#every time someone warns me that admitting to a mental health issue makes me sound crazy i wanna fucking scream

[untiltheshadowscease]

accidentally mentioned i had been dissociating when talking to my mother and got to be lectured on why i shouldnt use terms like that because i clearly don't understand the ~implications~

...like ma'am I dissociate all the fucking time. idk what implications youre worried about but if they arent bullshit then theyre probably actually applicable lmao

[bananayuyu]

Hopeless Desire - Part 2

Pairing: Yunho x f reader

Genre: smut, fluff, angst

Word count: 9.6k

Summary: You were Mingi's younger sister by six years, and had a crush on his best friend Yunho since you were nine. You harbored this crush for years, never thinking it would go anywhere. Little did you know, Yunho had recently started to feel the same. But you're his best friend's little sister, so what can he do?

Chapter Summary: Mingi finally finds out, not in the way you intended.

Warnings: MDNI, smut, fingering, use of a vibrator, oral (both m and f receiving), some throat fucking, some pet names, more vague mentions of toxic family dynamics, more vague mentions of Mingi having mental health issues, pls lmk if I missed anything!

A/n: Thank you all so much for the feedback on part 1! It means the world to me. This is my first fic that I'm publishing publicly so I am so grateful. I hope you all enjoy <3

All three of you were frozen. Yunho fixed you with a sharp gaze, still clearly confused at your presence. But now you noticed it was changing, his eyes narrowing and head tilting every so slightly in an obvious sign of anger or frustration. You still sat in your chair unmoving; you couldn't help but notice the way his gaze was affecting your body, the way your arms were tingling and your lower stomach fluttering. Anxiety and excitement can feel shockingly similar, sometimes. You couldn't tell which you were feeling.

"Yunho, I-" you begin to explain yourself, but Mingi cuts you off in anger.

"No no, tell me what the hell is going on first," he says, shockingly stern and strong coming from him. The only time Mingi is ever stern is when he's protecting you, or thinks he is. You realize now what he thinks happened, that Yunho has upset or offended or hurt you in some way. He must think Yunho took a joke to far, or, or...

"Mingi, just-" but he cuts you off again, making you feel patronized.

"I thought when you started talking to me earlier that you were finally gonna admit that you two had been dating, but now-"

It's your turn to cut him off now. Yunho's as well.

"What?!" you both say in unison, Yunho's gaze now back to Mingi.

"Oh, so you aren't dating?" Mingi says with exasperation.

"Well, not really, not yet," Yunho stumbles. You put your head in your hands and curl up into a ball, seeing this whole conversation crumbling apart in front of you.

"Not yet? What does that mean? You've obviously upset her, what the hell did you do?!" Mingi's voice is rising in volume, unable to keep his anger under control. Mingi doesn't get angry often, but when he does it can consume him in an instant.

"Mingi, let me explain-"

"You probably told her you loved her just to sleep with her or something-"

"Mingi, I haven't slept with her! Calm down!" Yunho has raised his voice now too. At this admission you shoot him a hurt look, not understanding why he'd lie. Just because he hasn't put his dick in you doesn't mean you haven't had sex. You thought he was someone who understood that.

"You haven't?" Mingi asks, seeing the look you gave Yunho.

"Well, not technically-" but Yunho is cut off by Mingi lunging for him, slamming him against his front door and slamming the door shut in the process. The loud bang is awful and makes you jump, hands jumping to your ears a the painful sound. You start to feel panicked, your heart racing much faster now. Mingi has Yunho pinned to the door by his shoulders, but Yunho managed to get an arm up in time to have some leverage against Mingi's own chest. The two struggle against each other, Yunho at a disadvantage being stuck to the wall. Out of the corner of his eye he sees your eyes filling with tears, your hands stuck to the sides of your head. You aren't even looking at them, as if not looking will mean this isn't happening. He knows how much you hate when people fight. It was something that happened with your parents and other members of your family far too often when you were growing up.

"Don't do this shit in front of y/n!" Yunho yells at Mingi. "You're just upsetting her, you have no idea-"

"You just fucking lied to me!" Mingi screams back. "What the fuck does 'not technically' mean?!" He pushes harder into Yunho now, trying to push free the one bit of leverage Yunho has. Both of them are tall but Mingi has obvious strength on Yunho, and you see Yunho's eyes widen in fear and pain, Mingi's superior strength terrifying now that it's turned on him. You see his mind working quickly, trying to formulate a plan. His eyes meet yours and they've changed again, this time begging you for help. He looks away quickly but the message was unmistakeable.

"Mingi!" you call, the momentary distraction giving Yunho just enough time to duck below Mingi's arms and shove his torso away to allow him the space to escape. But Mingi doesn't stay distracted for long and jumps on Yunho again, tackling him to the ground this time. The two tussle and grapple and you look away again, unable to watch as they hurt themselves over this argument. You imagine tomorrow morning, the broken fingers or bruises or damaged furniture that has to be repaired. The explanation of the situation to managers, to the members. You want to yell at them to stop, to not hurt themselves, but you can't bring yourself to. You know it won't put a stop to anything.

"Mingi. Mingi just stop," you finally hear, the sounds of their brawl having died down. You glance over carefully, as if about to look at the scene of a bloody crime. But you're only met with Yunho on top of Mingi, pinning his arms to his chest and not letting him move. Neither one looks injured, at least from where you sit some feet away.

"I'm gonna fucking kill you if you hurt her," Mingi says, still struggling under Yunho, but only half-heartedly, clearly understanding he's stuck.

"Mingi, almost nothing has happened between me and y/n. If you had let us speak earlier you would have heard that."

"So you haven't been dating for like the past year?" Mingi asks, and it sounds genuine.

"No. Did you think we were? And we just hadn't said anything?" Yunho says this like he's hurt by the accusation, but you can also read a bit of guilt in his tone. Because some things have happened, and Mingi still doesn't know.

"We all did," Mingi replies.

"We?"

"The members."

"And none of you ever asked me about it? You just talked about it behind our backs?"

"It's not like we talked about it at length or anything. It was just something we all collectively thought." Mingi pauses a moment and Yunho sighs, clearly upset by this revelation. "You guys are like all over each other all the time when she's over, what were we supposed to think?"

You watch their conversation from you chair still, your anxiety and frustration bubbling over. You decide you can't take it anymore. You get up and walk quickly to the front door, trying to hold in your tears and make no sound. As you open the door they both call your name, but you don't care to turn around now. Stepping into the hallway you let the tears run down your cheeks, slumping down to sit with your back against the wall. You don't sob, you barely make a sound. You just breathe deeply and let the tears flow, letting yourself check out for a bit.

The door opens a few minutes later and Yunho emerges, moving slowly. He closes the door and looks at you for a moment, wanting to hug and kiss you and make your tears go away. He breaths in to steady himself, about to say something. But you speak first.

"I need to talk to my brother," you say. He just nods and moves back inside, knowing you don't want to move. Mingi steps out a few moments later, coming to sit down next to you.

"Yunho told me what's happened," he starts. "Is that what you were going to tell me earlier?"

"Yes, yes it was," you sigh. "I wish I said it sooner, so all that shit didn't happen."

"I'm sorry, but I thought he had hurt you or something. I just..." Mingi is talking self consciously, back to his more normal self.

"You know how much I hate when people fight around me," you say.

"I know." Mingi's heart twinges with guilt. And shame too, because he knows to whom you are really referring when you say 'people.' It's one person in particular, a man that Mingi doesn't want to be like in any way. "You seemed upset though, you looked at him like you were so upset. Are you sure he didn't hurt you?"

"Mingi, the thing he was doing that was upsetting me was how hesitant he was being with me. We both finally figured out we like each other only like days ago. But he still was keeping his distance from me sometimes. When I finally talked to him he said it was because he was worried what you would think, and what the members would think. He said he had to talk to you first. But then I realized I should really be the one to talk to you first. So I came over here to do that. And then I waited, and I waited, cause I was so nervous. I'm sorry this is happening, but no Yunho has not hurt me." You look at him with frustration. "Do you really think he'd do that?" you ask.

"No, but you never know what people are capable of. I have to protect you if I can," he says.

"Mingi, I protect you," you say.

"Too much. You're my younger sister, I should be protecting you more." Tears were forming in Mingi's eyes and neither of you realized, so suddenly tears are streaming down his cheeks. You move over and give him a hug, tears forming in your eyes too. You sit like that for a moment, you both mumbling 'I'm sorry' to each other. The hug is cathartic for you both.

"Mingi, Yunho and I both like each other. Is it gonna be a problem if we date?" you ask. Mingi shakes his head, but you can sense trepidation.

"I just really hope you don't break up and then things are tense between you. I hope you're really considering that possibility."

"Of course we are," you say without hesitation. And then you sit and think for a moment, realizing maybe you haven't. You take the moment to do some reflecting, to just sit and think on it. It hits you suddenly. "I think I've loved him since I was nine," you admit.

Little did you know, Yunho over heard this last part. He was just coming to check on you two and had just put his hand on the door. He paused, warmth swelling in his chest, and turned back.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After you reconciled with Mingi the boys had their own talk, also making up. You could tell Mingi was still feeling on edge and you understood he would need time to process the news. But really, it was good news mostly. He thought you both had been hiding this from him for months. In reality, it had only been a few days.

You left the apartment after hugging them both, the emotional turmoil of the evening exhausting you. You still couldn't believe that they actually fought and you feel mad. But you also feel relieved that Mingi finally knew everything. You walked slowly down the hallway, standing patiently at the elevator door.

Then Yunho was jogging down the hall, seeing the elevator open and determining he could make it. At the last moment he snuck in surprising you, a little out of breath. Suddenly the two of you were in this small isolated space, and the air felt electric. You remembered now how he looked when he looked mad, how your insides churned when he stuck his glare on you. You look at him now, his face serene, like usual. You loved how sweet he was. But you also liked that angry side, too. You feel so embarrassed for feeling this way, knowing damn well how destructive and dysfunctional it can be for a man's only show of emotion to be anger. But you couldn't help loving how it looked on him. You wanted him to be angry again, angry at you.

"Are you busy tonight?" he asked, moving over to your side of the elevator to wrap his arms around you.

"Wow, so smooth," you say, rolling your eyes.

"Oh, you've heard that one before? Didn't realize you got around so much," he teased. You lightly hit him in the ribs, knowing how sensitive the area was. You look up at his grimacing face and you laugh, relieved to finally be joking around again. You realize the elevator is almost to ground floor so you pull on his shirt to kiss him, relishing the few moments of privacy you two still have left. As the elevator opens you both part and begin walking out the front doors, keeping a consistent and almost tangible amount of space between you. The tension in the air is severe; you think if someone walked between you they might get electrocuted.

"You never answered my question," you says as you exit the building.

"I have to study tonight," you say, turning to him. "I have important things to do." He rolls his eyes slightly, but you can tell he's a little disappointed. "I'm sorry, I really do have some reading I need to get done tonight. I can't."

"You don't think you'll have any trouble focusing?" he asks, smirking.

"Trouble focusing?" you ask, exaggerating your confusion. "I think I'll be just fine, thank you." You go to give him a quick hug goodbye but instead playfully smack him, earning yet another pinch on your waist. You squeal and turn away, determined not to change your mind. You really should spend some time studying, and you really do feel like you need some alone time. But mostly, you hope that if you wait a few days to see him again that Yunho might be pent up enough to get a little angry.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Three days passed.

Sometimes life gets really busy for a few days; sometimes responsibilities require your attention 24/7. These days were like that. You had forgotten you had to be at work more days than usual this week, due to the elementary and middle school kids you tutored having their standardized mid-semester exams. For three days after classes you spent nearly your entire evening with them, trying to calm their nerves and help them learn. You liked your job, for the most part. It was why you had stayed for several years. But those three days were a bit trying. Talking down young kids from bouts of anxiety took it out of you.

This all meant that to Yunho, it seemed like you were keeping your distance. He and Mingi had filming for a music video those three days, but whenever he tried to call you didn't answer, and your texts came back slower than usual. The last day he got to come home early but when he asked you to hang out you said you had work. He swore you didn't usually work that day. He thought you were the hesitant one now. He felt a little hurt but also not sure if he was even reading things correctly. He realized he really, really cared what you thought of him. It was a scary realization.

Finally your weekend came and you had a day entirely to yourself. Realistically you hadn't been wanting to keep your distance from him for three days, even if you had thought you'd give it a try. You longed to be spending the evenings with him when you were at work with the worried kids. You worried you were coming off poorly now, like you didn't really care. You kept saying sorry for missing a call or not texting back for hours on end. It was just one of those times. It just happens every once in a while. But finally it was over.

"Y/n," Yunho answers your call. His voice is bright but there's a layer of annoyance in his tone. You'd by lying if you said it didn't excite you a little.

"Hi, are you busy today? I finally have a day off," you say.

"Are you saying you want to hang out with me?"

"Yes, Yunho. Duh."

"Well, I'm just asking cause yesterday you didn't want to."

"What do you mean, I had work!" you say.

"You don't work on Fridays though," he says. He sounds almost hurt, but he's still in a joking mood.

"I had to work extra cause of elementary and middle school exams. They're next week."

"Oh, so you weren't lying then."

"Yunho!" You can't believe he's accusing you of this. "I wouldn't lie and say I had work when I didn't have work, who do you think I am?"

"So you weren't trying to piss me off so I'd come to your house one night and throw rocks at your window or something?"

"Yunho, you're insane," you reply.

"You didn't answer my question," he says.

"I'm not going to."

"Alright, fine," he says. And then, "I'll be over in a minute."

"Okay," you say, and slump back down on your bed, unbelievably excited.

It was early in the afternoon. You had slept in and then eaten a large breakfast, hungry and exhausted from your extremely busy week. You finished a load of laundry you desperately needed to do and managed to clean up your bathroom a little. Finishing these small chores made you feel good. Now you finally had time to do whatever you wanted the rest of the day.

Yunho arrived quickly, not caring if he seemed desperate. He was desperate, desperate to see you and hold you after your three exhausting days. You felt the butterflies as soon as your call ended, and now with him standing in front of you your skin felt on fire. Your knees felt shaky, your heart rate shooting through the roof. You almost felt nauseous from how excited you were. You hoped it didn't seem weird. He stepped in a hugged you, pulling your head to his chest. And then you heard his heart beat and felt it too, how blazingly fast it was beating. You felt the jittering of his nerves, the way his skin felt hot as fire when you brushed a hand over his arm. You squeezed him tighter; it felt like the only way to alleviate your nerves. As you pressed into him you felt how taught his muscles were, how rapid his breathing. Finally, you felt what must be his cock pushing against your hip. Hard already, very hard. Your breath hitched. Your roommates were in the living room setting up a movie, but Tae had just walked in.

"Hey, Yunho, how are you?" Tae asked, kind as ever. You felt Yunho jump slightly at his voice. His eyes had been closed upon realizing just how excited he was to see you. He was mid trying to find a way to calm himself when Tae walked in.

"I'm good, thank you. How have you been?" he asked. Surprisingly steady, you thought. You felt him releasing your hug and moving you away from him slightly, and momentarily you were immensely confused. But then he spun you around and put his arms around your shoulders, still needing your body in front of his to cover a potentially noticeable bulge that was forming in his pants. Tae wouldn't say anything, wouldn't care. You knew that. But he didn't.

"I'm good too, just busy with my thesis. Are you sure you're okay, you look a little pale?" Tae asked, genuinely oblivious to what was happening.

"I honestly just really have to pee," Yunho says with a chuckle, and all of you chuckle with him. "Can I use your bathroom, y/n?"

Clever, you think. Don't know if I would have thought of that.

"No, absolutely not. No peeing in this house," you joke. Yunho sees this as an opportunity as well; he figured you might say something along those lines. He begins tickling you which has you shrieking and running away towards the hallway and saying, "okay, okay", and he sprints after you, able to leave the kitchen in a rush in a way that doesn't appear suspicious.

As soon as you enter your bedroom and close the door, you cannot stop giggling. Yunho goes to tickle you again but you fight back, attempting to tickle him too. It doesn't work very well, given how much longer his arms are. Soon he's grabbed you and hits that spot under your arm that tickles the most, so you collapse to the floor. He supports your weight so you don't fall, but now you're pinned to the ground and totally at his mercy. "Stop, stop" you keep giggling, kicking your feet in an attempt to hit him where it hurts most. "Yunhooooo" you finally whine, the giggles subsiding, and he knows you're truly done. He used to tickle you a lot more when you were little, after Mingi revealed how much it made you laugh. He hadn't done it in a while, not like that. A flash of nostalgia hits him, realizing how much time has passed. How he missed those days sometimes, before there was so much pressure. When you were little he could baby you and take care of you however much he wanted when you were together. Now he stares down at a full grown adult, and the thought of his own age hits him. How much time has passed. He longs for the old times again, sometimes. When you were only ten and sweet as can be. Growing up, dealing with your family, it had changed you some. It hurt him to think of all that weighed on you, all the responsibility you took on so young. He sometimes wished he could go back.

But then there were times like this when he was so glad for the change. He had probably liked you longer than he ever would admit to anyone, given your age. He never really considered the truth of it a few years ago, because of how shameful it felt to like someone so young. It wasn't like he ever felt that way about other high school girls, so he told himself his feelings were just born from how much he loved and cared about you. But he couldn't deny it now, looking down at you, his dick still rock hard in his pants and his eyes unable to leave you. He couldn't deny how the print of your nipples through your thin shirt made him salivate, how the curve of your waist into your hips, the curve of your belly was what he thought of each night when he touched himself to sleep. And that cute pout, that pout that made everyone melt a little bit. Now when you turned it on him it just made him want to give you everything, to make you come over and over again.

Just as he is about to lean down to kiss you, a knock sounds from your door.

"Y/n, that movie you wanted to watch is on Netflix, if you still want to!" Nari says from the hallway. "I'll be in the living room, just let me know, no pressure." She walks away, not wanting to disturb you two.

Yunho leans down again, in an instant having forgotten what Nari said. But then you remember your thoughts from three days ago, about maybe pissing Yunho off, just a little.

"We should watch it, it's really good," you say. All you get is a 'hmm' in response. Yunho kisses you now, slow and sensual and like he wants to do more. You can tell where it's headed, and your pussy isn't opposed. But you want to see if you can resist, just this once. "Yunho," you say. He looks at you, eyes almost glazed over with lust. This is gonna be a hard sell, you think. So you give him that pout. You haven't used it intentionally in a while, but you used to all the time when you were kids. To get him to buy you ice cream, or get him to make a phone call for you that you were dreading. Even once to talk to a teacher for you. It was always effective then.

And it's effective now, too. Of course it is.

"What?" he asks, pulled back slightly, just wanting to give you whatever you want.

"I wanna watch the movie, I'm sorry," you say.

"No no, no apologizing. We will do whatever you want," he says. "I'm sorry for jumping on you. I just couldn't resist." You start giggling again.

"It's okay, I liked it," you say.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The movie is so good that you are at times distracted from the ever present bulge you can feel pressing against your ass. With Yunho's arms wrapped around you, you feel almost sleepy, so unbelievably comfortable. Maybe this extreme sense of comfort made you act so bratty. You weren't really sure where it came from. When Yunho offered you popcorn you refused, asking instead if you could have the corn chips you kept in the kitchen pantry. When Yunho told you the way you were sitting was putting his leg to sleep you whined and complained about having to move. Then when he relaxed his arms away, worried he was overwhelming you by holding you so close, you forcefully grabbed them and put them around you again. By the time the movie ended he was fairly lost, not sure why you were acting that way. He was pretty sure you didn't even like corn chips.

The two of you made your way back to your room, Yunho walking slowly in trepidation. He really, really wasn't sure. He felt like there was something you weren't telling him. Maybe she just needs a little more time, he thought.

"Do you want me to get going?" he asked you.

"What?" you asked in return, wide-eyed.

"You seem, I don't know," he stops himself. "You like corn chips now?" He feels it's a reasonable question to ask. You try to keep a smile from forming on your face. You should have known how easily he'd see through you.

"Yeah," you say, awkwardly. You don't know what else to say.

"You didn't even eat any after I went and got them for you," he says.

You stand silently, not sure where to go from here. Usually playing around and messing with him feels so fun. But this is feeling a little weird now. It wasn't authentic, and he knows it. You start to feel a bit bad, and think you should just tell him what you want. But that feels daunting too. You just stare at him, unable to speak, unsure of what to say.

Yunho moves closer to you, seeing that pout forming again, seeing your brain work overtime. He runs a hand through your hair and settles his hand at the nape of your neck. He stares deeply into your eyes, capturing the entirety of your attention. In a low voice, he speaks deliberately.

"Baby, what do you want?"

You blush at his words and smile, closing your eyes to savor the way his voice sounds. You feel an intoxicating mix of guilt and excitement bubbling in your stomach, but you can't bring yourself to speak. Your throat is tight and all you can do is let out a whine.

"Use your words. Tell me."

It feels like he is commanding you now. You feel like you might lift off the ground, like he is made of magic and could make you levitate if he wanted to. Your throat suddenly lets you speak, lets you get enough of a breath to get it out.

"I want you to do whatever you want to me," you say, your voice barely audible. But Yunho holds onto every syllable, like you've yelled it at him through a megaphone. He pulls your face up to his, his lips devouring yours, leaving nearly no room for you to breathe. He's grabbing you intensely, a hand firmly set on one of your ass cheeks and grabbing roughly at it.

"Do you want me mad, is that it?" he asks, his voice still low and even. He doesn't feel out of control by any means, but you can tell you've elicited some pent up frustration. All you do is giggle, so happy that your plan has worked.

"Get on your bed, and take off your clothes," he commands, not wanting to wait any longer. He's had this idea since he was here last; at that time it felt like something he should approach slowly, and ask you first. But now he realizes it's probably the sort of thing you want. After pulling off his shirt and pants he makes his way for your bedside table. As you remove your panties you see him opening the top drawer, pulling out a small pink wand that you have stashed there. Your heart nearly drops at the sight of it, the way it looks almost small in his hand, the way he so confidently went for it.

"Yunho!" you say, in shock. "How..."

"I accidentally saw it last time I was here, baby. I can't stop thinking about you using it on yourself. You probably use it every night don't you? When I'm not here to make you come?"

Your blushing again but this time you look rather embarrassed, your arms wrapped around your chest to cover yourself. Still, you undressed as he said. It's as if you can't disobey him in this state. You've never felt like this before with anyone. Like you don't have a care in the world, like your brain has turned off almost entirely except for the parts necessary for survival. Like you know Yunho will take care of you, no matter what happens.

Yunho can sense this shift in your mind, but sees you covering yourself and has to check.

"Are you okay?" he asks, almost sternly. You know it's because he needs to know, for his own sanity.

"Please don't stop," you say as you nod, voice breathy and needy, arms still covering yourself. Your waiting for him to say it, waiting, waiting-

"Stop covering yourself." Finally. You take your arms down, almost presenting your chest to him. His breath hitches slightly, but you can't see it. His face remains neutral; he feels oddly at home being in control of you like this.

