#i am also RATHER late so please feel free to pass if you’ve done this already! 🥀❣️

[kiridarling]

𝐌𝐎𝐌𝐌𝐘 𝐌𝐀𝐆𝐈𝐂!

izuku midoriya | tw!guns, single mom!reader, bouncer!izuku, domestic stuffs, tit sucking, mommy!calling ah, AND daddy!calling oh my, breeding kink, breaking the bed (futon). minors dni!

— 5.4k words

“When’s the last time someone touched you like this, hmm?”

The alley is dark.

There's a disconcerting feeling as you step deeper into the quiet darkness,

You turn to look at the door you entered this dank place from, but it's just as dark and grimy as the walls. You're almost positive that if you rested a hand against them, it would return pitch black, and if you stood in one spot for more than five minutes, the sticky booze would glue your heels to the floor. You're surprised when it doesn't.

"Hand over your wallet and no one gets hurt, pretty lady."

He's a smarmy looking bastard and as thin as they come. It’s clear this isn’t something he does on the regular, the pointed gun quivering so much you worry a trembling might slip and pull the trigger. And you fucking freeze, blood running below zero and heart plummeting because why you?

And fuck, you’ve got a kid at home with a babysitter, and there are many outcomes to this situation, none of them too cute.

"I said hand it over," he grunts, pressing forwards. Your back hits the grimy brick wall as your eyes dart to the mouth of the alley, where life continues, where cars race past, but no one sees a damn thing. Fuck. Fuck.

And it's not like you have much—hell, you may be a mother, but you know how to party. You squeeze your eyes shut, grip tightening around your purse as you clumsily fumble through it and the man steps closer. You toss all you have to his feet. A fucking twenty. He raises an eyebrow before eyeing your watch. He lets out an unimpressed snort.

"That it?"

You nod, taking a shaky step back.

"Well, that ain't fuckin' enough."

There's a click and you're positive it's him turning off the safety. His face twists like he's about to shoot a bullseye, and you squeeze your eyes as tight as they can go.

Until the looming shadow of the stranger disappears, followed by a sound that's distinctly skin on skin. Er—skin on bone.

You don't watch the fight. Frankly, you don't want to, and you still get to hear your protector spew a litany of curses and disrespectful phrases that should really only come from someone's mother. You don't even open your eyes, still screwed shut with a vice grip around your purse and wallet.

"Um, excuse me Miss? Are you alright?"

Your protector's eyes are much bigger than you expect them to be—and green. You realize you remember seeing those eyes, hardened from across the club.

He's hesitant to touch you, hands rising and falling and rising again. Though you suppose a hug seems like it'd be a little abrasive, it also sounds like the exact kind of thing you need right now.

"U-Um, yeah I'm..." you start, before noticing your attackers body bloodied and wrapped like a pretzel on the ground. "...Fine..."

He sounds like he's going to pass out—he doesn't.

"We should um, we should get you home," As he speaks, the greenette shuffles you out of the alley and into the streetlamp light, blinking himself out of something before holding a meaty hand out of formality. "I'm Izuku by the way. Izuku Midoriya."

For such a big guy, Izuku seems rather timid, and yet, seeing him at the entrance with crossed arms in a black tee and a scowl in the club doesn't give you much insight into his personality. Which makes you wonder why he became the club's bouncer in the first place.

"Um, nice to meet you," you nod, trying to suppress the shake in your hands as you take his. "Y/N."

Izuku smiles at that, and even though you're a regular, you've never actually seen him beam on the job. "Cool! Cool, so...um, I don't really feel comfortable letting you walk home...alone..."

You nod—he panics as if you aren't already on board.

"'Cause it's like, a conscience thing, you know? Like, I really won't be able to sleep tonight otherwise," Izuku defends, shoving a clumsy hand in his green curls. "B-But if you don't feel comfortable with it, or something, that's totally fine! I know what you just experienced was horrible, and you probably do—"

"Izuku."

