#hope this helps a little sorry i didn’t go extremely in depth

[valleyof-goldenlilies]

Se Zaldrizoti’ Prumia - Chapter 4: The Orange Lily Bends Its Head In Grief (Daemon Targaryen x Tyrell!Reader)

Chapter 4: The Orange Lily Bends Its Head In Grief 

The time comes for mourning, old memories and harsh truths. 

Se Zaldrīzoti' Prūmia Masterlist | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | 

HOTD Masterlist | Main Masterlist | 

Warnings: Extreme slow burn, angst, mentions of Aemma’s traumatic birth scene, Y/N kinda being a headass, Daemon being an ass, Viserys hate club 

Word Count: 2.8k words

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire and Blood characters, save for Y/N Tyrell, although I did expand on their characterisation, which might deviate from canon. All credit for the characters goes to George RR Martin and the showrunners of HOTD. The GIF above is also not mine, original credit to the creator is stated above. Go check them out!

A/N: I’m sorry this chapter was later than expected 😭 i got a bit sick after the concert I attended yesterday (1975 was great but goddamn the crowd was inactive asf) I hope you guys enjoy this chapter! 

wonderful dividers courtesy of @firefly-graphics​  !  

The day was beautiful. The sun hung bright and brilliant in the blue sky, and the smell of salt and sand permeated through the air, along with a slight whiff of smoke from the magnificent dragon situated at the top of the hill, its beady eyes cast upon the crowd of mourners clad in black. 

You stared numbly at the raised dais where Aemma’s embalmed body laid. Little Baelon was next to her, and you couldn’t help but wonder how Aemma would have reacted, had she known the life that had been taken from her in the hopes of letting her babe live, was now naught but sand scattered in the wind: utterly useless. 

Rhaenyra stood next to you: the both of you keeping a fair distance from Viserys. Tears were welled up in her purple eyes, but she did her best not to let them fall, attempting to maintain her calm countenance. She reminded you much of yourself when you had lost your mother, mourning, and unsure on how to express your grief. 

Daemon spoke to Rhaenyra hushedly, the both of them conversing in High Valyrian. You did not deign to translate the faint snippets of their conversation that you overheard in your head, despite your decent grasp of the tongue. You barely noticed as Rhaenyra inched forward gingerly. 

“Dracarys!” You kept your eyes fixed upon Aemma and Baelon’s funeral pyre as it was set alight.. The hot whoosh of flames fanned across your face, and everyone took a step back unconsciously to avoid the heat, but you didn’t feel anything, not as you watched the body of your dearest friend and her ill-fated son burn away to naught but ashes. 

Daemon did not know what to make of today. Grief was a stranger to him: even though he had seen the deaths of his mother, father and grandfather, the depth of the feeling eluded him. Mayhaps there was something wrong with him: given how much death there had been in the later stages of his grandsire’s reign, it was a wonder he was unfeeling at funerals. Still, he found no sense in dwelling over the dead. The dead were the dead, and sorrow would not bring them back. 

He was about to depart from the cliffs, and mount a horse back to the Red Keep, when his gaze befell upon a most strange scene. His brother, and…Y/N? 

Rhaenyra had already ridden off on Syrax back to the Dragonpit, and most of the royal retinue had already retreated back to the Red Keep, unable to stand the sweltering heat, but his brother was here, talking to Y/N, who by now, was becoming ostensibly more and more like she would rather hurl herself off the cliffs than suffer in his brother’s presence for any longer. Viserys’ expression was earnest, mournful, and any man would have softened at the pitiful state the King was in, but Y/N seemed to have none of that. He wondered just what was going on, considering how Y/N was always close with his brother. ‘At least, she was always much more jovial with my brother than with me,’ Daemon thought darkly. 

“Brother,” Viserys turned to face Daemon as you breathed out a sigh of relief, glad to no longer be the centre of Viserys’ attention anymore. Try as you may, you could not shake the lingering sensation of disgust in your gut whenever you laid eyes upon Viserys. Your mind constantly kept flashing back to that horrific scene on Aemma’s deathbed, of the incisions and the realisation of what Viserys had ordered dawning on you when he couldn’t quite meet your gaze. What affection you had for your childhood friend was slowly dispersing into rage and grief, as you struggled to reconcile the jovial and amiable man you once knew with the reality of a man who was callous enough to sacrifice his wife to gain a son. 

Startled when you felt a hand placed firmly on your shoulder, steering you away from Viserys’ bewildered form, you glanced up at Daemon, but he said nothing as the both of you walked away from the King. After a while, when you had both reached the ends of the cliffs, he finally let go of your shoulder. The both of you were silent, staring out at the blue sea, as you both awaited for the other to break the silence. 

“Why did you pull me away from the conversation?” you murmured. “I could tell how uncomfortable you looked,” Although his gaze was directed towards the bay, Daemon’s voice was soft. “You were practically begging to get out of the conversation.” “And here I thought my many years at court had made me better at veiling my emotions.” “With how long we’ve known each other, byka zaldrizes, it would be an insult to me if I couldn’t see past your facades,” Daemon remarked dryly. He began strolling along the length of the cliffs, and you quietly followed suit. 

“...thank you. I…he may be my king, but I am of the opinion that if I had to suffer in his presence any longer, I might punch him.” you admitted, gratitude and exhaustion tainting my voice. Daemon let out a soft snort, “I thought you would have learnt that assaulting a royal never does you any favours.” “You’ve known me for so long, Daemon, in the face of anger, I never did seem to possess the ability to think rationally. What’s more, I think Viserys is deserving of it.” You could feel your heart starting to pound furiously again, the scene of Aemma laying in bed, covered in blood…brutally slit open, her eyes opened wide in death and her expression of agony flashed repeatedly into your mind, making your stomach roll unpleasantly. Tears prickled at the corner of your eyes, and. you bit your lip in an attempt to stave them off, tilting your head away to obscure Daemon from the view. He said nothing, only offering you a handkerchief. You took it, dabbing at your tears lightly, trying to calm yourself by inhaling the salty scent of the sea air. 

Daemon watched her with inquisitive eyes. He had heard rumours of how close Y/N was with his sister-in-law, but with the weight of her grief becoming increasingly apparent, he finally understood the extent of their bond. His heart filled with a strange tugging sensation, but he dismissed it as just the oddity of seeing Y/N cry. In his boyhood memories, he always regarded her as this strong-willed, fierce and irritable little girl. To see her cry was…it made him feel strange. The Y/N of his boyhood seemed so contrasting from the Y/N in front of him now. He had seen Y/N’s physical changes since girlhood, and now he was witnessing the emotional changes. Uncomfortable, he fidgeted with his fingers, about to offer his condolences, but he remembered how much she hated it when he professed his grief at her mother’s passing, and stopped himself. The sight of Y/N dabbing at her tears however, became more and more excruciating for him to bear with every passing minute. He longed to do something, anything, to lighten the tension between them, but what could he say? It wasn’t like comforting his niece, with the Queen that she was serving dead, Y/N might as well have been a sailor lost at sea, with no compass. So instead, he had to bite his tongue as he waited for Y/N to snap out of it. 

You clasped the handkerchief tightly between your fingers, suddenly feeling the traces of embroidery on it. You glanced at the handkerchief, and saw a familiar pattern of lily flowers across the fabric, in your stitching. “I didn’t know you still kept it,” you turned to Daemon, surprised. “I thought you would have shredded it years ago.” “Well, it would be rude of me to intentionally ruin a gift, especially one made of a gesture of goodwill, my lady.” 

Your fingers traced the orange lilies, biting back a smile at the memory behind this handkerchief. Once, in your childhood, you had been most wroth to discover Daemon had stolen your favourite doll and ‘accidentally’ ripped it. In retaliation, you had snuck into his room one night and emptied the contents of his chamberpot on him. Aghast, your mother had ordered you to make a truce with him by sending him a gift. Reluctantly, you sewed him a handkerchief, but to add insult to injury, you didn’t embroider a noble or rare flower on it, such as roses or carnations, but rather, you had chosen lilies. Although it was considered a flower of elegance, the colour of the lilies conveyed otherwise. To put it plainly and unpleasantly, they were one gigantic “fuck you” to Daemon. You couldn’t help but snigger as you recalled his reaction to the handkerchief: his face had twisted most unpleasantly, and he’d looked downright murderous, but since Prince Baelon and your mother were in the room, he could only swallow whatever insults he wanted to churn out and grunt out his thanks, much to your triumph. 

The lilies had turned a little yellow with age, regardless, the handkerchief looked well kept. You returned the handkerchief back to him, his fingers brushing against yours in a lingering touch as he took it back. “For what it’s worth…I am truly sorry for your loss, Y/N,” Daemon offered gallantly, “I know how close you are…were…with my sister-in-law, and she was a great woman. She was always kind to me, at least.”. Normally, you would have teased him for his uncharacteristic politeness, but Aemma’s death had drained all the fight left in you. “I thank you, my Prince,” your voice was hollow. 

Your next few moments were spent in silence, as awkwardness ensued. Daemon was nigh close to throwing himself off the cliffs. He was thoroughly unaccustomed to dealing with grief. He wonders if he had made the right decision when he chose to spirit you away from Viserys. At least the royal party had departed now, but it made it all the more difficult for him to leave Y/N alone on the cliffs. 

“Do you know…what he did?” your voice was tremulous, barely a whisper, but it anchored Daemon back to reality once more. His forehead creased, he said quietly, “I’ve heard. It was…dreadful to say the least.” “Truth be told, I do not know if I could ever…bring myself to forgive his act of cruelty.” “He is your king,” Daemon said, an uncharacteristic gentleness in his voice. “And your friend of many years.” "As was Aemma, Daemon,” you said, your voice tinged with sadness. 

Wishing to broach on this topic no more, you turned your conversation to something else. “Now that he killed both his wife and heir, what do you suppose would happen to the succession now?” Daemon notes with intrigue that your tone has taken a sharper tone toward Viserys, and he couldn’t fight the small sliver of smugness he feels at your distaste. Perhaps it was childish…but he always disliked it when you spoke about Viserys with such reverence, like he could do no wrong in your eyes. 

“He still has an heir,” Daemon reminds her, “Me.” 

You scoffed slightly, “I think you’re forgetting Rhaenyra. She is the King’s only trueborn daughter.” Daemon was annoyed, “A brother’s claim triumphs over a daughter’s.” “You’ve never paid any attention to the laws of Andal succession then.” “We are Targaryens, byka zaldrizes, what regard have we for those fucking laws?” Daemon snorted, “Moreover, Rhaenyra is but a child, besieged with grief. The right choice of heir for the stability of the realm should be me.” 

“You’re just using Aemma’s death as a way to further your own ambitions,” your tone was accusatory, and Daemon wanted nothing more than to shove this infernal woman off the cliffs. Why did everyone always think the worst of him? “I can assure you, that contesting the heir to the throne is the least of your worries right now.” 

You narrowed your eyes, “And what is that supposed to mean?” Daemon let a smirk play out on his face, “Now that my sweet sister-in-law is dead, what do you suppose will happen to you?” You blinked, confused by his sudden mention of your future. “I’m not sure what you’re referring to, Daemon.” 

“You are well aware that since your tenure as lady-in-waiting to the Queen is at an end, you will most likely be sent home to the Reach, do you not?” Your voice grew annoyed, “My focus now is on mourning Aemma, she was my friend, Daemon. As for what the future holds, I do not care about that.” Daemon let out a snort of laughter, “Are you sure about that, Y/N? It might not be the wisest course of action, you know.” 

You stopped in your tracks and gave him a frosty glare, “And since when did you care about my wellbeing, Daemon?” Daemon chuckled mirthlessly, “I do not. However, since my late sister-in-law harboured a form of affection for you, however of an annoying little brat you may be, I believe it in my responsibility to give you a warning.” “I have no need for your warnings,” you said brusquely. 

Daemon leaned forward, his violet eyes gleaming with savage delight, “Perhaps you should think again then.” He drew back, circling around you as his eyes watched you like a hawk. “With the Queen dead, it would be inevitable before you are summoned back to Highgarden. Tell me, what are you to do when you are ordered to wed by your father, hmm?” 

You bit your lip, disconcerted. But it was all the answer Daemon needed to carry on. “You no longer have any reason nor power to retain your status at court,” he mused, looking down at your stiffened form. “And when it comes, your father will summon you back to Highgarden. And you shall be wedded off like a prized pig to some lord, who could be balding, old, or ill-tempered. Or all three. Who knows?” He hears your sharp intake of breath, and he could see it clearly now. Your fear for this sort of fate. 

“Whether you like it or not, you must worry for your political standing. Even if you hate to make merry with my brother, you will have to stomach it.” You finally snap, your eyes ablaze, “I will not. Why should I give a damn about my political standing anyway? Should I refuse to go home, my father will not force me. The King will not force me.” 

Daemon laughed, the sound bouncing off the cliffs. It was a rough, jagged laugh, more out of dark bemusement than of any joy. “Byka zaldrizes, it seems you’re even more of a fool than I imagined. You might have matured in terms of your visage, but I see your immaturity still shines through.” 

Hurt by his words, you could only keep silent. Your mind was racing. You didn’t want to admit it…but you could see some truth in his words. Viserys could heartlessly give the order for his wife to be cut open, he would not defend you from something as simple as marriage. He was after all, a father, and a king to boot. He would sympathise with your father’s claims of duty to your house. 

Daemon’s voice was chiding as he spoke. “There is no doubt my brother will take a new wife after this. After that, there will be a new queen in court, a shift in power. And you?” he reached out to tuck a loose strand of your hair behind your ears. “Will be naught but a speck in the past. The new queen might be someone you are not acquainted with, and she will surround herself with an entourage she is familiar with. One which you will not be a part of. Who will protect you from your father’s will then? Certainly not my brother, if I know him.” 

You saw the sense in his words, but a certain sort of rebellion still blazed in you. “I would never allow myself to be used by my father this way,” you said, lifting your chin defiantly. “I am a grown woman now, and I can make my choices.” 

Daemon looked down at you, something akin to pity on his face. “If that’s what you think,” Daemon’s voice was soft, “Then you are a naive fool, my lady.” Abashed by his words, you could only look down, feeling lost. It was too much for you to deal with: mourning Aemma and Baelon, your newfound disgust and fear for Viserys, and now, terror for your future. You couldn’t deal with this. Not right now, maybe not ever. You weren’t used to this sudden weight of realisation, of burden on your shoulders, and Daemon could tell. He always could. 

The two of you stewed in despondent silence, before Daemon sighed, “Come, my lady. I should escort you back to the Red Keep.” You have a great deal to think about, his violet eyes seemed to whisper to you, making you feel even more unsettled. You nodded hesitantly, and he offered you his arm, before the both of you walked back to the remaining wheelhouse in a silence that was much colder and contemplative than before. 

Taglist for Se Zaldrizoti’ Prumia: @drwho-ess @graniairish @urmomsgirlfriend1 @thelittleswanao3 @animelover18 @llovinjoonie @gracielikegrapes​ @salembridger

Daemon General Taglist: @aiyaiy​

those who are bolded are the ones that couldn’t be tagged! let me know in the comments or through this form 

and that makes chapter 4! chapter 5 should be released in around 2-3 days time! do let me know what you think in the comments! if you liked this chapter, comments and reblogs are highly appreciated 💗 thank you for reading! 

[hollowwrites]

Welcome to Slytherin

Summary - Sort of a prequel to Scriptorium! As someone who pretty much only plays as a Slytherin, I always love how sweet Ominis is at the beginning. Thought I’d write a little extension for it!

I’m thinking of doing the Undercroft Quest next? Writing angy Omi might be fun!

Warnings - possibly bullying(?) very slight

Word Count - 1431

~

Just keep your head down. Don’t draw anymore unnecessary attention to yourself.

Evelyn slumped down the stairs into the main lobby of the Slytherin Common Room. It was huge. In any other circumstance, she’d have loved nothing more than to walk through it’s many oddities and learn what she could about her new home. But right now, she already had half of the school talking about her behind her back, and the other half were doing it to her face.

Immediately she noticed, no one wore their school cloak. A gaggle of pretty sixth year girls turned to eye her up, before gathering back around and giggling.

“It’s like she’s a first year”

“She basically is. Just missing the stupid hat”

“How tragic”

Just breathe. The whole day can’t be like this.

She pulled the lapels of her cloak around her, hoping it would swallow her up, or at least maybe make her invisible. Puffing her cheeks out, exasperated already, she rounded the corner by a fireplace, making her way towards one of the plush chairs in front. Keeping her head down meant she wasn’t fully paying attention to her surroundings and she almost careened straight into a tall pacing boy.

“Can I help you?” He said not looking up from his book.

That was it. Her patience had run out. The next person who makes a snarky comment was going to be on the receiving end of her wand.

He looked up, finally, and was greeted with a rather unpleasant expression across the new students face.

“Ah, you’re the new fifth year! I’m Sebastian Sallow. Welcome to Slytherin!” He beamed, clapping his book shut and throwing it on the chair she was hoping to crawl into.

He seemed…pleasant.

Her features softened at his tone, the background chatter of the other students falling upon deaf ears.

“Thank you. I’m Evelyn Hollow”

“Charmed” he laughed as though that was a joke. She didn’t understand “Charmed? Charms. The class?”

“I’m afraid I don’t follow” she shrugged.

“You really are new to magic!” He chuckled again and she couldn’t help but smile back “Well that still doesn’t explain the Ministry escort” it wasn’t a question but the tilt of his head suggested he wanted an answer.

“Oh, he was a friend of Professor Figs. He was merely joining us for the ride”

“Hmmm…dreadful way to go. I’m glad you and Fig are alright.” His eyebrows bunched together with concern.

“Thank you, we were lucky with our escape” Evelyn shifted on her feet, reliving George’s final moments in her mind again “It’s all…a bit of a blur”

“Didn’t mean to press. You just get yourself settled. We can talk more later” he smiled before his eyes widened “Oh, you should speak with Ominis. He’s the one leaning by the window. We’re in your Defence Against the Dark Arts class…at least I assume you are. Professor Hecat has her hands full with the Gryffindors in the other class” he rolled his eyes leaning to retrieve his book again.

“Defends Against the Dark Arts? Sorry, I don’t know very much about this world it’s all… extremely new to me” she stumbled over her words, not wanting to add ‘Naive’ to the long list of the words people were using for her

“Ah but that piqued your interest? Seems I have found a Kindred Spirit. You best get going before I talk your ear off. It was nice meeting you. Good luck today” he smiled warmly before plonking himself down in the seat beside her, continuing to study the old pages intently.

~

“Oh I think I heard one” the student tugged at their friends cloak pointing off into the distant depths of the lake.

Ominis laughed breathily. He’d been listening purposefully for the last few minutes. No such noise had occurred.

His holstered wand, sitting comfortably in his back pocket, alerted him to the presence of someone approaching. No doubt Sebastian, no one else dare speak to the macabre and scary Heir of Salazar Slytherin.

“Hmph, doubt mermaids find us that interesting” he said to him, tilting his head slightly in Sebastian’s direction.

“Sorry did you say mermaids?” A startled female voice sang out from the figure.