"Lay down," he says. Then, "spread your legs, let me see you." He moves down to you, hands running up and down your legs. But his eyes won't leave your pussy. He moves his face closer, now kissing and biting into your inner thighs, relishing how soft they feel against his cheek. Now he can smell you slightly, the sweet and musky scent making him feel almost drunk. He wasn't planning on it but he can't resist, and moves his face down to get a taste of you. He moves his tongue up your pussy slowly, savoring the warmth and sweetness. He settles himself down and wraps his hands around your thighs and you can't stop staring at his hands, long and veiny in the heat of the room. He licks you slowly again, then settles at the top, brushing gentle circles over your clit. Your body reacts instantly, your back arching and your head falling back, your legs moving in and surrounding his head. He can tell your clit is really sensitive, and doesn't want to overwhelm you at first. He pulls back and licks even more gently, slowly pushing your legs back down so you are completely spread for him. You feel his warm tongue stroking back and forth, his gentle movements causing such intense feelings. You sigh and relax into the feeling, your eyes closed and mind on another planet. It takes a little while for your body to completely give in and Yunho can tell, but he doesn't mind taking the time. He likes the idea that this might take a while. He could spend hours between your legs, tasting you and making you moan.

Suddenly you feel close, each stroke of his tongue sending sparks through you, and then you're coming undone, your whole body feeling warm and tingly. Yunho's tongue is unrelenting and soon feels like too much, so you grab onto his hair and pull at him slightly. He pulls up his face and you see his lips glistening with your slick, his eyes dark as they meet yours. He moves up to kiss you, wanting you to taste yourself. The kiss is sweet but intense, Yunho grabbing onto your waist to hold you as close to him as he can.

"I'm sorry I took forever," you say between kisses, feeling a little embarrassed.

"Don't ever apologize about that," he says, kissing you again, holding you tight. You know he says it to be kind, but in this context it also feels like another command, so you vow to never do it again.

Yunho rises, moving down and spreading your legs again to see you, see how puffy and pink your pussy looks. It makes him salivate and he wants to dive back in immediately, but then he remembers his original plan and grabs the wand he had dropped on your bed. He moves down between your legs again, then slowly strokes his fingers through your slit, careful not to shock you with his touch. "Relax, baby," he says in a whisper, the depth of his voice reaching into your bones. You do as he says and open your eyes, smiling at him as he starts to stroke you again, covering his fingers in your slick and then moving them down into position. He slowly pushes two into you, and after a few slow strokes adds a third. You feel yourself stretch a bit to accommodate the added finger, the feeling only briefly painful and then entirely perfect. Your head is thrown back again and this time you wish you could open your legs even wider, wish you could take more of him. He starts pumping in and out of you consistently, waiting until you start opening up even more. Once he feels your walls relax just that little bit more he picks up the wand, turning it on to its lowest setting. You inhale sharply, nervous at how intense it will feel. "It's okay," he says. "We'll stop if it doesn't feel good." But your anxiety was for nothing; as he presses the wand down onto your clit you feel immediate white hot pleasure, the feeling more intense that you've ever known. With both his fingers inside you and the wand on your clit your orgasm builds quickly; as you feel yourself about fall over the edge it builds even more, and then it happens a second time. You feel like your pussy is on fire, like you are a dam about to break. "Yunho, yunho," you squeak out, your brain having completely left you, but something in you wanting him to know how good he's making you feel. But he can tell anyway, from the way your squirm and open yourself even wider for him, by the sounds you are making. You come hard, your eyes rolling back and legs shaking uncontrollably. A bit of droll leaks out of your mouth onto your pillow without you noticing, the feelings enveloping you too intense for you to register literally anything else. A small and quick burst of fluid leaves your pussy and covers Yunho's arm. "Good girl," he says earnestly, sure he just made you squirt.

When you finally come down from your high you can't stop talking. You crawl over to him and wrap around him, feeling suddenly so excited. "That felt so good," you say, nuzzling your head into his neck. "I've never come that hard ever, I don't think."

"Good," Yunho says, placing a satisfied kiss on your temple. "I want you to feel good." You smile up at him, scrunching up your face in happiness.

"You always make me feel good, even when we're just hanging out," you say. Yunho wraps you up in his arms, his heart not able to handle your sweetness.

"You're too sweet for this world," he says. You nuzzle into his chest at his words, so happy to be praised.

You settle into a comfortable silence for a few moments, your breathing finally returned to normal. You hug Yunho, feeling his breaths rising and falling. And then he breathes in like he's about to say something.

"I want to make you come again," he says.

"I don't know if I can, after that..." you trail off, quietly laughing at yourself.

"I think you can," he says, a mischievous smile on his lips. "Get on your hands and knees."

You do as he says, arranging yourself near the top of your bed to give him room behind you. You arch your back and stick your butt out towards him, and when he taps on one of your knees you spread them apart further. "Good girl," he says again, and you can feel your pussy clench, your wetness feeling cool against the air. He slowly enters his three fingers into you again, your pussy now so wet that they slide in easily. At this angle he can reach so deeply inside you, and it feels like his fingers might be feet long. You feel his movements in your whole abdomen and it's intoxicating, and suddenly you really wish it was his cock inside you, reaching deeper than even his fingers can, splitting you open with forceful thrusts. He reaches towards your shoulders to push them down, flattening your chest and face against your bed with your ass still in the air. Once he has you exactly where he wants you he goes for the wand again, this time switching it onto a slightly higher setting, determined to make you come again. As soon as it makes contact you are again met with white hot pleasure, the intensity of it still surprising you, the multiple points of stimulation making you feel small and submissive. He increases the intensity of his fingers, pumping them into you faster and putting even more pressure on that spot you love so much. Soon you are screaming into your pillow, and Yunho is thankful you are coving your mouth yourself. He would, if he had a free hand to do so. Soon he feels your pussy twitching around his fingers, and then you are clamping down on him so hard, your legs shaking so hard and your body slumping down slowly, unable to hold itself up in your challenging position anymore. Yunho slowly removes the wand and turns it off, then slowly removes his fingers, licking them to again savor the taste of you. You lay slumped in an almost concerning way, so Yunho leans over and moves your hair out of your face to see a blissful smile and blush red cheeks.

He moves to the bathroom to grab a washcloth, coming back to wipe of your thighs and ass and make you feel clean. His movements feel so comforting, you wish you could live in this moment forever. Once he finishes he goes back to wash off his own hands. You flip yourself over, grabbing your favorite plushy and trying to collect yourself. Sweat has stuck your hair to your forehead and cheek, and you feel like you must look ridiculous. You're still a shaking mess lying naked on your bed, your chest rising and falling in rapid breaths. As he exits your bathroom you look over at Yunho in just his boxers and see how hard he is, his considerable length highly visible. All this time he pleasured you, never asking for anything in return. But you wanted him to. You wanted him to use you, however he pleased. He had given you too much not to get something in return.

"Please, can I suck your cock?" you ask him, the words coming out more as begging than you intended. Yunho is caught off guard, his hand running through his hair halting, his eyes meeting yours.

"Baby.." he trails off, the image of your beautiful lips wrapped around him sending sparks through him. He's deliberately held off seeking his own pleasure from you. He's deliberately avoided getting his dick involved. He doesn't know why, really, but he holds it over himself like some sort of rule. Maybe it's a slight punishment. Maybe he doesn't want to scare you. He's bigger than average and doesn't ever want to hurt you, just because you are so eager.

"Please," you say again, more exasperated. "Please Yunho, I really want to. But only if you want to, of course."

Your words have him questioning his own rule. He realizes his own worry, his own nature of holding back. Why should he with you?

"Okay, come here," he says, helping you sit up and then move off your bed, bringing you over to your bedroom door and sitting you on your knees with your back supported. He's brushing hair out of your face and then leaning down to kiss you again, wanting you to know how much he cares. How he worries. How he needs you to be alright for his own peace of mind. As soon as he pulls away you are reaching for his boxers, pulling them down and watching as his cock springs free, the length and girth of it taking you by surprise. You knew he was big, you could tell from looking at his crotch more times than you were proud of. But seeing it up close was something different. You feel your pussy clench around nothing, your body craving to be filled.

You lean forward and lick his tip, grabbing the base of his shaft with your hand to help guide you. You wrap your lips around it and suck, gently at first and then harder, a feeling of pride swelling in you as you hear him lowly groan. Yunho can't believe this is happening, can't believe he is finally getting to feel the warmth of your sweet mouth on his cock. He is rock hard now, desperate for the pleasure and release he had given you over and over again. You pop your mouth off to lick a stripe up the base of his shaft, coming up to the bottom of his head and tasting the saltiness of a bead of precum that had escaped him. You now settle into a rhythm, moving you mouth as far down on him as you can so he's covered in your spit, using your hand and mouth in tandem to illicit as much pleasure as you can. Yunho is holding himself up by the door behind you, desperately wanting to fuck your mouth, the feeling of your hot tongue on him like nothing he's ever experienced. His right hand comes down to brush your hair out of your face again, so he can see everything, your mouth stuffed full of him and your eyes fluttering open and shut as you bob your head back and forth.

Yunho can't help himself, the pleasure is too great, and suddenly he finds himself thrusting slightly, the tip of his cock grazing the back of your throat and causing you to gag. He's alarmed at his own aggression and pulls back, expecting you to be alarmed too. But instead you pop off of him, and with lust filled eyes look up. "You can fuck my mouth if you want, you know. I'd really like that," you say, in lustful sincerity. Your voice when you're fucked-out is quiet but assured, your mind focused on one thing only. It makes Yunho feel like he could come on the spot. He runs a thumb across your lips and cheeks. "Baby, are you sure?" he asks. You nod. "I promise I'll be very gentle," he says, moving his cock towards your lips again. "You don't have to be," you say right before it enters your mouth again. Your words make Yunho's head spin, and he shakes his head involuntarily, out of disbelief.

He enters your mouth slowly, his large hand holding the back of your head to support you. He starts with shallow thrusts, feeling the warmth and wetness of your tongue along the underside of him, the feeling blissful and enthralling. You are looking up at him, eyes wide and full of excitement, your mind barely able to comprehend that this is really happening. You have imagined this moment many, many times. He thrusts become slightly deeper, his tip reaching almost to the back of your throat now. You breathe through your nose, keeping your mouth as open for him as you can. Finally he hits the back of your throat and moans, causing you to gag and a single tear to form in your left eye. "You okay?" he asks gently, pulling back slightly to let you recover. But you don't want him to stop so you suck on his tip and nod your head up and down, still making eye contact with him. His head falls back at the sight, you nodding at him with his cock still in your mouth. You move forward and gag yourself on him, then lean back slightly and look at look at him with pleading eyes. He takes the hint, moving forward again and finally fucking your mouth in earnest. His thrusts are controlled and deliberate, their speed picking up slowly and consistently. He loves the warmth of your mouth, the tightness of your throat squeezing his tip, the feeling better than anything he could have imagined. He was already so wound up from making you come so much, he's not going to last long. You can feel it, can sense in the way his breathing changes and his body changes, like he's filling with pressure and it needs to be released. Suddenly he's pulling out of you and coming on your face, your open mouth catching some of it. You savor the taste and swallow, licking your lips to find more. He watches the lewd image in front of him and feels like the wind has been knocked from him. And then, as he comes down fully, the feeling like he's done too much hits him.

"Sorry baby, let me go get a towel," he says. You whine, grabbing onto his arm to pull him down, not wanting him to leave just yet. You want him to see the beautiful mess he's made up close. Once he's at eye level you smile, batting your eyes at him. "Oh, so you like that I made a mess of you?" he says, another shake of his head from disbelief. "You are so naughty..." he says, clearly pleased. You giggle and stick your tongue out at him. "You can clean me up now," you say, eyes expectant.

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Later that night the two of you lay in your bed, your head on Yunho's shoulder and your legs intertwined with his. The events of the day had left you both sleepy, the feeling enveloping you quickly after you finished your dinner. After some begging Yunho helped you get ready for bed, helping you brush your teeth and get undressed. You felt so hazy you thought you'd fall asleep as soon as you laid down. But once you were settled under the covers with him your mind started wandering, and you were unable to put a stop to it.

"Can I ask you something?" you ask him.

"Of course," Yunho says, through a yawn.

"You know the day you showed up to Mingi's and I was already there, when we both were gonna tell him about us, were you mad at me?"

"No, I wouldn't say mad," Yunho starts. He sighs. "I was just really confused. I had told you earlier I was going to go talk to him, and I thought you would have told me if you were planning to go tell him before me. I thought I was going to be the one to break it to him, the one to bear the brunt of it. I though it would be best because I'm the one he'd probably be mad it, not you. I felt like you telling him first would make him... even more mad at me, I guess?"

You pause for a moment, guilt sinking into your chest painfully.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you I was going to tell him," you say. "I was just really focused that day on the fact that I should tell him first. He's my brother, I felt like I should be the one to do it."

"It's okay," he responds, hugging you tighter. "I"m sorry about what happened that day, that wasn't okay."

"It was Mingi's fault," you say.

"It wouldn't have happened if I just told him sooner that I liked you."

"I could have told him earlier too," you say.

"Baby, stop. You don't need to take responsibility for that mess," Yunho says, comfortingly stroking your cheek. He sighs more deeply now, feeling his own twinges of guilt. "I don't say this to make you feel like I think you're immature or irresponsible, but I think you should know how I truly feel. Given your age and your inexperience, I feel like I need to take responsibility here. I should have approached this whole situation with more care. I should have spoken to Mingi about it sooner, even if I was worried it might mess up our friendship. I should have talked to you directly about how I felt, before I let you sleep over and kissed you and..." he trails off, but you know what he meant to say.

"Before you made me come?" you finish for him. "Can you not even say it out loud now?" you ask, giggling.

"I guess not," he says, embarrassment making his cheeks warm.

"Do you feel like you have to be really careful with me, otherwise I might push you away?" you ask.

"I feel like I have to be careful with you because it's the right thing to do," he answers.

"Is that why you haven't put your dick in me yet?" you ask, the darkness of night making it easy for the words to escape you. Yunho sucks in a sudden breath at your words, at how crass and direct you're being.

"Y/n..." he trails off, and you feel the tenseness of his body.

"Sorry, did that make you uncomfortable?"

"I just really wasn't expect that," he says, collecting himself. In truth your directness turns him on, but he feels a sort of shame about it. "To me you are a very pure person, very good-hearted. Not exactly innocent, given all that you've experienced. But I don't want your first time to be rushed or bad. I realize we've already had sex but... I don't know, it's fucking illogical, I know, but I wanted to wait to do that."

"Yunho, I've already had my first time," you admit, thinking back and cringing at remembering Kim Wonsik, the boy you dated for two months during your final year of high school. He certainly didn't take his time when it came to putting his dick in you. It wasn't the worst first-time experience ever; you had heard several horror stories from other girls in your grade. But it wasn't exactly good, either. You hadn't told almost anyone about the relationship, only Mingi after the whole thing was over. It hadn't been something you wanted to share. You knew the news spread quickly through your school, as every little bit of gossip always did. But to tell Yunho or any of the boys felt so daunting. You felt embarrassed by it at the time; you were questioning your sexuality and scared of anyone knowing, anyone asking questions or pressing too hard. You had liked Wonsik, but not really the way you knew you should. You were just tired of never experiencing anything, and when the opportunity presented itself you decided to try. It was over and done with quickly, and Wonsik never spoke to you again. It all felt embarrassingly clunky and messy, in comparison to everything else in your life. Things like that were easy for you to keep from people, especially at that age when you still lived with your parents and only really thought of how quickly you could move out.

"Oh, I didn't realize," Yunho responds, his head spinning a bit. He would be lying if hearing that didn't elicit some feeling of jealousy from him, but he holds himself back from saying anything that would betray that feeling to you. He knows it's a little hypocritical to feel that way, given that he's been with two girls before you.

"I've dated one boy, and one girl," you admit, everything now just spilling out of you. "I hope that's not an issue for you."

"Of course not baby, not at all," he says, pulling you up so you're laying on top of him. You sigh from relief, letting your body completely relax on top of his.

"You've dated before, right?" you ask. You remember a girl from years ago, maybe even from before the boys debuted. You can't remember the timing exactly, but you vaguely remember a panicked Yunho breaking up with her, knowing that in his early years after debuting things just wouldn't be able to work.

"Yes, there was one girl I dated right before we debuted. And then there was a girl like four years ago now. We dated for a year."

"Are you still in contact with her?" you ask, a little shocked at how long the relationship was and the fact that you never heard of her before. Well, Yunho never knew of your two relationships either, you realize.

"No, things became very tense between us. She never even met any of the members, or my family. We were both very busy, and she struggled with me being an idol and how much I travelled and was gone. It went on longer than it should have, and by the time it ended we weren't on very good terms. I think she ended up moving back to Japan after we broke up, cause her family was from there. I'm not really sure, to be honest. But I haven't spoken to her since then."

"That sounds rough," you say, not sure how else to respond.

"I definitely don't want to repeat that again," he says, squeezing you. "Please tell me if I'm making your life harder. I really, really don't want to do that."

"I promise I would if it ever came to that. But you make my life better and always have, I can't foresee that happening," you say.

"It's hard to know what might happen," he says, wanting to get everything out in the open. "I certainly hope it never comes to that. But if it does, you better tell me."

"Okay, I promise," you say, trying hard not to sound as sarcastic. But he conversation was feeling too serious; you couldn't help how the words slipped out, your mind wishing to ease the intensity of things.

"Are you not taking me seriously?" he asks, moving his hands now to your most ticklish spots.

"No no, I am. I promise," you say, giggling into his shoulder and moving our hands to protect yourself.

"There's something else we need to talk about, too," he says.

"What?"

"If you want me to 'do whatever I want to you,' then we need to talk about it. So I can actually keep you safe." You giggle at his immediate change of subject, him repeating your words from earlier.

"What do we need to talk about?"

"I need to know what stuff is off-limits for you, so I can make sure I don't do anything you don't want. Cause I'm sure there really are things you wouldn't like, even if you don't think there are."

"Okay," you say, somewhat stumped. You haven't really thought about it in detail in all honesty. "Can I think about it?"

"Of course, baby," he says. "Oh, is it okay that I call you baby?"

"Yeah, I like it," you giggle, squirming against him.

"Is there anything else you want me to call you?" You start giggling, too embarrassed to say. "Hmm okay, what about doll?" he asks, and you giggle more. "Okay, what about princess?" you squeak involuntarily, making Yunho laugh. "My princess," he says in a low voice, stroking your hair and making you feel horny all over again. You start rubbing yourself on his thigh, burying your head in his shoulder. You feel a bit shameful about liking these pet names but the shame also feels good, making you feel tingly and warm.

"We need a safe word, too," he says.

"Mmm, let me think," you say, scrunching your face in concentration. "What about... waffles?"

"Waffles?" he repeats, laughing. "Okay, waffles it is."

You both lay quietly for a while, soaking in a processing your conversation, your mind still wandering. You yawn deeply, causing Yunho to yawn too. He plants a kiss on your forehead, now stroking a hand along your back to help put you to sleep. A final thought crosses his mind, something he feels he must say.

"Just so you know, you can always punch or kick me too, if anything I'm doing is hurting you or isn't what you want. If you can't speak for some reason, or you forget to. I want you to do that if you need to."

A tear forms in your eye and falls gently off your cheek onto Yunho's shoulder, and he looks down at you to see another streaming down your face. He reaches over to wipe it off gently, watching your face for any more signs of distress.

"Are you okay?" he asks.

"Yes. It's just, no one cares for me as much as you do."

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Taglist: @mingtinysworld @pautiny27 @yoonjikim @ateez-atiny380 @luvleejuyo @soupyjoy @casterole

Love you all <3

[bi-bard]

If I Could Leave, I Would've Already Left - Luca Imagine [The Bear]

Title: If I Could Leave, I Would've Already Left

Pairing: Luca X Reader

Based On: Paul Revere

Word Count: 1,413 words

Warning(s): mention of breakdown/mental health issues

Summary: When Luca left for Copenhagen, he didn't mean to leave (Y/n) completely on their own. After years of not talking, he finally finds that nerve to reconnect with them, deciding to invite them out to visit. At first, all seems well, but something is clearly off... Luca just has to get (Y/n) to admit that.

Author's Note: I changed who this story was going to be about so I could give y'all this. Don't say that I don't do anything for you.

NOAH KAHAN - STICK SEASON [WE'LL ALL BE HERE FOREVER] WRITING CHALLENGE MASTERLIST

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I felt a pit in my stomach as I walked to the door of the restaurant.

This wasn't even my place of employment. I had no obligations or expectations here, but I still had raging anxiety sitting in my chest.

Maybe it was the association I had with early rising and restaurant doors. Maybe it was the memories of yelling and pressure and intensity. Maybe it wasn't related to any of that. Maybe it was all just fear over seeing someone that I hadn't seen in a while that meant the world to me.

I shook my head, trying to calm myself down. It wasn't successful.

Once I accepted that I couldn't just dismiss my anxiety, I picked up my hand and knocked on the door.

I stepped backward, taking a few more deep breaths.

The front door opened suddenly. I felt a need to collapse to the ground when I saw Luca in the doorway. I fought that need.

"Hey," I said awkwardly, messing around with the strap of my duffel bag.

"You made it," he replied happily, stepping forward to hug me tightly. I closed my eyes as I hugged him back. "I told you to call me when you were on your way. I would have made plans to get you settled."

"I know, I know," I muttered as I stepped back.

"I'll call someone in, so I can get you set up in the guest room-"

"No, no," I shook my head. "I came here to see where you're working. That was your offer."

He chuckled. "Well, come on in then."

I followed him into the restaurant. I looked around at the sparkling location. Shining counters, organized inventory, the blue sign just under the clock that read 'Every Second Counts'.

"What do you think," he asked.

"It's beautiful," I mumbled, still looking around the entire building.

"Oh, believe me, this is nothing," he waved it off. I looked back at him. "Well, nothing when compared to the quality of the food."

I chuckled. "Impress me."

"I always do."

He tapped a part of the steel tabletop so I could stand across from him. He continued working while I put my bag down next to me.

It felt weird to watch someone else cook. I had grown so accustomed to running around the kitchen and getting as much work done as physically possible. But now, I was standing there, twiddling my thumbs. It just felt... wrong.

"Do you... Do you need help with anything," I asked.

"No, no," he shook his head. "I am making something for you. You are on a trip."

I held my hands up. "Alright, alright."

The silence after that was nice.

It was the first time since getting on the flight that I didn't find myself fixated on the work that I was missing. I was finally letting myself breathe. I couldn't relax fully. I don't think that I had the ability to. It was still momentary bliss.

"How've you been," Luca said after a while.

"Good, good," I replied, playing it as polite. Like I would speak with my relatives at big family dinners and shit like that.

