulps, swallowing his stress. “I like Katsuki.”

“...Ok, Katsuki.” He felt like melting, hearing you say his name.

Bakugo rubs the back of his neck apprehensively, deciding to proceed with caution. “How about we talk about this when you’re less...loopy?” You give him a single nod, still rested firmly on his arm. He didn’t mind.

“But you know, Katsuki. I really mean it,” you say under your breath, just loud enough for him to hear. “But you’re right. I don’t want to burden you with-“

Bakugo stopped dead in his tracks. Burden him? How could you even suggest something like that? He grimaced, cursing himself for his stupid prickly attitude and his inability to talk to people. Especially people as good as you.

“Is that really how you feel, Y/N?”

“Hm?”

He grabs your shoulders, making sure that you’re looking him square in the eye. A blush creeps onto your face.

“You’re not burdening me, you got it, idiot?”

Why’d he have to say it like that? He inhales, pushing himself to tell you more. To let you know that he liked you, too. More than you’d ever know.

“Listen Y/N, I think that you’re...you’re pretty great. That is to say, you’re not bad. You’re better than most of the extras I know. I mean-“

He gives a shout of aggravation, furious at how impossible it is to just tell his crush he likes them.

“ARGH! What I mean is! ...You remember how I promised I’d tell you when you’re being stupid? Well, you’re being stupid right now, if you think that you’re a goddamn- a goddamn burden.”

He chokes on his words, anger and sorrow welling up in his throat.

“Katsuki.” You bring a hand to his face, watching those eyes of his show you everything you needed to know. Bakugo had opened his heart to you. Had this sweetness been in there all along? Had his love really been there forever?

You frowned, watching his pained expression. What could you possibly say to him...

“Let me see your phone.”

His brows furrow together, and he straightens up. But he complies, tossing his phone to you while looking the other way.

You hummed, tapping on his screen. It illuminates, and as you suspected, it was you. Sleeping. On Bakugo. You feel your face grow hot, then hand him back the phone.

“Well, I guess you’re ahead of the curve.”

Bakugo snorts. “Bold words from the one who fell asleep on me and then asked for a kiss.”

You scratch your cheek, taking a deep breath.

“Well, you didn’t really give me an answer.”

Bakugo’s eyes widen, then offer you a mischievous twinkle. He smirks, a little cocky. “I guess I didn’t.”

“So.”

“...”

Bakugo sighs, then matches his gaze with yours. You can tell he’s nervous. Inching closer and closer, you watch his face grow redder and redder as he leans in. Once his nose is basically touching yours, he whispers softly “Listen. I’ve never done this before, so. Don’t make fun of me.” Then he closed the distance.

Caramel overwhelmed your senses. His lips met yours with confidence yet caution, planted squarely with little mercy. He was so sure of himself, and at the same time so gentle. The kiss was slow, one you both eased into as he grabbed your hip to pull you closer. Your hands played in his hair, and he shuddered, pulling away just for a moment to look at your face. You two stood there, intertwined, in the blinking lights of a shopping mall with the whole world moving past you. You smile, pushing back, then offering your hand to Bakugo. At least now, you were awake.

“Let’s go find the others?” He intertwined his calloused palm with yours. “Yeah.”

Truly, this would be a night to remember.