Oh. Not Sebastian then.

“Apologies I…thought you were someone else” he listened more carefully to her. Her heartbeat was elevated. She was fiddling with her cloak and the sea of gossip behind her all pointed to who she was “Ah…based on the chatter I’m guessing you’re the new fifth year. I’m Ominis. Ominis Gaunt”

“Nice to meet you, Ominis. I’m Evelyn. Hollow.”

Hmmm. No flinching, or gasping. She hasn’t thrown anything at him. Was it possible she had no idea who he was?

“Pleasure. You certainly had a memorable arrival”

“Yes it was…less than ideal I should say” he heard her shuffle about. Was she nervous?

“Did you see the way they just waltzed on in at the end of the sorting ceremony last night”

She sighed, listening to the gossip behind her.

“Ignore them. You’re the most interesting thing to happen in a long time” he shook his head. Some people just have no class.

“Thank you. Although ‘interesting’ is a bit of a stretch.”

“Oh yes. The girl who survived a dragon attack. Not interesting at all” he remarked sarcastically.

“Well, when you put it like that I sound positively heroic” she giggled

“Ha, you’re definitely in the right House” he found himself laughing along with her, easily.

“You’ll have to forgive me, I don’t really understand what that means”

“You’re muggleborn?” He asked rather surprised. From what he had heard, she’d managed to handle herself well enough against a dragon attack. He assumed she was born into magic

“Erm-“

“Sorry, born to non magical parents”

“Ah then yes” he heard the smile in her voice and couldn’t help but reciprocate. That must be why she’s talking to him so easily.

“I see. Well then…We Slytherins are known for our Ambition, Cunning and Determination”

“How lovely” she said dryly, raising an eyebrow. Where did she fit in on that spectrum?

“It’s also known for Dark Magic, Pure-blood mania and general Doom and Gloom” he smirked

“Ah. The Doom and Gloom will be why I am here. I can be rather miserable.” She laughed gleefully, the juxtaposition of her statement and laugh, causing a tiny chuckle to escape Ominis “Why were you sorted into Slytherin do you think?”

“I’m, rather unfortunately, a direct descendant of the Founder. Salazar Slytherin. On my fathers side.”

“Unfortunately?” She found herself leaning into him. This was the most normal she had felt in a long time. And considering this was a conversation with a relative of the founder of a magical castle, under water, about dragons and magic, spoke volumes for the strange direction her life had turned to.

“Yes. He was obsessed with blood status. A pure blood maniac. It’s not something I’m especially proud of, mind you, considering the majority of his descendants do not fall far from that tree. I don’t believe in any of that, don’t worry” he offered her a vacant smile

“And here I was fearing for my life” she jabbed

“Is the new fifth-year Slytherin in here? Professor Weasleys waiting for you, just by the stairs” a girl called out

“Hmph, that’s me! Pleasure to meet you, Ominis”

“Pleasure was all mine. Do let me know if I can be of any help as you navigate your first days here. Though I doubt you’ll need it. Don’t be a stranger”

“I appreciate it. I believe we share some classes together so I may just take you up on that offer.” And with that she turned and left the room, the idle gossip followed her as she did.

“That new fifth years been talking to Gaunt for a while now. No doubt he’ll try to stick his claws in her”

Just before she could leave, Ominis pointed his wand in her direction, trying to gather as much information about her as possible.

Unfortunately, all he gained was that she was shorter than him, with an aggressive walk.

“Distracted Ominis?” Ominis clutched his heart, jumping out of his skin.

“Merlin’s Beard, Sebastian. Why?”

“Unlike you to not hear someone sneak up on you. Something must have really caught your attention” Ominis could hear the wiggle of his eyebrows through his voice.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about” he retorted, pocketing his wand quickly.

“You’re bright red, Ominis” Sebastian poked his cheek before being slapped away

“It’s warm…” he mumbled

“She’s quite something though. Isn’t she?”

“She is…rather lovely”

Masterlist

[house-of-kolchek]

Hello, I was wondering if I could request a Jason Kolchek x female reader who, during an ambush against the vampires, ended up losing an eye and is learning to cope and adapt to it. As well as maybe being insecure about it. If not that's okay, thank you!

HELLO! I hope this lives up to expectations! I loved this idea and it was really fun to write!!

Insecurities

Jason Kolchek x Reader

please forgive me I did not edit this one bit

Word Count: 2k

MASTERLIST

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Camp Slayer didn’t feel the same after what happened. 

It was in the way you looked at your comrades, some missing, some having displayed sides of themselves you never would have imagined. Whenever your gaze fell on Eric, that angry bubble flared in your chest. The fact that he ignored Nick’s pleas for help in that godforsaken temple, even when you heard it clear as day, threw him straight to the top of your “eat shit and go fuck yourself” list. Based on similar reactions from your teammates, he’d ended up topping their lists too. 

But it was also in the way you felt trapped. Forced to look at white plastic walls, and speak to mounds of rubber and gas masks instead of faces. You could practically taste the distrust and hostility from the operatives as they moved in for a swift and silent clean up. In fact, there was a small little voice in the back of your head that felt threatened, as if these people wouldn’t hesitate to throw you under the bus, or take any extreme measures to ensure your story didn’t get out. If the NDA was any indication at least. 

But after all that. It was in the way you suddenly lacked any sense of depth perception.

“Fuck!” You grunted, reaching down to cradle your now throbbing toe. “I could have sworn that doorway was further than that.”

And then something touched your shoulder.

“FUCK!” Your voice grew louder and higher in pitch, startled by the sudden presence rounding your left side. Nick jumped at the same time, raising a hand out in front of him. The both of you let out mirrored sighs as you processed that yes, it was an actual human standing in front of you - not one of those horrific alien-monster things.

“You alright?” He asked first, his voice calm and laced with what you knew was pity. You wanted to be angry. To scream don’t fucking pity me! But in all honesty, you were too tired, and Nick was too good of a person for you to really tap in to that hostility. 

“Yeah, ‘m fine,” you sighed. “You just startled me. If you can help it, try not to come up on that side.”

Nick’s gaze flickered between your eyes, looking more pained as he took in the mounds of bandages still wrapped around your face, leading from your hairline, down to your left cheekbone. 

“Shit, I didn’t even think,” he cursed, shuffling over to your right side. “Sorry.”

“It’s alright, Nick. I’m not even used to it yet.” You couldn’t force your voice to carry any sense of optimism. You were too tired, too angry, and too buried up in your own grief.

This time, you saw his hand coming as it rested on your shoulder again, a silent sign of comfort. For a moment, you gave in to the warmth, allowing yourself to share those dark thoughts with your grieving friend. It always struck you in those moments that you weren’t the only one who’d endured trauma. Everyone had been down in those caves, had one of those experiences, and left a part of themselves down below the surface.

Yours had just been a physical part.

Nick was silent as he walked you to a common area set up for you and the other survivors. Your pride wouldn’t allow you to say it, but you were grateful when he tapped your arm, pointing out any objects that were maybe, slightly, closer than you initially thought.

He must have caught your grumble, because he reached to squeeze your shoulder again. 

“You’ll get used to it. It just takes time.” 

He chuckled as you shot him a sarcastic glare. 

“Yeah yeah, I know. Worst, most generic advice ever,” he prattled. “Shut up.”

And this time, for the first time in days, you both cracked a grin as you parted to sit at separate benches across the room. You stumbled slightly, huffing to yourself at the new bruises that would certainly arise across your shins before finally finding a seat.

You barely saw the new figure approaching, startling slightly as they took a seat next to you

Jason’s lips had just parted before you were speaking again.

“Jesus, you marines and your insistence on light footing,” you hissed, and you knew he noticed the way you refused to meet his gaze. 

It didn’t seem to bother him, as he let out a breathy chuckle. You could just make out his clasped hands from the corner of your eye as he rested them across the table.

“Still not used to it, hm?” He asked, and you turned your head a fraction towards him, shaking your head. You didn’t need to see his expression fall, hearing a low exhale from his nose.

You hated the tense, awkward air between the two of you now. What had happened to the pair you used to be? When you shared countless inside jokes, challenging each other not to laugh during briefings. Down in those caves, it felt like something had changed between you two. 

And not just the obvious. 

During that ambush - when you’d pushed him aside, taking the hit that ended up losing you your eye - that’s when something had really changed. You weren’t sure if it was some strange twist on survivor’s guilt. Or maybe the gory sight of you, clutching your shredded face with both hands while you screamed. But after that moment, Jason had truly seemed afraid in your presence. He’d watched you like a hawk, his brows tight and his eyes wide the entire time. 

“You don’t have to make anything up to me, Jason.” you sighed, breaking the awkwardness in the air.

Or at least, you thought it would break it. 

“What do you mean?”

Cringe.

Things were racing too fast in your head, the same sentence you wanted to say wording itself in fifteen different ways. How were you supposed to choose? How could you tell him that you missed what you were, you hated this new distance between you, wanted that bright smile of his back.

You sighed. 

“Nothing. Nevermind.”

Pressing the heel of your palm into your good eye, you willed your growing headache away. Jason simply rested a palm across your upper back. You stiffened slightly, questioning how to react until he began to rub small circles into your back. Finally letting your walls fall, your shoulders sagged, and you found yourself relaxing in his comfort. 

“‘m sorry,” you muttered, drawing a breath of a chuckle from the man.

“Ah, it’s alright. I got used to your outbursts ages ago,” he chuckled. And as you peeked over to him, catching that teasing grin of his, you felt a spark of normalcy return. 

Enjoying that familiar warmth, you stayed quiet, trying to prolong it as long as possible. It felt easier with your eyes closed. It was just dark then, much harder to notice the vast difference in your sight. Especially with Jason’s hand against your back acting as an extra distraction. 

“(Last Name)!”

You jumped at the unfamiliar voice, raising your head and blinking away the dizziness from your abrupt movement. Turning to face the voice, you saw another figure in a hazmat suit, standing stiff at the doorway with a clipboard in hand. 

“Right,” you sighed, and Jason’s hand fell back to the table. “Checkup on the eye. I should be getting a patch now.”

As you rose to your feet, Jason followed you, offering an arm for you to lean on.

“Lemme help you get there,” he uttered, low and soft.

Who were you to say no.

—

“It looks fucking terrible.”

“No, it doesn’t.”

“It totally does,” you grumbled, keeping your head turned towards the wall. Jason’s hand was still against your arm, gently tugging you out of the way as you approached a collapsed pillar. 

He was quiet again, contemplative. Hesitating, you let your arm slip from his grasp, stopping to sit against the cracked stone. 

“What is it?” You took note of the twinge in his voice. A slight pitch that indicated some sort of nervous energy he was trying to withhold. 

You felt like you were walking on eggshells. And you were over it.

“What happened to us?” you demanded, catching the marine off guard. 

“What-”

“Ever since those caves - we haven’t been the same. I feel like we’re just skirting around each other. Like I’m gonna break- or I’m already broken- I don’t even know.” You paused for a breath, barely glancing at Jason’s dumbstruck expression. His jaw was near slack as you ranted, his brows furrowing as your voice raised in pitch.

“Is it because I look like this?” 

“What?! No I-”

“Well then what is it!?” you shrieked, and Jason let out a frustrated groan, throwing two hands up to the sky.

“Shit- I dunno!” he huffed, running his hands down the sides of his face. If you were to hazard a guess, it looked like he was fighting some sort of internal battle, in the way his hands flexed and his brows twitched. In an instant, that flare of anger washed away, replaced with a new concern. You shuffled forward a few steps, suddenly scared to touch him.

“Jason?”

“I forgot that you’re not invincible,” he blurted suddenly. “And it scared me.” 

“Why would that scare you?” you asked, earning an incredulous look from under the brim of his cap. 

“Cause the idea of you bein’ gone scares me even more.” He stepped forward, his gaze growing soft. It was so unlike him. He chewed the corner of his lip, reaching to brush a thumb across your cheekbone. Resting his curled fingers under your jaw, you blinked, swallowing down the rush of butterflies that ravaged your stomach. 

You gently turned your head to the side, reaching up to curl your fingers between his. In an instant, he gripped your hand tighter. Seeming to ground himself through your touch, Jason sucked in a heavy breath, whispering your name.

“I don’t really care what you look like - you’re always beautiful and fuck whoever or whatever made you think differently.” He paused for a heavy breath, gently tugging you closer. Close enough that his shirt brushed against the skin of your arm. “Bein’ around you makes me feel great, and all I wanna do is make you laugh and sappy shit like that. Fuck. I dunno how to say this shit.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle, offering a distraction from the tears that threatened to fall at his admission. Leaning your forehead against his chest, you wrapped your arms around his waist, noticing his quiet gasp as he returned the embrace.

“I think I get what you’re trying to say,” you whispered, a ghost of a smile on your lips. “And I feel that way too. Even though I look like a pirate.”

“Hey now, I think the eyepatch looks pretty cool. I’d even dare to say sexy on you,” he rebuffed without hesitation. Curling his fingers under your chin again, he gently lifted your head to meet his gaze, his expression warming at the blush dancing across your cheeks.

“You find pirates sexy?” You asked, raising your brow. The challenge in the air grew thick, and Jason only smiled, reaching up to brush his thumb across the skin just below the patch covering your eye.

“Aye.”

Your snort was cut short as he dropped his head, pressing a kiss against your forehead. And another against your cheekbone. And another against the edge of your eyepatch, your nose, and the corner of your lips. That sharp spark of warmth spread from your cheeks, turning into a frustrated heat in your chest as he placed another kiss against your jaw.

“Aren’t you supposed to have good aim?” You huffed, before placing a hand on the back of his neck and directing his lips to meet yours.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Tags!

@yellowroses-world @buttermykolchek @kawaiiwitch224 @kassiekolchek22 @yeslieutenant @lorebite @tangytastyflatboard @meadows-of-light @boristhepineapple @thedreamingfish99 @shinydixon @crazymissy22

[trippin-over-my-fandoms]

Hi! I don’t think anyone has ever done this before but-

Heisenberg and Ethan team up but Heisenberg betrays Ethan after the Miranda fight, sadly Ethan mutates and comes back thx to the megamycete and kicks his ass for backstabbing him

The way that I also kinda have an au for this in my drafts- I swear y’all are in my brain. Let’s see-

Ethan takes the gamble and says yes, what’s the worst that could happen? He’s already been through it and some help won’t kill him… at least it shouldn’t. He’s tough he’s survived this long- he look on the others with no problem he can take on Heisenberg… he hopes. So he convinces himself of these things to say yes. Of course, it would have been nice if the bastard had offered sooner but he’ll take it where he can get it- not like Redfield has offered to help him pft.

Despite they’re equal stubbornness they actually?? Work well together?? Heisenberg is terrifyingly smart and he’s obsessive over this little plan of his, he’s got all the details down to a sharp T. Ethan doesn’t exactly have a battle plan to deal with Miranda anyways so it is what it is.

The fight with Miranda is the same setting as canon but with like a lot more metal- Heisenberg distracts her while Ethan nabs Rose. And Miranda is… underwhelmingly and easily defeated. It’s quite literally too good to be true for Ethan. Heisenberg’s plan worked, he destroyed her like he said he would, they’re both free now. What’s not to love?

Ethan is high-tailing it out of there ASAP, mans just wants to go home. He’s almost there when a suddenly mutated Heisenberg blocks his path. Ethan has got just enough time to pass off Rose to Redfield who had been waiting for him on the other side of the cobblestone bridge when- “Sorry Ethan, it’s nothing personal,” and Ethan is impaled by multiple large pieces of the metal, destroying the bridge in the process and Ethan’s corpse falls to the watery depths below.

What we don’t see is that Heisenberg is now controlled by the megamycete, just as it had used Miranda as it’s puppet. With her gone it turns to it’s next viable, and strongest, host being Heisenberg. He’s an incredibly twisted version of himself driven by the mold mindlessly, not even aware of it. Now the megamycete is seeking to consume and destroy anything in it’s path.

It’s an actual crime we never get a mutation out of Ethan being literally sentient because of the mutamycete so by all means he should have had a badass mutation. Well we get it now- he may be a massive mess of inky black mold with a torso but the sheer size of him is insane, he’s never felt more alive and he’s driven with rage of the betrayal, ready for it all to be over with so he can go home to his daughter.

Of course, we’ve essentially bypassed the scene where Ethan gets his heart ripped out so it’s still in tact and beating, a powerful centerpiece in his mutation that does provide a weak spot in extreme contrast to Heisenberg’s mutation which is that of entirely mental intertwined with stretch flesh leaving him essentially armored. But Ethan is protected by his harmony with the mold, three years of living with it keeping him alive, a symbiotic relationship with the mutamycete he didn’t know he had. Ethan can handle the power, Heisenberg can’t.

It’s essentially too much for Heisenberg’s body to handle even as powerful as he is and the fight is pretty much Ethan pushing Heisenberg until he can’t fight any longer, succumbing to be absorbed by the megamycete- which itself mutates and becomes ever powerful having absorbed all in its village.

Now Ethan’s job is getting out of there to avoid the planted explosives on the thing.

It’s not clear to him what happens after that… just that he wakes up back to normal in the middle of some freezing cold woods at sundown with smoke billowing in the distance.