"You're still working in Chicago?"

"I haven't worked there in a while," I explained. "I moved to New York. Carmen Berzatto apparently mentioned my name a while ago."

"He did?"

I nodded.

"I don't remember him ever being that kind... did he have a change of heart?"

"Honestly, I think it was an accident."

Luca laughed, having to stop what he was doing for a few moments. "That sounds more like him."

I chuckled with him.

"But New York is good?"

"Yeah, yeah. It's the dream, right? The big-time restaurant and the fancy guests."

"I guess so."

His eyes moved to me. I saw them trace me, looking for a sign of... something. I shifted a bit in my spot, grinning at him. I wanted to know what he was looking for. I wanted to know what he was thinking of me.

"How are you doing," he said.

"You asked that already."

"I know but you told me that everything is good yet you're sitting in front of me on a very sudden trip to a different country."

"You invited me out to visit-"

"Yet you didn't tell me when you were on your way."

I froze. He was right.

"What's going on?"

I took a deep breath. "I... I took a leave of absence."

"What," he asked. "Can I ask why?"

"I... I broke," I confessed.

Admitting it felt like some kind of betrayal to myself. I was already dealing with enough guilt from running away from work, but now there was even more guilt because it wasn't just because of my own weakness.

"I was in the kitchen, in the middle of dinner rush, and then everything felt like it froze," I continued. "And I... I couldn't move or talk. I was just... gone. And then, it all hit me at once. I couldn't breathe. Nothing made sense. Everything was going too fast. It just... it wouldn't go back to normal.

"If it had just been that once, then I could have explained it away as nothing. But it just kept happening over and over.

"I could hide it for a while but then, I just kind of snapped. I ran out of the kitchen; I hid in the alley out back and just sobbed. I just remember thinking that I had to get out. So, I decided to take the leave of absence and try to figure out what the fuck was wrong with me."

"I'm sorry," Luca said. "That sounds terrifying."

I just kind of shrugged.

"Are you... Are you seeing a therapist at all?"

"I have an appointment set for when I get home. I just... I needed something- someone familiar."

Luca stepped out from behind the counter so he could drag me into another tight hug. I closed my eyes, hiding my face in his shoulder. That was the most detail I had told anyone about how I had been feeling.

"Can I ask you something," he asked after a little while. I hummed. "Why don't you just leave entirely?"

I scoffed as I stepped back. "And go where?"

"I don't know... here?"

I shook my head.

"I could put in a good word-"

"I can't do that," I stopped him. "I can't just run away."

"Why not?"

"Do you have any idea how hard I have worked for this?" I snapped. "How much of my life has been dedicated to this?"

"That doesn't mean that you have to end up hurting yourself!"

"You don't get it!" I stepped even farther away. "I don't just do this for me. New York is the best place for me to make everyone happy. It's for my family whether it be supporting them or giving my mom a chance to see her dream that she didn't get to pursue or for my dad to get the chance to be proud of me. All of this goes so far beyond me! It's not that I don't want to leave! I can't!"

Luca didn't reply.

"I... I look at my parents and all I can think of is how disappointed they'd be if I didn't keep going, keep pushing myself."

"I'm... I'm sorry."

I looked away before stubbornly wiping away any tears that found their way to my eyes. "I'll... I'll leave it all one day. I'll leave all of it behind and find something that doesn't terrify me as much, but I just... I can't yet. I can't."

"I shouldn't have pushed so hard," he replied. "I... I'm so sorry."

"It's okay," I mumbled, running my hands over my face. "Can we just... Can we focus on literally anything else?"

He nodded, going to step around the counter again. "I've thought about you a lot over the last few years."

"Really," I asked.

"Yeah. I... I always felt... wrong for leaving the way that I did. I felt like I had abandoned you."

"If it helps, I never thought that. I just hoped that you were happy."

He offered a grin in response.

He started working again.

As silence surrounded us, the air seemed to shift. The weight wasn't gone. I don't think it ever would be. But it was lighter. As if I wasn't holding it on my own anymore.

And maybe that extra pair of hands was all I needed for now.

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[hollywoodxwhore]

Ours | Chapter 18

Colson x Presley (Original Female Character)

Synopsis: Presley and Colson fell in love accidentally, but they were meant to be. Now that all the obstacles have been removed, they're moving in together in LA. Now, they have all the time in the world for Colson to teach Presley all of the things he knows. This fic is the sequel to Mine, which can be found in my masterlist!

Warnings/Content: A little more angst but it's wrapping up I promise, mentions of suicide, mentions of panic attacks, mentions of not eating due to mental health issues, smut (18+), oral sex (f receiving), desperate sex, col coming in his pants, swearing, squirting, fluffy sweet aftercare

This is the final chapter of Ours (excluding the epilogue but it's super short) and I'm so grateful for everyone's love and feedback for this series. If you don't already know, there will be a third part and I'm so excited to write it. I hope you all love it!

Presley

I can’t believe I lost it that badly. 

I sleep for hours on Colson’s chest. When I wake up, he’s asleep, too, and I study his face, memorizing his features over and over again. The tightness in my chest is not normal. This is not just depression or anxiety. This is something deeper, and that really scares me. 

I wish like hell that it was easy to move past it, but how am I ever supposed to let go of the fact that if I hadn’t left Colson, he would never have put the wheels in motion to kill himself? How can he say it isn’t my fault – how can anyone say that? I know they’d all blame me if Colson had gone through with it. I can see it now – everyone trying to be sensitive at the funeral, but someone would lose it, point their finger at me, and say, “She’s the reason he killed himself!” 

God, I don’t want to have another panic attack. I’m already so weak and exhausted from the first one. My entire body hurts, my head throbbing. I haven’t eaten anything today, nor have I had any water, and I feel like almost every physical need anyone could have is plaguing me right now. 

But I can’t let go of my husband.

My mouth is so dry that I can barely breathe. My stomach twists with nausea, an ironic reaction to hunger, and my bladder is so full that it hurts. But despite all this, despite knowing my water bottle is right there on the table, that a toilet is right around the corner, I can’t get off of Colson. Jesus. Am I going to piss myself lying here because I’m so attached? Get it together, I say to myself, and even though it makes my blood pressure hike, I extricate myself from Colson’s arms. 

After emptying my bladder, I chug down half of my water bottle before taking a breath, and then I drink the rest of it. Colson starts to stir as I drink. He blinks his eyes open and then looks down at himself, eyes widening a little with worry when he doesn’t see me. He snaps his head over and relaxes as soon as he sees me. “Hey,” he rasps sleepily. 

“Hey,” I say, voice small. 

“Did you get some sleep?” he asks. He looks so endearing and adorable right now, his bleached hair all fluffy from sleep, his long eyelashes shadowing tired eyes. 

I nod. “Yeah. I’m starving, though,” I admit.

Guilt crosses Colson’s features for a millisecond. “You haven’t been eating,” he remarks, almost as if he’s just now realizing it himself. With that, he hops off the couch and lifts me into his arms. I can’t help but smile a little, wrapping my legs around his waist and my arms around his neck like a koala bear. 

Colson sets me on the countertop and pecks my lips softly before turning to open the fridge. “What sounds good?” 

I’m weirdly relaxed, despite what happened earlier. I’m not hiding anything from Colson anymore, and that in and of itself is a relief. “Anything,” I say.

Colson nods. “Got it.” 

Colson makes me crispy chicken cutlets, a salad, and garlic mashed potatoes. I’m shocked by how much I’m actually able to eat – two full plates. The food is incredible and I feel so much better after eating. We eat on the floor in the living room with a candle lit, passing a joint back and forth. We talk about everything but the bad shit, and before I know it, Col has me laughing and smiling. For the first time in forever, it finally feels like us again. Our journey is far from over, but what I do know is that I don’t have to do it alone. 

The next day, I sleep in. I wake up to the sound of Colson’s voice. He’s on the phone, clearly trying to be quiet, but I know he’s still in our bedroom because he didn’t want to leave me. 

“Thank you. Alright, bye,” he says, ending the phone call. He glances over at me and when he sees I’m awake, he comes over and crawls back into bed. “Hi, love,” he murmurs, wrapping around me.

“Hey,” I say, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. “Who was that?”

“My psychiatrist,” he says. “We’re going to go see her today and get you some help, okay?” His voice is gentle and so kind, and even though it's a little scary, I relax. 

“You’ll be with me, right?” I ask.

Colson nods, nuzzling into my shoulder. “Of course. I’m not going anywhere.”

We’re quiet for a moment and then I roll over in his arms and look up at him. He wears nothing but a pair of boxer briefs that hug his butt perfectly. I haven’t felt desire since the first day he came home, but all at once, it rushes in so intensely that I feel a little dizzy with it. Using my legs, I pull his thigh between mine. Colson arches a brow but lets me pull him closer.

“Baby?” he questions. He doesn’t need to, though. He knows me well enough to know exactly what I want. His throat bobs as he swallows. “Are you sure?”

I nod, suddenly feeling absolutely desperate for him. “I miss you,” I say quietly. “Just want to be close to you.”

“Don’t do it because you think it’s what I want,” he murmurs, tucking my hair behind my ear. “Just holding you is enough for me.”

Boldly, I slip my hand between our bodies and grip his cock, already hardening in his boxers. I arch a brow, smirking just a little. His words definitely don’t match his body’s reaction. “Well, it’s not enough for me,” I say, and with that, my husband’s eyes darken. I can see the moment when he gives in. 

“Then get on your back,” he says. I do as I’m told and Colson instantly disappears beneath the blankets. I let out a shaky breath in anticipation of what’s coming. Colson slips between my thighs, big hands lifting each one over his shoulder at a time. I fell asleep in a big t-shirt of his and no panties, and when he notices, the breath he lets out is so warm it makes me shiver.

I lift the blankets to look down at him and his eyes lock on mine, his pupils so wide the iris is almost invisible. He brings his gaze to my pussy and bites his lip as he studies me. When his thumb lightly brushes over my clit, my hips twitch and Colson chuckles low. “Sensitive,” he murmurs, and then he presses a kiss to the crease between my thigh and my pussy. I hold a whimper in my throat as my legs start to tremble with anticipation. Just having him between my legs has me so aroused that I’m sure I’m already wet.

Colson presses a tender kiss to my clit, sweet and loving, and the gesture makes my breath catch in my throat. His eyelashes flutter as his eyes close, and the next kiss is open-mouthed and wet and hot, as are the ones that follow. Just his kisses can undo me, can make me so wet that it ruins my panties, and when he kisses between my legs, it heightens the experience tenfold. Sparks fly, electricity zinging through my body at the sensations his talented mouth can bring.

When my husband moans with my pussy in his mouth, my spine arches off the bed and my hands fist the sheets, effectively dropping the blanket. I can't see him anymore so I scramble to push the comforter out of the way. The morning sunlight peeks around the curtains, illuminating his white-blonde hair and eyelashes. He is a devil that looks like an angel when he takes care of me and I don’t think I’ll ever get over the way he affects me.

I gasp when Colson’s hands brace beneath my thighs and shove them up, lifting my lower half off the bed. His dark eyes lock on mine as he moves his tongue lower, swiping over everything before returning to my clit. I tense up, a little surprised. We’ve of course had anal, but he’s never had his mouth anywhere near my ass. I never saw the appeal; why do that when I have a much more sensitive clit right there? But it’s so erotic and almost…forbidden and it takes my breath away. Colson repeats his motions, moaning against me before his tongue lands on my clit and twists around it in circles.

“H-holy fuck,” I choke out, shoulders lifting off the bed in response to the pleasure. My stomach is rock hard with tension, so hard that I’m starting to tremble. Colson can’t stop moaning against my pussy and the vibrations are making me see stars. The room heats and my vision starts to flutter around the edges. I’m practically hyperventilating as he has his way with me, showing me just how perfectly he can use his mouth.

Half of me wants to beg him to put his fingers inside me, but I’m curious to see if he can actually get me to come without putting anything inside of me. If he can do it with just his mouth. As his plush lips close around my swollen clit and suck as his tongue continues to work, my stomach starts to knot up, telling me that, yes, my husband can make me come with just his mouth.

“Cols,” I practically wheeze, grabbing a handful of his hair. “Holy shit, baby, ‘mgonna come.” My words slur together; I’m drunk with pleasure as my pussy starts to clench around nothing. My heart races and I let my head fall onto the pillow as tingles creep up my spine and my stomach ties itself in such a tight knot that it almost hurts. And then, the knot explodes in my belly as I let it all go.

My body moves erratically beneath his mouth, even as his hands hold my hips down. I sob at the pleasure, hips twitching upwards as my clit throbs on his tongue. I’m just starting to come down when Colson comes up, slotting himself between my legs. He presses his clothed cock to my aching clit and grinds forward. I look up at his face and notice how tightly his brow is knitted together. His lips are parted as he pants and the way he ruts against me is so familiar that I reach down and grab his ass to help work him towards his own rapture.

“Fuckfuckfuuuuuck,” he chokes out. “Baby–” I watch his face, reveling in his unabashed pleasure as he comes from nothing other than giving me head and a little bit of grinding. It will never not shock me how I, some girl who was a virgin less than a year ago, can get Machine Gun Kelly, a well-known sex god, to come in his pants. And I love every fucking second of it.

Colson relaxes on top of me, our hearts fluttering against each other, and then he lifts his head to kiss me hard, so hard that my pussy already aches for him again. “I’m not done, I promise,” he breathes. “Just couldn’t help it. Your taste, your sounds, fuck.” His words melt into a moan. “Love you so fuckin’ much.”

“Get on your back,” I say, touching his cheek. Colson’s eyes sparkle. He loves when I ride him and I love it just as much, but I’ve got something else in store for him. I’ve been doing my research, or at least I was before everything went to shit. There’s something I’ve been wanting to try forever and now I finally have that chance.

I drop my shirt to the floor and help him out of his boxer briefs, and for a second, I’m tempted to slip my hand into his boxers, to feel what I did to him. Jesus, Colson has made me filthy. I drop the soiled boxers onto the floor and climb over top of him. There’s still cum on his tip and smeared slightly on his belly, and my eyes darken. I can’t help myself, moving down his body to lick up the leftover spend from his skin. Colson shudders and moans and his cock twitches, already hard again. 

He reaches for me and I come up, but then I turn around. “Holy fuck,” Colson says when he realizes what I’m doing. I smirk as I crawl over his body and position his cock at my entrance. It’s a little difficult to situate at first; I’m so used to the way he fits perfectly when I’m riding him the other way. Reverse cowgirl is more difficult than it looks but I’ll do it for Col. 

With his help, I finally sink down on him, and while it isn’t the most comfortable position for me, I don’t care. Because Colson’s hands have a bruising grip on my hips and he’s already moaning shamelessly behind me. I tip my head back, letting my long hair graze his chest, and he grips onto it, tugging. I moan at the slight roughness and try to move, but it’s tough, until Colson bends his knees, giving me his thighs to use for leverage. 

When I start to grind back and forth, Colson curses loudly. “Th-that’s it, baby, h-holy fuck,” he says shakily. “So good, Pres. so fucking – oh shit – perfect.” 

I love how powerful I feel, unwinding my man the way I am. “Colson,” I moan as pleasure starts to creep in. I won’t be able to come like this, but that’s okay. 

After a few minutes, Colson slows my motions, and I look back at him over my shoulder. He grins at me. “As much as I love this, I want to see your face,” he confesses, and I melt a little as I lift myself off of him and turn around. But instead of letting me ride him, Colson flips our bodies over and settles his weight onto me. With a slow grind of his hips, his cock slides back inside of me until it’s home. His hands slide beneath my ass and squeeze, pulling me closer to him, and with his eyes on mine, he starts fucking me hard.

Pleasure rushes in so fast that I can’t stop the moans bubbling out of me. I can feel myself getting wetter around him as he pounds into me, our skin slapping together. “Colson,” I whimper. “Fuck, baby–”

“Yeah,” Colson grits out, squeezing my ass even harder. “Fuck, I love you. So good to me.” He presses kisses along my collarbone and over my shoulder. My eyes are practically crossed at this point, the pleasure so overwhelming in the best way.

“H-harder,” I manage to choke out, because I know he can go harder. He lets go of my ass and lifts up a little, planting his hands beside my head. He brings his legs up and bends them, sliding them beneath my thighs, and then he starts to fuck me at lightning speed. “Oh god,” I wail, digging my nails into his shoulders as he absolutely pounds into me. I’m going to feel this later and I love every second. 

He keeps up his rapid pace but manages to get a hand between us to play with my clit, and that’s what sends me over the edge. A scream rips from my throat as I come so hard that I swear to god I black out for a second. It’s the best orgasm I’ve had in a long time, and Colson always makes me come hard. With that, Colson flips me over, lifts my hips, and slams back inside me. I scream again, squirting all over his cock and thighs, and Colson growls, “Fuck yes.”

I’m practically drooling on the bed at this point, Colson's hands being the only things keeping my hips up. “I’m close,” he manages. “Fuck, Presley, oh my god–” He thrusts four more times, slamming his hips against my ass, and then he seizes up with a gasp as he buries himself as deep as he can possibly go, painting my insides white. His orgasm triggers one more of my own, and that’s it – my legs give out and I splay on the bed helplessly, unashamedly. 

Colson stays flush against me for a few moments as we both come down, breathing hard and sweating. “Christ. That was fucking amazing,” he says, voice gravelly as he kisses my shoulder.

“Yes it was,” I croak, my walls still fluttering around him. When he pulls out, I can’t help but whine, and instantly, his cum trickles out of me. I shiver at the feeling and Colson moans, sitting back on his heels to watch it happen. He drags two fingers over my pussy and I hiss in overstimulation. 

“Sorry,” he rasps, pulling his hand back. “Shower?”

“Shower,” I say weakly, reaching for him. 

In the shower, Colson is pure love and care and safety. He hums while he washes every inch of my body with loving, gentle touches, and I let him. He washes himself quickly and steps out of the shower first, holding up a warm towel for me. He wraps me up in it and hugs me tightly, pressing a long kiss to the top of my head. He takes his time drying me off, too, looking up at me with love in his eyes. I let myself be cared for; we both know I need it right now. 

When we’re both dry, Colson scoops me up and carries me back to bed. “Your appointment is in about an hour and a half,” he says. “Will you get dressed while I make you something to eat?”

I hesitate. I’m scared of him leaving the room, leaving me alone. His expression softens and he thumbs my cheek. “Let’s both get dressed and go to the kitchen together,” he says. I nod gratefully. I’m sitting on the bed and he’s standing, but I reach for him. He hugs me, wrapping long arms around my body, and I slide mine around his neck, holding him close. “I love you, Presley,” he murmurs. 

“I love you too, Colson,” I mumble against his neck, closing my eyes. After a few moments, I let him go and he smiles softly at me. We both get dressed and head to the kitchen where Colson lifts me onto the countertop and presses a kiss to my nose. I can’t help but giggle and he winks at me as he turns to the fridge for food.

As my husband makes us breakfast, I feel a wave of calmness wash through me. Everything is going to be okay. Colson is going to make sure of that.

Taglist: @triplexdoublex@jaxbreaker@mgklove99xx@jinx-on-mars-19xx@iamnotanearthlingmotherfucker@anonymousme86@whiteleoqueen@feroniakutenpuu@hxllywoodwhxree

[hamburgerhelpersotherhand]

Hi can I request a Joe Goldberg x therapist!reader? Where she's helping him through his mental issues and Joe falling hard for her and confess to her but she politely explain to him that he feels isn't love.

Of course!! The idea of Reader monitoring his mental health is really interesting and wields a few possibilities… hope I did the concept justice!

Also, classes are finally loosening up! I’ll be back to writing on my free time at the end of the month.

Warnings: Stalking.

“I’m going to refer you to one of my colleagues.”

Joe turned his head immediately, tearing his eyes away from the window’s grey cityscape view and into the direction of the woman sitting across from where he stood. Your face remained casted downward, your nose practically hidden behind your notepad as you wrote.

“What…? Why?” Joe asked hesitantly, he truly believed things were going well before your rude interjection.

“Joe, our relationship is meant to be professional. We are nothing more than a therapist and their client and, at best, acquaintances.” You replied without missing a beat. A second later, you lowered your notepad to your lap and gestured toward the lone chair by his side. “I urge you to sit.”

Joe had found himself staring off into the streets below on this particular day, which shouldn’t be too out of the ordinary. The prior appointment, he had made himself comfortable with the miniatures decorating your desk and, the day before that, the small library which sat opposite of this desk. All in all, Joe was making progress in taking in every corner of your office.

“I really thought we were getting somewhere.” He says, wanting nothing more than to laugh it off but quickly finding his limbs had stiffened.

“That’s good to hear, and you’ll be able to continue from here with Dr. Laurent. But, please, sit down. We only have a few minutes to wrap things up.”

Joe had to bite his tongue not to make things worse than they already were. Being pushed aside like that, it’s not fair to him… but he gets it.

These past few months, he’d been following your daily routines from afar. A private therapist with quite the hefty list of clients. Joe’s surprised you ever truly have time for your at-home hobbies… speaking of which, how’s the girlfriend? Good to you, he hopes as he bites the inside of his cheek and takes the suggested seat.

“You’ve informed me on your stalking tendencies quite a few different times,” Joe knows where you’re heading with this as he turns his head away and looks out the window. “and we’ve bumped into each other outside of the office just as many.”

He had to admit fault here, as he hadn’t expected to glue to you so well after confidentially opening up as he did. Perhaps his intentional bump-ins had been too forward — too obvious?

“Are you stalking me?” You finally say after a moment of sinking words.

“No, of course not.” He instinctually huffs with a breathy laugh, like a light chuckle to insinuate your stupidity to assume so.

You slowly readjust yourself in your seat and speak again, more clearly this time. “Going to someone’s house at night when they do not invite you sounds like it, does it not?”

Stunned, Joe turns his head back to the conversation and a heavy, dead look in his eyes settles as the previous smile that lifted his lips vanishes. He’s still, suddenly more observant than he had been before. It’s not every day that someone takes notice of him, he’s been quite careful to avoid it. And, yet, you knew he had been watching those previous nights.

“I have no intention on calling the police, if you’re willing to see my colleague for some true and honest help.” You say, dumbly in his mind. You’re being naive and he’s being careless.

[young-dumb-and-vaccinated]

Cult Girl: Doctorate (Hannibal x Pregnant!Female!Reader) pt. 14

Hannibal reads too much into Max's attempt to reconcile and cult girl revisits her past.

@wisesandwichshark @pearlstiare

Trigger warnings: discussions of death, abandonment, military casualties, emotional abuse

You soon returned to the opera knowing you had nothing to hide. Hannibal selected for you an off-white maternity gown so form-fitting it was practically painted on. He wanted everyone to see that you, his queen, empress and goddess, were carrying his child.

It only took that evening for the whole dynamic to change. Suddenly, you were an expectant new mother. Imogen had been a massive hit, you were planning to go again.