"Yeah?" He perks up. It seems as if the circuit his mind runs finally comes to a stop.

"I'd...feel more comfortable if you walked me home. Too."

Your innards ache at the stiffness in both your voice and figure, but Izuku doesn't seem to notice. Instead, he beams, standing ten feet taller, and you think—yeah. You'd feel much safer if he did.

"O-Okay! Cool!" He confirms a bit stiff himself, and then, in a smoother motion, holds his hand out to take. "Shall we?"

Your red palm claps over his, and you snort quietly, "We shall."

You two walk in a surprisingly comfortable silence for the beginning of the walk—you lead the way and he silently trails behind, glaring daggers at any passerby with lingering eyes as you march on, unknowing.

"So um, do you come to Club 777 often?"

Which is a question you know he knows the answer to, completely aware you almost come every Saturday. But you smile at his attempt to start a conversation anyways, hands tucking underneath your armpits in search of warmth.

"Yeah, sometimes. Just trying to get out and stuff. Y'know, away from the kid."

"I get that," he nods with a smile, before tugging at the hem of his hoodie. "Oh! Are you cold? Here—wait, let me."

He shucks it over your head and your positive it messes up your hair. But you find that you don't care much, especially in favor of the warmth that it provides.

And then, "You have a kid?"

"Yep," you say, tucking your fists into the jacket pockets. "A big two-year-old potato waits for me back home."

"Oh," Izuku chortles at your description before tucking his hands into his jean pockets too. Licking his lips, his eyes dart to the street, "I...assume your boyfriend watches him for the night? Or husband or whoever."

"Uhm, not quite," you chuckle towards your feet, though it's a touch acrid. Izuku picks up on it immediately.

"Oh I'm so sorr—I didn't kno—"

"It's fine, Izuku really—"

"I—but I shouldn't even be assuming what if you had a wife or girlfriend or—" he takes a second to gasp, and your eyes widen in fear that he'll choke, "—or if they're nonbinary or—"

"Izuku," you knock him on the shoulder and he finally shuts up. "It's fine. I get it all the time."

He falters, but at least he seems to relax. "Really?"

"Yes," you giggle behind a hand, and the greenette smiles at it.

"O-Okay, cool."

Flecks of gold swim in Izuku's green irises and you find yourself noticing them now, suppressing the urge to advance closer for a better look. You stare long enough to watch his smile relax into a comfortable line, but you snap out of it once he kicks a rock, the sound of the gravel skittering across the floor tugging you out of your reverie.

"I'm not very good with kids, y'know," he says as an afterthought. You snort.

"Really?"

"Yeah, I mean," he scratches the back of his neck sheepishly. "Like what am I supposed to feed it? French fries?"

"Toddlers aren't it's, Izu." You can't tell if he flushes from the nickname or from what you said, but either way, it's enough to prompt another laugh. "And maybe start with baby food?"

"Ah," Izuku nods, and you guide him in turning a corner. "That would make sense.

"It would."

By the time you stop in front of your red front door, it's almost three am. You figure you caught Izuku right after he got off work, if the cheesy All Might sweatshirt you're wearing is any evidence of that, but either way, he looks like he's about to fall flat on his face.

"You can stay for the night, if you want," you offer, albeit meekly, and Izuku lifts two hands with insistence.

"Oh! No no no please, I'm fine," he shakes his head so quickly his curls bounce in a flurry, and you genuinely worry he's going to pass out when he tries to blink himself awake. "Just...not used to staying up this late is all."

"Then stay," you offer with a shrug, and your orange porch light flickers. "It's the least I can do. I've got a bed and a futon, and I'm fine with sleeping on either."

"I..." Izuku's green eyes flicker towards your door before back to you, "I really shouldn't. I'm a stranger an—"

"And I'm offering."

Izuku's eyebrows fold with the dilemma, but you grab his hand with a tug and a smile, while your free one shoves the keys into the door. "C'mon. Let's get you some rest, yeah?"