[tea-with-evan-and-me]

"i mean, they were just an anon 😭 saying exactly what the previous anon described. i couldn’t find that ask if i wanted to, but it was like, a WAY too in depth analysis of evan’s exes and which physical traits he must like"

okay! i’m asking about this because i think that it might have been me. i’m not as young as you might think - i’m 20. i sent that ask back in march this year. it was a very dark time for me - i was going through a severe depressive episode that followed a suicide attempt, caused by extremely low self-esteem and extreme perfectionism that made it impossible for me to function normally.

back then, i had a terribly unhealthy obsession with evan to the point where i completely tied my self-worth to him and what he might find attractive. i obsessively analyzed his “type,” carefully examining the phenotype he might potentially like in women. i fixated on frances’ beauty, and every time i looked at her, i felt like i was dying inside because she became my ideal of beauty, something i desperately wanted to achieve. it hurt me to think that evan noticed her even though she wasn’t actually famous, but she was beautiful enough for him to be in a relationship with her. around that time, evan also started dating natalie, which just confirmed my suspicions about his potential preferences regarding female beauty.

my thinking back then was heavily influenced by confirmation bias. i created an image in my head of what kind of appearance evan liked, and i hated everything about myself that didn’t match that ideal. it was because of evan that i dyed my hair blonde (although that was much earlier). the thought that i could be the kind of girl evan peters might like was what kept me going. despite being conventionally very pretty, my self-esteem was at rock bottom, and it destroyed me from the inside.

now, looking back, my heart breaks when i think about how much i suffered over something so trivial and insane (because that’s probably how it sounds to all of you). fortunately things are sooo much better now - my boyfriend, the most wonderful person in the world, helped me put my life back together. he changed my mindset and my approach to life, helped me focus on what truly matters, and saved me in every possible way. this huge progress is, of course, also thanks to professional psychological help and therapy.

i’m still a fan of evan and his craft, but it’s much healthier now. i’ve let go of the unhealthy obsession - his dating preferences don’t keep me up at night at all anymore, and my self-esteem is steadily improving and is no longer tied to him. of course, my mental state wasn’t affected solely by evan peters’s type - it’s a much deeper and more complicated topic than i’ve explained here. i just felt an inner need to vent a little (sorry for that), but i hope this long ass essay didn’t bore you too much admin😭 and i hope that you won’t take this bizarre story too negatively. love you all, and thank you to those who managed to read all of this <3

anon, i don't know for sure if that was your ask being referenced, but i truly appreciate your honesty and candidness in talking about this. you're right that it really boils down to something much deeper than evan and his taste in women, and you explained it all very well. i'm sorry you went through that, but i'm glad that you sought help and are doing better - you should be proud of yourself. it's such a hard thing to struggle with self image and self-esteem, and the way those feelings manifest in day to day life. you're right that it isn't trivial at all, and your message didn't bore me. take care anon. 💗

[soshinee]

hi hi, I actually just recently started getting interested in kpop and I wanna know why you hate bts. I literally have no frame of reference for anything in this sphere so I’m just trying to learn more. Are they widely hated because it seems like everyone besides their fans are irritated by them? idk I’m so new to this all sorry!

hi! bts has a history of racism and antiblackness and that’s the main reason why i dislike them so much. i don’t have receipts bc im not that kind of person but i know they exist. there’s probably threads on twt you can find documenting stuff

this is the most recent example of something egregious they’ve done/been involved with

they’re pretty widely beloved still as evidenced by army but within kpoppie circles there tends to be a lot of disdain for them and their fanbase. and their fans are fucking insufferable like truly the worst of any fandom i’ve ever seen.. they’re the reason kpop stans and kpop in general have a bad reputation at least on twitter and i feel confident in saying that lmfao

[panic-in-the-multiverse]

Pizza & Cuddles

Pairings: Kate Bishop x gn!reader (platonic/romantic)

Requested by @littlerattyboy idk if this is how you do this (i’ve never done it before lmao) but for a kate bishop imagine what if the reader was blind in one eye so had like terrible depth perception and they just bumped into things a lot so kate kinda just helps out

Warnings: half blind reader, minor injuries, fluff (idk if that’s a warning)

A/N I am so sorry for the long wait, I had to deal with some personal stuff but anyway here it is. I might of gotten a little carried away with it, and sorry if it’s not what you imagined. I didn’t really know if you wanted it to be in a platonic way or romantic way, so I have written this so you can either see it as platonic or romantic doesn’t really matter, and I did ad a bit of a teaser to the reader having some kind of power like better senses or something like that (except for enhanced eyesight and stuff with the eyes) now when I realized it, it’s kinda like my cute little boy Matt Murdock. Man do I want to write something for Matt Murdock.

I have not proofread this and I’m sorry about that. Also it’s not my best works but anyway here you go (requests are always open)

Clumsy. That’s the word people would use to describe you. Even if you told them it was because you were blind in one eye. It didn’t matter you were simply clumsy to them. Except for Kate.

Kate understood. She really did. Ever since you first met in high school she had always been there for you making sure you didn’t get hurt by walking into for example the wall or the door. Even now some years later you both stuck together and she still helps you to not bump into things. Sweet, sweet Kate even put baby protection (as a joke) on the sharp furniture so that you wouldn’t hurt yourself. You had been kind of mad at her for that until she took them away.

Even when you had the protection it still didn’t stop you from bumping into things. As stated before you couldn’t help it. You had been born blind in one eye and you had always had a bad depth perception. As a child you bumped into every little thing, it got a bit better when you got older as your other senses got stronger, but you still bumped into things a lot. Your enhanced senses didn’t unfortunately include your eyes. So you still needed the help of Kate sometimes. Especially when your senses got overwhelmed by the things surrounding you, like for example to much sound.

Today was no exception. For some reason the life outside of yours and Kate’s compartment was very much alive. It seemed to drown you down more than usual. Normally it wouldn’t bother you that much as it wasn’t this overwhelming. But like stated it became to much for you today. It didn’t help that you were extremely tired. As the day before you and Kate had stayed up late as she tried to teach you how to shoot with a bow and arrows. Let’s just say you already had a few cuts on you, and you didn’t feel like getting some more.

So instead you sat on the floor in the middle of the living room, waiting for Kate to get home, as she was out doing god knows what. She was probably out doing some superhero thing, like she loved to do so much.

Eventually you got hungry and in the end you couldn’t stand it so you stood up and started to walk towards the kitchen.

When you were nearly there, that was when you accidentally walked straight into the doorframe. You backed away rubbing your head and continued to walk into the kitchen while saying a few curses under your breath.

You opened the freezer and took out a frozen pizza. It was one thing that you and Kate ate more often than you’d like to admit. Pizza was after all both of yours favorite food.

As you laid the pizza on the kitchen table and went over to the oven. But on your way there you bumped into one of the cupboards and fell down to the floor. You accidentally hit your head on the floor pretty hard. So now you were on the floor waiting for the dizziness to stop. One could only hope Kate hadn’t gotten home to see what happened.

Luck did not seem to be on your side as Kate had in deed gotten home the right moment you fell to the floor. She now stood in the hallway trying not to laugh. After all it always looked kinda funny to her but she’d always help. She sometimes felt bad for laughing, but you yourself joked about you bad eyesight sometimes.

Obviously you had heard her and you had turned your head so quickly towards her that the dizziness came back. You could see her taking of her coat before she went over to you. Her footstep vibrating the floor. Even more as she got closer to you. She stretched out a hand for you and you took it with a pout on your face. Not liking to need the help of someone else.

“Kate Bishop the best archer in the world at your service” she always said that to you, with her goofy and adorable grin. Every time she helped yo that’s what she said. Sometimes it was annoying, and this time it was. You had hoped to not hurt yourself on anything, but as always luck was never on your side.

“Shut up and give me the frozen pizza pack”

“someone is in a grumpy mood” Kate noticed on an instance your glare and put her hands up. With her hands still raised up in surrender she said “Okay I get it” But she did go ever to the pizza box picking it up. Then she went back to you. She helped you up and went to the living room

Soon enough she led you to the sofa in the living room. Both of you sitting down on the couch. Kate gave you the frozen pizza box, and you took it in your left hand. Putting it against the left side of your head. The coldness helping with the burning sensation that hitting the floor had caused. As she looked straight at you, you couldn’t help but look away. You always felt so helpless every time Kate had to help you. Especially when the two of you were kids.

Kate had always understood how you felt about getting help from others. She couldn’t help but frown a bit. Though soon enough she had an idea. Something that would always make you happy. Something that always made her happy too.

“I know something that can make it better”

You had gotten startled by her voice breaking the silence. Forgetting she was there for a while as you had gotten lost in thoughts. She looked at you when you finally turned your eyes towards her. Kate waited for you to say something and eventually you did.

“And what would that be”

“Pizza and movie marathon with cuddles” Kate had an adorable grin and excitement had filled her eyes, hoping that your answer would be yes. Who was she kidding though, your answer was always yes no matter what you were doing.

“Alright but pls buy the pizza from -”

“Yeah, yeah I know your fave place” she paused and raised herself up from the couch. Kate turned towards you and said “I’ll be back soon, and when I am you better not have moved from the couch laying on the ground hurt again”

“Yes ma’am” you said with a goofy grin as you saluted her with your right hand. She rolled her eyes before she went to the hallway taking her coat and walking out of the door.

It didn’t take long before she got home again. You could of smell the delicious pizza from miles away.

When Kate came into the living room she put the pizza-box down on the table. Then she went into the bedroom and got a few blankets and put them beside you.

Soon enough the two of you were cuddled up towards each other. Blankets covering the both of you keeping the warmness between the two of you. As the two of yours favorite movie was playing. The pizza long gone.

Eventually you broke the silence saying “Thanks”

“For what” Kate had looked up at you confused, why would you say thanks for something, she hadn’t really done anything but to help her favorite person in the world.

“For always being here for me” you had smiled softly at her and she did the same thing back answering with “No problem”

[keijislove]

Hi babe! I was wondering if I could request a Tony Stark x daughter reader? With lots of angst and her being locked in her room because she’s being bullied for her darker skin

(I understand if you’re not comfortable with this)

Safe Place: Tony Stark X Daughter!Reader

I think this turned out a bit longer than I expected.

Sorry :(

I hope you like this, I don’t really have a lot of experience with this matter, so I hope I captured the emotions right!

I AM APOLOGISING IN ADVANCE, THE HURTFUL COMMENTS MENTIONED HERE ARE NOT ONES I WOULD EVER USE IN MY LIFETIME.

GIRL, YOU ARE BEAUTIFUL JUST THE WAY YOU ARE – YOU DON’T NEED DIMWITS LIKE RACISTS TO DEFINE BEAUTY. YOU WANT THE DEFINITION OF BEAUTY, GO LOOK IN THE MIRROR.

PUT A STOP TO RACISM.

WARNINGS: Slight EXTREMELY racial comments, mentions of death, toxic relationship, angst, Tony being a little... well, Tony.

Being Tony Stark’s daughter was nearly everyone’s dream. Well, everyone you’d come across at school, anyway. It seemed rational from their point of view – big house, big bedroom, expensive branded clothing, basically an overall exquisite lifestyle coupled with fame of being his daughter which was sure to earn popularity points anywhere and everywhere. A man rolling in that amount of money would make a great dad... right?

You thought differently. Which was one of the main reasons you did not tell anyone who your father really was and your teachers understood your predicament and played along to your story of being an ordinary girl with no scope for coolness whatsoever.

Your mother had met your father a long, long time ago – when Tony was still in university. Of course, he’d left her before he even knew she was pregnant, and they never saw each other again. You didn’t exactly love your life as his daughter. In fact, from what your mother had told you, he was (in your vision) a complete monster whom your mother had the sad misfortune to meet.

It was her untimely death that had forced you to go live with the man who was the reason you were born and the man who ruthlessly left your mother to fend for herself and a baby. You had tried for foster care, but the agents told you that your father was still alive and more than capable of taking care of you – being the famous Tony Stark and all.

So it would suffice to say that Tony was lowkey shocked when you turned up at his doorstep one day with a grudging expression and declarations of being his daughter. He actually didn’t believe you at first and asked you to piss off which confirmed your earlier assumptions about his character – asshole. After you’d snapped at him and showed him all the legal documentations stating that you two were blood-related as father-daughter after all, Tony was even more shocked than earlier.

Though he would rather die than admit it, he felt sad after seeing your fourteen-year-old self standing at his doorstep. He’d missed your birth, your first steps, your first words, he even missed helping you with homework in preschool – basically all precious moments you enjoy with a child. But you made it pretty clear that you didn’t want to be here – something that made Tony’s already overlarge pride swell like a bullfrog and stopped him from ever getting close to you. While you were busy thinking he didn’t want you, you overlooked a small detail – he took you in.

If anyone had the power to bribe an adoption agency to get rid of their kid, it was Anthony Stark, yet he never gave you away. The simple explanation (that he would never, in a million years, admit it to you) was that he didn’t want to lose you – around the only blood-related family he had left.

And so began your life as Y/N Stark. It functioned surprisingly well for your expectations. Pepper was really nice to you and those few occasions when the Avengers came over, you were able to talk to Natasha about ‘girl things’, her presence reminding you of the mother you had lost only too young. You sometimes even asked Bruce for help with homework, too proud yourself to go to Tony. Overall, you stayed out of his way while he stayed out of yours – an arrangement you were both satisfied with.

The worst part was that you never talked. Ever. You would wake up and walk to school, refusing Jarvis’ continued protests of letting you use the self-driving car, came home the same way where you did your homework and grabbed a snack before you ‘father’ came back upstairs from his little man cave in the basement and a small ‘good-evening’ passed between you two as you went your separate ways. This cycle repeated itself every day. Recently, your life at school hadn’t been going great.

You’d known that your skin tone was a notch darker than the others at your school – something you had gotten from your mother – and this was not something you really cared about. That’s when they started coming – the comments. What were originally small, snide retorts of ‘wash your face, ew!’ (A/N: I AM SO SORRY) had now escalated to them calling you obscene names you’d never heard before and asking you to leave ‘their’ school

Which was why, instead of being at school today, you were locked in your bedroom, sobbing into your pillow.

It had started out as a very unusual morning. After getting comments hurled at you left right and centre the previous day, you’d had enough. You’d woken up and declared to Jarvis that you were skipping school and he was to, under no circumstances, notify your father about this. After that you tried to eat some cereal, but the bubbling dread in your stomach made it taste like dry carpet, so you gave up and stomped into your room, locking the door before flinging yourself onto the bed and crying your heart out.

It was in times like these that you felt the need for something – a gaping hole in your chest. It seemed foolish to even admit it to yourself, but you really wanted someone like a parent. Someone who listened to your problems and comforted you accordingly, someone who actually cared about you. And since Tony Stark filled neither of these requirements, you gave up the foolish dream and sunk, once again, into your self-fashioned depths of misery.

-------

Tony casually sipped on his wine, putting one last screw into place to make the latest piece he was testing out. As he powered the device on, it vibrated for a moment before the words ‘model failed’ appeared on the screen Tony was examining.

He swore loudly and shoved it ungracefully aside before running his hands through his hair. There had been many an occasion where Tony seriously considered going to your room to just say something to you that wasn’t a monotonous ‘good evening’ or ‘the milk’s finished’ or something else like that. He wanted to talk to you. To you.

He wanted to get to know the real Y/N – what you were like when you weren’t too busy being bold and refusing to appear vulnerable. As if reading his thoughts, Jarvis’ voice filled the room suddenly.

“Sir, I do believe that Ms Stark is currently locked inside her bedroom. She refused to go to school just this morning.”

“What?” Tony exclaimed, “Why, did she tell you anything else?”

“Just this, Sir, along with a few obscene warnings of not informing you about this occurrence. If I recall correctly, Ms Stark told me she would rip out my sockets with her bare hands had I come to you.”

Ignoring the small smirk that was growing on his lips at the thought of you behaving exactly as he would, Tony wiped his tired hands on a nearby cloth before sprinting out the door and up the stairs to your bedroom.

He knocked on the door.

“Go away Pepper, not in the mood,” came your muffled voice. It was weak and raw – evidently, you had been crying.

Ignoring the poking feeling of dread bubbling in his stomach, Tony knocked again.

“Open up, kid, it’s me,” he shouted.

“Definitely not in the mood, thanks.”

Tony sighed. This was exactly what he had tried so hard to avoid –turning out like his own father. Not knowing how to deal with a daughter properly, he just let you go about your business as you wanted, hoping that it would yield better results than what his childhood had been like. Now, looking back at how much he’d neglected you, he suddenly realised that he had done the exact thing he was afraid of – hurt you.

“Y/N Y/M/N Stark, open the door. Please.”

Perhaps it was the please at the end or the way he acknowledged you as his living, breathing daughter for the first time that made you stagger limply over to the door and push it open.

Your eyes were puffy, red and swollen from bawling nonstop and your brows were knitted into a disapproving frown. It broke Tony’s heart to see you like this.

“Listening,” you sniffed, crossing your arms.

“Okay, why don’t you sit down,” Tony frowned slightly.

You gave another hearty sniff and led him to your bed where you flopped down and watched as he took a seat beside you.

You both sat in a very painful, deafening silence for the next few minutes.

“You didn’t go to school today,” Tony casually remarked as you played with your pillow, refusing to meet his eyes.

“I did,” you said simply.

“Wanna tell me what’s going on?” Tony offered.

“I really don’t,” you admitted as he burst out laughing and you gave a grudging giggle despite yourself.

“Seriously, kid,” Tony said in an undertone, “You’ve gotta open up a bit more. I mean, it’s been like what, two years since you moved here and you never bother telling me what’s going on. And look where that got you – come on, tell me what’s going on. Is it school?”

“Partially,” you quietly said to which he cocked an eyebrow.

“Completely,” you amended, sighing, “Kids, you know, they’re just being – well, mean.”

“Okay,” Tony nodded slightly, “You want to talk about it?”

“They... they make fun of me,” you admitted, “About – about my skin colour and stuff. And I know I’m being stupid, getting upset over this –”

“It’s not stupid,” Tony broke in, “It’s not stupid at all. Nothing gives anyone a right to talk to you that way.”

“Try telling that to them!” you burst out, final letting go of the pent-up emotions you’d been holding for days, “What did I ever do to them – it’s not my fault I look like this, maybe if I could choose what to look like, I’d choose something they want! Just about everyone seems to have a problem – what the hell do they expect me to do? It’s unjust, unfair, unsettling and unkind, but of course they don’t care, do they?!”

Tony didn’t even flinch throughout your entire outburst until you broke down and tears began rapidly pouring out of your eyes once more.

“Hey, hey, stop, listen to me,” Tony sternly said, seizing your shoulders and turning you to face him.

“You’re a Stark,” he said, gazing you dead in the eyes, “You are beautiful, you’re smart and you’re kind. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”

This was too much for you to handle and you started sobbing again – sobs of partial happiness and partial guilt that didn’t look like they would stop anytime soon.

“Come here, kid,” was all Tony could say as he pulled you into a hug, allowing you to sob into his shirt while he stroked your hair, trying to calm you down.

“I’m sorry if I’ve ever been mean to you,” you whispered finally.

“It’s okay, kid,” Tony murmured, pressing a kiss to your forehead, “I’m sorry I haven’t been a great father all this time.”

You two sat in a now comfortable silence, occasionally clearing your throats or sniffling a bit before Tony finally spoke.

“If anyone says that to you again, I will have them cut up and fed to the fish in my house in Malibu.”

“Thanks, dad.”

[johnsamericano]

𝔖𝔲𝔤𝔞𝔯 ℜ𝔲𝔰𝔥 𝔧.𝔧.𝔥 •3•

I hope this ain't getting shitty. Thank you for reading, sexy people. Send me a message or an ask if you'd like to be added to the tag list.

warnings: hungover jaehyun, age gap, hospitals, nothing too extreme.

sugar rush m.list.

taglist: @thoreeo @trustmahluv @sunny-nyu @nanascupid @silent-potato @painted-hills

~

Yoonoh woke up on a strange bed, the mattress stiffer than the one he had back home. He refused to open his eyes, fearing that the daylight would worsen his headache.

Yoonoh woke up on a strange bed, the mattress stiffer than the one he had back home. He refused to open his eyes, fearing that the daylight would worsen his headache.

“Wake up, sunshine.” He groaned, all the memories from the past night hitting him like a truck. “Come on, I made breakfast.”

His eyelids finally fluttered open, frown softening at the sight of you in a messy bun and your cute pajamas.

“How come you look so fresh?” The dark circles under his eyes had deepened in the span of a few hours. Thank God he didn't have to work that day.

“I always look fresh.” You seemed to be more comfortable around him. Perhaps it was because you had to tuck him in last night. “Up.”

You tugged both of his limp hands, forcing him to sit up.

“What did you cook? It smells nice.” He scrunched up his nose like a little kid.

“Eggs, bacon, and hash browns.” Fast as lightning, he got up from bed. On his way to the kitchen, he noticed the blanket hanging from the edge of your sofa. Disappointment pinched his heart.