You were affixing your heavy cubic zirconia earrings when you heard a knock at the door. You hesitated, but hurried down the stairs when you saw who it was.

"Max?" You said, upon opening the door. He stood there awkwardly, holding a bouquet of flowers. "Hi?"

"Hey, [F/N]." Max greeted, eyes darting nervously around the porch. "I just came around to apologize in person. I'm sorry I was such a chauvinist prick."

You leaned against the door. "Oh?"

"You were right." He continued. "I don't know what it's like to carry a baby, and, unless something goes very wrong, I never will."

"Let's hope it doesn't come to that." You smiled.

"Anyway, these are for you." He said, handing the bouquet over. "They're chrysanthemums."

"Thank you, Max." You said, accepting the flowers.

"Archie and I-" He scratched the back of his head. "We thought that, maybe, if you'd still have us, that we'd name the baby Chrysanthemum. With your permission, of course."

"Like the picture book?" Your face lit up. "With the little mouse girl?"

Max nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah, exactly."

You hugged the bouquet into your chest and considered it again. You looked back at Hannibal, who hadn't looked up from his expectant fathers' website for a second all day. He surrounded himself with books about child psychology, attachment theory, developmental behavior patterns and somehow found himself on a tangent about institutionalized misogyny in medicine.

"I'm sorry, Max." You said, sincerely. "I really do appreciate you coming down here and apologizing, but-"

Max put his hands up and gave you a disarming smile. "I understand. Plans change."

"I just really want to stress that it's not you." You assured him. "I've kind of... really grown to like the idea of being a parent. And I think that was Hannibal's plan all along, too."

"I believe a congratulations is in order, then." His voice turned up in delight. "I'm very happy for you. Both of you."

You clutched the bouquet to your chest. "Thank you."

"Well, I'd better get going." He stepped backwards down the stairs. "I've got three pints of Ben and Jerry's in the backseat and Archie'll have my head if I come home and they've melted."

"Max, wait." You stopped him before he could get down the driveway.

"Hm?"

You leaned against the threshold and smiled warmly. "Don't be a stranger, okay?"

Max returned the smile. "Of course not."

You waved goodbye and shut the door. You hurried to the kitchen to put the flowers in water before you had to go.

"Who was that, love?" Hannibal asked, half-heartedly. He was still very fixated on his research.

"Max Thomas-Park." You answered, unwrapping the flowers from the decorative plastic.

Hannibal looked up from his computer, but left the room silent for you to fill.

"He wanted to make amends." You explained. You walked across the room to the china cabinet and selected a vase big enough to hold the ornate bouquet. "Brought flowers and everything."

"Chrysanthemums?" He asked, sniffing the air.

"I see your sense of smell is coming back." You commented.

"Interesting selection." He narrowed his eyes on the bouquet.

"Well, he said that was what he wanted to name the kid." You offered. "It was a cute pitch, not gonna lie."

Hannibal shut his laptop and examined the bouquet up close. "If he wanted to express regret, he would have done better to bring you blue or purple hyacinths."

"Well, like I said." You made a point to project a little more. "He said he wanted to name his daughter chrysanthemum."

"Mums are given to show sympathy for those in mourning." Hannibal continued, clearly having his own conversation.

"Hannibal-"

"I think your cousin got her hooks in him and he's planning to--" He cut himself off, lest he speak the unthinkable into reality. "That's why he brought mourning flowers."

"Max Thomas-Park is conspiring with Anna to kill our unborn baby?" You said, flatly, to emphasize how insane he sounded.

Hannibal held a bloom between his fingers and looked closely at it. "It's the kind of hint I would leave. For courtesy's sake."

"I think looking at parenting blogs all day has made you a little paranoid." You observed, knowing full well that an overprotective husband and soon-to-be father of your child was not a bad problem to have. Nevertheless, you shut the laptop and touched his cheek. "Come on. We're going to be late for the opera."

You heaved yourself into the passenger's seat of the car, feeling the seat give beneath your heavy frame. Every time you got into the car, you remembered that you needed to shop for a car seat. The thought just as soon left your mind every time. 

“We need to look for a car seat.” You said as Hannibal shut the door, hoping that he’d remember. 

“I mean,” Hannibal blurted out, still lost in his own conversation. “Max is a cultured and well-educated man. He has to know the implications of his flowers.” 

You huffed, dreading to think that paranoid delusion was symptomatic of his parenting style. “Right. The twenty-seven year old data analyst who graduated with a finance MBA from UChicago is also proficient in the outdated and frivolous language of flowers.” 

“In Italy, mums are only given as comfort for loss.” Hannibal said with undeserved conviction. “Exclusively, [F/N].” 

You rolled your eyes and typed something up on your phone. You raised your eyebrows, feeling a bit proud of yourself for what you found. 

“In Korea, y’know, the country that Max’s family is from,” You corrected. “The chrysanthemum is a symbol of friendship.” 

Hannibal tensed up for a moment, tightening his grip on the steering wheel. It was as if he were trying to break himself out of a trance. “...I’m sorry, darling.” 

“I know you’re scared.” You stared at his profile, trying to make out an expression. “I’m also... pretty scared. But you can’t take it out on a guy who has nothing to do with it.” 

“I am scared.” He affirmed, but the way in which he did was a telltale sign that he wasn’t giving you the full story. 

“Of?” You raised your eyebrow. “Finish the sentence, Hannibal.” 

"I need to keep our baby safe." He answered. "And I cannot in good conscience let her come into the world knowing that someone wants to hurt her. To hurt you."

You sighed. "Hannibal, are you seriously still worried about Anna?"

"Don't underestimate the role privilege and entitlement plays in the decision to commit acts of violence." He enunciated carefully. "You of all people should know that."

"Anna has cultivated such a perfect victim image to project outwardly that even a hint of proactive violence would shatter it." You explained. "She's the poor girl who has things done to her. Her evil cousin ruined her marriage. Her evil cousin destroyed her career. And she's the innocent victim in all of it."

"Logically, I know that you can speak on her behavior with more authority than I." Hannibal admitted.

"No shit." You scoffed. "I had to live with her."

"Can we at least entertain the idea that she has something planned?" He pleaded.

"I'm surprised at you." You said. "You never really struck me as the overly-cautious type."

Hannibal shook his head. "With my own life, I'm willing to gamble. But not when it's you. And not when it's Imogen."

You tensed up. His admitted willingness to put himself in danger unlocked a core memory you had buried deep down. The only thing you knew about your own father was that he was willing to put himself in danger. To go overseas and die for fuck-all instead of live for the child he selfishly created then abandoned. He chose to give his life for oil. You didn't choose to grow up without a father and your mother didn't choose to raise a child without a partner. He made that choice for you.

"Now what are you not telling me?" Hannibal broke you out of your trance. "I know that look, [F/N]."

"Nothing." You shook your head. "You should really not plan on dying anytime soon."

"I promise you, I am not going anywhere." His voice softened. "Least of all, to Iraq."

"Okay, you're a pretty good therapist but you never told me you could read minds." You threw your hands up in defeat. "Are you a psychiatrist or are you Loki?"

"As fun as being the god of mischief would be," Hannibal smiled to himself. "I just happen to have a steel-trap memory and an admittedly quite obsessive fixation on the mental health of the mother of my child."

"I swear to god I never told you about him." You denied. "Not even in passing."

"You didn't have to." He assured you. "Beatrice did."

You were surprised for a fraction of a second until the information sat in your head long enough to realize it wasn’t surprising in the slightest. Beatrice took every opportunity she got to brag about her son's sacrifices. She never once mentioned the sacrifices he forced upon you. Only that her son was a hero.

"Did you get the 'don't believe anything [F/N] has to say about my son' speech?" Your voice flattened in complete non-surprise.

"It was a prepared speech?" Hannibal chuckled. "Pity. I thought I was special."

"She gave it to my first boyfriend." You rolled your eyes. "We were, like, fifteen."

"The root of your psychological issues becomes clearer every time we talk about Beatrice." He commented under his breath.

"I know." You conceded.

He pulled into the parking lot, turned the car off and placed his hand over yours.

"Your father was a coward." He said, bluntly. It was nice to hear what had been echoing in the back of your head out loud for once. "I know no country to serve. No god to glorify. I promise, you have the whole of me. My mind, body and soul belongs to you and our child."

You squeezed his hand. "I couldn't ask for anything else."

[kkodzvken]

where you let it go - hawks x g.n. reader

this is my fic for @doinmybesthere​‘s mental health collab (mlist here). thank you so much emme for hosting! 

tags/warnings: hurt/comfort, unspecified mental health issues, involuntary commitment, panic attack, a bit of depersonalization

a/n: i wrote this from my own personal experiences, so it’s in no way indicative of what all treatment is like. i was also hospitalized by my parents when i was a minor so i don’t really know about involuntary commitment for adults, so i’m sorry if this was inaccurate. this was incredibly therapeutic — i wrote what i needed to hear back then. and please please please, know that your mental health is so important, and there is nothing braver than getting help. title cred: where you let it go by i the mighty

w/c: 1.7k

They’re all too loud.

The voices rise up around you. They crash against each other, echoing against the sterile white walls and ceilings. They feed off each other like carnivorous beasts, and they sink their claws into your ears, dig their teeth into your flesh and leave scratches against your marrow.

They’re too fucking loud.

You want to leave. You want to leave, but you can’t. And besides, wasn’t this supposed to help? Wasn’t this supposed to make you better? You should be reveling in all the noise, letting the voices seep into your ears and wash away the awful sounds in your brain. But they don’t cancel each other out – they just amplify each other, until it’s too loud for you to think, to breathe.

Your lungs feel like they’re encased in ice. Someone’s saying something – a nurse, asking about your medication history – but his voice is washed away in the sea of noise that surrounds you. You try to breathe, but your chest is filled with sticky tar. You try to respond, to spit out whatever they want to hear so they’ll leave you alone, but the tar rises up into your windpipe and settles into your voice box.

You want to leave. You need to leave, but you can’t.

Your mind isn’t in your body anymore. You aren’t in your body anymore. The sounds are still assaulting your eardrums, and you still feel everything so vividly. But it isn’t you. This isn’t you.

Is that you? This person, is that you? You stare down at your hands in an attempt to ground yourself, but it does just the opposite. You stare at your hands, but they are not your own. You know, you know how impossible that is. But the longer you stare, the more not-yours they become.

You can feel the tar rising up in your throat, turning into acidic bile that corrodes at your cells, but they’re not your cells. You’re looking down at your body, but it belongs to someone else. That person is not you – that person, staring blankly down at their hands as they’re surrounded by a hurricane of voices and nurses – that person is not you.

This was supposed to help. It was supposed to make you better, but after only a day, you’re already spiraling into a state that’s much worse. You hate everything about this place. You hate the smell of disinfectant that burns your nose, and the harsh white lights that burn your eyes. You hate the rituals and rules. You hate feeling eyes on you at all times. The constant supervision feels like a rope around your neck. It’s fucking miserable.

“Mx. Y/N, please. We can’t make any progress if you don’t work with us.”

“I don’t want to work with you,” you spit out. “I want to go home.”

The nurse sighs. He places his pen and clipboard down on his lap. “I understand how you feel, but you know –”

“How the fuck do you understand how I feel?” Your voice is dripping with venom. All of the fear and anger of the past days – no, the past weeks, months, years – reaches a fever pitch. The steady beeping of the machines by your bedside makes your head throb, but you ignore the pain as you push yourself off the bed. “I’m going home.”

You only make it a few steps before the two other nurses in the room rush to your side. Their hands are cold, and they dig into your arms when they grab you. Bile rises up in your throat. You try and twist out of their grasps, but they’re too strong, and your head hurts too badly.

That doesn’t stop you from trying. “Let me go!” you shout. You hate how shrill your voice sounds. The nurses act as if they can’t hear you. They march you back towards the bed, but you twist and thrash and try to make for the door. “Let me go, let me go, let me GO!”

“Baby?”

Your head shoots up at the sound of his voice. “K-Kei!”

He stands in the doorway, clutching a duffel bag in one hand and your favorite stuffed animal in the other, but he quickly drops everything and rushes towards you. The nurses must loosen their grips, because you’re finally able to twist away from them. You collide against his body, and with his strong arms wrapped around you, you finally feel like you can breathe again.

You don’t know when you started crying, but tears are freely falling down your face now. You bury yourself into his chest, holding him as close and as tight as you possibly can. “Keigo,” you sob out. “Keigo, I wanna go home, please take me home.”

He pulls you impossibly closer and presses little kisses against the top of your head. “Oh, angel,” he breathes. He shifts and picks you up with ease. You wrap your legs around his hips and he wraps his wings around your body like you have a thousand times before. It should bring you comfort, but it just reminds you of how wrong this feels. You should be in your shared home, not this hospital with its overwhelming smells and sounds.

“Home,” you cry out again.

He coos softly. “Oh, angel, you know that I can’t do that.”

You ball your hands into fists and grab at his shirt, tugging at it while your sobs intensify. “I don’t wanna be here, Kei, please.”

“I don’t want this either, honey. But you need this.”

“No! I need to go home! I need them to leave me alone!”

He turns to the nurses. “Can we have a moment alone, please? I promise that I’ll keep them safe, and call if anything happens.”

The nurses look at each other doubtfully, but eventually nods their heads and file out of the room. Keigo turns his full attention back to you. “Cry it out, angel,” he says as he sways your bodies gently. “Let it all out. I’m here, I’ll keep you safe, I promise.”

He holds you as sobs rack through your body, as you wail and scream and thump your fists against his back. When you finally retreat from the safety of his shirt, you’re sure that you look disgusting. Your eyes are red and puffy, and your face is covered in snot and tears. But he still looks at you like you’re the most precious thing he’s ever seen. He lowers himself onto the bed and holds you in his lap, your legs straddling him and your face resting against his neck.

“I know it sucks, angel,” he starts. “But don’t—”

“Please don’t lecture me,” you interrupt. You hate how small and weak your voice sounds. “I know that I have to stay here. I know they’ll help me get better. But I don’t want to, Kei. I want to go home with you. Can’t I just get better at home?”

His expression is painfully gentle as he cups your face in his big hands and smiles at you. “There’s nothing wrong with asking for help, baby.”

“I know, but I can do it myself–”

“No you can’t,” he says bluntly. “You can’t get better by yourself. And I can’t help you get better by myself. We need real help.”

You whine and turn your head, not wanting to look him in the eyes. “…I know. But I still don’t want to.”

“Both of those things can be true,” he says. “You can hate it, and still do it and know that you need it. It’ll suck, but hey, look at it this way. The more you cooperate, the faster you’ll get better, and the faster you’ll be able to come home to me.”

You bury your face back into his shoulder. You don’t want him to see the tears that are threatening to leak out of your eyes again. “I-I’ll miss you. I couldn’t sleep last night. It was…It was wrong, not having you next to me.”

“Oh, baby,” he coos, and your chest pangs at the sound of his voice breaking. “I couldn’t sleep either. But I’ll visit you every day, alright? I’ll stay as long as I can, until they kick me out. And then I’ll call you until they kick us off the phone.”

“It’s not the same.” You feel childish when you whine and complain like this, but you can’t help it. The concept of being hospitalized, of being locked up away from Keigo and everything else important in your life, is terrifying. “When…when do you think I can come home?”

“They said they’ll let you go out if you’re good, right?”

“I wasn’t really paying attention yesterday,” you admit sheepishly.

He chuckles and presses another kiss against your forehead. “It’s okay, angel, I was listening. I’ll double check, but I think that I’m allowed to bring you out for a few hours if you stick with your plan. Let’s look forward to that, okay? We can go home and watch a movie, or we can go on a date somewhere nice. Whatever you want.”

“Home,” you mumble. “Wanna snuggle with you on our bed.”

You can feel his lips curl into a smile against your hair, and it makes you smile a little too. “Well,” he says, repositioning himself onto his back and dragging you along with him. “It’s not the same, but we can watch a movie now! They didn’t let me bring your laptop in, but we can watch on my phone.”

You snuggle into his side and rest your head on his chest. The steady sound of his heartbeat is comforting, and it helps to cancel out all of the other horrible sounds enveloping you. You’re still terrified, but with his arms and wings wrapped around you, and the reassuring warmth of him against you, you feel a bit safer, and a bit less scared.

  .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“Please don’t leave me,” you say. “Please…please don’t go. I know that I’m fucked up, and I’m a hassle, and that I make things difficult for you. I’m sorry. But please don’t go.”

“I’m not going anywhere, angel,” he says. He leans his forehead against yours and gently strokes your cheek with his thumb. “I promise. I’ll stay with you forever. You’re not fucked up. Your struggles don’t make me think any less of you. They don’t make you any less lovable. I promise, baby, I’m going to spend the rest of my life with you. You’re my everything, and I’ll never leave you. I promise.”

[catxsnow]

BACK TO YOU W.W.

Request: Could I be so bold to request a Wally fic? Where he comes back after his "death" (lets be real we all know he is not dead) and Y/N reacts to it? Could it be fluff, angst, a little of both, that's up to you.

P.s. I love you 😊😊

Warning: angst, mentions of death (wallace), fluff

A/N: hello, good evening, I’m tired as fuck. 

I’ve been thinking about a taglist lately so if there’s interest I’ll start one. I always suffer when I make it for some reason but if the people are interested I will suffer for y’all. 

Word count: 2.3k 

Wally coming back from the dead seemed surreal.

The hope you had for his return never diminished, even if those around you gave up long ago. Wally wasn't dead, he was never dead - he was just stuck in a place that no one could save him. Not Barry, not Bart, Not even Jay. Wally was the only one that could save himself and he had done it.

Broken, battered, and barely breathing he had made it out of the Speed Force. He had made it back to you. It put everyone into shock to see him collapsed in the middle of the team's headquarters. His suit was barely hanging to his body, eyes sunken in with exhaustion. He barely looked alive.

It took weeks to get him nourished back to health. Weeks of him being in a coma, wondering how the hell he managed to get back home. Sleeping at his bedside every night because you were scared this wasn't real or that he would be taken from you again. Long nights of crying because even if he was back, was he even going to wake up?

By the time that he was back up on his feet and running around again, every single league member had come to see him. Those who gave up on him, those who never lost hope, even those who never knew him.

Wally West was back.

Unfortunately, it seemed that a lot of him was still missing. His smile that once never left his face hadn't resurfaced once. The laugh that you remembered so clearly that got you through so many hard days vanished. The light in his eyes when he was running or saving lives was dull. He wasn't the same man you knew.

He teetered around you like a stranger even though every night he told you how grand his love for you was. You noticed him bumping into furniture that had moved from his time away or looking at pictures of people he didn't know with tears in his eyes. He stood by the window, watching for nearly an hour, just staring into the void every other day.

Wally wasn't all back from the Speed Force. He had lost a part of himself in there that he could never get back. Dick tried to fill in the gap of time that he missed, catching him up on everything that he missed but the moment that he came back to you he seemed more zoned out than ever. M'gann excitedly told him about her engagement with Conner, Kaldur with his new position in the league.

Everyone tried to make him feel right back at home, but no matter how hard they tried it would never be the same. Wally lost that time, and he was never going to get it back. He could never make it up to his friends for missing so many important moments in their lives or the grief that he put them through.

No matter how fast he ran, how many hours he stayed up wondering if things would have been different that day, none of that would change the fact that he had been missing for five years. Guilt plagued him, fear of being stuck back in there, he was in a constant state of terror because it was so damn easy for him to be lost the first time.

Nightmares woke him up every night. Sometimes he would lay there staring at the ceiling for hours without you knowing, other times his screams would echo in your room and wake you. Tears streaming down his face, clinging to you like his lifeline. Horrible dreams filled his mind of being pulled back there - or seeing his friends taken instead.

Those moments were the only time that it seemed Wally was willing to open up to you. It was the only time that he treated you like a lover rather than a stranger. Only when he was most vulnerable did it feel like he was truly back home, safe and sound with you. Whatever was holding him back from being open to you, it broke your heart.

Wally was always the one that you could go to when you had your issues and now that you couldn't do the same for him... it was hard to accept. You didn't want to push him into relieving his memories where he was stuck or asking the wrong questions to get him upset. Saying nothing at all didn't seem to be working either.

Dick noticed it, Barry, Artemis, even Garfield was worried. No one knew what was going on inside that head of his and he refused to go to Dinah - or anyone - for help. Everyone was worried.

You told them of the times that you woke up to him vibrating the entire bed, still asleep and a pained look on his face. Or the time that he would be perfectly fine before suddenly speeding around the house like he had no control over his body. Wally had become unstable with his speed - and maybe his health too.

"Love you, baby," Wally mumbled out.

He had gotten back from his hangout with Dick to find you sprawled out on the couch. Whatever they had done must have put him in a good mood. The moment that he saw you, he sped over and practically dived into you. His arms kept him hovering over you so he could lean down and kiss you properly - something that he always seemed to avoid since being back.

He found himself cuddled into your chest, arms snaked around you. For the first time since his return, you saw a genuine smile on his face. It was a sleepy, half-smile, but nonetheless, you were excited to see it. His eyes drooped closed the second you started massaging his scalp. He hummed with content as you eased the tension that had been piling up.

Half asleep, shoulders loose after weeks of being tensed at every moment. His heavy breathing was audible and you could feel the warmth of it against your skin. It had been years since you had seen him relaxed like this and it quickly brought tears to your eyes. Wally had been through so much, he deserved happiness, he deserved to have peace in his life.

"I love you Wally, always," you whispered. Silent tears spilled down your eyes - you wanted him to find his joy again, no matter the cost. "I never gave up on you, my love. I knew you'd find your way back home. Fuck-" your voice cracked, "I was so lost without you. Having you back in my arms like this was the only thing keeping me going.

"You mean everything to me, Wally. I know that you did what you did to save the world but..." you sighed. It was impossible to say that you wished that he hadn't done it - or that someone else should have taken his place. "I'm so relieved that you're safe now. I know you've been going through a hard time, and I've been trying my best not to push you - but if you need anything you know I'm here."

You waited for him to say something - anything. Wally was struggling to open up to you but seeing him in a good mood like this may have been the best opportunity to get him to say what was on his mind. Unfortunately, his silence made you worried.

It wasn't until the sounds of a soft snore did you realize that he had fallen asleep on you. His body had become completely dead weight, arms no longer tense around you. The security he felt being with you had lulled him to deep sleep in a matter of minutes. Although you weren't in a comfortable position, seeing him at peace was well worth it.

><

"He's getting better."

It had been months since Wally had been home. The process of getting him back to his mental state before entering the Speed Force for years was going to take a long time - but he was well on his way. Being with friends, family - finally admitting that he needed to see someone to talk through all this - dramatically helped.

The original team decided to put together a little surprise birthday for Wally. He said he didn't want anything - but they had several year's worth of get-togethers to make up for. So, you and Dick plotted together to throw something, just with his closest friends. Nothing overwhelming.