You can't tell if Izuku blushes or if it's just the lighting, but either way, his chest inflates in protest before deflating in resignation.

"Okay."

With a smile, you turn the doorknob. Your door has always taken some shoulder to get open, so you don't hesitate in shoving your collarbone into the hardwood. Izuku cringes at the sight.

"Mama!"

Your hit in the legs first, nearly stumbling back with a quiet oof. You look down to see Max wrapped around your legs like you're a fucking jungle gym, grinning with two missing teeth and a bandaid over his nose.

It's three am.

"I'm done," your babysitter grunts. "He doesn't listen when I tell him to bathe, eat, anything—I fucking quit."

And with that, they slam the door behind them, house rattling under the pressure. You sigh. There goes another one. Fuck.

"Well that wasn't very nice," Izuku grumbles under his breath disapprovingly. You smile at the arms crossed over his chest until Max peeks around your legs to see...

"A new daddy?"

"I—no, baby," you fight the embarrassment (and the urge to say you fucking wish) by picking the little one up by his armpits, smiling when he thrusts his hands in the air and goes weee! After he's comfortably cradled in your arms, you say, "He's just staying the night."

"Like daddy did!" Max defends with a giggle before rushing the greenette with open arms. Izuku just looks at you with a shrug before kneeling to take a hug to the chest as Max chants, "New daddy! New daddy!"

And, well. There's no stopping him now.

You peel your heels off your cramping feet and sigh at the fucking freedom, toes uncurling from the scrunched position it feels like they've been holding the entire night. You curse under your breath when you realize since Max is awake you've got to put him to bed too, and honestly, if you knew this babysitter was going to be just as useless as the others, you would've just let Max run fucking free while you lived life for a few hours. Not like that outcome would be any better.

"Alright Maxie, c'mon."

You take him away from his celebration with the greenette and though he pouts, he allows his mother to gather him in her arms.

"Do you um, need help?"

You turn to see Izuku awkwardly shifting in the doorway from the request, hands behind his back with pursed lips. You shake your head.

"Oh no, it's fine. I just have to put him down really quickly and then I'll be—"

"Mama, I'm hungry. I want chicken nuggies." Max loops his arms around your neck and tugs so hard you worry about your bones. You shake your head with a sigh and a pout.

"It's too late for you to be up, bud. You can have chicken nuggies for lunch tomorrow. Sound like a plan?"

But goodness. In this state, it'll take hours for him to relax—and you still have to unfold the futon for Izuku.

Max whines and kicks his legs but doesn't say no, meaning he's not really that hungry, he just wants to stay awake. "But—but what if new daddy's gone in the morning like the last one?"

Fuck.

"Max," you sigh, giving him a light shake so his matching eyes look into you yours. You speak a little softer, "Izuku's not your new daddy, okay? He's a houseguest."

Max's face drops. "Not eve—"

"No, Maxie," you sigh, squeezing him on the shoulder. "Now let's go to bed, okay?"

"I can—I can put him down if you'd like! So you can get into something more comfortable and stuff. I mean, I've never worn a dress but sweats are so much better, you know? Or shorts, or...whatever you wear to sleep."

You understand the many points he's trying to get across, one being that's he's not a creep, just a nice guy, and you suppose you and Max can live in your "new daddy" fantasy for a little longer. Even if you know this one will be gone by morning.

"Um, okay yeah," you say, voice a little thin, before handing your child over to the greenette—who bounces into his arms excitedly. "I'll be back, then? His room is down the hall to the right. The one with the race car bed."

Izuku's eyes narrow as he processes your directions. "Down the hall to the right—okay! I'll just go take this little guy to bed, then."

"Okay, thank you," you nearly bow, because Izuku just saved both of you so much time and he doesn't even understand how. "Oh! And good luck."

"Good...luck?"