“Why didn't you sleep with me? You would've been more comfortable.”

You set two plates on the small table, pulling the pan out of the stove to serve them.

“You spread yourself all over the bed as soon as I laid you down.” You lied successfully. You didn’t have the heart to tell him you weren’t that comfortable yet.

You let the pan down on the kitchen counter, taking a seat in front of him.

“Do you still want to visit my father?” Sparkling orbs stared at him timidly, fearing his answer would be negative.

“I mean…” You hummed, trying not to give it as much importance. “I do want to go!” He quickly corrected himself, frantically shaking his hands. “It’s just that I don't want to meet your father like this.” He pointed at his bed hair, which had only become messier since he woke up.

“You’re acting like he's gonna see you.” There was a slight bitterness in your tone, along with a fake grin.

“Alright, let's do this instead...” Yoonoh sat up straight, clearing his throat as if he were about to give a speech. “We’ll have breakfast, you'll shower quickly, and then we’ll drive to my house so I can fix myself. How does that sound?”

“So I'm finally gonna see your mansion? How exciting.” You kicked his leg teasingly under the table, his cheeks inevitably dipping as he tried to suppress a smile. “I bet you have some peacocks in your backyard.”

“And there's also a dolphin in my pool.” He let out a hearty laugh, extending his arm over the table to grab your hand.

His house was most definitely not what you expected.

It was about the size of the one you grew up in, the decoration inside minimalistic. There were no expensive paintings framed with pure gold, only pictures of him and his family. There was a small backyard you could access through the French door in the kitchen. Half of it was occupied by a greenhouse.

“I had to donate the peacocks to the zoo.” He whispered as you looked through the glass door, squeezing your shoulders with his slim fingers.

“What a shame.” Hesitantly, he wrapped both of his limbs around your torso, letting his chin rest stop of your head. Your heartbeat was thumping loudly against your chest. Yoonoh surely felt it but decided not to comment on it.

“There’s a Tv in my room in case you want to watch something while I shower.” A hint of mischief adorned his honey-like voice. “Or you can come in and watch me instead.”

“Stop!” Your elbow connected with his ribs out of pure panic, making him bend in pain with his hands covering the injured spot.

“It was a joke...” He whispered, teeth gritting together.

I made him mad, you thought. Should you escape or face the consequences of his anger? All thoughts erased from your mind as he grabbed your calves, lifting you over his shoulder.

“Put me down!” You hit his back with closed fists, unable to see the expression on his face. “Yoonoh!”

He went up the stairs, proceeding to enter his room and throw you on his bed. Thousands of dirty scenarios crossed your mind before he threw himself on top of you, crushing your bones under his muscular body.

“My...ribs...”

“Oh, sorry, what is that?” To make matters worse, his fingers tickled your sides, provoking a fit of desperate giggles to escape your mouth. “I’m not hearing an apology.”

“Sorry! Sorry!” His hands finally stopped, giving you time to breathe. Nonetheless, he remained laid on your chest, using his forearms to lift his weight. “Aren’t you gonna shower?”

“I like you.”

The confession was so sudden, so raw it took you some time to finally react. But you had no words to give him an answer, instead, you combed your fingers through his long hair, massaging his scalp while waiting for him to speak up again.

“I never thought I'd be feeling more than friendly affection for you. Our agreement doesn't include love, after all. But I've started feeling like a teenager all over again. I can't help but get excited whenever you call me. Do you know how sweet your voice sounds through the phone?” He sighed, discouraged at your lack of response. “I guess you're not there yet.”

Instead of verbally answering, you planted a sweet kiss on his head, right where small, grey hairs had started growing.

“I’m not good with words.”

“That’s alright.” He snuck his hands under your back, holding you tightly as a sudden need to nurture you took over him. The mature image he had of you faded in less than a second, leaving behind a young, troubled woman. “I’ll shower quickly so we can go see your pops. I bet we’ll get along just fine, maybe even go golfing when he wakes up.”

“I forgot you're almost the same age. Creepy.” He smiled, though uneasiness started steering in his guts.

“Does that bother you?” He asked without giving it a second thought.

“I don't know yet.”

(...)

The man with high cheekbones and bruised skin laid limp on the hospital bed. Yoonoh had been working on his case for about a month, yet, it only started feeling real the moment he entered the room.

“This is my dad.” All emotions had escaped your eyes as if your soul wasn't there anymore. Only an empty shell.

“You look so much like him.” he was afraid touching you wouldn't be the right thing to do, so instead, he said: “He seems like a suitable golf buddy.”

Tension finally loosened its grip around his body as you snorted, pigment returning to your cheeks. Finally, he wrapped his hand around yours.

“He will wake up, y/n.”

“He’s taking his sweet time.” You glanced back at the laying figure, skinnier with every day he spent asleep. “I want someone to pay for taking away the last person that loved me.”

The last person that loved you. Would Yoonoh be able to fill that spot? Not yet, probably. He couldn't modify the depth of his feelings, but he could surely give you the vengeance you longed.

“Do you trust me?” With your eyes still glued to your father, you nodded. “Then I can assure you we’ll win the case.”

“I know we will.”

He sat silently with you, holding your hand without saying a word. The smell of alcohol and the beeping noise of machines made him nauseous. He hated hospitals. You noticed the change in his demeanor, his hand becoming cold while holding yours with strength.

“Do you wanna go?”

“No!” He smiled through the pain, scooting his chair closer to lay your hand on his lap.

He wouldn't agree to get his ass off the plastic chair. You had to tell him you were hungry for him to finally stand up, still clutching your hand like your father did when you were still a kid. His parental behavior caused several emotions to stir inside your guts, so mixed up you couldn't quite put a finger on any of them.

“What do you want to eat?” The tension finally left his body once out of the building.

“Soup.” You smiled while swiping your thumb on top of his knuckles. “I know a place, but to be honest, it isn't good. So we can go to the store and get the ingredients to- but you can't cook.”

“I’m up for a cooking lesson if you are.” He wanted to see your pretty smile again. Maybe making a fool of himself would help. “Let’s hit the road.”

“Wow, so cool.”

“I know.”

(...)

“Can you grab that can of chicken broth?” You pointed at the high shelf, letting go of Yoonoh’s hand to allow him to move freely

“I have a better idea.” He dragged you by the arm so you were standing in front of him, trapped between his body and the shelf. “I’ll lift you so you can reach it.” Matching his words, his hands grasped your waist, ready to carry you.

“Stop!” You slapped his hands repeatedly between giggles. Ignoring your complaints, he started lifting you. “Yoonoh!”

“Yoonoh?” A feminine voice had him placing you back on your feet in less than a second.

“Seryeong, I didn't expect to see you here.” His hands remained seated on the curve of your waist.

“Neither did I. I was surprised when Sungchan told me you'd left early yesterday.” She seemed a bit older than you but still younger than the man behind you.

“I had some matters to take care of.” She eyed you from head to toes with a smug grin plastered on her lips. Just by the look of her clothes, you could tell she was as wealthy as Yoonoh. You feared the scene would turn into a tv worthy drama.

“I’ll go get the chicken breast.” You tried escaping his grip, only to be pulled closer to his warmth.

“No need to. It's already inside the cart.”

Why am I so dumb?

“Does your father know about your little girlfriend?” She asked without hesitation.

“I guess.”

“And why didn't he tell me anything?” She cocked an eyebrow, his hands finally loosening around your body and allowing you to move from your position.

“Look, this is something you should talk about with him. Now, if you excuse us...” With a hand on your shoulder, he began pushing the cart to the next aisle, the chicken broth long forgotten.

“Is this some kind of arranged marriage situation?”

“Something like that.” His hands were tense while holding the cart, knuckles turning white from the strength used. “Before you start asking, I'm not really in the mood and I don't want to direct my bad mood toward you. Let's talk about something else, alright?”

Who was that woman that had the power to turn him into a literal raging ball of fire with just a few words?

[allthingskakashi]

• Bells and Balls •

[ Kakashi x Reader ]

Tags : NSFW, Smut

Words : 4.8k

A/n: I wrote over 4k words just to get some dick.

Okay sbsbajash idk I'd been working on this for like a whole week and i couldn't concentrate on anything unless i finished this lmao so here it is whatever, I can't drag this around anymore. Uhhh hope you like it I'm still not very good at writing smut im sorry. This takes place in the post Anbu and pre team 7 era and Kakashi’s a bit of an asshole but you know you still love him. This is also a little similar to my other fic ‘Yearning’ but here you get the s e x and i’m sorry if the characterization is bad, i put more focus on making it hot i guess ok ill shut up now i hope you like it

You give the sheet of paper in your hand one final glance, and look around the room. There’s a long line behind you and you’re surrounded by your fellow jounins, each here to submit their respective lists.

You were extremely happy with the performance of your team and didn’t have to think twice before passing them. You had no doubt that they would make wonderful shinobi. You looked forward to teaching and guiding them, and judging by the chatter around you, most other jounins had passed their teams too.

The trouble, however, remains with Kakashi Hatake.

A few weeks ago, you had all been named squad leaders and put in charge of a squad, and today was your very first day with your assigned teams. As instructed, each of you conducted a test for the genin and depending upon whether they passed or failed, the final list would be announced.

No one till date had ever passed Kakashi Hatake's infamous test, and everyone was sure that no one would this year either. Most genin trembled in fear of him, being aware of his strict methods.

And as it happens, at this moment, this infamous man is right in front you, standing with his back hunched forward as he hands his paper in to the woman behind the desk.

You wait for your turn, your eyes fixating on the red symbol on his vest as you wonder, ruefully, about the fate of the students he must have failed this time.

You take a step forward as he turns around, having submitted his paper, and the line moves up behind you.

Kakashi peeks briefly at your paper as he passes, letting out an audible scoff at the list in your hand before walking on ahead, hands tucked in his pockets.

You’re momentarily confused by this sudden act, but something is already starting to boil up inside you. You aren’t exactly known for being placid, nor for sitting by and allowing people to give you crap. Your eyebrows furrow as you hastily thrust your sheet onto the desk, before making your way to follow after him.

“Do you have a problem?” you call to his back as a few heads turn towards you.

He stops, taking his time turning back to look at you, half lidded eyes looking as indifferent as always.

His demeanour pushes you further to the edge and you take a few steps closer, craning your neck to meet his eyes, waiting for an answer.

“Well?”

He peers down at you unfazed, completely oblivious to the audience around you, as if they are not even there.

“You’re too soft”, he shrugs. “You don’t know how the shinobi world works” he says bluntly, piercing you with his unwavering gaze.

You glare back at him, your mouth twitching with the sled of retorts forming at the back of your tongue.

“Who gave you the right to—"

But he’s already turning away from you, your eyes meeting with the red symbol of his vest once again.

“Hey don’t you fucking walk away from me!” you yell, going forward to stop him, but he saunters on ahead without turning back; his scent lingering in the air as you stand there, watching his figure disappear slowly along the hallway, your fury seething inside you.

Who the fuck does he think he is?

--------------------------------------------------

 “Thank you! This is just what I needed.” you chime, digging into the hot bowl of ramen in front of you, your mouth salivating just at the look of it.

You take a big mouthful, revelling in the immediate burst of flavours on your tongue.

“Mmmm.” You moan, “You’ve outdone yourself, Ayame!”

The young girl smiles at you in delight, proceeding to serve you another helping.

You take another blissful bite, closing your eyes to relish the moment.

The streets are quiet around you except for the faint chirp of crickets, as is expected at this hour of the night. It must be past midnight by now, you’re not exactly sure.

You had been tossing and turning in bed, unable to sleep. For some reason, the encounter with Kakashi from earlier today had you feeling bitter and edgy. You hated that he was in your head, you didn’t understand why. It wasn’t like you to be this bothered by some mindless comments from someone. You’d had altercations before, worse ones, but they were never enough to steal away your night’s sleep.

And yet, this time…

You had to do something to take the edge off, ideally punch him in the face, but since that was not the plausible choice, you settled for the next best thing. Going for a run and treating yourself to your favourite comfort food later.  

So here you are now, out at night all by yourself. The Ichiraku shop was still open, bless the lords.

You slurp some of the soup from the bowl and let out a loud smack of your lips.

You can feel your spirits lifting, and you’re glad for it. He wasn’t in your head after all, you were just having a bad day, that’s all.

You shift your focus back to the bowl in front of you, moaning and slurping as you go.

“Whoa there, Get a room.”

The sudden interruption of the familiar voice makes you stop cold.

Are you fucking kidding me?

You look up from your bowl, turning your head around to see none other than Kakashi Hatake, standing smug in all his glory.

The strange pang of bitterness is back in the depths of your stomach and you resist the urge to punch that smug look off his face.

“Ah, if it isn’t Kakashi Hatake, the all-knowing wisenheimer.” you say, your tone snide. “Say, don’t you have somewhere else to be? Some genin to fail?”

He comes around to take a seat on the stool beside you, a smirk evident through his mask, almost as if he’s enjoying this.

“I’ve already failed them” he smiles sweetly at you. “Worked up quite an appetite too.” He says, looking away from you to place his order.

You notice as Ayame notes his order down, the distinct shade of pink that tinges her cheeks as does, before turning away and disappearing into the supplies room at the back of the shop.

Ugh. What is with this guy? Why is it so….

You don’t realise you’re staring at him until he looks back at you, raising a questioning eyebrow. You supress your startlement at being caught, pretending as if you’d meant to be glaring at him.

“What the hell are you even doing out here so late?” you spurt, trying to sound irritated but it comes out sounding almost…concerned?

Thankfully, he doesn’t notice. “I could ask you the same.”

You look away, unwilling to answer. You were out here to get him out of your head, and now here you are, sitting beside him in a ramen shop while the entire village sleeps.

It almost feels like you’re the only two people in the world. The feeling makes something churn inside your stomach.

You dab your mouth with your napkin, before swivelling on the stool to face him. You look at him intently, studying his features. He stares back at you, as if waiting for you to say something.

“Why?” you ask, catching him off guard with it.

“Why what?”

“Why does no one pass your test? What’s so difficult about it?” you ask, gaze fixated on him. You expect him to look uncomfortable but he just shrugs.

“Why do you want to know?”

“I’m curious” you reply truthfully, watching him smirk at your answer.  

You hate it when he smirks, how his face looks when he’s being cocky.

Ugh.

He swivels in his chair now, turning his body towards you. “Is that so?”, he says through the smirk, resting his elbow on the counter and leaning in.

You don’t know why, but something about his tone and the way he leans in makes it difficult for you to breathe all of a sudden.

But you’re not one to be fazed.

“Yes” you reply, refusing to let yourself crumple under his gaze. Your voice comes out sounding hoarse, and you clear your throat.

He smirks wider at your reply and stretches the next words out.

“If you’re so curious…Why don’t you find out for yourself?”

Your heart thuds like clapper clanging against a bell. You resist the urge to gulp.

Was it this hot when I left the house?

You clear your throat again. “I don’t have the time to take part in your stupid games”

The smirk is adamant on his lips, his gaze unnerving.

He breathes, “Do you not have the time…or do you not have the balls?”

His tone is challenging. Or inviting. Or both, you’re not really sure, you’re not thinking straight anymore.

Your jacket is too hot against your skin, you writhe beneath the thick material.

Sliding off the stool, you walk slowly towards him, erasing the space in between you bit by bit with each step, until your bodies are a few inches away from touching. Your eyes bore into each other’s as if in silent battle. It’s your turn to smirk now.

“Training Grounds in 20 mins” you whisper. Despite the hitch in your breath, your voice is clear. “Don’t be late.”

You walk past him without breaking your gaze, brushing your shoulder against his arm as you walk by, perhaps a little harder than necessary, leaving Kakashi to stare after you.

--------------------------------------------------

You sit on the damp grass with your back against a tree, waiting. Your jacket lies in a puddle beside you.

You count the weapons in your bag, you hadn’t exactly come out prepared for a fight tonight. Two kunai knives, that’s all.

Would that be enough to take down the copy ninja? You hope so. There’s no way you’re letting him win. It’s time someone taught him a lesson and you would love to be that someone. The nerve of him…to actually challenge you.

He really needs to get a life. But then, here you are too…

Why am I here? What am I even doing?

You close your eyes and tilt your head back against the hard bark, your eyebrows furrowing the way they always do when you’re deep in thought.

Back at the shop… the way he spoke…the look in his eyes— God, Stop. Stop it.

Who the fuck cares about the look in his eyes?

Not me.

It’s okay. I’m good.

We’re here to teach this asshole a lesson. An asshole, that’s what he is. Insufferable and stupid and smug and ridiculously ho— horrible. Ridiculously horrible.

You take a deep breath, opening your eyes and standing up so fast that it makes your head dizzy for a brief second. You start walking around, jerking your arms and legs, stretching your neck, even slapping yourself a few times on the face to make yourself focus.

Yes, I need to focus. The lack of sleep is getting to me.

You crouch down to tighten your shoelaces, before getting up and starting some stretching exercises. Gotta loosen the muscles, make sure you have full flexibility. After all, taking on Kakashi Hatake all by yourself is probably not going to be a piece of cake.

You look down to check your attire: running shorts and a tank top, not fully ideal but it’ll do.

You’re bent over, in the midst of doing rotating toe touches when your eyes fall upon a silhouette far ahead, nearing closer and closer. You pause, standing up straight with your hands on your hips as the figure walks slowly towards you, a faint jingling noise ringing through the air, as Kakashi finally comes near enough for you to make out his face in the dim light.

“Late as always” you say, crossing your arms over your chest.

Kakashi stands a few feet away from you, holding something in one hand, other hand inside his pocket. He’s not wearing his jacket anymore either, you observe.

“Sorry, had to go get this” he says, holding up what looks like two small bells with strings attached.

You squint at it, coming closer to get a better look. “What the hell is that?”

“Bells”, he smiles. “That’s the test. You have to get these bells from me. You can use any attack you want but… since you’re not a genin, I’ll raise the stakes a little higher for you. You cannot use ninjutsu or genjustu. It has to be purely physical attacks. You have till dawn.”

This little fucker. He knows taijutsu is not my strong point.

But fine. If that’s how he wants to play this, so be it. I’m taking him down one way or another.

“Dawn?” you chuckle, fixing him with your gaze. “I don’t need till dawn” you sneer, coming forward with a kick aimed to his head. He blocks it just as you’re about to make contact, grasping your ankle in his strong hold.

“I didn’t say start yet” he says through a smirk, letting go of your foot.

You take a few steps backwards, glowering at him as he ties the bells to a loop on his trousers. They hang over his thighs with a jingle, silver metal glimmering in the moonlight.

He looks back up at you, eyes twinkling with an unusual sparkle.

There’s that look again…

“Go” he commands, his body tensing up into a defensive stance immediately, ready for you.

You fix your gaze on the shiny metal of your goal and hurl yourself forward, your arms meeting each other’s in blows and defences. You throw a few kicks to his stomach, making him tumble but not enough to knock him out.

You shift your stance, before directing another punch to his face; he deflects it, sniggering.

Okay okay okay, I’m not focusing. I need to focus.