Although he originally complained about the gesture, he quickly found himself appreciating the effort that had been put into that evening. The food, the people, he forgot how much these moments meant to him. Seeing the smiles on everyone's faces again, that was the best gift he could have asked for.

He stood on the other side of the room with Conner and Dick - all three of the men were laughing their heads off about something. Artemis stood by your side, watching the three of them just as you were. She handed over one of the drinks in her hand to you. Everyone in the room had been deep in conversation with someone - besides you. She noticed.

"He is," you agreed with her.

"Why're you by yourself?" She got straight to the point. Artemis didn't bother with the small talk or sugarcoating her question. She waited for your answer, watching as your gaze turned from Wally, to the now interesting cement beneath your feet. "(Y/N)."

"Everyone's helped Wally so much and I can't help but feel like... Like I haven't done enough. Wally was always the person that I could lean on and now that I'm the one that has to be strong for him, it just feels like there's more that I could have done to help him. I never had the same bond that you all had with him being on the team and risking your lives, I don't know what it's like enough to help him through this trauma.

"Wally deserves the world and a lot of the time I feel like I can't give it to him. I'm not a hero, I don't have powers, I'm just... normal. Maybe that's not enough for someone who can save the world before I even finish breakfast," Your fists tightened at your sides as the heavy realization that had been clouding your mind was revealed.

It was clear that you were the odd man out in the room. Everyone there had risked their lives to saved the world and what had you done? Wait anxiously at home for your friends to return? Grieve at the losses that you couldn't have changed? There was nothing that you could do in the hero-life besides sitting on the sidelines.

"You do a lot more than you make yourself believe, (Y/N)," Artemis placed her hand on your shoulder. She glanced over at your boyfriend, wondering how different it would have been if they ended up together instead. Wally would have been unhappy, he loved you from the beginning.

"Wally can't stop talking about the support you give him. He wouldn't be where he is today without you. Men are stubborn - especially speedster men - they won't always admit how much they need someone. He gets this look on his face when he's talking about you like you're the whole reason for his existence. Don't put yourself down for not being stuck in a hero life we are - your love for him is the only power he needs."

"Thank you, Artemis," you forced a smile at her.  Although you didn't believe her words at the moment she was right. Your love for Wally was the most important thing that you could ever give him, and that was going to have to be enough for now. Every ounce of your love went to making him happy.

Before she could say anything else, a familiar breeze washed over you both. Wally was suddenly standing right in front of you - and as if Artemis wasn't even there, brought you in for a deep kiss. His lips molded to yours, hand pressed to the small of your back to keep you close.

"I love you, (Y/N)," Wally barely pulled his lips from you. Conner had heard everything that you were saying to Artemis, and although he felt as if it wasn't his place to tell, Wally needed to know. A need to be with you, to assure you that you had done more than enough to get him to where he was, filled him.

"Across every galaxy, every universe, the Speed Force, no matter where I will always find my way back to you. I'll love you through everything," Wally pecked you once more. "Thank you for never giving up on me, babe."

"I'll never give up on you, Wally West. Not even the Speed Force can keep us apart," you grinned.

"Get a room already," Artemis complained. You had forgotten that she was still standing with you. It wasn't just her - the entire room was staring at the both of you. Smiles on their face at how happy Wally was with you. His little move had caught the attention of everyone and he just adored it.

Wally laughed at her comment. He swooped you up in his arms and sent a wink your way. He was already gearing up to speed you both out of there before saying his last bit to Artemis - and everyone else in the room.

"Don't have to tell me twice."

[candychronicles]

best damn show // h. shinsou

A/N: my take on the bnharem villain/hero swap collab! this was supposed to be super super short but oops...

CHARACTER PAIRING: Shinsou Hitoshi x F!Reader

WORD COUNT: 3,918

WARNINGS: a half-assed sex scene, mentions of toxic coping mechanisms, bad mental health, alcohol and mentions of sex trafficking

SYNOPSIS: a dangerous villain is on the loose and Shinsou will find out who it is no matter what. 

Click here to read more fateful encounters! 

Shinsou turned off the TV with a resounding click, huffing in frustration. he had been there last night, seen the carnage, the chaos and pain that was caused by the villain. he didn’t know who they were, what they looked like, what their plan was, but he sure as hell didn’t want to wait to find out. The Hero Commission had instructed every hero to be on the lookout for suspicious activity but all it created was more chaos and distrust in a time when everyone needed to come together to figure out the issue at hand. being the type of hero that he was, one with a quirk that was not necessarily smiled upon, instantly created problems between himself and his team.

it became quite apparent that he needed to step down for a few days. while everyone claimed that it was for personal health issues, he left because he knew that he was being sussed out and couldn’t be trusted. despite trying his whole life to prove that he was a hero, nobody ever seemed to really see that he was one. even Aizawa thought it was best if he stepped away for the time being as tensions continued to rise between coworkers, friends and acquaintances alike.

to be frank, he was sick of being treated like a dog, someone who was there for entertainment and to do the dirty work of the heroes that wanted to keep their shiny crowns spotless. he was sick of being treated like less than scum on the pond, gum on a shoe or even trash littered on the side of the road. there were very few people in his life that truly believed in him and what he could do and while that was normally enough, it wasn’t today. there was someone truly dangerous on the rise, someone who could destroy entire cities if they wanted to, especially with the influence they had, and he wasn’t going to let them get away.

that’s how he ended up sneaking around the site of the initial attack. there was very little evidence there, everything cleared out from the cops, firemen and cleaning crews, but a little flyer about a bar stuck out like a sore thumb between two dull gray cement blocks. he plucked it out with his fingers and examined the barely held together paper, just managing to make out an address.

fuck it, might as well go. the worst that will happen is i get drunk and Kaminari will have to drag my ass back him, but honestly, he’s put me through worse.

with that thought in mind, he strolled to the bar near where the attack happened. the place was small and cozy and certainly not like anything he was expecting. a few people mingled around, chatting and laughing and nobody batted an eyelash when he walked in with his hood up and hands in his pocket. sliding into a chair, he signaled with one hand for the bartender to come and take his order. in what seemed like an instant, a neat whiskey, double, was placed in front of him with a kind nod.

before he had a chance to sip on his drink, another patron slipped in next to him. you were barely paying attention and apologized profusely when you realized you practically pushed him off his chair.

“i am so so sorry! i slid in here like a chicken with my head cut off. have you ever actually seen that happen before? it’s honestly quite terrifying,” you started, laughing at your own antics before continuing, “let me buy you a drink to make it up to you.”

“are you hitting on me?” was the first thing that came out of his mouth as he quirked an eyebrow at you, studying your flushed face and doey eyed expression.

“well, your hood is up so i can’t really see how cute you are. i’m honestly just half assed drunk and feeling extra nice tonight. no flirting here!”

he chuckled before flipping his hood down, cocking his head towards the bartender as he downed his drink in one gulp. you admired his face, the way it barely scrunched up despite the taste, his adam’s apple bouncing up and down.

“one more please! actually, make that two.”

you and Shinsou spent the whole night laughing about what seemed like the dumbest things: how many vertebrae giraffes had in their neck, how many ice cubes you could each fit in your mouth at one time, how crayons were made, and who could take a shot with a straight face. the latter led you two to being absolutely hammered as you stumbled out of the bar at a crisp three in the morning.

“s’nice meeting you S-shinsou! we should do this a-again sometime,” you stated matter-of-factly, laughing at the confused look on his face.

he spent a few seconds pondering the situation before agreeing to meet you here in a few days, sloppily exchanging numbers and hoping that they were right before he walked you back to your apartment, citing that it wouldn’t be fair as a hero for him to not escort you home to your safe spot.

the next morning resulted in a pounding headache as he sat up groggily from the couch, still dressed in all black from the night before. despite not learning anything about the villain that had caused the attack, he had to admit that his night was still nice.

the next few days before you two were supposed to meet up, Shinsou went full vigilante. he spent hours scouring any database he could for underground information about the villain. they were calling themselves “nightcrawler” and they were an internet sensation, spewing opinions about The Hero Commission, how villainous and cruel they were, how people and their quirks were being suppressed by this glamorized shit show. he snorted at the opinions, half agreeing with what they were saying but not so much on the way they were going about the situation.

every lead led him to a dead end. people knew of them but not who they were, what they looked like and certainly not where they were. he was able to gather some minor information from lackeys that claimed a man at an underground fighting ring might know something about nightcrawler but nothing was set in stone.

before he knew it, he was meeting you again at the bar, feeling guiltier than ever for acting like some righteous hero when he was a borderline vigilante at this point. you didn’t seem to care who he was, what kind of job he had or what his boring routine was like. you wanted to hit deep, spilling dark secrets to each other, like how depressed you felt sometimes living a boring life behind a desk, how he felt like he wasn’t really a hero, how you drank to cope with the pain sometimes, how he was doing exactly the same. eventually, he spilled to you how he was technically still a hero but doing some not so legal digging on the side as he got benched due to the distrust because of his quirk.

you frowned as you watched him confess how he felt, emotion after emotion rolling over him in waves, from sadness to anger to confusion to defeat. you sympathized with every word that came out of his mouth, not understanding what it was like to be a hero but hurting with every word nonetheless.

“well, what’s your next move?” you finally asked after a few moments, watching the gears turn in his head as he processed your words.

“i heard through the grapevine that a certain shady underground fighting ring might have some more information on the whereabouts of nightcrawler.”

you prodded him for all the details, grinning in delight when he mentioned the name of where he wanted to go. without saying another word, you yanked him off his feet, throwing cash down on the bar to pay for your drinks as you dragged him out of the place and down only a few blocks. he spent the whole time bewildered and confused but judging by your determined stance and wicked smile, he figured he knew where you were taking him.

the entrance wasn’t anything spectacular. in fact, it was quite dingy, a cellar amongst garbage. you kicked the trash bags out of the way and pulled the doors open, motioning for Shinsou to follow you, pulling the cellar shut tight behind you as you walked down the dimly lit path to another metal door.

knocking twice and then once more, a man eyed you and Shinsou up and down, asking for the password, which you gleefully cheered out. the man grunted then opened the door fully, telling you to enjoy your time. Shinsou jumped when the clang of metal sounded out but was instantly pulled in towards the scene in front of him. there were people all over the place shouting and cheering as two burly men fought in the ring in front of him. none of the people looked like they should’ve been there. people with bright green dyed hair, women in business suits, men lounging around in sweatpants and holey t-shirts, people of all races and ethnicities gathered together to watch.

it was like a scene out of a movie, the chaos and confusion almost being enough to stun a person where they stood, but Shinsou was trained to react to anxiety inducing situations and quickly began scanning around to find the man that might have known what was going on with nightcrawler.

murmuring a quick “stay here,” Shinsou delved into the crowd, spotting the man in charge quite easily, watching the way he cockily examined the fight and all its inhabitants like he owned them.

“hey, we need to have a little chat,” he stated, staring the man directly in the eyes.

“buddy, i don’t know-” the man was cut off as he became enraptured in Shinsou’s quirk.

it took only a few moments before the man was a blubbering mess, but he still wouldn’t crack on who nightcrawler was.

“listen man, she’ll kill me if she finds out i said anything,” he cried.

that was enough information for him to go off and with one final nod, he slipped back into the shadows to find you eagerly cheering on the fight, shoulder to shoulder with a pretty girl with red hair as you two chatted animatedly about what was happening.

“ready to go princess?” he questioned, watching you flush a bright pink underneath the harsh stage lights before you abruptly turned around to smash your lips against his own.

he stood there shocked for a few moments but before you could fully pull away, his lips were back on yours, this time fervent in worship.

the walk back to your apartment was excruciating, kisses being exchanged as Shinsou kept a watchful eye out for any seedy people, especially since you were so close to the latest villain attacks.

when you finally entered your apartment, it was all teeth gnashing together, clothes being practically torn off one another as you explored every inch of your bodies. his hands on your hips, trailing up to tweak your nipples, swallowing your moans with his mouth. your hands tangled in his messy hair, down to the back of his neck to pull him impossibly closer to you, not wanting to miss a moment of him. you didn’t know what he was going through or what possessed him to call you that nickname but you weren’t going to pretend that you weren’t absolutely infatuated with him.

to him, the nickname just slipped. you were so cheesy, so angelic and innocent and yet badass and strong at the same time. the things you went through in life, how you persevered despite it all, made his heart burst out of his chest. it was as if you almost understood him at an atomic level despite only knowing him for a few days. you shared the same morales, the same commonalities, what you wanted to do with your life, how you could change the world if you wanted to. he drank it all up with deep passion, whispering sweet nothings in your ear as he bottomed out inside of you, desperate to hear your moans and whines, to feel you melt underneath his touch.

after what felt like hours and seconds all at once, you collapsed on his chest, drunk off of sex, sweat clinging to your skin like a sheet. you absentmindedly traced your fingers up and down his chest, admiring the swirl of purple hair tufting from his pecs.

“Shinsou,” you started, waiting for his drowsy hum before continuing, “if you could really change the world for the better, would you do it? no holds barred?”

he contemplated you for a moment before responding, “i don’t think i’m cut out to change the world, especially if it means hurting people in the process.”

you hummed in thought before softly whispering, “i think out of any of the heroes, you’d be the one to really change the world. i mean, you’re the one who’s sitting here, kicked out all because the people who you’re supposed to trust with your life can’t even look you in the eye. you’ve suffered so much, struggled so much and yet here you are fighting to catch this villain.”

you paused to collect your thoughts before starting again, “i mean, i don’t know if i could do the whole killing thing. it seems like killing just leads to more killing, and then when will it end? but i don’t think causing a little chaos to get someone’s attention is so bad. property damage to the capitalistic animals that run this country, to the politicians who can look a depressed person in the eye and tell them they should just die, to the people who turn blind eyes to the injustices of this world. i mean, would that be so bad? would that ever really solve anything?”

Shinsou blinked once, twice, three times before shrugging his shoulders.

“i don’t really know if i can disagree with you on that one. i don’t know if i’d ever be able to go against something like The Hero Commission but if i could, i probably would. it doesn’t really matter now though. I’ll probably get kicked out after i find her anyways.”

“her?”

“nightcrawler. the man said she was a woman. it’s not much but it’s a start.”

you hummed in agreement, snuggling up into his side as you began to drift off into sleep, feeling safer than ever in his arms.

the next morning, Shinsou woke up to find out that the man he talked to the night before was dead. you were nowhere to be found and he began panicking before he heard the shower running and you humming to yourself, clearly happy and satisfied with the previous night's actions.

“hey, princess?” he questioned, knocking on the door and opening it to peek inside, watching the steam billow out.

“what’s up?” you asked, peering from around the curtain.

“i’ve got to check something out. i’ll swing by later, yeah?”

you pouted but nodded, blowing him a kiss before closing the curtain to continue your routine.

the walk to the underground club was much shorter than the night before now that his head was clear. there were police swarming the scene but one flash of his hero license and he was let on premises.

a few questions later and he was able to get all the information he needed. nightcrawler apparently found out the man slipped up and sent a lackey to dispose of him. turns out he was also in the sex trafficking business and used the shady underground fight club to hide the even shadier business of women and children. it turned his stomach to hear what was going on but couldn’t help but feel satisfied a sick man like him was no longer around to live.

he spent the rest of the day combing over clues as to who she may be. according to the police, she was there the night he was murdered. rumors spread that she had been planning her next attack as was using the man for intel. how they managed to get that much information but still didn’t know anything about her threw him off more than he could imagine.

before he had a chance to swing back to your apartment, he got a call from the head of his agency asking for a meeting. he swallowed thickly, wondering if they knew what he was doing behind the scenes. a quick ride and he was standing in front of the agencies shiny glass building trying not to throw up.

“Shinsou, good to see you! please, have a seat,” the corporate man stated, motioning for him to sit down across the desk.

he took two large strides and firmly planted himself down, staring the man in the eyes before nodding.

“now, Shinsou, we really appreciate everything you’ve done for this organization, but with the recent rampant villain attacks, we feel it best to place you on temporary leave until things blow over. that may be a few weeks or a few months but we can’t have our agency tarnished by representing someone who is so…”

“villainous?”

“sure, that word could work. i was going to say odd, but nonetheless. all we need you to do is sign right here saying you understand and we’ll make sure to get the checks sent out to you to cover your pay while you’re away.”

he stared at the paper for a few moments before delicately picking it up with his hands and proceeding to rip it in half. he wasn’t sure what caused him to do that but he didn’t care. at that point, he was done being treated like some villain when he was only trying to be the best hero he could be. with a small chuckle at the man’s stunned face, he muttered an “i quit” before walking out of the office with his head held high.

by the time he arrived at your apartment door late that night, he was absolutely panicking. how could he just quit his job as a hero so easily? he fought tooth and nail to be the best version of himself and it seemed to never be enough. he was in near tears when you opened the door, a confused look on your face before you motioned for him to come in and sit down on your couch, offering him a glass of water as you sat waiting for him to speak.

“Shinsou, what’s wrong?” you finally asked with a sigh, placing your hand on his knee to stop it from bouncing up and down.

“i-i quit my job, i just did it. i don’t know what came over me but they wanted to put me on leave and sign some dumb non-disclosure agreement and i just couldn’t do it. they fucked me over so bad and i just didn’t want to be their lackey anymore.”

you signed once more, flopping back into the couch before abruptly sitting up straight, looking him dead in the eye.

“Shinsou, i need to tell you something, okay? and i need you to listen to the whole story before you freak out on me.”

he nodded and that was the only confirmation you needed to continue.

“i’m nightcrawler. before, i was a hero and a damn good one at that. i was trained by The Hero Commission personally to be a faceless assassin. i did their bidding for the greater good, or so i told myself, but the killing became too much for me when they ordered me to kill children. i just couldn’t do it. and so they began framing me, creating me to be the bad guy that they always wanted. they’ve attempted to kill me before but they created a monster instead, someone who can fight and survive even when the odds are stacked against her. that attack that’s being blamed on me? it was them who attempted to frame me. they killed innocent people all to bring me down. the man at the nightclub? i didn’t kill him. i’ve stayed silent for awhile but i’ve been slowly building up my own army, trying to get people to join my side and my cause to fight against the injustices that are being forced upon us. Shinsou, i understand if you hate me for the rest of your life, but i also know you better than i think i should, and i know that you deep down would want to fight with me and for my cause, for the fall of The Hero Commission and the rise of something that would actually put everyone and their quirks first.”

Shinsou stared at you with a blank look in his eyes. you couldn’t tell what he was thinking or what was going on but you waited for him to respond. you would understand if he turned you in, understand if he killed you on the spot, but you secretly hoped that somewhere, deep down, he felt the same way that you did, fed up with being treated like a criminal, thrown to the streets like wild dogs, hunted and chased for sport.

after a few moments, you put your hands out, wrists up and pushed together as you waited for him to restrain you and take you away. he looked at you once again, this time eyes squinted together as if he was trying to figure out what you were doing.

“you can take me in. i wouldn’t be mad.”

“i’m not turning you in.”

you blinked owlishly at him, unsure of where this was going, but before you were able to speak again, he put one finger up to hush you.

“i get where you’re coming from and honestly, your ideas, your plans, they all make sense, but i don’t think i could ever be a part of that. i don’t think i’m the person that ever gets to make change. i’ll always be some outcast, and that’s okay with me.”

“Shinsou,” you started, not sure how to broach the topic, “you’re exactly what we need. a hero who fought so hard to be the best only to get shunned only when you were trying to help. i left the clue about the bar hoping someone would take notice, someone like you, that wanted to fight for a cause that meant something and now here you are. broken, confused, scarred but still strong enough to fight. we need you Shinsou. i need you.”

you held your hand out for him, waiting. you truly didn’t know if he was going to join, if he wanted to become something that he swore he never was, but they pushed him, treated him like scum and it was time for him to fight back. if he joined you, you would make sure he would never be treated that way again. instead, you would make sure he was someone who would always be included, someone who’s opinions and thoughts matter, someone who mattered.

he took a deep breath, fear and determination etched in his face before he clasped your hand in his own, squeezing firmly and looking you in the eye.

“if they want to paint us as villains, let's give them the best damn show we can.”

[my-emotional-self]

Toxic Love Chapter 10

Pairings: Steve Rogers x Reader, Bucky Barnes x Reader, Steve Rogers x Reader x Bucky Barnes

Summary: Finding out your soulmates were Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes was one thing.  But when someone from your past comes back to haunt you, you have to figure out if a relationship with two super soldiers is something you really want to pursue or if you’d rather go back to your comfortable single life.

Series Warnings:  18+, Swearing, Angst, Fluff, past mentions of rape, self-harm, attempted rape, domestic violence, stalking, death threats, possible Dark!Steve?, Steve will be an asshole a LOT in this series but I don’t know how dark it will get, explicit sexual content, mental health issues, kind of A/B/O dynamics but not really (no they are not actual wolves, more like the hierarchy), mentions of suicide, flashbacks of suicide, nightmares

A/N: There will be no taglist for this story!  I apologize in advance!

Steve ripped his hand away from your throat and he took a large step backwards, far away from you. To say you were disappointment was an understatement.  What did you do wrong?  Why was he acting like your skin had burned him?  You would give anything to feel his hands back on you.  

As Bucky approached, you could feel his eyes on you, but you couldn’t stop looking at Steve.  Your eyes bore into him, pleading, begging for him to touch you again.  But it was no use.  Fear flooding throughout you.  He was going to leave you wasn’t he?

“F.R.I.D.A.Y,” Steve commanded, “Open her door.”

The door to your room opened and Steve, much gentler this time, pulled you into your room.  “You are to stay in here until I figure out what to do with you.”

As Steve left, he slammed the door shut.  Your jaw clenched as you leaped forward and to your dismay, found the door locked.  

“ARGH!” you screamed, fists pounding on the door.  “FUCK YOU STEVE!  I FUCKING HATE YOU!  OPEN THE DOOR!! OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR AND LET ME OUT!”

~~~

“What the hell is happening?” Bucky asked as he and Steve made their way into the living room.  The sounds of your screaming getting quieter the farther they moved away.  

Steve sat down on the couch, head in hands and elbows resting on his knees.  He didn’t even know what to think of the last ten minutes that transpired.  He felt the couch dip next to him, Bucky sitting down, worry etched in his eyes.  

Steve let out a deep sigh, shaking his head as he turned to face Bucky.  “We got into a fight upstairs in the kitchen.  She had been awake all night working and didn’t even go to bed.  I scolded her.  Told her she needed to get to bed and get rest.  She flipped her shit Buck,” Steve spoke.  The anger he had was gone now, replaced with his own worry.  “She threw a glass plate at my head.”

“What?” Bucky couldn’t believe what he was hearing.  

“Yeah,” Steve replied, not even believing it himself.  

The two of them sat there in silence for a few minutes.  “What was with your hand on her neck then?”

Again, Steve shook his head. “She did that Buck.  She put my hand on her neck.  It’s like she wasn’t herself.  There was something dark behind her eyes.  It didn’t feel right.”

“I mean, she has seemed like she’s been a bit more agitated lately.  Have you noticed that too?”

Steve nodded, agreeing with Bucky.  You had seemed more irritably and agitated over the last few days when they called you to check in with you.  But they didn’t think anything of it.  

“Maybe there is something she’s not telling us,” Bucky spoke up, breaking the silence over the two men. “We can always have Stark try to look into things.”

Steve thought about it for a moment.  He wanted to trust you and preferred not to check into your background.  But at the same time, if this is something serious, he wanted to be able to help you.  He wanted you, him and Bucky to be a solid trio together.  He didn’t want any problems to come between you three.  

“Yeah.  I’ll talk to Tony about it.”