You take a deep breath.

Kakashi stands waiting, his features emanating pure amusement.

You feel a restlessness brewing within you, a strange energy buzzing through your veins. You’d been itching to punch him in the face and now’s your chance.

You watch him, mentally calculating all your options. His silver hair shines like moonbeams in the dark.

FOCUS.

Drawing a kunai from your bag, you lunge forward, distracting him with a kick to the head as your kunai slashes through the air, just about to cut across the strings when— your hand is caught in his grasp, a ‘slap!’ cutting through the air as his palm clasps around your wrist.

He bores into you, your wrist held firmly in his hand as he turns you around swiftly, gripping both your wrists at the back.

You feel the muscles of his chest against your body as he comes closer, the metal bells hanging over his leg brushing against your fingertips behind you.

You wriggle your hands, trying to break free but it’s in vain. His grip is firm, slender fingers digging into your skin as he leans into your ears, his warm breath tickling your skin.

“Not so fast” he whispers, his lips almost brushing the top of your ears.

The words send a shudder through your spine. You feel the black sky closing in on you, there’s a hum springing through your veins.

He loosens his grip as your hands fall, the kunai held limply in your hand. You turn around, your heart skipping a beat at how close he is to you. You feel your resolve weakening.

No.

No.

Stop.

Your hand flies to the collar of his shirt, the other hand holding the kunai to his throat as you push him backwards with your body, your eyes blazing into his.  

Keeping the kunai at his throat, you lower your other hand slowly, brushing it down his chest, his muscles taut under your hand. You trail your hand down along the line of his sternum, down the firmness of his stomach and further down, your fingers lightly caressing the bulge of his trousers before they almost make contact with the bells alongside, right there, just a flick away—

so close—

Before your wrist is caught in a sudden, fast clutch again.

His grip is much stronger this time, unyielding, hungry. Your bones ache beneath his hold.  

You watch something ignite in his eyes as his shoulders rise and fall in rhythm to your heaves. You suddenly realise how out of breath you are.

In the flash of a moment, Kakashi grips your kunai holding hand, holding it away from his throat as he pushes you, the weight of his body pressing onto yours as your feet scrape along the ground, stumbling backwards till your back slams against a tree, the force making your body jolt. The kunai slips from your hand.

His arms pin you defenceless against the tree, his gaze holding you hostage, burning through your skin.

The touch of his skin against yours feels alien. When was the last time you felt the warmth of someone’s skin? You cannot recall.

He’s so close to you, you cannot see anything beyond him.

In the dark, under the moonlight, the edges of his face look softened.

A wind passes by, the sound of rustling leaves filling through the silence. A volcano erupts within you.

Now.

You gulp. Up this close, you can make out the outline of his mouth.

Now.

Your lips press into Kakashi’s in a desperate lurch, your neck straining to meet him as far as his grip on you allows. Your heart explodes like firecrackers inside your chest as your tongue pushes against the cloth of his mask, demanding to be let in.

You feel his grip loosen around your wrists as the mask is off and he reciprocates, his lips on yours, his hand gripping your chin up as his tongue moves in fervent swirls inside your mouth.

A thousand questions swarm inside your head, buzzing but you’re not being controlled by your head anymore. You can feel the thud of his chest against your own.

He trails his hand down to your throat, holding you in place, other hand exploring every edge and curve of your body before it snakes down the waistband of your shorts, down the elastic of your underwear.

You gasp, arching your back as you feel the touch of his long fingers down there, moaning helplessly into his mouth as he rubs along your wet entrance in rapid strokes.

Your head is a dizzy mess of jumbled emotions as yearning overpowers your senses, your previous resolve weakening into a mushy puddle with every stroke and thrum of his fingers inside you.

He pulls away from your mouth to leave sloppy kisses down your neck, his tongue painting patterns along your skin as you catch a glimpse of his face and you see it— his face, glowing under the moonlight. And you realise.

He’s…beautiful.

An overwhelming ache breaks through your senses, creating a frenzied whirlwind of passion and agony in your mind. Your detestation for him crumbles into pieces underneath the weight of your desire, as you realise…

You don’t hate him.

You never did.

Not even close.

Not even a little bit.

Not even at all.

You pull his face up to meet your lips again, planting urgent kisses on his mouth as your hands tease the hem of his shirt. His fingers slip out of you and you can feel the wetness of your panties, soaked through with arousal.

“Kakashi…” you whisper in pleasure as he looms over you, your foreheads touching, out of breath and heaving with exhilaration. His eyes burn with the same passion that you feel inside.

“We can’t…shouldn’t…here…people...” you mutter in struggled breaths, as he plants another kiss to your lips, the sparks from it fogging your mind

“Since when do you care about people?” he whispers against your ear, his raspy voice enough to strip you off of all your remaining sense and judgement.

You pull his shirt over his head in one swift motion, throwing it to the ground beside as he follows, taking off your shirt and then unhooking your bra, tossing both away as his hands reach for you in hungry clutches.

His hands caress your breasts, pressing them and pulling on your hardened nipples, his mouth following soon after. His lips lock around them, sucking hard as you bury your face into his broad shoulders, biting lightly to keep yourself from screaming.

You sink your fingers into his hair, tugging softly as his mouth moves in a wet trail further down your body, strands of his hair tickling your stomach as he goes, his hands tugging your panties, sliding them down the curves of your hips.

Your heart thuds in your ears as Kakashi sits crouching in front of you, parting your legs. He looks up at you, as if asking for your permission, and you give it to him by pulling the back of his head closer between your legs.

He puts your right leg over his shoulder, spreading you for him, his other hand clutching the back of your left thigh as his mouth teases you down there.

The tip of his tongue flicks at your entrance, before it finds your weakest spot, and you feel your body shuddering, barely able to keep your balance.

You tug at his hair harder as his tongue moves skilfully inside you, fingers rubbing your swollen clit simultaneously. You feel every nerve ending in your body come alive as you moan out his name “K-Kakashi…” through trembling lips.

Your insides shudder and a deep moan forms at the back of your throat, threatening to escape as Kakashi puts his hand over your mouth, before pulling you down on top of him with a sudden tug.  

You come down with a thud on his thighs, your body jolting with the force as you watch him in front of you, the copy ninja… bare bodied and heaving in front of your eyes.

Who would have thought…

You straddle him, admiring his unclad torso, before pushing his shoulders down with your hands, making him lie back on the grass as you stoop over him. His eyes are fixated on you, pure pleasure making itself known on his face.

He really is beautiful.

You bend forward, your mouth exploring the smoothness of the skin on his chest, as a strange cold feeling down there distracts you.

You look down, squinting in the dark to find yourself sitting on two glimmering metal balls placed over his thigh.

The bells.

A thrill runs through your nerves as you smirk, glancing up at him.

He’s noticed it too.

His eyes return the same sparkle of mischief as yours as he lies still, waiting.

You press your hands down on his chest, locking your gaze with his as you position yourself over the bells, tilting your head back as you move back and forth over them.

The cold metal of the bells rubs against you, sending tremors through your entire body.

Your gaze at Kakashi again, watching him squirm at the sight of you, his hands twitching to feel your skin.

You keep your eyes on him as you slide down slightly on his thigh, tugging his trousers down as you go. Your hands find the base of his cock as you allow yourself to admire his throbbing length.

He leans his head back on the grass and you feel him getting harder in your hands.

Forming your hand into a fist around him, you move it up and down along his shaft in slow steady strokes, leaning down to bring your mouth closer to his tip, before swirling your tongue in circles around his skin.

His hips tremble as he clutches onto the grass, writhing.

Your lips clasp around his cock, mouth slurping up and down his length, taking your time sliding down to the base and back up, your hands following suit.

You tease him, switching between the tip of your tongue and your whole mouth, sending sparks of pleasure shooting through him.

He quivers and you sit back up, bending forward over his face and pressing your lips on his. A groan from his mouth erupts inside yours as he clutches your hips.

His hands guide your hips back and forth over his length, your lips trembling as he slips into you, his cock finally inside you, pushing into you, filling you as deep as you can be filled.

A new rush of pleasure burns through your senses, your insides stretching as you move your hips around him, back and forth and then in circles.

“A-a-ah...mm…yeah…”, your muffled moans cut through the depths of the forest in the silence of the night.

Kakashi breathes your name, the eruption of your name from his lips enough to send you to a frenzy, filling your heart with drunken fervour.

You moan his name back in reply, hopping up and down on him as his arm snakes behind your waist and he flips you over in a sudden, swift movement, the weight of his body falling over you now.

You arch your back, pushing your hips up to meet his, unwilling to break away even for a second.

You want him so, so bad.

The pointy peaks of grass underneath poke your skin, your nails digging into his back as he nibbles on your neck, thrusting deep, deep into you.

You feel the familiar shudder from earlier again, your mind getting clouded with waves of pleasure coursing through you. Kakashi’s grunts quaver in your ear as you feel his hips jerk in tune to yours.

There’s a tantalizing jolt of ecstasy through your body as you scream out, your quivering voice matching his grunts as you both put a hand over the other’s mouth, your muffled moans melting into each other’s skin. He quivers inside you for a final time before you feel him slipping out of you, as hot wet cum trickles along the insides of your thighs, dripping into the dewy grass beneath.

Droplets of sweat from his hair drips down on you, tasting salty in your mouth. You heave together in exhaustion as he plops down on you, before rolling to the side.

You lie on your back panting, your entire body damp with sweat.

Languor threatens to take over you as you struggle to keep your eyes open, looking up into the night sky.

You see a firefly glowing above your head. You lift a lazy hand to reach it, but it flies away far above, becoming one with the twinkling stars in the sky.

Soft sounds of Kakashi’s breath echo beside you, his foot still touching yours lightly as the both of you lie heaving under the stars.

He turns his head to look at you and you can feel his eyes on you as you try, with all the fibres in your body, to not look back at him.

You know you won’t be able to hold yourself together any longer if you do.

He extends a hand towards you. “That was…”

“Sshhh… Shut up” you say in a slumberous whisper, moving closer into his arm, putting your own around him, your head buried into chest as you feel your eyes getting heavy…not able to stay awake anymore. You feel Kakashi envelope you in his arms, the warmth from his skin against the cold air lulling you to sleep, your mind becoming foggy as you close your eyes, slowly drifting off somewhere far, far away…

--------------------------------------------------

Your eyes open to the chirping of birds perched on the branches above, rays of morning light casting a rosy glow in the horizon.

You watch the half light in the distance, rubbing your eyes, smiling to yourself.

The night had taken with it the black clouds of denial fogging your mind, your heart is as clear as day now.

You turn your head just in time to see Kakashi opening his eyes, his eyes puffy, imprints of grass marking his soft cheek.

You smile at him as he looks at you, lips curled into a sleepy smile. “Good morning” he yawns, tapping over his mouth with his palm.

“I won.”

“Hmm?” he asks groggily, eyes still adjusting to the light.

You hold up the two small bells in front of him, they jingle over his face.

He chuckles. “I don’t think so. It’s past dawn”

“I took them off before. I won.”

He laughs again, his face lighting up in a way you’d never seen before. He looks even more beautiful in the daylight.

“In all fairness y/n, there are no losers here.”

You laugh along with him now, reaching across and smoothening the imprints on his cheek, keeping your hand there, cupping his cheek.

“So, I passed?” you ask, looking at him, inching closer.

He looks back at you, with the same look from earlier in his eyes.

But you’re not turning yourself blind to it anymore.

“Top of the class” he laughs, pulling you closer, nuzzling your nose with his before pressing his lips into yours.

Notes :-

Did I quote 10 Things I Hate About You on a Kakashi Smut?

Yes, yes i did.

[sweetchup]

Bi•valve

Noun

an aquatic mollusk that has a compressed body enclosed within a hinged shell, such as oysters, clams, mussels, and scallops.

AKA

The Most Common Seashell in the Ocean

——————���—

Vol. 1: Just Keep Swimming // Ch.1

Type: Poseidon x reader

Word Count: 1,800+

Masterlist

————————

“Ok… ok… is there anyway you could—… no? Wait please don’t—…” You let out a sigh as the other side of the phone line goes dead. “Another miss…”

You crumple to the floor of your bedroom in a heap. The storm was still in full swing outside even though hours had gone by and it was now dark. It seemed the storm had caused quite the ruckus in Athens—the capital where you were staying at—and most emergency services were busy.

They even ignored you at the police station you went to earlier, though it likely didn’t help your situation that you couldn’t even speak their native language of Greek…

—.—.—

“No, no. Lost. Child. Not mine.” You explained once more to the officer in front of you, the only one in this place that knew of the slightest hint of english.

The officer only shakes his head once more at you before walking away, turning his attention to the other patrons here that needed help. You wished it was just that they didn’t understand you—that they didn’t understand that you had found a lost boy struggling at sea—but it was slowly becoming clear that they just didn’t believe you.

Tan skin. Brown hair. Brown or green eyes. That was what the average greek boy here looked like. A big contrast from Triton, the pale skinned blonde haired blue eyed boy who you were currently holding in your arms. They just simply didn’t believe that he was a Greek child that had gotten washed away at sea during the storm.

It also didn’t help that no one had called in a lost child that had a similar description to Triton. And, with no other option and too much to do, the police just chose to ignore the glaring problem right in front of them.

“Miss (Y-y/n)?”

At Triton’s call, you looked down at the boy and realize that the more that you look at him, the stranger he gets. Soaked from the rain and sea, you would have expected him to be shivering like a leaf but he was as still as stone. As if he couldn’t even feel how cold his skin was right now. As if he was used to being soaked with the coldest depths of the ocean.

“Miss (Y/n)?” Triton calls again, snapping you out of your thoughts.

“Ah, sorry, I spaced out. Yes?”

“I-I…” You watch patiently as the boy begins twiddling with his thumbs. As if he wanted to tell you something but was quite embarrassed to be so.

“Is something wrong, Triton?”

“N-no!” The boy shouts out, the loudest you’ve heard him speak so far, before instantly realizing his tone and caving in on himself. His shoulder and back slumping forward as if to hide himself from your sight.

“It’s alright. You can tell me, I don’t mind.” You reassure the boy. You can’t help but sincerely wonder what happened to him. What happened to the little boy, who looked no older than 10, that made him so scared and skittish? And you doubted that getting lost at sea is what caused it.

“I…”

A loud growl cuts off Triton and not the animal kind either.

“Oh… are you perhaps hungry, Triton?” You ask the boy as he bashfully ducks his head into your shoulder out of embarrassment.

“Y-yes.”

You can’t help but let out a small chuckle at Triton’s antics. Even though he was quite strange, he was still a cute child at heart.

“Well let’s go grab something to eat. It seems there’s no one to help us here anyway.”

—.—.—

As you reminisce about Triton—who you soon find out after that is a lover of raw fish, extremely strange if you had to say so for yourself—you can’t help but wonder where he went.

After you took him back to your place, a small, only two rooms, one bath apartment you rent near campus, you allowed him to take a shower and borrow some of your clothes. He should still be sitting in the living room watching some cartoons and eating after you left him to take a shower and make a couple of phone calls, all unsuccessful by the way, but it had been well over an hour. You wonder if he could have perhaps gotten bored by now.

Deciding it wouldn’t hurt to check up on the boy, you sit up from your spot on the floor and make your way out of your bedroom.

“Triton, is every—“

You stop mid sentence as you take in the scene in front of you. Water…. Water was floating. Triton was floating as well.

It was hard for your brain to rack around what you were seeing. Triton, the strange boy that you had saved from the sea, was floating in your living room on top of a bubble of water. He didn’t seem surprised in any way either as he was in the middle of playing with some tiny bubbles of water himself. Separating and un-separating them at will.

“T-Triton?” You call out again, this time catching the boy’s attention. His face turned to one of surprise and shock as he released the bubbles of water allowing it and him to crash to the floor. Even though your living room floor was now soaking wet, that was the least of your worries.

“M-Miss (Y-y/n), how long were you…?” Triton’s voice trails off as he realizes the question was not needed, you had already seen enough. He begins to pale at all the possibilities. Even though he was in fact a god and could not be hurt by human weapons, there were still many things that could happen to him. He was still a child after all, no were near his mother’s and father’s level of strength.

“Triton…” Your voice calls out again causing Triton to flinch as you draw closer to him, “Are…are you okay?”

Triton, whose gaze was locked at the floor, turned his head upwards in surprise to look at you. Your gaze was not one of disgust or anger. No. Nor was it cold, a gaze he had come to know that his father often wore, or of disappointment, a look his mother often glared at him with. No. Your gaze was kind. Sure, it looked confused but it was also filled with warmth out of concern for him.

Triton felt the hot bubbling feeling of tears in his eyes. He would normally try to hold it in, forcibly stop himself from crying as he knew if his mother found out she would surely beat him. But, he didn’t.

He let the tears spill out. Tears that felt hot against his cold marble skin. Marble skin that was an aching reminder that he was a god, a perfect being. That he shouldn’t be feebly crying in front of a human like this.

Yet, as you wrap your warm arms around his shaking form, he finds himself not minding his warm tears. Warmth reminds him of you, the only one who dared to comfort him. Not his father, nor his uncles and cousins, or the servants, and never, never, his mother.

Triton finds himself crying again. Instead of out of fear, it is out of misery this time. He wished he wasn’t a god, he wished he didn’t eventually have to go back to his terrible mother, he wished that his father would pay more attention to him and show him something… anything. He wished he could just stay like this in your arms. A stranger that was more of a mother to him in less than a few hours, than his own mother was in his hundreds of years of existence.

“It’s okay, Triton. Everything will be okay. I’m not angry.”

Triton couldn’t help but think how he never doubted you in the first place.

—.—.—

As you run your hands through the Triton's hair, who was curled up on your lap, you think about what he had told you.

“So you’re a god…The son of Poseidon and Amphitrite…”

“Yeah…” Triton whispers out, his voice slightly strained from all the crying he had done.

A god. Triton was a mighty Greek god. Even though you couldn’t wrap your head around the situation, you knew you had to. Especially after all that has happened up til now and if you were—

“Are…are you angry?”

You pause for a second, shocked slightly at what Triton had muttered out, before finally answering, “I’m not. Not at all. I just…”

You wondered how you should phrase it.

“… I don’t know how to get you home, Triton.”

The silence is overwhelming after. You didn’t know if you should have told the young boy that but it also wasn’t right to lie to him. You feel Triton shift under your arms and you loosen your grip as he slowly sits up.

“I…” Triton starts before pausing. His gaze shifts from his hands to your eyes, the first time the boy had ever locked eyes with you since you saved him. It reminded you how icy blue his eyes were, a blue that you now realize is not possible for a human to obtain. At least not naturally. A firm reminder that Triton wasn’t one, he was a god. “I… I don’t want to return home.”

“What…” You say startled, “Ok, then how about one of your uncles or—“

“No. I…I want to stay here. With you Miss (y/n).”

Stay here… with you. You didn’t know what to think. You were a struggling college student who spent hours upon hours studying every day. Could you even take care of a child, nevertheless a god? What about his mother, who Triton explained was a horrible being? Or his father, the king of the sea? Could you protect Triton from them? From a god, a being so much stronger and powerful than you?

“I…” You started before abruptly stopping. You wanted to protect Triton, help him. You had to find a way. You couldn’t abandon the child before you like this. Not after hearing his anguished cries for the last hour. As you held him, you felt as if he was made of glass. Like if you even squeezed him too tightly he would shatter into a million pieces in your arms.

“I…I can’t assure anything, I am just a human after all. But you can stay here for as long as you want Triton.”

As you watch the young boy before you smile and collapse in your arms, it was then that your mind had decided. You would protect Triton for as long as you could,

…no matter the cost.

Author Note: Oooo things are heating up. It seems Triton and Zeus have opposite plans for the reader and that could spell trouble. Hehehe. Anyway, I hope everyone enjoyed this chapter, I am immensely thankful for all the support that got shown on my prologue chapter of this series. Please contunie to give your support and tell me your opinions about my work. It really does help as it shows what I can improve on in future chapters and works. Till next time 💕💕

Taglist: @angeli-fucking-cat @marixxhq

[chaoticpuff17]

When the Chips are Down

part 14

masterlist

Happy Mother’s Day, my darlings!--- Chaotic puff

It had been an incredibly bad day for Namjoon. Taehyung had been stabbed. Iyla had run away, and he had an increasingly irritable, very pregnant wife at home that was going to crucify him if anything happened to her little sister. Taehyung would be fine, and Iyla would be apprehended and brought back home, but neither of those things were going to mollify his wife. Y/N was nothing if not protective when it came to her little sister. 

All in all, he was very close to snapping and shooting someone out of sheer spite when his phone rang again, the caller ID informing him it was Jungkook. His blood ran cold. Jungkook was the one keeping an eye on Y/N, and he knew better than to call when Namjoon was busy with something as important as this unless it was something of equal or greater importance. 

“What happened?” he demanded, answering his phone earning himself a concerned look from Hoseok. There was a jumbled and panicked stream of words from Jungkook, but Namjoon picked out the important bits, Y/N and baby. Y/N was having the baby. “I’ll be right there.” he promised, cursing under his breath. “Call Jin and have him get everything together. I’ll be there as soon as I can.” 

“What’s wrong?” Hoseok asked, eyeing the other man warily. It was unusual to see Namjoon looking so shocked. 

“Y/N’s in labor.” 

---

Jungkook was in a frenzy. He knew nothing about babies let alone birthing babies, and seeing Y/N in pain was making him nauseous. Luckily, Miss In and the maids seemed to know exactly what to do. They’d lept into action as soon as he’d told them what was happening. Miss In made a phone call to Jin who apparently would assemble the medical staff, and the maid, Miran or at least that’s what he thought Y/N had called her, ushered both him and Y/N to the back of the house where a birthing suite had been prepared for just this occasion.

He’d been swiftly kicked out of the room so that Miran could get Y/N into the delivery gown which gave him time to call his hyung and tell him what was happening. Namjoon had already had a stressful day, but there was no way he would want to be away from Y/N while she was in labor. 

“It’s going to be okay, noona.” he smiled shakily, watching her pace back and forth with her hands braced against her lower back. “Hyung is going to be home soon.” 

“Did they find Iyla?” she asked, looking at him briefly as she turned in her pacing. 

The younger man flushed knowing full well he didn’t have an answer for her let alone the answer she wanted. “I don’t know.” 

“I’m going to kill him.” she hissed bracing herself against the bed as she was hit with a contraction. 

“He’ll be here soon.” 

“I’m going to kill him.” she repeated with a groan as she began pacing again. 

Jungkook smiled. At least her fighting spirit was still burning brightly, and soon enough he’d have a little niece to play with, one who was hopefully less grumpy than Yoongi’s baby. Yoonho tended to get fussy when anyone other than his parents held him which was a huge deterrent when trying to be an uncle especially to a bunch of men who didn’t have a whole lot of experience with kids. But if this little girl was anything like her mother, they were going to get along famously. 

“Do you know what you’re going to call her?” he asked as she turned to cross the room again. 

“I have a few ideas, but I’m waiting to see her before I pick one.” she smiled softly. “I could take one look at her and decide I don’t like any of the names I picked out.” 

“I’m going to be her favorite uncle!” 

“Probably.” she nodded. There were five other options, but Jungkook was like her little brother. It felt natural to think of Jungkook being the favorite uncle. “Just don’t get her into too much trouble okay?” 

“No promises.” his nose scrunched up in a mischievous grin just as Namjoon came barreling into the room looking every bit the frazzled father to be. 

---

Namjoon had never been more exhausted or excited in his life. It had already been a long stressful day between Taehyung’s stabbing and Iyla’s attempt to escape, but their baby was finally on the way. But even with all the excitement, there was lingering worry as well. Even with all the medical personnel wandering about and Jin’s reassurances that everything was fine, he couldn’t stop the panic that shot through him every time Y/N hissed in pain. Logically, he knew that child birth was painful, but he hated to see her in pain, and it only seemed to get worse the longer her labor progressed.

It had been a long labor, nearly twenty hours and still going. Jin assured him that since it was her first time, a prolonged labor wasn’t unusual, but that didn’t make it any less worrying. Ever since he’d brought her home, she’d shied away from his touch as much as possible, but twenty hours in and she was exhausted and slumped against his chest, her hair mussed and a little sweaty.

“How many centimeters?” She whimpered looking up at him pleadingly.

“Still five, jagiya.” He whispered pressing a kiss to her forehead and bracing them both as she was hit with another contraction. They weren’t regular yet, and the nurses said they weren’t very strong yet either, but to Y/N and Namjoon they seemed horrible. He was sure that both of his hands were going to be bruised by the end of this, but his pain was nothing compared to hers.

He had thought that the baby would be here by now, but she’d progressed slowly and had been stalled at five centimeters for what seemed like ages.

“It can’t still be five.” She groaned leaning further back into his chest. “It was five an hour ago, and the hour before that.”

“I know, jagi. I’m sorry. Just a little longer.” He promised shifting them back so that they were a little more reclined on the hospital bed. “Try to get some rest, jagi.”

“This is your fault.” She hissed.

“I know, jagi.” He cooed soothingly. This wasn’t the first time she’d said it. “Get some rest.”

“I can’t.” She groaned, burying her face into his shoulder.

“I know you’re not feeling great now, but just think, we’ll have our baby soon.”

She groaned again, rubbing a hand across her belly. “No. She’s never coming out. She hates me.”

“Our baby doesn’t hate you.” He chuckled, pressing another kiss to her forehead. “She’s just taking her time.”

“Tell her to hurry up.” She grumbled shifting again as she couldn’t get comfortable.

“I’ll try.”

Rest had been a rarity throughout the ordeal. Y/N was in constant discomfort, and Namjoon was at a loss of how to help.

Namjoon didn’t move an inch until Y/N had drifted into a fitful slumber. He eased her back onto the pillows and got up to stretch and to get himself some coffee. This was going to go on for a while yet if her earlier progress was anything to go by.

“Jin,” He sighed walking over to where his friend was also grabbing some caffeine. “Is it supposed to take this long?”

“She’s stalled. First time labor can take a while, but it’s going to be a long one even for a first time mother.” He sighed giving his friend a tired smile. “I should have known your kid would be difficult.” Jin teased lightly bumping Namjoon’s shoulder.

“Is there anything we can do?”

“Not for the moment.” Jin shook his head tiredly. “She and the baby are fine, just tired, and she’s still in latent labor. The best we can do is keep her comfortable and hope things get moving soon. If she or the baby is in distress, we’ll intervene. Is she sleeping?”

“For now.” Namjoon sighed flopping down into a chair exhausted. It had been a long day.

“You should get some rest too.” Namjoon was going to argue, but Jin cut him off. “You’re no good to her if you’re dead on your feet. I’ll have them set up a cot for you in her room.” Jin cut him off again as he was about to open his mouth. “Don’t you dare interrupt her rest. She needs every minute she can get. You’ll take the cot.”

“But…”

“She’ll be three feet away. Take the cot, or I’ll send you up to your room.” he threatened.

Y/N had never been more exhausted in her entire life. She was tired. She was cranky, and she didn’t have the one person she actually wanted with her. It didn’t help that the labor seemed to stretch on for eons. The gynecologist, a kind if not stern woman that she wanted nothing more than to rip the throat out of, assured her that things would start moving again soon, but she said that every time she came to check in. The labor and delivery nurses that had been summoned were far more honest. They explained that first time moms could be in labor for sixteen to twenty hours, but it had been twenty hours, and she still wasn’t even close to having her baby in her arms.

The epidural helped, but contractions still hurt. Everything ached really, and she had to grudgingly admit that even if he wasn’t who she wanted with her, Namjoon was a fairly good birth partner. He put up with her whining and crushing his hands. He fetched ice chips and rubbed her shoulders. Namjoon had held her hand and kept her calm when they’d given her the partial epidural. She was fine with needles usually, but there was something about a needle that large being inserted into her spine that made her extremely nervous.

Miss In had been more than ready to usher her away to a birth suite that had been prepared in the depths of the mansion that she hadn’t even known about. Namjoon had been summoned home in a panic and immediately brought to her side in the suite. It had to be the nicest hospital type room she had ever been in, and she had been studying to be a nurse before Namjoon had thrown her life off course. She did clinicals though, and they never brought her to the VIP wing of the hospital. The hospital she did clinicals at wasn’t even fancy enough to have a VIP wing.

Namjoon’s position had its advantages. It was nice to have such a comfortable room when she was in so much discomfort. There were even real pillows instead of the thin pathetic ones that normally occupied hospital rooms, and normal pillows were so much more comfortable. Even the hospital gown she’d been forced into was more comfortable than the normal ones. It was made of a soft material that didn’t irritate her skin and allowed her to keep her modesty even though there were monitors hooked up to her belly. Every comfort was appreciated when labor stretched on so long.

It took another thirteen horrible hours for Y/N to be fully dilated, and as much as both she and Namjoon hoped that it would all be over after thirty-three hours of labor, but their baby was a stubborn one who was refusing to drop so that Y/N could finally start pushing. If Namjoon had thought the last thirty-three hours were bad, he had another thing coming.

By the time the baby was crowning, another three long painful hours had passed, and both parents were exhausted.

There had been screaming, crying, cursing. Y/N had threatened his life at more than one point. He couldn’t blame her for that after the labor she’d been through. No one could blame her.

“You have to push, jagi.” Namjoon encouraged holding his poor exhausted wife up as the doctors waited for the next contraction to come.

“I want Mark.” she sobbed, exhausted and sweaty against his chest. 

“I know, jagi.” he whispered, soothingly even though the words cut him like a knife. 

“Where is he?” she whimpered. “He promised.”

He hated seeing her in so much distress, and he knew he couldn’t blame her for anything she said right now. She was in so much pain and exhausted, but he hated hearing her call out for another man. He hated it with every fiber of his being.  

“You’re alright, jagi. I’m right here.” he winced slightly as she squeezed his hands. “You’re doing so well.”

“I’m so tired.” She slurred, her head lolled back against his shoulder.

“I know, jagi, but the baby’s almost here.” He cooed feeling her tense up again as the next contraction hit.

Namjoon did his part keeping her braced as she did the real work hunching forward with a scream as the next contraction ripped through her. There was nothing else he could do for her at the moment.

“And we have the head.” The OB, Dr. Yang if Namjoon remembered correctly but there were a lot of doctors milling around, announced cheerily seemingly unaffected by his wife’s pain.

“Almost done.” He hushed as Y/N flopped back against him again. “Just a little more.” He promised even though he didn’t know if he should be relieved or worried that she was no longer screaming profanities at him. There had been a solid two hours of that once the contractions had gotten bad. Even with the partial epidural, she’d been in a great amount of pain.

A few more pushes and their baby was born. A strong little warbling cry filled the room much to the relief of both parents.

“Congratulations!” The doctor beamed showing them the red scrunched up face of their baby. “You have a healthy little girl.”

“She’s beautiful.” She sighed smiling through her exhaustion as she stared at the face of her little girl.

“What should we call her?” Namjoon asked, running a gentle hand up and down her arms.

“Nara. Her name is Nara.” Y/N smiled tiredly.

“We need to check her over, and we still have the placenta to deliver. We’ll bring her right back though. Okay, mom?” The doctor smiled, looking incredibly relieved that the ordeal that had been this delivery was almost over. 

Y/N whined reaching out shakily for the baby as she was whisked away from her, but one of the nurses urged her to stay in bed. Even Namjoon knew she was too weak to get up quite yet. She looked like she was going to pass out from exhaustion at any moment. 

“Don’t worry, jagi.” Namjoon shushed, gently shifting out from behind her settling her gently against the pillows. “I’ll go with her. I’ll make sure she’s alright.”

Namjoon was more than a little curious to take a better look at his daughter. He had hoped for a boy, an heir, but he couldn’t find it in himself to be disappointed. He had a little princess. After thirty-seven hours of waiting, he had Nara. His Nara.

The doctor checked her over and cleaned her up before handing him the little girl. He was amazed as he stared down at her. She stared up at him with dark eyes, and the tiniest bit of hair stuck out from under the little hat the doctor had put her in, and she was the most perfect thing that Namjoon had ever seen, tiny and perfect and his. Namjoon was half convinced that he was going to break her if he moved to quickly or shifted the wrong way, but there was something indescribable about having this tiny perfect being in his arms and knowing she was his that he had helped make her even if it came with the crippling fear of dropping her.

Namjoon knew immediately that he would do anything for her. She’d have nothing but the best, and nothing would ever harm her. She’d be the most spoiled little girl there ever was just as it should be for his little princess.

“Y/N?” He heard Jin’s panicked voice from across the room. “Y/N!”

Namjoon immediately whipped around searching for Y/N among the doctors and nurses that were now buzzing around her bed.

“Jagi?” He asked, approaching her bed and seeing a concerning amount of red on the sheets before Jin ushered him away. “Y/N?” He called again more frantically as he struggled as much as he could against Jin while he had Nara in his arms. “What’s wrong? What’s wrong with her?” he demanded as Jin pushed him further back.

“She’s bleeding... a lot.” Jin explained in a rush. “She tore, and it looks like she might be hemorrhaging.”

“Hemorrhaging?” Namjoon panicked once more trying to move forward to get back to her side.  

“We’re going to do all we can, but we can’t work with you hovering over us. Besides, you have the baby to think of.”

“But…”

“I will tell you as soon as I have something to tell you, but you need to let us work.” Jin urged casting a concerned glance back at the bed.  “Take Nara outside. I’ll tell you more when I know more.”

“Jin...”

“We’re prepared. We have blood ready to transfuse, and the equipment we need. If things get bad we’ll move her to the clinic.” he promised.

“She can’t die, hyung. I just got her back.” Namjoon growled, staring at the doctors buzzing around her. “She can’t. I need her. The baby needs her.”

“She won’t.” Jin assured even though there was a grim set to his mouth that told Namjoon that the situation wasn’t good despite his assurances.

“I can’t… I can’t lose her.”

“Go. Take care of your daughter. We’ll take care of Y/N.” Jin pushed him out the door only for them both to freeze as the sound of one long drawn out ‘beeeeeep’ filled the room. 

part 15

[https-ugly-boy]

Finish What You Started

MINORS DNI

NSFW Smut under the cut

Pairing: Shigaraki Tomura X AFAB!GN!Reader

CW: Masturbation, mutual maturation, voyeurism, minor drooling & spanking

Word Count: 1,926

A/N: I’m nervous thanks for coming to my ted talk 

As you bounced up and down on your dildo, you buried your face deeper into the pillows on his bed, letting his scent fill your lungs. You had been infatuated with Shigaraki Tomura since the first time that Dabi had introduced you to him and the rest of the League, and at this point you were desperate. You had poked and prodded at him trying to gauge his reaction towards you, flirting shamelessly and snuggling up close to him every chance you got, but he never seemed that interested. You were so tired of waiting and so needy for him that climbing into his bed and humping at your toys while smelling him on his pillows felt like the only logical option at this point. You moan as you glide too far up the dildo, it makes a soft shulcking sound as it slips out of your sopping cunt. You whine into the pillows, reaching your free hand down to slip the silicone dick back into you. You buck your hips into the mattress, feeling your ass jiggle at the impact with the soft surface. You want so badly to cum. You want so badly to cum for him. 

"Tomura-aah," you moan at the friction of the faux cockhead inside of you and your clit against the bed. Panting, you continue your thrusts, whining out for Shigaraki again, "Tomura- ugh fuck- please I-I need you, please," you nuzzle deeper into the pillows, "ple-please fuck me." 

You start to pick up the pace, the hot spring in your lower abdomen stretches out and is on its way to snapping when a voice interrupts your frenzied, needy thrusts. 

"What the hell are you doing?" 

You flip over quickly, pulling the sticky toy from your slick folds and clamping your thighs together. And as though your pleas had summoned him, Shigaraki was standing there; framed menacingly in the doorway, his crimson eyes boring into the depths of your soul from between his Father's fingers. Your blood runs icy, unable to move a muscle or say anything, you stare back, a look of shame etched into your features. He steps into his room and closes the door. 

"I asked, what the hell are you doing?" He snarls at your lack of answer. 

You take in a shuddering breath, "I- I was- I was just-" 

"Just what? Who the fuck told you that you could be in here?" Shigaraki's voice sounded dangerous, like the wrong answer would result in something that only one of you would enjoy. 

You shake your head, "No one, I was just- I don't know know, I was just lonely I guess," the words tumble quickly from your mouth, your extremities were icy but there was a persistent warmth in your face and- in despite of (or maybe because of) the embarrassment- in your lower belly. "I-I'm sorry…" 

He scoffs at you, strolling over to his desk, he keeps his back to you and does something you can't quite see in the dim light. Shigaraki turns back towards you this time without Father adorning his face. This wasn't the first time he had shown you his face, but even so the sight still managed to take your breath away all the same. His beautiful eyes were practically glowing as he glowers at you. You feel your breath hitch in your chest and the walls of your pussy constrict around nothing as he stares you down. His eyes narrow at you.

“You’re not sorry that you did it though, you’re only sorry that you got caught,” one conner of his chapped lips turns up slightly at your visible discomfort. Your heart races at how pointedly he spoke, you knew that you were probably in trouble with him, but you were still unsatisfied and in need of release, and he was so gorgeous that you could barely focus on anything but Shigaraki and the pulsing heat between your legs. You couldn’t take your eyes off of him as he approaches you, placing a gentle hand to your cheek, grazing his scarred knuckles over the plump skin of your face. You lean into him slightly, breathing out and letting your muscles relax against him. The warmth is gone and you have to steady yourself quickly before you fall off the bed as he snatches his hand away.

“Whatever. Just finish what you started, then you can leave,” he moves back to the desk and you let out a small pathetic whine at his departure. “Shut the fuck up. You’re lucky I’m even letting you do that,” He slumps down into his chair, still facing you and you can’t help but notice the bulge in his jeans. “Well?” Shigaraki poked incredulously, “I don’t have all night.”