~~~

The carpet was beginning to wear down as you paced back and forth in your room.  The door was still locked.  You felt like a caged lion, ready to attack.  Every few minutes you checked the door only to find it still locked. They couldn’t keep you locked in here forever, could they?  No, you wouldn’t let that happen.

You were unsure of how long you had been locked up when there came a knock at your door.

“Y/N, can we come in?” Steve asked, voice firm but no hint of anger and that only pissed you off even more.  

“Fuck you Steve!” you yelled as you kicked the door, hoping he heard it.

“Y/N,” Bucky began to say but you cut him off.

“Fuck you too Bucky!”

“Hey!  What did I do?” Bucky asked, hurt in his voice.

You felt like you were spinning completely out of control.  The last time it got this bad, you were with John and it was because he took your medications from you.  He told you that you didn’t need to be on them.  Sure enough, you began to act out and John didn’t like it one bit.  When you were punished for acting out in front of him, the punishments were always physical in some way.  Is that why you were pent up more than ever?  Because John always beat the anger out of you when you acted this way?

“Just leave me alone!” you roared as tears streamed down your cheeks.  So much anger and sadness and hate was swirling inside of you and you didn’t know how to cope or deal with it.  

You needed to drown your sorrows, you needed to get out of your head, you needed to feel pain.  It was in that moment, you knew what you had to do.

Marching into the bathroom, you pulled out your makeup bag from under the counter and dug through until you found silver box cutter.  

Taking the blade out, you rolled your sleeve up.  It had been years since you had cut.  Because John always helped with the pain.  He was the one that gave you the pain and that always helped ease the outburst.

Placing the silver metal to your skin, you pushed down.  Blood seeped out of the cut as you dragged the blade across your skin, back and forth. Instantly you began to feel relief. Your mind was fixated on the burning pain of your wrist rather than being stuck in your head.  Blood smeared across your delicate wrist by the time you were done.  There wasn’t enough blood to be concerned about, no mass amount of blood loss or anything like that.  But it was enough.  Enough to get out of your head, even if it was briefly.

After washing off the blood, only deep red gashes were left on your skin and you pulled your sleeve back down; the razor blade going right back into your makeup bag and under the counter.

Now you were exhausted. Your bed was calling your name and you curled up into your silk sheets.  You cried yourself to sleep.

~~~

It was dark when you woke up.  You winced when you brushed your arm against your thigh; the pain a welcome feeling.  

Looking at the clock, it was just after midnight.  And you weren’t feeling much better.  Sure, the pain helped with the anger, but now you just wanted to drown your feelings. And you wanted a cigarette.   Lucky for you there was a 24/7 hour liquor store a few blocks away from the tower.  

Changing into a pair of dark washed skinny jeans, you put a long black and gray flannel over your long sleeved shirt and slipped on a pair of shoes.  

Grabbing your credit card and I.D., you headed to the door.  Where you stopped dead in your tracks.  They had locked you in here.  Holding your breath, you turned the door knob and nearly jumped for joy at the fact that the door was now unlocked.  

Walking down the hallway, you flipped off Steve’s door with your middle finger, pushed open the door to the stairs and ran like a bat out of hell.

~~~

That evening, Steve lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling.  Bucky had been called on a last minute short mission with Natasha.  

Steve couldn’t comprehend what had happened to you.  Why were you acting out all of a sudden?  Was he and Bucky not giving you enough attention?  Was there something that you were hiding from them that they could possibly help you with?  He had seen the anger in your eyes.  Heard the anger in your voice.  He didn’t know you could even have that kind of anger inside of you.  From the short amount of time that he had known you, he just didn’t think it possible.  You seemed perfect.  Sure, everyone had flaws, but when he was being a total jerk to you that first night you met, you still forgave him.  Not everyone would have done that.  

As he lay in bed, his mind replayed memories of him and Bucky in the past during the war.  He could understand the anger that you had, even though he didn’t know the reasoning behind it.  When him and Bucky were in the war, they had so much anger in them too.  It was because of the war.  The war did things to them.  They had been rough with women during the war because of it.  At the time, they only had each other’s marks.  They liked to share women together.  Hell, Steve had to admit it was nice getting that anger out. They never once hit the women; that wasn’t in their nature.   But god were they rough with them in bed.  He found out that some women even liked it, which honestly surprised him for the 40’s.  

But that was back then. When he woke up from the ice, he had noticed he had another new mark right below Bucky’s and he was delighted. He had another soulmate out there and he’d have a chance to be happy again since Bucky was gone.  Or so he thought.  When he found out Bucky was alive and well, he was even more ecstatic. To have his best friend, his brother back and to share a woman together was a dream for them.  

He hadn’t had any of that anger recently, not like he had in the war.  Until now.  Now, he and the team kept going in circles trying to find the new leader of Hydra.   But nothing was working.  And now he had you to deal with.  You acting out the way you were was making him furious.

Just then, Steve was alerted to an email.  It was from Tony.  Steve asked him if he could look into your past and Tony had come through.  

He sat up and turned the lamp on, scrolling through the email Tony had sent you.  It was police files about your ex John Smith.  He kept scrolling through, reading the words at a quick glance until he came upon a video.  He clicked play.

“And how often did he hit and rape you,” the police officer who sat across from you asked.

Steve noticed how small you looked, curled in on yourself.  He could see bruises on your face, your lip split open.  

“As often as he wanted to,” you replied with a soft shrug. “Mainly when I acted out though. If I did or said something he didn’t like, that’s when I would get it the worst.”

The cop spoke up.  “So he thought that beating and raping you would turn your attitude around?”

“It did.  It always did,” you whispered.

Steve jumped out of bed and marched to your door.  He wanted nothing more than to talk to you about all of this.  Right now.  

“Open Y/N’s door F.R.I.D.A.Y,” Steve commanded as he waited in the hallway.  

“I’m sorry Captain Rogers but I must say it is no use,” came the A.I’s voice.  

Steve put his hands on his hips, looking at your door.  He didn’t want to, but he would use force to open it.  He and Bucky agreed to give you all the privacy you needed, but he really needed to talk to you.  

“What do you mean F.R.I.D.A.Y?”

“Miss Y/N left her room and the building a half hour ago.”

Steve’s head snapped towards the elevator.  “With who?” he barked out as he rushed into his room and grabbed a black hoodie, pulling it over his head.  

“Nobody.  She left alone.”

Steve stilled his movements. Not only had you been acting out, like a brat, a damn child and throwing a glass object at his head.  Now you had left the tower, alone, in the middle of the night.  His hands were balled into fists, his jaw clenched tight like a clamp.  In this exact moment, Steve had enough.  He punched the door to his room.  The punch went clear through the door making a gaping hole.  Steve had snapped.

[neworleansspecial]

Dysregulation

Summary: Carlos thinks it's time to address some issues.

WC: 1.4k | AO3

Warnings: discussion of mental illness

-

They never talk about what happened at the firehouse after Owen got arrested.

To be fair, there’s a lot more going on, Carlos can admit- their home and the firehouse burned down, Tommy’s husband died, there was a massive dust storm- there hasn’t been a lot of time to talk about anything that wasn’t happening in the immediate moment. That does not mean, however, that Carlos has forgotten.

It’s not the first time he’s had to restrain TK to calm him down. While it’s not a daily occurrence, it’s happened enough that Carlos needs more than one hand to count them off. Part of him wonders if anyone else has even noticed the issue, or if it’s just him trying to hold TK together when he comes dangerously close to flying into pieces. He knows of at least two other occasions TK sought out poor coping mechanisms. There was his fight at the bar where he got arrested, and an altercation with Judd over some stupid call.

Carlos does research about it before he even thinks of talking to TK. He likes to know all the facts of a situation before he gets into it, and he figures that if he can find some answers or coping strategies online, this might go easier than just trying to shoot a shot in the dark about helping his boyfriend. What he finds describes TK’s behavior as emotional dysregulation, and it’s not uncommon in a variety of disorders, at least two of which he knows for a fact TK has been diagnosed with.

He calls Gwyn one morning alone while he’s meal prepping for the week. TK, Owen and Mateo have already gone to start their shared shift, while Carlos’ isn’t until the evening. While he doesn’t know much about Owen- seeing as TK mostly refuses to talk about his father and the two of them are rarely in the room together long- he knows him well enough to recognize a lot of the same neuroses between the two. If that doesn’t help, at least Gwyn has known TK longer than Carlos has.

They spend a few minutes on pleasantries and catching up before Carlos drops the questions on her. “I wanted to talk to you about TK.”

“He’s not hurt again, is he?”

“No, no, nothing like that, he’s fine.” Carlos double checks his mother’s recipe card and pulls out the next vegetable to dice up. “I think he is, anyway. I just wanted your advice on something.”

“Of course.”

Carlos takes a second to gather his thoughts. He doesn’t mean to just dump TK’s business out in the open, but he needs someone to help him figure this out, and he figures someone who raised TK would have some guidance on how to approach this. He wants to help TK in the same way TK helps him when he’s overwhelmed or anxious.

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but sometimes TK doesn’t exactly… manage his emotions well.”

“Oh, definitely not. He gets it from Owen. Between the two of them, living in that house was just constantly waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

“That sounds familiar.” He considers the time they fought after the farmer’s market. TK acted like the world was ending, even going so far as to remove some of things from Carlos’ apartment. It had felt like an insane overreaction, but one that he couldn’t really say anything about when he didn’t know what it felt like to be in TK’s position. “How did you deal with that?”

“I spent a lot of time in therapy figuring that out.” She pauses. “Probably should have been the two of them in therapy, come to think of it. But what my therapist told me was that I have to realize that it’s real for them.”

“Meaning what, exactly?”

“TK’s blown up at you at least once, I assume?”

“Once or twice.”

She hums. “When he’s that upset, it’s like it’s the only emotion he’s ever had. It’s real to him. The best advice I can give you is to step inside his head with him. The thing people like you and I have to understand is that if we want to be with them, we have to understand that it's a mental illness and we aren’t going to be able to fix them. We can only support them in recovery and try to understand when they’re having an episode.”

“That’s very insightful, Gwyn.”

“I’ve been dealing with Owen Strand for almost thirty years. I picked up a few things.”

He laughs, but only because he feels like he should. They chat for a few more minutes before he hangs up and finishes his meal prep. It makes sense. Carlos isn’t a therapist, and he won’t try to be, but he can be there for TK.

When he and TK both sat down and had the conversation about their health, it had been maybe two weeks into their relationship. It was something they had needed to speak about. Carlos talked to him about being autistic, and TK told him about having ADHD and the series of inconsistent diagnoses he’s been given by the laundry list of doctors he’s been through. The current diagnosis is borderline, he had said, but he’s been diagnosed with everything from bipolar to psychosis since he was first seen by mental health professionals in his teenage years. Every doctor has a different opinion, he had said. Whatever the case, he knows what Gwyn means when she says to keep in mind that it’s not coming from a rational place in TK’s mind.

Now that they’ve moved back in with Owen while they hunt for a new place to live, things have become more tense. TK doesn’t like being here and it shows. He and Owen are constantly on edge with each other, on the cusp of a fight or actively having one that winds up with Owen drinking outside in the backyard- and pressuring Mateo to join him- while TK paces in their room and Carlos tries to convince him not to hit something. It can’t be healthy for any of them to keep living like this.

He waits until they have the place to themselves to talk about it, both for TK’s comfort and in case things blow up, as they sometimes do when TK and Carlos fall out of step with one another. They’ve had their dinner and washed up, and are now tucked under a blanket together on the couch while a documentary plays on the television.

“I wanted to talk to you.”

“Are you mad at me?”

“I’m not mad at you.”

They fall into a short silence after that. TK fidgets in what he undoubtedly thinks is a subtle way, bouncing the leg that’s not pinned beneath Carlos’ weight and tapping his fingers against each other. Carlos feels bad for bringing him anxiety, but they do have to talk about it at some point.

“I love you,” he starts, “I really do love you, TK, and I’m not going anywhere, but I need you to be more aware of yourself.”

“What does that mean?”

This is the difficult part; finding a way to phrase things without making TK feel like he’s being attacked or cornered, something which will only lead to a fight. Carlos recognizes the irony of this tone-policing when he’s trying to talk to TK about the very root issue.

“I feel like you don’t have a good handle on your emotions and it’s upsetting me,” he tries. “It makes me feel like I have to walk on eggshells and like your emotions matter more than mine. I’m sure that’s not your intention, but that’s what I feel like, and I was hoping we could figure out a way to deal with this.”

“Like what?”

Carlos shrugs. “Ultimately it’s up to you, but one thought I had was about therapy. Maybe trying a different approach with your therapist, or even getting a new one. Or, I thought we could try couple’s counseling.”

“Couple’s counseling is for failing relationships.”

It is at that moment that Carlos knows he lost him. Whoever put that in his head- and Carlos’ money is on Owen- has won out over reasoning for right now. They don’t have to do that, of course, and if TK needs time to come around he can have it, but the mere suggestion has effectively shut down the conversation for now.

This is going to be a long road.

[young-dumb-and-vaccinated]

The Sommelier (Hannigram x Female!Reader) pt. 17

Hannibal teaches y/n a useful skill.

@dovahdokren @lov3vivian @deadman-inc-bikeshop

Trigger warnings: use of firearms, discussion of firearms, violence

“So where are we off to next?” You asked, following Will around the office. “Are we questioning this Rachel woman, or are we going straight to the church?” 

Will sighed. “Jack and I are going to the church. I’m calling Hannibal to come pick you up.”

“What?” You spat in utter disbelief. “What the hell happened to taking him down together?” 

“You’ve already been more help than we could ask for.” Will explained. “This is the end of the line for you. We--”

He cleared his throat and looked down. “I can’t bear to see you get hurt.” 

“That’s sweet and everything, but,” You folded your arms. “You really think someone is going to hurt me in broad daylight in a megachurch?” 

“Well, somebody stabbed you in broad daylight in a restaurant, and that person just happened to come from this megachurch.” Will rationalized. “So, yes. I wouldn’t say it’s out of the question.” 

“So that’s it, you’re just going to pass me off to Hannibal?” You threw up your arms. “Look, I had enough of this growing up with divorced parents.” 

“Angel,” Will soothed, running a gentle hand down your arm. “Please. I’m begging you, think on this for just a minute and try to see why I don’t want you on this particular excursion?” 

You thought on it for a minute. “Churches do kind of trigger me.”

“I saw how tense you got when that woman said she’d kicked her daughter out of the house for dating a girl. I understand, dealing with people who remind you of Chase is going to trigger you.” Will whispered. “Have you even taken any time to work on healing?” 

“I could say the same to you.” You disputed. “You killed a woman and then came face-to-face with her mother. Why aren’t you trying to work through that?” 

“That’s different.” He blurted out. “That’s my job.” 

“Sure.” You snipped. “I have to take time to work through my PTSD, but you don’t. Got it.” 

“If you go home with Hannibal now, I promise I will...” He hesitated to finish the sentence. “I’ll work on my issues too. Cross my heart.” 

“Oh, I will absolutely hold you to that.” You pointed at him. “And I’m telling Hannibal you said that.” 

Will immediately regretted making that promise and it was obvious from his expression. “Please don’t.” 

“I am absolutely going to do that.” You said, in a way in which he couldn’t tell if you were kidding or not. 

Hannibal opened the passenger’s door for you and greeted you with a kiss. He could tell you were feeling off after only a few seconds. 

“Why so sad, my indulgence?” He asked, pulling out of the parking lot. “Don’t tell me you enjoy Will’s company more than mine?” 

“What? No.” You shook your head. “No way.” 

“You can tell me what’s on your mind, love.” He assured you. 

You sighed and rested your head on the window. “Will doesn’t want me to help on the investigation anymore.” 

“I don’t see why he should.” Hannibal agreed. “You’re tracking down the man who tried to kill you, and he’s tracking down the man who tried to kill his lover. Both of you are far too close to the situation and your mental health will suffer for it. But, in the end, it’s Will’s job.” 

“I know.” You conceded. 

“That, and,” Hannibal continued. “Will is a trained professional under the supervision of other trained professionals. He’s far less likely to get hurt.” 

“I get it.” You groaned and rolled your eyes. “At the end of the day, he’s the action hero and I’m the damsel in distress.” 

“Darling,” Hannibal scolded. “You know our situation isn’t so black-and-white. You know the investigation couldn’t have worked without you.” 

“I know.” You pouted. “I just wanted the final blow, y’know? I think I deserve to finish the job.” 

Hannibal went quiet for a moment. When you came to a stoplight, he turned his gaze to you. “You want to be more proactive in your safety.” 

“Would be nice.” You shrugged. 

“I wasn’t asking.” Hannibal corrected. “You do want to be more proactive. It’s why you have a firearms license in your wallet and a handgun in your car. It’s also why you were looking up hunting equipment last night while you were on the phone with Freddie Lounds.” 

You swallowed. Every word in the English language escaped you. He was right. You never saw the appeal of guns until you lived alone. Even though a "gun owner" was technically what you were, you didn't want to associate yourself with the jingoistic, hyper-masculine culture affixed to the term. You were just a woman who kept a gun in her car and had all the proper licensing and registration for it. Nothing wrong with that. So why did it have you feeling so defensive? 

You lowered your head. “I’m sorry.” 

“For?” 

“Lying about Freddie Lounds.” You finished. “I don’t know why I felt the need to lie about that, in hindsight-” 

“I understand.” Hannibal cut you off. “You were just doing what you felt needed to be done. Will would have done the same.” 

He was right again. 

“Ambitious of you to select a shotgun as your weapon of choice.” Hannibal observed. “At the risk of sounding like a chauvinist, I have to ask. Do you know how to use one?” 

“No.” You admitted. “It was just a power fantasy, I guess. All I know is that you can blast a guy’s head off with one.” 

Without a word, Hannibal took an abrupt turn. 

“Isn’t your place that way?” You asked, pointing in the opposite direction. 

“Do you have your license on you now?” He asked. 

“Of course I do, why?”

“Because we’re going to make your power fantasy a reality.” He answered.

Soon enough, you pulled up to a large hunting store with a shooting range attached. 

“Go in and pick out something you like.” Hannibal instructed, reaching for his wallet. “I’ll be waiting for you at the range and I can teach you how to use it.” 

He offered you one of his shiny metal credit cards. When you didn’t immediately take it, he pushed it closer to you. 

“I just got a thousand dollars from Freddie Lounds.” You pushed his hand away. “I can pay for it.” 

“You deserve something much nicer than only a thousand dollars can buy you.” Hannibal’s voice hardened. 

“So then I’ll buy something more than a thousand dollars and use your credit card to make up the difference.” You offered. 

“No.” Hannibal said, sternly. “I will buy you a nice gun and plenty of ammo, and you will save your thousand dollars for when you open your own restaurant.” 

“How did you-” You objected. 

He cut you off. “Will isn’t very good at keeping secrets, dear. Take it.” 

You laughed uncomfortably. “Hannibal, if you don’t put that credit card away I will bite your finger off.” 

His thin lips curled into a cunning smile. He offered you his other hand. “Bite away, darling.”  

You wordlessly snatched the card from his hand. 

“Oh, pity.” Hannibal feigned disappointment. “Did I call your bluff?” 

You tucked the card away in your pocket. You leaned in as if you were going to give him a kiss on the cheek, but playfully nipped at his earlobe. 

"Remind me to give you a little special attention when the lesson is up." He whispered, his hand clutching your arm.

You made sure to walk away slowly, rolling your hips with every step.

You entered the store, feeling overwhelmed and significantly less confident than you did while shopping for guns online.

An employee approached you. You mentally prepared yourself for whatever sexist comment he was about to hurl at you. But somebody must have taught this particular associate that being a misogynist prick doesn't sell guns.

"Anything I can help you find, ma'am?"

Your mouth ran before your brain. "I'd like to buy a gun, please."

"Well, you've come to the right place." The employee smiled. "What kind of gun are you looking for?"

"A shotgun." You corrected.

"Well, we have plenty of makes and models to choose from." He clapped his hands together and led you to a wall lined with shotguns. "Any specifics in mind?"

"I guess I just want something simple enough to use." You scratched the back of your head. "My boyfriend is taking me skeet shooting this weekend so I don't have time to learn all the complicated mechanics."

"So skeet?" The man put his hands down on the counter and looked deep in thought. He turned around and pulled one off the shelf. "I'd recommend this CZ over-under. It's a good place to start."

He offered it to you. Your eyes widened and your first instinct was to refuse.

He looked at you with confusion. "How are you gonna shoot anything if you don't hold it?"

You shook off your nerves and took the gun in your hands. It was a little heavy, and tilted near the stock. You looked at it as if it were a beautiful but deadly venomous tropical snake.

"Over-under's are the working man's shotgun." The employee said. "Or, woman, as it were."

You held it up to your shoulder like you saw in movies and felt a strange rush of exhilaration pulsing through your body.

"It's nice, right?" He asked. "And you can get to the trigger okay?"

"I'll take it." You said. "And some bullets, please."

"Now we're cooking with gas." He answered, a big smile on his face. "Let's get you rung up."

The fact that he didn't even stop to notice that the name on your license didn't match the name on the credit card only emphasized your country's need for stricter gun control laws. Even if the lack of such laws benefitted you in that moment, the ease of the process killed you a little.

The total came up to just under a thousand dollars. You couldn't bring yourself to spend more than you planned to, even if it was Hannibal's treat. You already felt weird about using Hannibal's money, let alone so much of it.

The employee saw you out with a friendly "happy skeeting" and you set off to meet Hannibal at the range.

"There you are, love." He greeted you. He had removed his suit coat and tie, and rolled the sleeves of his dress shirt up to his elbows.

For a split second, you completely forgot about the gun and were overtaken by the need to fuck him. You quickly regained control of yourself. "Yeah. I found something."

"I should hope so." He said, beckoning to you from the stall. "Come now. Let me show you what to do."

You stood in front of the booth, ears and eyes protected. At the end of the long booth was a paper target. Hannibal positioned himself behind you. He took your hand in his and guided it to the stock wrist.

"Wrap your fingers around here, like this." He instructed, his dark, accented voice shaking you to your core. "Now extend your finger to reach the trigger. Yes, that's it."

"Now place your other hand on the fore-end and hold the end of the stock against your shoulder."