Your face was so hot and your limbs felt like they were starting to go numb, but even so you slid onto your back, angling yourself so he could have a better view, your cunt was aching for a cock that wasn’t fake and you were hoping so much that if he watched you then he would maybe touch you. 

Tomura let out a small laugh as he watched you position yourself, “Shit, you weren’t kidding when you said you ‘needed’ me, huh?” His dry cracking lips curled into a cruel smile at the expression that you made. 

Shit.

He had heard you. It felt like your stomach dropped through your back and to the floor. It was unbearable now, you pulled your thighs to your chest, giving Shigaraki a perfect view of both of your holes. Spreading the lips to your entrance, you push the head of the dildo back into your still drenched and clenching heat. You let out a small gasp at the ache that the hard toy leaves you with, a wave of pleasure washing over you as you advance the cockhead deeper inside you, smoothing over your gooey velvet walls. You start to pump the toy in and out of you, the lewd squelching and soft moans fill up the silence in the room, your eyes never leaving Tomura’s face. Your eyes were glazed over watching him, taking in every drop of his beauty. With this, you notice that he’s breathing heavy and staggered, a small trail of drool found its way past his rough lips. He swipes the cuff of his sweatshirt over the salivation, those crimson eyes still piercing unwaveringly into you, watching everything you do. He fumbles with the fly on his jeans for a moment before pulling down the waistband of his jeans and his briefs, his large cock no longer sheathed fully in its foreskin bounces free and strains against his stomach. 

You gasp at the sight. Compared to both the toy inside you and previous people you’ve been with, he easily dwarfs them. You stop pumping for a moment to gaze longingly at it. 

“What?” his voice is sharp and unforgiving, “Did I tell you to stop?”

You breath caught slightly in your throat, “You- you’re bigger than I thought…” the words fall from your lips before you can stop yourself.

He lets out a barking laugh, “Whatever, just hurry up.” Still, you couldn't help but notice his cock twitch at your words.

You continue your initial assault on your hole, still unable to look away from the sight in front of you. Shigaraki started to pump his large member in his fist, small beads of precum leaking from the deep red tip. A moan found its way from your throat as you watched, aching and desperately wanting him to plunge into you and replace the stupid piece of plastic that was currently occupying your pussy. You moved faster, hoping that the added friction would make up for the size difference, but either way it wouldn’t have mattered, you knew you wouldn’t be satisfied until you had the real thing. 

“Sh- Shiga- Shigaraki, please…” you buck your hips into your hand and try to get the toy deeper inside of your clenching cunt. “Please fuck me, Shigaraki... “ now that he was actually in the room with you, there could be a chance that you could sway him to pound you into the mattress. 

A harsh backhand landed across the ample cheek of your ass, his long nails leaving small red scratches on your backside. You groan and throw your head back at the pain, but the feeling of his set to send you into a tailspin, you pussy clenched hard around the toy, ushering another moan from your lips as you continue to drive the dildo in and out of yourself. 

“Shut up, I already told you, you have to finish what you started,” he pulled back to his chair. "Besides, it was cuter when you called me 'Tomura'." 

You whine a little as you thrust into yourself harder, on every pull you could feel the molded head of the toy rub your sweet spot. The coil of heat in your belly starts to tighten again, and having Shigaraki there made it all the better. You were teetering on the edge at this point, the pain from how hard the dildo was and how it stroked your walls combined with his prying eyes made you lose your sense. 

"T- Tomuraaa-aahhhh" your walls clamp down hard on the dick inside you, sending you into a shuddering orgasam that wreaks through your body, your arm was moving of its own volition, keeping the dildo moving as you rode through wave of pleasure after wave of pleasure. You didn't want to stop, you didn't want to think what would happen after you finished. The intense clenching made it impossible to think, and without realizing it, you were squirting all over Tomura. Your ejaculate splashing onto his face and cock, and into his slightly open mouth, he let out a sharp breath at the sight. 

Of course he had seen people in porn squirt like that, but he hadn't imagined that you, with your incessant pestering and bothering, would be moaning his name and spraying all over him like an animal in heat. And the real kicker was, as much as he didn't want to, he loved the scene that was unfolding before his eyes. He gripped himself tighter as you continued to abuse your own hole and moan his name. Your stream of juices tapers off and he can't help but feel a little disappointed he wasn't able to taste more of that nectar that landed on his tongue moments ago. 

You let out a shuddering gasp as you come down from your high, your legs shaking as you tug on the dildo. The constricting of your pussy has it much more difficult to get out than it was a few minutes ago, but nonetheless, giving a more solid pull the toy pulls out, a wet popping and a small flick of your wetness accompany the removal. You sit there for a moment, basking in the post bliss of your orgasm when the sound of Tomura clearing his throat loudly snaps you back to reality. 

You sit back up and pull your underwear and shirt back on quickly. As you're standing up to leave, he clears his throat again. You freeze, your back to him. 

"I don't know where you think you're going," his voice was low and stern. You turn and face him.

"You said to finish and then leave…" and as the first words left his mouth you realized what he was talking about.

"I told you to finish what you started. You started me up," he gives his cock a few strokes for added effect and smiles at you again, "now you have to finish me."

[cheekygreenty]

In My Head - The Darkling x Reader

Supppeer angsty and kinda sad?

The fire engulfed the golden kefta in a water-like rhythm. The cracks and sparks echoed in the open field amongst the silence that settled around all of you. Alina was exhausted, Zoya was grieving, the Ketterdam criminals looked shaken too. But you were unmoving, as still as a painting and not showing a single emotion. They had all witnessed your heartbreak as it fell and crashed the world around you, breaking every part of you. They watched as realization flooded you that you never truly knew Aleksander. They watched as he tore your heart from your chest and threw it into the depths of the Fold to rot.

Painted a picture,

I thought I knew you well

It was humiliating. Alina had tried to warn you but you played her off as selfish and unwilling to use her powers for the good of all Grisha. You told her she was stupid and foolish for loving an otkazat'sya when in reality you were the fool for loving a man that didn't exist.

You told her she was crazy, that Aleksander would never lie to you and that he was good because you knew him. In truth, you were no better than him. You blindly followed everything he said, completely ignoring the alarm bells in your head. You had grown used to them as weeks went by, to the point of the alarm playing a low comforting tune in your mind all day and all night.

There weren't enough apologies in the world to say sorry for the things you'd done and said to Alina and she'd insisted that no apology was necessary because it wasn't your fault, 'It's not your fault you only see the good things about people' she whispered to you before she left to change. But the good things about him weren't there; they never existed. It was all in your head, a mind so desperate for love it concocted a whole new Aleksander, one which you loved so much and would do anything for.

I got a habit of seeing what isn't there

'We were all fooled Y/N, Don't blame it all on yourself' Despite her grieving and sorrow, Zoya's hand rested on your shoulder briefly as a sign of comfort. Without her, you wouldn't have been here right now, alive and breathing.

'I don't blame myself. I hate myself for being so blind'

'Me too'

I thought that you were the one

But it was all in my head

------

You could feel the nothingness of the Fold threading through your hair even inside Alina's tunnel of safety. You stared at her shackled feet, pushing the guilt away and replacing it with a sense of righteousness. There was nothing else that could be done to keep her in check, if she wanted to escape and hide from her destiny forever then she would do so over your dead body.

The Fold needed to be gone and if chaining her to the skiff was going to be the only way she obeyed then so be it. Your mind quickly spiraled back to her hasty words back in the tent. She was panicked and desperate, clinging to your arm like a wailing child begging to be heard. Her lies were bizarre and abundant, no doubt the works from her long journey to the Stag but they were unbelievable. So extreme even a Fjerdan would laugh at their ridiculousness.

The skiff suddenly stopped, Novokribirsk visible in the distance with lines of First-Army troops standing in neat lines.

'Why have we stopped?' A dignitary asked and you wondered the same thing. You searched the skiff for anyone with an explanation, but everyone looked equally as confused but Alina looked mortified. What is going on?

'One more demonstration. You’ve seen what the Sun Summoner can do' You whipped your head around to him slightly moving away but his arm pulled you back to his side with an edge. You heard the loud jangle of Alina's chains as she tried to move. 'Now bear witness to what I can do… with her power.'

He pushed you to Ivan, who took no time in holding you back by the arms, caging you in his grasp. You resisted on the simple basis that you didn't know why you were being restrained just like Alina but the answer came all too soon. There was no time to shout or gasp as Aleksander raised his own hands and the black shadows of the Fold expanded into Novokribirsk, killing everything in its path.

You stood motionless as the horrible sounds of volcra swarming and humans screaming flooded the air. Alina's words came back to you again but you didn't listen. No, you didn't want to. Zoya seemingly came down from the mainsail and looked at the black void in a hypnosis-like stare but nobody dared say anything. There was a silence on the skiff while hundreds and thousands of lives ceased to exist in a matter of seconds.

The comforting tune in your head had suddenly turned into a blinding screech, rendering you frozen and flabbergasted. He did this, Aleksander did this. How could he do this? You tried to fight the heartrenderer off, squirming desperately in his arms to cover your ears from the slaughtering sounds. Your knees had given out by now and Alina was on the floor of the skiff, struggling to get up due to the heavy and awkward chains. I put them there.

'Today, we redraw all the maps. With the power of the Sun Summoner at my command, I control the Fold.' A sob erupted from your throat right at the minute you realized Alina was right. You didn't listen, this is all my fault. Ivan pulled you back up, roughly smacking a hand over your mouth to stop your pathetic cried of betrayal. You fought a little harder, trashing around in hopes of escaping his hold or at least getting someone's attention but nobody seemed to care. They all feared for their lives.

'All countries will answer to us. For who would oppose us now?' He briefly shot a look in your direction but spared you no emotion. It was then that you saw the real Aleksander, blood-thirsty for power and revenge. The Black Heretic.

Everything you are made you

Everything you aren't

The next five minutes were a complete blur. You somehow found yourself fighting for your life and those around you. Your head was empty of its usual whirling thoughts as survival mode kicked in. Kill or be killed. You stopped counting how many hits you got or how many bruises were forming on your body. It was primal and in your Grisha nature to protect those around you, and in that haste of battle you made your allegiance to Alina obvious.

There was no time to think about Aleksander. You weren't quite sure you wanted to think about him. He was on this skiff with you, on the opposing side that just murdered a town full of people yet the part of your brain, your imagination, craved to be by his side. To please him by obeying, to get his touch in return. You were addicted to the man who had ruined your innocence.

'You betrayed me' His voice was right behind you as was his hand, creeping up the side of your throat and forcefully pushing you against the barrier of the skiff, ready to throw you over to the unlit Fold.

'I betrayed you?!' Your shout was loud and hearty, overflowing with sadness and shame at being relieved for being next to him again. You clawed at his tightening hand, feeling your airways restrict and your vision become fainter and fainter. You would die at the hands of the man you loved.

'Look what you made me do Y/N, do you think I want to kill you?' Your head bopped but your stupid heart grasped at the sadness in his words, he still loves me. 'I don't want to. I really don't'

'Then don't' you chocked out, your hold on his wrists becoming limp. You felt the ever-so familiar touch of his lips grace your temple and then he retreated.

The world went dark but your body hit the deck of the skiff, not the soft sands of the Fold and your lungs abruptly filled with forced Squaller air.

Yes, I did it to myself, yeah

Thought you were somebody else

'What are you going to do now?' You still sat by the fire while everyone stood. Zoya had left your side and was talking with Alina but you filtered out the noise. Your head was too full of your own self-hatred to stand any more voices so Jesper's question to you went unnoticed. 'Y/N?'

You looked at him and shrugged. You didn't want to move, your body still ached too much from being dragged away from the brink of death to make your way somewhere safe.

You would never admit it around anyone, but as Alina spoke of the Darkling being dead, a wave of grief washed over you. It was cold and unpleasant; unwelcome. But you knew love didn't disappear overnight. You didn't know who saved you on the skiff, whether it was he who had let you go, or was it Zoya who battled to have you freed from his grasp.

As much as you had created the Aleksander you viewed, the foundations were all him, you had only added on or omitted the parts you did and didn't like. You prayed it was him who spared you, you prayed there was something real about your Aleksander, that that was a foundation.

The tears that fell down your face in a stream were assumed to be for the betrayal and the horridness of what the Darkling had done to you and others, when if fact they were for him. You cried because you would never see him again, you cried because the people who had helped you get out of the Fold were the same people who had killed him.

-------

When Mal caught your deathly stare in his direction, he had to do a double-take. You had the same look in your eyes as the General did when he fought him in the Fold, that exact replica of coldness and rage; revenge. But surely he was wrong. You were happy to know the Heretic was dead. He betrayed you the most out of everyone here and almost killed you. Why would you be vengeful?

He waved it off with a shake, it's all in my head.

------

Masterlist

Taglist (Tell me if you want to be added!)

@aleksanderwh0r3 @theonelittleone @searching-for-gallifrey @lostysworld @0-artemis @exo-1204 @staradorned @bookfrog242 @simp-for-ben-barners @keepdaydreamingbb @acciorudolphx @pansysgirlfriend @justmesadgirl @rosiethefairy @partiesandblurrypolaroids @ashwarren32 @s1xthirty @toujurespure @misselsbells06

[wlw-peachylsbn]

i think i need some fresh air (feeling under pressure) (narcissa malfoy x reader)

A/N: okay, so my only notes for this fic was "narcissa reads you poems while you suck her tiddy? mommy kink yay". so that's what you're going to get! thanks to @daffodilmoons for inspiring me with their post here!

we have some mommy kink (yes, i am predictable go away), a bit of tit sucking, and fluff.

You sigh, tossing the covers off as you sit up, rubbing your eyes. The clock hanging on the wall reads 2:34 a.m. Great.

You turn to look at Narcissa, a smile instantly coming to your face. She’s sound asleep, of course, but she looks like some sort of angel, her blonde hair tumbling in waves, a peaceful expression on her face. You quietly take her hand, pressing a soft kiss to her fingertips, before stealing her robe and padding to the living room. You’ve never been more grateful that her manor is so large. You can just wander around with little chance of waking up.

Of course, you find your way to the library. Multiple bookshelves tower over you, and the soft carpet muffles your footsteps as you take your favourite seat. It’s a plushy, cherry red chair by the window that sticks out from the elegant, silver decor. Narcissa ordered it for you after a playful argument (darling, I love the comfort factor, but it doesn’t match!), and you fell in love at first sight. Or first seat.

A table rests at the side of your chair, adorned with your favourite books and trinkets, and a glass of cold water (on top of a coaster, of course). You take a book of poetry—love poems—and idly flip through the pages before tossing it back onto the table. Usually, you can lose yourself in poetry, but tonight, you just feel restless.

You grab a nearby blanket and wrap it around your shoulders as you stand up, looking out the window. It’s a bit of a chilly evening, but it’s quiet. There are no more of those damned peacocks, just some birds calling and the rustle of the wind. The moon is shining brightly, too.

You sigh, tightening your hold on the blanket that smells like Narcissa. You’ve been having trouble sleeping for the past few days, with nightmares waking you up or simple insomnia. It seems like tonight is the latter.

You sigh again. Life just sucks sometimes! No way around it. School has been an absolute bitch lately. With finals coming up, and multiple projects and essays due, your stress levels are extremely high. Every day makes you come closer to your deadlines. You don’t want your grades to slip, but you’ve spent every waking moment hunched over your desk, your quill scribbling. You haven’t even had time for dates with Narcissa, even.

You slump against the window. The sword of Damocles hangs over your head, and you’re keenly aware of every slipping inch. You know you shouldn’t overthink, but still, your mind falls down a negative rabbit hole with no rope to hold onto.

Dark whispers infiltrate your mind, and the demons in the shadows tip-toe forward, ready to grab you in their claws. You can’t even muster up any courage to fight back; you just allow them to control.

Until you feel a hand on your shoulder. You know who it is. Your love, Narcissa, of course. You would know her blind or deaf, by the warmth of her hand and the softness of her footsteps.

When you turn to face her, the monsters fade away. Her hair is like her halo, and the way she’s smiling at you can only be described as angelic. She’ll protect you; she always does.

“Cissa,” you breathe.

“Darling. What on Earth are you doing up so late?”

“I thought it was early?”

“Early or late, there’s no reason for you to be up at this hour.” She tsks, and although it’s meant to reprimand you, you feel a sense of calm wash over you. She’s worried about you; she cares about you.

“I know. I just couldn’t sleep, and I didn’t want to wake you.”

“Why ever not?”

“You looked too beautiful to disturb.”

“Oh, hush.” Narcissa rolls her eyes, but you still spot the pleased smile she tries to hide. “I don’t want you to hide from me. Your troubles are my troubles. I can help you, do you understand?”

You glance away, squinting at the door over her shoulder. “I know, I know….”

“Good. You’re not alone, not anymore.” She takes a seat in your favourite chair and tugs your waist, making you tumble into her lap.

A laugh escapes you as you shift to get more comfortable. “Cissa! What was that for?”

“Because I wanted you close,” she replies simply. “Now, what’s been keeping you up at night, darling? I feel like I haven’t seen you in ages. You’ve been eating less and less and working more and more.”

“I know, I’m sorry. I don’t mean to ignore you.”

“I know you don’t. I never said you were. But I am rather worried.”

“There’s nothing to worry about, I’m fine. Please don’t worry anymore.” The lie slips out without your consent, and judging by her raised eyebrow, Narcissa doesn’t believe you one bit.

“Don’t you remember what I just said?”

“Yes, we’re a team, my troubles are yours, blah blah.” You wiggle closer, moving her silk robe to the side so you can nuzzle into the soft skin revealed.

“ ‘Blah blah?’ And is that my robe?” She tsks again. “It seems you’ve developed a bit of an attitude, little one.”

“Me? I don’t have an attitude!” You ignore how her nickname makes you shiver, instead pressing a kiss to her neck again. “I don’t, Cissa.”

“Well, if you’re a good girl, then you’ll tell me what’s wrong.”

You sigh loudly but rest against her chest, closing your eyes. You’re tired. You’re always so tired. But you push through your exhaustion and say, “I’m just really stressed because of school. I was having a good start to the semester, but now, I’m feeling pretty burnt out. I don’t want to disappoint …”

“Disappoint?” she prompts. “Finish your thought, sweetheart.”

“Disappoint my family. Disappoint me.” You swallow. “Disappoint you.”

“Oh, honey.” The kindness in her tone makes you grip her robe in your fists, trying to stop yourself from crying. “Sweetheart, it’s alright. Everything is going to be alright. Look at me. Look at me, please.”

You don’t want to, but she grabs your chin gently, tugging so you’re looking into each other’s eyes. You can’t imagine how you look, hair mussed up, dark eye bags, and a slowly escaping tear. But Narcissa looks at you tenderly as ever, reaching up to wipe your tear away. “You won’t disappoint me.”

“But—”

“Hush. You could never disappoint me. Never. Especially over a grade. I just want you to try your best. That’s all.”

“Everyone says that but—what if my best is not enough? I’ll be a failure, Mommy.” To your utter humiliation, the nickname you associate with comfort and safety slips out. You bury your head in the crook of her neck again, this time intending to never leave.

“Sometimes, the things we love and work hard for, don’t work out. That has nothing to do with our failures or triumphs, simply that the time wasn’t quite right.” Her hand comes up to rub your back in long, smooth strokes, thankfully not commenting on your Freudian slip. “Your grades have nothing to do with you as a person. They are a separate entity, completely. The only things that define us are the things we allow, understand?”

You nod shakily. “ ‘m still really worried.”

“I know, my love. I’m not expecting that fear to go away in five minutes. But if you allow me to stay by your side, I swear I will always be your support when you fall. Always.”

“Always,” you whisper. A seed of hope worms its way to your chest. With Narcissa by your side, how can you do anything but fight?

“But we can plan tomorrow, darling. Our goal for tonight is to get some sleep.”

You nod, already half-asleep on her chest. The exhaustion you’ve been pushing away slams into you like a ton of bricks, and you yawn. “M’kay.”

“Shall I read you some poems? I know you love them.”

“If you don’t mind, Mommy.”

“Of course I don’t, darling girl.” Her hair tickles your cheek as she leans forward to grab the book you were reading earlier. “Would you like to hear Sonnet 43 by Elizabeth Barrett Browning?”

“Mhm.”

“ ‘How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.’ ”

You know the next line by heart. I love thee to the depth and breadth and height. It’s quite close to how you feel about Narcissa, but not entirely. There are no words for how you feel for her. Sometimes the truest feelings are the hardest to put into words because there simply are no words. But it’s close. And you think she knows.

Narcissa’s voice is so lovely. Husky from sleep and soft and melodic. She has a perfect reading voice. She’s perfect.

You shift, a little whine leaving your mouth. You’re on the verge of falling asleep, but you’re missing one key thing.

“Oh, what’s wrong, sweetheart? Tired?”

You nod, snuggling closer to her.

“That’s alright, dear heart. Just rest now.”

“Mommy,” you whine again. You don’t want to say it, so you grasp her robe and tug, exposing her breast. “Please?”

“Oh, I see now, darling. You just want Mommy’s help to fall asleep, don’t you, lovely?” Narcissa coos, pulling her robe more to the side. “I know, baby, I know. Come here.”

Finally. This is what you’ve been waiting for. You eagerly latch your mouth on her nipple, closing your eyes and sucking.

She laughs quietly, running her hand through your hair, playing with the ends. “Slow down, darling. Just relax now. Mommy’s got you.”

You nod, eyes half-lidded. The bud in your mouth hardens with every suck or lick, and it is arousing, to an extent, but it’s mostly just … comforting. There’s something you can focus all your attention on, something that’s anchoring you. You keep sucking, listening to Narcissa read, and finally allow yourself to fall asleep.

[jean-does-not-have-a-horseface]

Jean with their almost full term wife just being extremely uncomfortable, they cry a lot and are just ready for the baby to be out?

Here I go... this has been in my inbox for an embarrassing amount of time but I had this plot in mind for two years and I was waiting for this moment to be animated to be able to write and post this... Listen while you read → the sound of silence by Simon and Garfunkel

Pairing: Jean/ Reader

Tags: hurt/comfort (yes my ✨favorite✨), Jean being a sweetheart

Warnings: pregnancy, grief, mentions of labor and childbirth, crying, Post Sasha's death

The Sound of Silence

The dull, gray shade that was plastered all over the sky was accompanied by an excessive stride of frozen air that was blowing on your hair, sending stray strands of (e/c) flying all over your eyes. A few droplets fell faintly in random places over you and on the freshly trimmed grass that was swaying under your feet. There was a vast variety of tombstones that surrounds you, sternly and calculated lined up tombs extend to a tragic horizon, where your eyes couldn't seem to find an end to. A few leaves were being blown around over them, as well as fresh flower petals, ones you could recognise as you had seen numerous people leave bouquets to their deceased loved ones for all the time you'd stayed here.

Inevitably, the gravestone you were resting your back on was frozen, making your whole body shiver as you lean on it, but you chose not to pay any attention to it; you simply buried your chin between your knees and closed your eyes before letting out a sigh escape you. Your stomach tightened as your chest hitched and you instinctively brought a hand to rub over your swollen tummy. You inspected the bum by running your hand around it, rubbing on a few places near your inverted belly button, pressing slightly over the top as you felt the probing piece of flesh flick in the palm of your hand underneath your dress.

When you felt a kick, a single leg movement push against the insides of your stomach, though, you took away your hand, slamming it onto the ground as you tried to grip onto the moist soil right next to you. It was kind of a peculiar feeling and even now, nine months in you were still fully uncomfortable with it. Being pregnant wasn't something you've enjoyed; rather was more like a hazard to your very health and was reason you were relieved of your soldier duties. And you secretly cursed Jean and yourself a bit for allowing this to happen.

Who on their right mind would enjoy swollen feet and back pains, who would enjoy the crazy mood swings and the fatigue that causes you to be unable of even taking a stroll around the town? Who would ever want to feel suffoccated by how big their pregnancy belly had turned? Not you. Definitely not you, but according to your mother they were supposed to be something you'd enjoy later on.

Now, you weren't so sure.

And you were so overdue yet you weren't even sure you could even take care of your child in the mental state you were in.

Sighing hard after taking a deep inhale you dug your frail fingernails into the soil, feeling the ominous tears that the angry skies were begining to pour. Your eyes lingered on the shapeless coulds, focusing onto the dull, stripped light that could barely peak from underneath them. You felt the faint river of a tear run down your cheek at the sight and the skies responded right back at you with a loud thunderclap. It almost felt as if the skies were mourning Sasha just like you. Maybe, if you tried to convince yourself, you'd believe that it was your childhood friend that cried with you due to your departure.

Feeling your body go stiff and your face go numb from the fresh needles of the cold air that was blowing on you your scrunched your nose upwards, hoping for the action to stimulate even the tiniest blood flow to the numb tip. It didn't, and the tingling sensation of a sneeze madxhed it's way to your blood vessels, scratching methodically at all the right pressure points to force it's release. Finally and with a loud blow you felt your chest go in shock as you sneezed, your whole body joltimg up on your very spot.

Still you sniffled the little drops of moisture with the inside of your elbow, you couldn't find it in you to move or get up, you couldn't even try to find an ounce of physical strength inside your body. Sashas tombstone provided some strong comfort for you though, acting as your only comforter against the cold.

"This can't be any good for you."

A soft, large and so very warm hand came to rest upon your shoulder; delicate fingers gave you a squeeze as a bulky thumb rubbed a few circles to the end of your collarbone. You didn't even have time turn your head to see who it was, frankly because you knew.

His scent, his warmth, his touch, his whole aura practially screamed his name.

"Jean?"

"It's going to rain really hard you know." He said, planting a kiss to your temple. "wanna go back?"

"No." You sniffled dangerously.

"Okay then, I-" Jean paused before squating to your level "I guess were staying here for a bit."

"Thank you."

The soft ruffle that you felt on your hair was Jeans reply and it tousled your hair slightly, allowing the shy blond to catch a tiny sniff of your sweet scent to which he sncrunched his nose slightly and proceeded to place a kiss at the top of your hair line. Then, once again, he placed another kiss on your temple.

Fidgeting with your hand while trying to undig it out of the soil, you closed your eyes at the feeling, expecting the tiniest bits of adoration to enter your body through that kiss. Jean rested his head on your shoulder from his squatting position and you smiled a tiny bit and only in the blink of an eye, exhaling a cold huff of air to his face. A sharp pain in your chest was starting to spread, pushing back away over everything else that lay inside your body, strangling the insides of your throat.

"I miss her already."

You felt your breath chock you from the insides of your throat dangerously; a tight, looking knot was finally making its binds tighter and even more evident to the depths of your stomach as it spread to your throat.

"Me too"

"And God she was more that me excited for our baby."

As you shut your eyes, in frail attempt to mute the memories of Sasha that were coming back to your vision, a single tear rolled from the corner of your eye. With a shaking hand you managed to grip onto the side of Jean's coat; the chachi makò cotton coat rubbed against your thum as if protesting for the dirt that was being wiped on it, yet Jean didn't seem to care.

"I'm sorry I wasn't here for so long when you're dysphoric about pregnancy."

"Its-its fine" You sniffled, a hitched sigh escaping the depths of your throat.

"Mmm baby, it's not, and I'm sorry. I'm sorry I couldn't bring Sasha back with me too she'd talk to me everyday about betting on how we're going to have twins."

As another thunderclap roared in the background, Jean found it fitting to move his aching legs and shift his position to the ground. As he took a turn, he placed another kiss just next to your eye while he took your hand in between his. With a soft thud he came to rest his body next to yours and you made a slight move to allow him a little more space before his back finally came to rest to the small tomb right behind you. A hand came to wrap around your shoulders lovingly silently begging you to push your head down to your lover's shoulder to which you eagerly complied.

"I kinda think she was right, I'm too huge, I can't even breathe properly these days." Another tiny peck was placed to the top of your head as you spoke. "To be honest," You sniffled "whatever it is I want it to be out."

"I know."

"And I don't want to accept that Sasha died, I grew up with her Jean."

"I know baby." He said and placed a new kiss to your head.

"And for the love of any fucking intelligent titan I'm so swollen and I'm angry and all that could make me happy right now would be you Connie and Sasha teasing me about it."

Jean felt your back pulp on him like a jolting lighting has just fell from the sky. He heard the hard sniffle of your nose and heard the painful sob that was stuck to the back of your throat as your sentence came to an end. This, with a burning desire to let his own heart go loose came the feeling of his own eyes stinging, his own chest jolting, his fingertips gripping onto the side of your head as if they were hanging onto you for dear life.

"All I get though is this stupid tomb!" You cried and threw a clenched first backwards towards the tomb, hitting it with all your potential might as you chocked on your next words. "This stupid fucking reminder that my best friend is dead."

It was so dearly painful. Your heart hammered in your chest in protest to your refusal to deny Sasha's death, your stomach churned in a coiling fire and the big swelling bumb under your right hand rioted against your mourning. But you failed to give a care. Your best friend in the whole world was dead.

You could still remember when you decided to join the military together, you still remembered your very first friends, you still remembered how she and Connie were the ones to help you and Jean get together. You remembered the way you'd play when you were kids and how you'd spend days sewing clothes just to play like you were paying a visit to Sina in your most elegant attire. You remembered watching her fall in love with food and with whom you had thought could be the man of her life.

You remembered every single miniscule moment of your life spent with Sasha and it crushed you.

Nevertheless when Jean's long fingers came to sway over the roots of your hair and his nose nuzzled to the top of your hairline, his lips rubbing onto your soft hair, ready to press another kiss at any given time, your face softned, taking away the chocked sob you were about to let out with it. You brought your hand to your face, pulling your sleeve to cover it up and put it to your nose to wipe the runny goo off of it.

"I know, shh" The ashy blond rubbed his chin to the side of your scalp, giving you the tiniest bit of affection from it before bringing his nose back to your head to rub it on the spot again.

Then, the way that you sighed was almost silent.

Save for the whiny hiccup that escaped you.

"Please don't cry so much, I'm going to panic."

A tiny laughter inevitably escaped you. You remembered that phrase very well. When you had caught Jean crying after Marco's memorial he had came running into your arms, sobbing like a madman and you had wispered the same words while rubbing your palms soothingly over his back. That was the same night that you decided to follow him into joining the scouts, the first night of an endless personal misery.

"It's just-" You cried "I just can't, we've lost so many people and it hurts Jean. I should have been there."

"Shh no, don't think like that."

Jean was holding back tears for you. It was evident in the way that he was shaking and jolting his head from time to time. His palm was flexed in a fist, tightly resting over your shoulder as it gripped a fold in your cloack. You only breathed harder at the realisation, feeling your chest sink in a tremendous amount of pain that left you hollow. You felt another kick coming from the inside of your stomach to which you shut your eyes to, too afraid to see the outline of a hand or a foot appear under the thin linen clothe of your dress. And just like before, another heart wrenching sob escaped you.

"I didn't want to say goodbye." Jean said quietly, his voice coming as a breath that barely brushed your ear. "You didn't even get to say goodbye and that's bad of me to say, but I didnt want to see what I saw. I didn't want to say goodbye. I don't want you to suffer. I don't want to suffer either."

"Jean.."

The sniffling of your nostrils wasn't nowhere near coming to an halt, thus the back of your sleeve was the ideal solution to your distress; had you had any more little power in your body you would reach for the handkerchief in your shoulder bad. But that couldn't be the case. Not until you could feel your feet.

"(Y/n), baby... I'm sorry. I promise I won't let anything happen to you and our baby. Even if it means I have to sacrifice my life for you to be safe."

A gasp came out of your mouth quicker than you had anticipated. The hiccup that escaped you was accompanied by another burning hot tear that run down your eye, your whole spine giving in to the wave of fear that shook you, resulting in your head jolting in shock. Your hand shot to his, gripping it with force to bring it over your stomach, your fingers clinging onto his while pressing hard in between his knuckles.

"Don't say that shit, you're not dying Jean, get that thought out of your idiotic head," You inhaled through hitches "I'm going to die a pitiful death if you leave me."

"Please don't do that." Jean clenched his teeth.

"Then don't die too you idiot."

Another rush of a few raindrops started pouring, this time even more quickly that before. The grass under your feet swayed, each spiky peak bending and bouncing as the weight of the rain hit the ground. Big blotches of water were now forming on your attire, waiting your skin as they came to connect with each other, darkening the brown color of the linen skirt you were wearing. Jean wrapped his hand tighter around you, rubbing his cheek to the top of your head again with mellow force, as if trying to assure you it would be okay for you to stay there for only just a moment more.

And you begged to listen to his silent proposition.

Letting his hand rest loosely over your swollen stomach, you took a deep breath, allowing your self to flex your toes inside your shoes. Your indstep steamed as the little strap squished you so hard that you tried your best to convince yourself you weren't going to deal with a blood clot. You hated that you had come to despise your favorite pair of shoes. All you ever wished for was that then would just fit you like normal. Still, even to that thought, the little being inside you took half a leaping turn, giving another kick to the top of your stomach.

Had Sasha been here she would have told you something to help you get your mind off of it. She would have teased Jean for not being able to keep it in his pants and you would have laughed, feeling the tentuon easing off.

Still, the kick, that most women would have found one of joy, only turned your insides like clothes swept by a tide.

"I want to throw up." You announced, half looking at Jean

"Because of the kick? Or the thought of it?"

"Maybe-maybe both."

It was then that another kiss was planted in your forehead. The raw sound of lips smacking filled the air against the drenching water of the rain, giving a little antsy essence to the gesture. Jean rubbed his closed mouth against your skin with his eyes closed in his best effort to help you calm down.

"Now now," He whispered "It wouldn't be the best thing to throw up in the cemetery, would it?"

With closed eyes, you pouted and shook your head twice in response.

"Okay then, I have a proposal for you."

"What?"

"Want to go visit Marco's grave? And then get you somewhere warm? And changed?"

Your pout intensified amd you fixated your gaze at the ground with furrowed brows. The nauseating feeling in your stomach was coiling begging to obertske you, but there was something so warm about Jean's sweet tone that fought it violently, so much that you could even feel your face loosen up as you melted under his touch.

"Yes, I'd like that."

"Okay then."

You shivered slightly as Jean took his arm off of you and dug it to the ground, giving himself a little prompt as he bend his knees closer to his body before stretching them to get up. Next, he leaned towards you, extending a long arm to your side, his thick, enormous palm stretching as it signaled you to place yours in it. Lifting a hand to his direction faintly you manages to place your palm into his and soon you managed to feel his fingers tighten a grip over your knuckles.

Still though, you couldn't find it in you to get up.

You stared at Jean with brows that screamed in apology, lifted skin littered with regretful lines. You had been feeling heavy lately. Everyone knew that, everyone who laid eyes on you questioned hoe you even managed to walk normally. But today you had struggled to get out of bed so much that you had even considered asking to be carried to Sasha's grave, knowing full well that you were too heavy for this to be a reality.

"You can do it."

"Give me a second, I can feel my lower stomach pulsating."

Jean eyed you with concern, his thumb quick to rub a circle over the knuckle of your pointer finger. You only gave him a mixed look next, squeezimg him just a little as you started pulling his hand. You had to get up. You couldn't stay in the rain until someone picked you up bridal style. Thus, you gave a little push. Just a teeny, tiny push to prompt yourself up and meet Jean halfway.

"Oh, oh crap."

In that moment you couldn't even think of a worse mistake that you had made in your nineteen years of life.

"What?"

You didn't want to believe it. No. It couldn't be happening now.

"Uhm, my water just broke."

"WHAT?"

"There's fluid leaking down my thigh and I'm pretty sure I didn't just pee myself. I wouldn't do that in a graveyard."

In between Jean's petrified expression and the trembling pain in your core, you somehow found yourself be eerily non panicked about the happening. As much as you wanted to scream from the pain, as much as you felt like your feet where going to give out, you were nowhere near turning pale yellow like Jean.

"Was this supposed to happen so suddenly?" Jean breathed heavily.

"Well" You cursed under your breath as you clutched over your stomach "I have been overdue for some days now and, ah fuck this is painful-"

"I'm really, really freaking out right now. What. Do. We. Do?"

"Calm down, let's go to Marco's grave."

"What? No!? Your waters literally broke. They broke, oh my god I'm going to be an actual father." Jean let out a chocked scream while running his other hand through his hair and gripping despairately on the roots.

"Jean, okay I migh-" A sharp pain went through your core "I still have a lot of time until my contraction is big enough for the baby to come out."

"This can't be safe."

"I'm telling you!"

Jean took a deep breath. His chest rose and fell, his shaking fingers steadied just a tiny bit, his trembling feet suddenly felt just a little more steady. This wasn't a time to panic, of course, he knew that far. The look you were giving him, even though it was pained, screamed that he could trust you; despite either of you having absolutely no idea about childbirth, he knew that having an anxiety attack this early into labor would only cause a worse experience for you.

Plus, he was the one who suggested they you'd visit Marco, and he wasn't about to say no to you at your current situation. With a hand bend over his hip, he prompted your own to snail through it for support. At least if you were going to do this, he'd basically walk you there. Pressing his lips together, Jean gave you an longing look, letting a deepnsigh escape the depths of his chest.

Eagerly you nodded at him, linking your arm with his. You softly dug your button lip under your upper flesh, trying your best not to bite into it as another rush of pain washed through you. Having contractions this frequent only meant that you had to rush and you knew that better than anyone else, but there was this little voice in the back of your brain that begged you to not take this moment away from Jean. With a final little stroke at Sasha's tomb and a tear running down your wet, stinging eyes before you matched away and to the direction of Marco's grave, you let yourself think you could hear her say a tiny good luck to you.

"Okay, let's go see Marco alright?" Jean said with a hint of glimmer in his eyes "For five minutes."

"Okay and then I'm going to go and have your child."

"Quite literally."

Taglist: @sasageyowrites @ackermans-freedom-inc @melancholicmonologue @ladyofpandemonium @levisbrat25 @callmepromise @hawkssnugget @berrijam @thethyri @nobody-knows-anymore @lzrers