The way he shaped your body, positioned your limbs felt almost alarmingly natural. He wasn't just indulging your power fantasy, he was directing it.

"Cheek against the stock, love." He instructed. "The gun is an extention of you. You must hold it firmly and give it support. You move with it, it moves with you."

He rummaged through the shopping bag and pulled out a package of shells. "Are you ready to shoot it, darling?"

"I think I should probably load it first." You said, nervously.

"Well that should take us no time at all." Hannibal approached with two 12 gauge shotshells. "Go ahead and engage the break lever right at the edge of the barrel."

When the gun suddenly bent in half, your first thought was that you'd broken it. Hannibal handed you the two shells and watched you timidly slide one into each barrel.

You felt yourself shaking and your palms were damp with sweat. You swallowed. "I don't know if I can do this."

"Were you afraid the first time you drove a car?" Hannibal raised an eyebrow.

"Cripplingly." You nodded. "I was so scared I didn't take my foot off the brake the whole time."

"But now driving comes just as naturally to you as walking." Hannibal smiled comfortingly. He placed his hands over yours and returned you to the shooting position. On one side, the cold stock rested against your cheekbone. On the other, Hannibal's hot breath grazed against your skin. "It just takes some getting used to."

Your finger squeezed the trigger and the massive projectile exploded from the gun. The stock pushed back into your shoulder, making you stumble backwards into Hannibal.

"Holy shit!" You exclaimed. "That's got some serious recoil. Is it supposed to do that?"

Hannibal chuckled and took a step back, giving you a little space. "Yes, darling. Now go ahead and fire off the next shot."

Your eyes widened. "Okay."

"Remember, you move with the gun, you don't fight the gun." He instructed. "It's more afraid of you than you are of it."

You squeezed the trigger again, this time fully expecting the recoil. The shot fired, and this time it hit the target.

You hopped in delight. "Holy shit I actually got one!"

"All it takes is a little getting used to." Hannibal stroked your hair. "Now unload the shotgun shells and let's go again."

[comelylust]

Workmates

That's right I deliver what I promise, Request through my discord, Anon asked for some Miguel with plot so I made a plot attempt haha. if you find spelling or grammatical errors sorry I do this from a tablet 👀read the warnings 👀.  

Warnings: Smut content, +18, street fights, mentions of alcoholic beverages.

 "Ugh I really can't stand it" You mention this to your boss with an irritation in your voice, pacing back and forth with both hands on your head "how the hell are you two friends?! it's so... agh"  

Seeing how frustrated you were all your boss did was scoff at it, he continues to clean the glasses and arrange them on the shelves in the back, he looked like he really didn't care that two of his workers don't get along as well as he would like.  

"You're just stressed, go take a break" Your boss laughed, gesturing towards the employee door where you already knew who was there, Miguel, chances are he was listening to everything, instead instead of embarrassing you your anger continued to rise.

"He's a nice guy, you're just not used to his temperament."  

He's right, you still don't know him well enough just a couple of months ago you moved to Spain for personal reasons, but let's say things were getting difficult and you decided to venture to a new destination in search of opportunities, at first you didn't know where you were going, you were coming and going without a previously planned route, this didn't bother you at all you felt better about yourself above all you felt free for the first time in your life.  

On one of your countless trips you heard a group of strangers talking about a certain wrestling tournament which caught your interest. You decided to join that event after they finished their talk, grabbed your stuff and headed to a new country.  

When you finally arrived in Spain the first thing you did was to look for a temporary job, difficult at first you didn't have the necessary documentation to back up your identity, yeah shit, it wasn't the best idea to leave with nothing but your passport.

You continued your search now in the slums of that country, hoping that someone would offer you help, instead the only thing they offered you was endless fights showing the wimps not to mess with you, earning you a little respect from the locals.  

"Strange" You thought "People usually loathe people like me".

It didn't take you long to figure out the reason why the inhabitants were so used to subjects of your ilk. Miguel Caballero Rojo, a subject without a shred of compassion when it came to street fights, was brutal and violent making his opponents regret it on the spot.

Going to where he always made his appearances you found on the way an old cantina: on the outside it was crumbling, but the old letters of the place were still visible. Entering with your best hard face you asked about that mysterious man, without receiving a clear answer, again you let out a disappointed sigh and a pout formed on your lips.

"Hey, don't be so sad" A middle aged man catches your attention offering you a drink which you cheerfully accept "You're not from here are you, cutie?" Your eyes widen like saucers when he found out you're just an outsider, without taking the drink away from your lips you nodded.  

"Well, I need a bartender so why don't you stay for a while while you wait for him" He offers the old rag along with the apron, you were in doubt, but you really needed this job, the opportunity to work and hit on a guy sounded exquisite without hesitating a second longer you made your decision.  

"Okay I accept, just for a while".  

"I'm Daniel by the way" The old man who is now your boss mentions it.

You worked in that bar for the next few weeks, you didn't do much, just make drinks and take out old creeps trying to be smart. Now the main issue, if you met Miguel, yes, he really looked violent, and yes he had hated you.

When he first walked into the bar he was fuming, his nostrils flared, his muscles tensed and the fingers on his hands were crusted with dried blood, in short he's pissed, to add more to the mix you lunged at him with incredible speed that even Miguel himself was taken by surprise.

"What the fuck" He exclaims as his head face down is resting on the dirty floor, you crossed his wrists and paralyzed him with a knee on his back "Get the fuck down, what's wrong with you".  

"It's nothing personal just that I liked the idea of defeating the best fighter in this neighborhood" You licked your lips forming a fuzzy smile of joy. Miguel tries to move, but you strengthen your grip, raising your hand now in the shape of a fist ready to punch him in the Spaniard's face, until someone interrupts you.

 🌒🌕🌘

 "Sorry Daniel" You fiddle with your fingers as the pout returns to your face along with a blush forming on your cheeks. "B-but you already knew what my plan was!"

"Plan?! What's going on Daniel, are you conspiring with this Chiquilla?" Miguel points at both of you accusingly, scratching the back of his neck furiously.

"Eeh, who are you calling a chiquilla, brat?"

"The only person who is behaving like a brat is you" The two begin a verbal sparring match with overly childish insults. Daniel for his part lets out a loud sigh catching both of their attention.

"You both are behaving like brats, Now Miguel she is the new Bartender she will work here for a while be nice" The last sentence was thrown remarking that she will behave "Same goes for you, Be nice he is your co-worker"

"Coworkers!? That if ever!" Both mention at the same time throwing each other murderous looks.

And here we are back where we left off at the beginning. Working with Miguel was annoying, he is always drunk, when he is lucid he gets in a bad mood and even starts fights for stupid reasons, the problem is when you have to interfere when things get too intense, this didn't bother you, you were annoyed by the idea of saving his ass.

Instead of thanking you he starts a useless fight questioning why you helped him and all the crap you decided for your and Daniel's mental health more than anything else for your boss it's better to ignore him.

But what happened?  

You were not a sports fan, much less a soccer fan, however since you arrived to this place the only thing that the bar TV broadcasts was soccer, getting used to it, you noticed that Miguel on special occasions wears a jersey of his favorite team, your lips curved into a cheshire smile at the prank you were going to do, your plan is only to support the opposing team for no apparent reason, this would annoy Miguel as a "revenge" for what he had put you through.

Tonight you put your new plan into practice, you borrowed a t-shirt from the opposing team that is playing tonight, you put it on by buttoning every button, oddly enough this shirt highlights your beautiful figure, accentuating your breasts and molding to your abdomen/torso, you hope no one notices this, but who the fuck cares, you look great.  

The bar is more crowded than it normally is, you complained about the smell it smelled too much like Cologne, alcohol and sweat hopefully your brain will adapt to it. You headed to your work station serving the drinks to their respective buyers. Until you saw him come in of course with his charming outfit, fuck, you have to admit the man is hot, his manly appearance and his well toned and thick muscles soaked with a light layer of sweat would make anyone drool, unfortunately this was his only virtue.

He gave you a small smile and of course foolishly you returned it, you shook your head forcibly bringing yourself back to reality and remembering the reason why you had decided to do this in the first place.  

"Are you kidding me?" he approaches you intimidating as always, the difference is this time his voice framed mockery as if he knew what you were trying to do.

"What are you talking about, I'm just working" you bite your inner cheek avoiding emitting a laugh, You poured him a pitcher of beer waiting for him to forget the topic of conversation.  

"Yeah right, I know what you're planning, cutie" He takes a long swig of the drink wiping the rest of it off with his arm "And it's not going to work" He winks at you you roll your eyes so much you're able to see your brain, it really is unbearable.

As the night continues, Miguel continues to make fun of you and how your "shitty" team is losing, the strange thing is that you ended up joining him, drinking the whole keg of beer answering his comments with sarcastic remarks.  

You were wrong to think that his only quality is being a handsome man when you noticed that his resistance to alcohol is quite high happened exactly with you, your resistance to alcohol was the best, however, the drinks were doing in you a kind of aphrodisiac turning you hotter as you kept talking to Miguel.

"How about...if we go to the back" your voice comes out smaller than you would have liked you play again with your fingers waiting for an answer, instead he didn't give you one he just grabbed your bicep with his hand and dragged you to the employee only room.  

Before partially closing the door, his free hand wrapped around your jaw pulling you closer to him in a hot kiss, intertwining their tongues licking every part he could, he pushed you into the room closing the door behind you. He connected his lips this time on your neck leaving you with purple and bite marks.

 He held your wrists guiding you to the lounge chair obediently sitting there, still kissing you enjoying your taste despite the bad beer you had chosen.  

"Apparently you're not a rough girl anymore" Separating slightly so he could speak.  

"H-hush don't ruin the moment" You turned into a red, stuttering mess, all Miguel did is smile at you and get up from the seat, your mind raced hoping he wouldn't leave.

"On your knees" His hoarser than normal voice made you shudder and let out a low moan, he had never been so dominant and you would be lying if you didn't say you didn't like it. You quickly went down on your knees looking up at him with eyes clouded in lust.

"Fuck" Solo said unbuttoning his pants, you helped by pulling them down along with his boxers "I'm going to punish you for being a spoiled brat."

 You finally released his cock from its confines, you gasped at the sight previously you could picture it, but your mind didn't do it justice, it's big with veins that framed its outline the red tip was already dripping pre-semen, you licked your lips and included its head between your lips, giving kitten licks.

 "Stop teasing" He growled, you opened your mouth wider with your tongue hanging out, shoving his cock in your mouth touching your throat, you looked up as you gagged which made him let out a guttural gasp.

You pulled back pulling his cock partially out before thrusting harder into your throat, you moan and the vibrations you throw are so delicious he can't take it. Getting rid of his remaining clothes he continued to pound your throat rapidly as he watched your face fill with tears and you try to breathe through your nose so you don't choke.  

"Will you stop teasing?" your eyebrows flex in anger, but this action doesn't last that long, still gagging on his cock you nod energetically. "Good girl."

Thick, hot ropes sprouted from his cock covering your mouth, trying to swallow as much as possible. Inhaling and exhaling heavily catching your breath, you struggled to stand up before Miguel lifted you up placing you face down on the couch climbing behind you, your instinct was to raise your ass and spreading your legs apart, giving him a perfect view of your already slippery pussy.

 Miguel looked at you with carnal hunger re licking his lips as he looked at your innocent form, his palm slapping against your ass in a thud, you squealed as you felt another series of spanks follow leaving your buttocks red.  

 "Remember it's your punishment pretty girl."  

He rubs his fingers over your wet folds and plunges a finger inside you, you yelp at the sudden action pulling away, Miguel firmly holds your hips so as not to go any further and continues to plunge his fingers stretching your tight walls.  

"Easy I'm getting you ready" Miguel works on your sex pulling his fingers in and out "She's too tight".  

Your legs trembled with excitement and your moans echoed in the room loudly, before you could come he pulled away from you collecting your essence smearing it on his long shaft lubricating it.  

The tip of his cock rubbed between your folds teasing your entrance, you moaned needy moving close to him.

"Don't tease" you pout and he teases you, he pushes his member slowly into your pussy. The sensation of your walls squeezing his cock made him throw his head back as you rolled your eyes at the bliss of being filled.  

Miguel pulled your hair back into a ponytail using it as leverage to go faster and deeper, the lewd noises you make are music to his ears instigating him to move.

You could feel every part of his thick cock and how it exquisitely hits that rubbery spot inside you, through your mouth overflowing saliva and your eyes still rolling back. Your walls tremble giving hints of your come.

"Cum on my cock pretty girl" his voice a few octaves lower brings you to the edge, a lewd moan escapes your sweet lips and he quickens his pace chanting your name between curses, his load shoots inside your sex painting them white.

He pulls out of you and you both catch your breath. When you realize what has just happened your face turns red and you try to hide it between the cushions of the couch. Miguel notices this and pats your head.

 "So..." You say shyly.

"Then I'll ask you out, mi amor."  

"W-what?!"  

"Ha, I really love your temper."  

"Idiota" this wasn't the plan nor much less the expected result but you're happy.

I must improve on the fast way it ended haha I hope you liked it.  

[wannabe-fic-writer]

Natasha Romanoff x Reader : Prove Me Wrong

Summary: She can trust you, even if she doesn’t know it yet.

Warning: 18+ Mental Health, Mentions of Death, Mentions of Violence, Mentions of Domestic Abuse, Smut

y/ht - your hometown

Chapter 3

****** 

You can’t lie and say you weren’t a little scared. 

It’s been two days since you confronted Natasha about missing her sessions and your mind has been reeling since then. 

Perhaps it worked, or maybe your timing had changed, but you’d ended up seeing her around more. You would feel her eyes lingering on you when you passed by her. 

She didn’t spend too long around you, just yesterday the two of you were in the kitchen together and before you could muster up the courage to say “morning” she was gone. 

Today is Friday.

The second you wake up you’re blinded by the sunlight pouring through the windows. Had you not kept yourself up last night with anxious thoughts of today you would’ve taken the intrusion like a champ, blinking through the pain of the light, and jumping up with fervor.

But since that’s exactly what you did, you grimace at the light, and fall back on to the bed. You sling your arm over your eyes to secure the darkness around you and let yourself lay there thoughtlessly for a moment. 

‘Miss Y/L/N you have a scheduled appointment with Agent Romanoff in one hour.’

Damn you for inputting your schedule into F.R.I.D.A.Y’s system.

“Thanks F.R.I.D.A.Y.”

A single minute ticks by and you fling yourself out of bed.

The shower you take helps to ease your state of mind, but you’re not fully relaxed until you take your first sip of tea. As usual, the warmth of it does wonders to your body and you hum in enjoyment.

Feeling like you’re now ready to face whatever is about to happen, you leave out of the kitchen.

When you enter your office you startle. 

Natasha stands at your filing cabinet, back facing you, as she fingers through a manila folder. 

“Stark made sure to put everything in here.” She comments, making no move to look at you.

Heart still pounding, you think of a reply,“ that’s what he said.”

The woman’s shoulders bounce when she scoffs,“ still playing at that huh? Do you think I believe that you didn’t read this?”

Your prolonged silence makes her finally look at you. She takes in your incredibly comfortable looking outfit, gaze lingering on the fuzzy animal designed socks, then snapping up to your face to see nothing. There was no expression there, just you watching her as she does you.

“Help yourself to any of the snacks in the cabinet or the drinks in the fridge,” you step around your chair to the other filing cabinet to pull out the empty notebook you had intended to use for her sessions,“ and feel free to make yourself comfortable Miss Romanoff.” You gesture to the couch against the wall.

Deciding not to let her intimidate you, you sit in your chair and stick your feet underneath you. All the while Natasha continues watching you.

Truthfully, with the knowledge that she’s already made up her mind on you, you wonder what’s making her watch you so intently.

When the woman moves to stand behind you, the hairs on your neck stand up. Goosebumps erupt, not in a sexual tension kind of way, but in a ‘she could kill me right now and I’d be helpless’ way. But you aren’t scared.

She leans down, arms crossing as she rests against the back of your chair.“ I don’t trust you Y/L/N. I don’t trust someone who doesn’t have a dark side.”

You shake your head,“ you don’t trust me because you don’t know me.”

“I think I do.”

“Tell me.”

Finally she walks around you. Instead of sitting on the couch, she sits on the coffee table directly in front of you.

“You were born in y/ht, father wasn’t around so your mother moved the two of you to New York. You went to a fancy little school in Brooklyn and had doors opened for you all throughout your academic career. Since you were born with your empathic abilities you automatically felt like you should help people so you majored in Phycology and Sociology and became a therapist after you graduated.” 

Listening intently to everything she says almost makes you laugh, but you know she’s serious and you don’t want to insult her in anyway.

Sitting forward, you lean on your knees,“ it seems you didn’t extend to me the same courtesy I did you.” She quirks a brow.“ Anyone can read my file Miss Romanoff. That doesn’t mean you know me. They’re facts of my life sure, but that’s not who I am.”

Before you indulge her clearly curious mind, you sip at your tea, slightly enjoying making her wait.

Natasha isn’t stupid, you never even began to think that. She prides herself on knowing things so of course she looked into you before you even entered the building most likely. But as you said, a file can’t tell you who a person is.

“My name is y/f/n. I was in y/ht. My dad was around, always drinking and waiting to kick the crap out of myself and my mom, which resulted in me sleeping in a locked closet to avoid his anger. When I turned ten my mom finally left him and we moved to Brooklyn.”

She would never admit to being shocked by that but you feel that she is. 

You continue,“ I did go to a fancy school but not a single door opened for me that I didn’t open myself. My powers manifested right before I enrolled in school, so when I got there my brain lit up like a power plant and I had no idea what to do about it. I struggled to get through school every day because it was too much to feel everyone’s emotions all at once. Which means my grades were shit for a long time.

I just barely made it through school and lucked into graduating. I didn’t learn how to handle my powers until college. Also, I became a therapist because I know if I had someone to talk to growing up I would’ve felt a hell of a lot better and decided that I’d like to help people in the way I hadn’t been. And for the record, I don’t use my powers with my patients unless given explicit consent to do so.”

Her mind is full of thoughts. She’s processing everything you’ve told her and trying to understand how she had missed all of that. 

Natasha has been learning how to read people her whole life. She’s mastered the ability to conceal her true emotions behind what she want’s people to see and thought she knew how to detect when someone else was doing the same.

Apparently she wasn’t that good at it. Or she is and you’re just really good at hiding.

The sound of a plastic wrapper opening grabs her attention and she looks at you.

You bite into the sweet little pastry before looking at her,“ oh did you want one?” 

She shakes her head.

Chewing and swallowing, you speak up again,“ you didn’t know because I didn’t want you too. I’m here to help the team, they all have more than enough going on, they don’t need to be feeling guilty about unloading their issues on someone who’s had a shitty hand as well. Besides I’ve worked past it and I refuse to let that define me.”

“I imagine it’s not easy to take on their emotions as well as your own.” She acknowledges.

“Nothing I can’t handle. And it’s worth it regardless of it’s difficulty.”

“Tony brought you in, I take it you worked with him before then?”

You shrug,“ we’ve spoken off the record a couple of times. I met him through Pepper who was my previous patient.” 

She nods, just barely looking intrigued by that. 

It’s quiet between the two of you for a while.

In said time you finished your tea, ate yet another snack, and reorganized Sam’s files(the man had taken it upon himself to put them away after your last session and started reading them, of course he didn’t put them back in the proper order).

Just as you’ve decided to go get some more tea she speaks up.

Her eyes had been on you this whole time, only now they lock with yours,“ you should lock your filing cabinets. It’s careless to leave them open for anyone to get to.”

“They are locked. Only myself and the patient who the cabinet belongs to can open it. Fingerprint scanners are on the underside of every handle.” 

She narrows her eyes at you,“ how’d you get my fingerprints?” 

You don’t answer, just giving her a smirk instead.

No, you can’t answer because you don’t know where they really came from. While talking to Tony about securing the files you’d obviously thought keys but he said that was too much and that he’d “handle” it. 

Somehow he got the teams fingerprints and yours. But you shouldn’t have expected anything less of the genius billionaire.

“I’m going to get some more tea, if you plan to stay, would you like something?” You ask, stopping with your hand on the door.

Natasha nods,“ tea.”

When the door shuts behind you, you release a breath that you felt like you’d been holding the whole time. You drop your head, looking at your shoes as you think.

You don’t think she’s playing at any angle, in fact you know she isn’t. But you also know she’s avoiding.

You can be patient though. She’ll run out of things to ask you and if not you know exactly how to gain control of a conversation. 

Deciding you didn’t want her to come find you lingering outside the door like a weirdo, you walk away. 

Tony, Steve, and Bucky are in the kitchen when you get there. 

“T, glad you’re here, I need a coffee maker in my office.” 

He looks from Steve to you,“ I was wondering when you’d ask for one. Thought you were a robot for a minute there.” 

You roll your eyes, greeting Steve and Bucky instead of replying,“ morning Steve, morning Buck.” 

“More like afternoon but hey.” Bucky says.

Eyes wide, you look to the clock on the wall. It is indeed two in the afternoon. There’s no way you were in there that long with Natasha. You swear it was much shorter than that.

“Everything okay?” Steve asks, noticing the frown on your face.

You nod,“ just lost track of time.” 

Tony scoffs,“ Romanoff givin you a run for your money huh.”

“I don’t discuss my patients Tony.” 

No one misses the fact that you’re fixing two cups of tea though and that does make them wonder how you’re doing with Natasha.

While she hadn’t spoken to you she obviously talked to her team so they were privy to the way she felt about going to see you. Steve was worried that she’d be less than nice to you and Tony just knew she wouldn’t take to you too well.

He also knows you so he was sure you would get to her eventually.

Once you’re finally finished up you smile to each of them and leave out. 

Entering your office this time, you partly expect her to be gone. So you’re just barely surprised to find her resting against your desk, flicking through the notebook you were writing in for her.

“I’m consciously deflecting in order to avoid addressing my traumas.” Her gaze flickers up to you,“ and what traumas do you think I’m avoiding Y/N?”

You move forward, stepping lightly, until you stop in front of her. Handing her a cup of tea you tilt your head a little,“ you tell me. While some people know exactly how to push trauma away, almost avoiding it completely, you accept yours and use it as motivation.”

 A small, adorable hum leaves her lips as she sips the tea, but it’s quickly forgotten when she looks at you with those piercing green eyes. It’s clear she want to hear what else you have to say, but you’d much rather she talk.

“Miss Romanoff, I can only observe you and make my own conclusions but I’d much rather know the truth. And only you can tell me that. So I’m listening, whenever you’re ready to address the issue.” 

With that said, you smile softly, and go to sit on the couch. Your actions cause Natasha to raise a brow. Admittedly she’s not sure why you chose to sit there instead of your own chair.

Simply put, you did so for her to feel comfortable. It’s clear Natasha feels comfortable when she’s in control and you’ve deduced that she doesn’t feel completely in control with you. 

Giving her your seat is your way of handing her control. You’d learned that while the seat doesn’t mean control in itself, usually the person sitting in it(you in this case) drives the conversation. That’s how patients feel, in the beginning at least. It’s all mental really but it’s the best you can do.

Cautiously, Natasha sits in your chair.

“I see nothing wrong with being motivated by the past.” She starts, her eyebrow quirking challengingly.

You shrug,“ neither do I. I’m motivated by my past. But objectively speaking I believe your past is holding you back more than it motivates.”

“And let me guess, you can’t tell me how.” She smirks as if she’s won something.

“Nope,” you pop the P in the word and smile back.“ But that’s because I don’t know anything about you. We both know the only way that’ll change is if you trust me. And that will only happen if you keep coming to see me.” 

When she stands to leave you’re expecting it.

“You know Miss Romanoff,” she stops at the door to look at you,“ I may not have dealt with issues such as the ones you and your team have presented me with, but I am qualified to do this job. I find it slightly offensive that you don’t trust me to.”

Just like before your words leave Natasha thinking that she has definitely misjudged you. And she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t intrigued by you.

******

taglist: @username23345 @muffliat-o @nat-km-mh @aaron-despair @natasha-danvers

[bellatrixobsessed1]

Light Disorientation

Azula Week Day 2: Azula Rare Pairs

Summary: Sometimes things distort in her mind. Sometimes she confuses the past with the present. Sometimes when she does, she is ugly in her mind.

Warnings: Mental Health Issues & Body Image Issues

Azula is not comfortable in her skin, more often than not it absolutely crawls. It helps very little that she is surrounded by such beautiful people. Katara with her mesmerizingly bright blue eyes and her deep complexion, Toph and her confident and charming smile, Suki and her toned arms and soft skin, Mai and her tall and elegantly willowy figure and TyLee with her...well, everything. Sokka has his muscular arms and a new collection of traditional Water Tribe tattoos. She doesn’t see Zuko’s appeal in the slightest but he has a vast crowd of giggling admirers. And while Aang isn’t exactly a looker, he’s got his heroics and his lovable mannerisms.

Perhaps, just a few years ago, in her prime, she had been something to look at and envy. But now...now she doesn’t want to look at herself even in passing. Her eyes have a bruised appearance, they are nowhere near as vivid as they had been. Her tangled locks aren’t so silky nor shiny. Her skin is drier somehow. In general, she thinks that she is muted, duller. She is hollow, her robes have a tendency to slide down her shoulders, more so than usual. And, unlike Aang, she doesn’t have a personality to make up for it. She isn’t approachable and endearing, her talents are terrifying. She has her itelligence but that never seems to matter anymore especially on the days when the clutter in her mind is too heavy for deep and critical thinking.  

She doesn’t like going on outings with the rest of them, no matter how well and forgivingly they treat her. She looks sloppy without the side by side comparison. With it...she cringes. Tonight she has subjected herself to the tortures of inferiority. TyLee had been so cheerful about the prospect of going to a party with her. The first one they’ve attended in ages. And she’d flashed that bright and cheerful little smile. That was all it had taken.

She is dressed as finely as she can be, but she doesn’t think that the outfit does her the favors she was hoping for and no amount of makeup seems to bring life to her expression. She is exceptionally dull with TyLee to her right and Katara to her left.

And by the middle of the party, they all have their own personal crowds. All except she. Azula’s stomach tickles with a discomfort that won’t seem to pass. She wishes that she was still beautiful or that she had some social graces. She wishes that she hadn’t let herself go so terribly far.

People pay her very little attention. And maybe she should be thankful for that. It means that they aren’t ridiculing her. That they aren’t informing her of things that she already knows, of the flaws she already sees.

She wishes that she had gotten better sleep, that she hadn’t chopped her bangs off, that she could muster up a better appetite, that she hadn’t started slacking on her training…

“Hi.”

She stares at her palms. She looks up to see that none of the crowds have dispersed, she wonders if she will ever get an opening to let one of the gang know that she is leaving. She thinks that she will slip out soon, they can find her at home.

She hears the clearing of her throat, “hello-o.”

Azula spares a glace over her shoulder.

The girl behind her waves, her face glows with a smile.

“What?”

The girl hums, “well you’re clearly the life of this party.” She drops down onto the couch next to her anyhow. “Is that why you’re alone?”

What a rude question. But it isn’t exactly untrue; she thinks that, among many other things, it is why she is alone now and always. She shrugs, “I guess. Probably.”

The girl rubs the back of her head. “Geez.”

Azula looks away from her again. Perhaps the girl will leave her alone if she doesn’t speak anymore. She isn’t so lucky. “Have you tried talking to anyone?”

Azula shakes her head.

“Why  not?”

She almost snapes, ‘because people ask too many questions.’ She only shrugs again and after a few moments she replies, “I guess that I don’t know what to say. People aren’t interested in Fire Nation history and battle strategizing.” They probably don’t want to be seen with someone so messy either.

“There are so many people here, you’re bound to find someone else that is.”

“Are you?”

“Nope,” the girl yawns, “boring.”

Azula’s face falls.

“But I’ll still listen if that’s what you want to talk about.”

She doesn’t want to talk about it. Or any of her other weird, and uninteresting interests.

“I’m Seicho, by the way.”

Azula nods, “why are you talking to me?”

“Well… you see, I recognize you. A while ago, before the war ended, there was a moment that has been haunting me ever since…”

Azula isn’t sure that she is following.

“And I had a few questions.”

“Such as?”

“You are princess Azula, right?”

She nods, though she wishes that she weren’t.

“And you did attend Chan’s beach party, right? That was you? The weirdo who laughs really loud and sets kuai ball nets on fire?”

Azula’s frown deepens. “What of it?”

“I just wanted to know why you put that drink on my head.”

“Your hands were full, where else was I supposed to put it?” It was quite simple really.

The girl laughs, “you could have held onto it or set it on some random table or something.”

She clears her throat, “your head was more convenient.”

“I...I guess…?” she laughs again. She stands up and for some reason Azula’s heart sinks. She thought that she might not be lonely tonight, but the girl has her answers and now she is...she is extending her hand out? Azula furrows her brows. “Do you know how to dance, princess?”

“I haven’t had a chance or a reason to learn.”

“It’s not that different from firebending, I’ll teach you a little something.” She offers.

If she knows what is good for her, she would stay out of the spotlight, keep attention well away from herself. The last thing that she needs is the entire party watching her decrepit body running clumsily through dance moves that she should have learned prior to attending. But she doesn’t want to be alone tonight. She isn’t sure what she will do if she is left alone…

She takes the girl’s hand. Azula doesn’t really want the attention. Not at all. The less eyes that take in her less than pleasing aesthetic, the better. But Seicho is a loud one. A bold one. And when she dips Azula back and pulls her up in time with the music for a third time she makes an announcement.

“I’m lucky!” She declares. “I have the prettiest dance partner in the room.”

She brushes Azula’s bangs out of her face--even, well trimmed bangs. Long bangs. And suddenly the illusion shatters. Suddenly her skin is soft with an even complexion. Suddenly her eyes aren’t so heavy and tired. Her frame is fuller and her lips uncracked. She remembers that she hasn’t been haggard and unhealthy in quite some time now. She remembers that sometimes things get distorted in her mind, that the past may layer itself over the future. She remembers that she is no longer fourteen and bound in chains. No longer sixteen and freshly emerging from an institution, exhausted and low.

She remembers that she is happy. This time when she looks in the mirror, the face that stares back at her is from the present; well groomed, healthy, and lively--albeit on the tired side tonight.

“Are you alright?” Seicho asks.

She thinks that she is, she is just...lightly disoriented. She needs a chance for her mind to catch back up to the present.  “I want to sit down for a moment.”

“Sure, princess.” Seicho replies, she guides Azula into a chair. “Would you like a drink?”

Azula nods.

They don’t hate her. Most people don’t. Most people are as indifferent as they ought to be. And they eyes that fall upon her aren’t judgmental, they are curious more than anything. She still isn’t a particularly social person, paradoxically, it is an invitation for more attention when she does attend parties.

Seicho holds out the glass, “just put it on the table this time, not my head, okay.”

“I think that I can manage.” She sips at the drink as the pieces shift back into place. She supposes that she should have known that she was having an off day when she overheard Zuko ask TyLee and Mai to keep an eye on her.

“So, what’s going on?” Seicho asks.

“Sometimes I…” She sets her drink aside. “Things get mixed up.” She points at her head. “I’m sure that you’ve heard by now…”

“Bits and pieces.” Seicho admits.

“Sometimes it feels like…” she furrows her brows, trying to articulate it. “Sometimes I go back to some of my worst days. Sometimes it’s full scale--I’m alone and I don’t have any friends. It feels like it anyhow. Other times it’s more of a blend.”

“A blend?”

“I know that they,” she gestures to the others, “are my friends.” It still feels strange to say, likely that is exactly what makes it so easy to forget when her head is not clear. “But I still feel like I did just after I was transferred to that facility.” Sometimes the image is so vivid in her mind that it appears in the mirror.

Seicho nods. “That sounds frightening.”

“I’m used to it.” It is a lie to make things less tense. Pity makes her uncomfortable anyhow.

“And that happened tonight?”

Azula nods. “It is a relief to know that I’m not a scraggly mess.” That she isn’t ugly and embarrassing to be around.

“It’s fine to be a scraggly mess sometimes.” Seicho replies.

“You didn’t see my haircut.” She grumbles.

“I’m sure that it was cute.” Seicho insists, ruffling her hair. “You have a pretty face, you can make it work.”

She shakes her head, “not then I didn’t.”

Seicho quirks a skeptical brow. She changes her approach. “Alright, fine, let’s say that you’re right…”

“I am right.”

“My point still stands. It’s okay to be a mess every now and again.” As if to accent her point she ruffles Azula’s hair entirely out of place. Azula grimances, this is something that she is still working on. Something that leaves her jittery.

“How about this?” Seicho offers. “You leave your hair like this for the rest of the night. If people treat you like shit for it then you can stick with your ridiculous standards.

“Ridiculous!?”

Seicho nods, “yes, ridiculous.”

Azula opens her mouth to protest. Seicho puts a finger to her lips. “You know what I think?”

Azula sighs, she has heard it so many times before from so many people from her therapist to TyLee. “That I’m perfect the way I am.”

Seicho crinkles her brows in disgust. “No! I think that you aren’t perfect, but it doesn’t really matter. You don’t have to be. If someone really loves or cares about you, they’ll look at your ugly haircut and decide that they like your pretty eyes enough to stay. They’ll acknowledge that you are uptight and cranky but they’ll stick around because you’re really smart and loyal.”

Azula swallows. “You’ve known me for maybe an hour…”

“And you leave some strong first impressions.” Seicho shrugs. “I was hoping that we can talk more after the party and I can see if I’m right.”

Azula’s stomach flutters. She has never been asked on a date before and she certainly hadn’t anticipated that to happen tonight. Agni knows that her lost and hurt fourteen year old self could have never conceptualized such a thing.

“That would be nice, Seicho.”

The girl grins. “Wonderful! Are you up for another dance?”

She lets the girl lead her back onto the dancefloor. Hair messy, dress slightly disheveled. And yet she feels much more confident than she had when she’d initially walked into the party.

[wasabito-reblogs]

here’s my entry for the konoha simps server collab :) check out the rest of the entries here or at @bakubabes-hatake’s page!

prompt: occasions

word count: 2.5k

tags&warnings: established relationship, domestic fluff, hints of spiciness at the end (nothing major)

summary: In which you and Aizawa rediscover your synergy

❤︎

There was a sudden click at the front door, following telltale sounds of a key being jimmied into the lock. Both were enough to break the still quietude and have Aizawa cracking open a bloodshot eye, his sleepy, hooded gaze darting around the room until he finally spotted the sudden intrusion.

You stood at the foyer, slipping off your work shoes, with a look of mild concern on your face. Your lips held a slight frown that looked misplaced, especially when directed at him. He knew immediately that he’d fucked up.

A damning, half-empty cup of coffee sitting innocently on top of your old Heroics in Society textbook drew your attention first, before any of the other things. In your shared living room, the state of disarray all pointed to the simple fact that your boyfriend had come home and gone straight to grading.

Aizawa coughed and sat up straighter on the sofa. Though his body moved in slow motion, his mind raced to find some logical reasoning to explain why he was, once again, neglecting his health in favor of work.

Stuck to his chest was the exam sheet he had been eye-balling before succumbing to fatigue. Even after a somewhat restful nap, Aizawa could scarcely make out what hieroglyphics Kaminari had written on his paper.

You came and leaned into the back of the chair to read over Aizawa’s shoulder. Pointing to the true and false section of the exam, you wondered aloud, “Why do the T’s and F’s look so similar? I can barely tell which is which.”

He snorted lightly with a roll of his eyes, “That’s probably the point.” He said, but considering he had just woken up, it sounded more like grumbled nonsense.

Your noncommittal hum in response was all he got before you plucked the sheet from his hands. He watched as you came around and stacked up his papers, making sure to separate graded works from the ones he had yet to look at. How many times had you caught him like this? Passed out on the living room couch with class 1A’s assignments scattered every which way.

“You really gotta take better care of yourself, Shou.”

“I know,” he tugged on your hand, bringing the back of it to his lips. “I’m sorry.”

Your gaze softened at his words and the sleepy expression on his face. It was almost too endearing. “Yeah, okay, you say that now, but I’m sure you’ll be back to it again tomorrow.”

Aizawa couldn’t even deny your claim. He was a workaholic through and through. Most of his time was spent doing some form of work, whether it be in managing his class as a U.A teacher or patrolling the city as a pro-hero.

No one understood the toll it took on him better than you. You were a quirk counselor at Ketsubutsu Academy, after all, so it was your job to make sure that both students and staff were taking care of their physical and mental health. A lot of your work tended to trickle into the home, usually in the form of fussing over your boyfriend and making sure he was taking breaks and getting proper rest.

“You’re home early,” he commented. He kept your hand in his lap to fiddle idly with your fingers. “Something happen? �� You look nervous.”

Even half-asleep, Shouta was astute as ever.

“Ah, not really. There’s this thing at work tonight, but I think I might skip it.”

His brows furrowed as he considered your words, “A work thing? Tonight?”

“Yeah, just a little ceremony for the staff, no biggie.”

“Sounds important. Are you sure you don’t want to go?”

“I—” you fumbled; how could you forget this man could read you like a book? Whenever you were dodgy or evasive, he knew just where to press until you were honest with him. “It’s actually an award ceremony. I’m being honored for my work at the school.”

Aizawa smiled, showing off a row of teeth in a way that made your heart skip a beat. You nearly missed his next words.

“I’m proud of you, kitten. Seriously, you deserve the recognition.” His long fingers threaded into yours, and you felt centered in the feeling of his firm grip like you were finally on solid footing. It definitely helped ease the tension off your shoulders.

“Thanks, Shou.”

“Of course,” he nodded. “So, what time is this thing, because I’m not letting you sit at home and miss it. And before you argue, consider the logic in remaining home when you know you’re being honored for something like this.” He stood from the sofa, stretching, and then cracking his neck. “It just isn’t rational.”

“So...you’re coming with me?”

You couldn’t hold back the surprise in your voice. It seemed almost too good to be true, you and Shouta going out together and to an event, no less. Usually, it took being dragged out of the house by his coworkers for him to enjoy a Friday night off.

Not to mention, no one knew of your relationship. His friends probably had their own assumptions but no one on your end knew a thing. This would be your first public outing as a couple.

“Of course I’m coming with you.” He said it as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. You smiled, realizing it was.

❤︎

An hour later, you stood behind a seated Aizawa in the middle of your bathroom with a towel looped around your body, still dripping from your recent shower.

“You have to hold still, baby, or else it’s gonna hurt,” you mumble while adjusting your grip on the hairbrush.

He had asked you to help him out with his hair, but the task proved quite tricky. Its length and thickness gave you no other choice but to work in smaller sections, which you had no issues with. If only your fingers in Shouta’s hair didn’t put him straight to sleep again. This was the third time he’d nodded off and caused the brush to snag at his roots.

With a sigh, you attempted to run the brush gingerly through his hair once more. In the past, you’d seen pictures of your boyfriend as a child, always with his hair looking unkempt and so obviously unattended to; at least before he grew old enough to do it himself. Funnily enough, it was like you finally understood the reason why.

After a few more minutes of careful ministrations, you patted his shoulder and smiled. “All done!”

Aizawa looked up bleary-eyed, then shook his hair out and ran his fingers through it. “Nice, thank you.” He leaned over and pecked your forehead before standing to his feet. “Want me to do you?”

You snorted at the subtle implications of his words. “Go get dressed already. I can ‘do’ myself.”

“Oh, can you?”

You were tempted to play along with his little joke, but it was getting late and neither of you were dressed yet. Regrettably, you shooed him away so that you could continue to prepare on your own without him being a distraction

Following another thirty or so minutes, you dressed up and met Aizawa at the door. He had put on a crisp button up shirt and a pair of dark, tailored pants that fit him so well, you had to resist the urge to pinch his ass.

When you approached, he was standing at the mirror in the hall, tying his hair into a bun. You could tell he had given up on fussing with his tie just by the way it hung loose around his neck.

“Here, let me,” with deft fingers you undid the knot, sliding the tie off and then promptly tossed it onto the couch. You also unbuttoned the first two buttons of his shirt, smiling to yourself at the lidded stare Aizawa was pinning you with.

“You want me to go out like this?”

“I thought I’d let you off the hook,” you laughed. “No tie tonight.”

Closing the gap between you two, Aizawa planted a kiss at the corner of your mouth, as a silent thank you.

❤︎

From what you understood, the ceremony wasn’t supposed to be a large one, still a good bit of Ketsubutsu staff and student body were present.

Already you could tell that Aizawa was a little put off by the amount of people, especially those who kept staring at you two. Though, it just couldn’t be helped. Not many knew that either of you were in a relationship. Dressed as he was, you wouldn't be surprised if most simply didn't recognize him as the pro-hero, Eraserhead.

Even you had to admit that your boyfriend cleaned up nicely, a stark contrast from his usual ‘rolled out of bed’ appearance.

“Hey! You made it!” Emi Fukukado, otherwise known as Ms. Joke, called to you over the crowd. You were just about to go over to greet her and the others when Aizawa cleared his throat.

“I’m gonna get you a drink.” he gave your hand a light squeeze and excused himself before you could respond.

“Hey, hey!! I’m so glad you’re here.” Your coworker had waltzed over and scooped you into a tight hug.

“S-Same,” you wheezed. “Mind letting go?”

“Oh whoops!” Emi laughed sheepishly. When she finally released you, you couldn't help but notice her looking around. “Weren’t you just with someone? I didn’t get a good look but I’m positive—”

“Oh yeah,” you looked around for Aizawa but couldn’t see him anywhere “I um...didn’t come alone. I came with my boyfriend.”

“Boyfriend?! Since when?!!”

“Ah! Well…”

Thankfully before you could delve into explaining anything, you were saved by the proverbial bell.

Over the intercom, the principal announced for all attendees to proceed towards the auditorium where the ceremony would be held. Although you followed Emi without question, you still silently searched for Aizawa in the crowd but to no avail.

You were escorted to a seat in the front row with all the others who were also being recognized. Still you couldn’t help wondering where the hell Shouta had gone. You could barely focus during the entire opening speech, your attention having been snatched by worry. If not for Emi subtly tapping your arm, you might’ve even missed your name being called.

You stood up and walked across the stage, willing your legs to move forward. The principal shook your hand and presented to you a plaque with your name engraved in gold lettering. Several others on stage, some heroes and staff, also commended you with handshakes and warm hugs. You murmured thank yous all the way to your seat, but still you wondered about your boyfriend.

“Hey, Emi.” You said as you handed her your award. “I’ll be right back, could you watch this for me? I’m going to the washroom.”

Emi seemed a little concerned by your tone but agreed. “Got it!”

Quietly you exited the auditorium and headed in the direction of the reception hall where you’d last seen Shouta, but it was empty save for a few students milling about the snack table. You were tempted to ask if they had seen Eraserhead, but decided against it, you could find him on your own.

After about ten minutes of searching you went to one of the balconies overlooking the sports field. To your immediate surprise, there stood Aizawa, though he seemed preoccupied. There was a cell phone wedged between his ear and shoulder. He noticed you not a second later, and concluded his call quickly.

“Shou, what are you doing out here?”

He frowned. “I got caught up in a work call, I’m sorry. Has it started?”

“It’s more than started, it's almost over.”

Your boyfriend looked stunned for just a moment before he let out a sigh, “I’m really sorry I missed it kitten,” he came to loop his arms around you.

“Like I said, it was no biggie,” you mumbled.

“You okay?… You’re shaking.” he whispered, lips pressed against your hair.

“I’m fine,” you responded. “Just cold.”

At that, Aizawa pulled you closer into his chest, his arms acting as a shield against the evening chill.

Something had been on your mind since the beginning of the night. It was an intrusive thought and although you knew better than to entertain it, it was also proving to be hard to ignore. Shouta had been acting strange since arriving here. You thought it was because of the crowd but he wouldn't have missed the ceremony for something as minute as that. You breathed in his scent, slowly gathering the courage to ask what had been rattling in your brain for a while now.

“Be honest with me, Shou, are you afraid of us going public?”

You felt him stiffen and pull back slowly to see your face fully. He didn’t ask you to repeat yourself, so you knew he had heard you loud and clear.

“What makes you say that?”

You looked away from him, teeth sinking into your bottom lip, “I don’t know… it’s just a thought.”

Aizawa didn’t speak for a long while. He still held you close, almost protectively, but he remained silent like he was trying to find the right words to say.

“Yeah...I guess you could say that.” He sighed, “but it’s not what you’re thinking. I’m not afraid of what people will think when they see us, far from it. But the thought of you getting hurt because of your association to me...makes me...hesitant.”

You blinked up at him. The way his jaw was set as he spoke became proof enough that he wasn’t as unaffected by things as he appeared. Always so cool and collected, and yet he was possibly the most capable of emotion. You pressed your forehead against his chest as you considered your next words.

“I get that. But that doesn't give you an excuse to run off!” You pinched his arm lightly as if it emphasized your point.

“You’re right kitten, although it was an important call.” his lips spread into a wide smile. “How can I make it up to you?”

“Hm, I don’t know, but I’m sure you’ll figure something out.”

Aizawa huffed and rolled his eyes at you, then bent to capture your lips in kiss. It was heavy and comforting in a way mere words simply failed to be. And for a moment, you allowed yourself to get lost in that feeling. His hand drifted lower down your back until he was nearly cupping your ass.

“Mmmm, Shou.” You pulled back, feeling the heat in your cheeks. Aizawa said nothing, instead he smirked like he had something planned. He cupped your cheek, thumb brushing away a stray lash.

“Shall we take this home?”

❤︎

(Part 2 in the works, stay tuned!!)