"Yep!" You say with a wink and a pat on the back before scooping your heels and booking it back to your bedroom with a cackle. Time to get out of this dress. Fucking finally.

You realize that being alone is much more unsettling when you've had a gun held to your head today.

Every little noise just seems off, like it could belong to something more than it actually does, even the silence; you find yourself shoving your head through your t-shirt abnormally fast, eyes blinking to take a survey of the room to ensure that you're alone. You are. It's fine.

And that's what you tell yourself when you close your eyes to run a wet rag over your face, and again with the dry one. All of a sudden, you don't like the way your bathroom window faces the open backyard nor do you like how dark it is outside. You don't like how big your bed looks, and goddammit, you haven't even gotten into it yet.

Pushing all uneasy thoughts aside, you stumble out of your bedroom with a fresh face and a new outfit, stilling in Max's doorway when the greenette doesn't notice you. Resting against the frame with crossed arms, you smile.

"I do so like green eggs and ham! Thank you! Thank you, Sam-I-am. You know, when I was a kid I—oh, he's asleep."

Izuku tucks the snoring boy in his lap under the covers with a gentle grin, pulling them underneath his chin. The greenette takes a second, watches Max's chest rise and fall a few times, before ruffling the tuft of hair on his head with a snort, and walking away.

You don't even think Izuku sees you until he practically sashays out the door, winking, "Good luck, huh?"

To say you go red in the face from that is an understatement.

"How do you do this?"

"Do what?" You ask as you pulling the futon in your living room forwards. Izuku yawns before gesturing to the clock with a shake of his head.

"Take care of a kid, and work, and go to a bar every Saturday evening? It's four am, and something tells me you've been up for a while. I'm practically dead and I wake up at one pm every day!"

You chuckle at that, jumping on the bed with your hands and knees to ensure its lays flat...and ensure that it won't make an Izuku sandwich at seven in the morning. "You build up stamina after a while, I guess."

"No shit," he gestures to you as you utilize the entire length of your body to put the sheets on the mattress. He would help, but you told him no, insisting that he'd only make this take longer. "Are you sure you do—"

"Nope," you huff, clapping your hands together. "I'm done."

Izuku blinks at the made bed, to you, to the made bed again, and then back to you with wide eyes.

"Mommy magic."

"I—" you blink towards the ceiling to see if that even makes sense, but you figure fuck it, it's four am, with a snort. "Yeah, sure. Whatever you want to call it."

In reality, you feel like you're about to pass out.

"Um, so I don't really have pj pants and I don't think you'll have any that'll fit, so..."

"Yeah no, I definitely burned all the shit my ex left—"

"Aha okay, cool, um, so just boxers...are fine...?"

He looks down at his black jeans and back to you, raising an eyebrow. You toss a nonchalant shrug in return, and you hate to say it, but your inner school girl goes—dick outline.

"O-Okay, then," Izuku says, and you watch his hands curl around the waistband. "I'm just gonna—"

He shucks his pants so hard they hit the floor, and your eyes widen because...well...looks like he's just gonna do it then.

Until Izuku's hands rush to cover his crotch (which you weren't peeking at, you weren't) and you realize that maybe you should've stepped out of the room or something.

"U-Um—that was fast—"

"I thought—thought you were going to uhm, turn around," he flushes, a funny contrast to the way his muscles fold under that black shirt, and your feet move to turn around like he ordered you to do it.

"Sorry! So sorry," you try to apologize, but now his dick print is burned in your brain, and...it isn't that bad.

"It—It's fine! I'm in the bed now so, you can turn around."

You laugh awkwardly and scuffle to turn, as you do, and Izuku beams at you from the bed with a wave.

"Hi," he says, his lower half-tucked under the covers. You wave back.

"Hi."

Izuku's eyes dart to you living room tv before the come back to you. "So uhm, I guess this is goodnight?"

"Oh right," you perk up at that, hands rubbing the sides of your thighs like there's something on them. "Time to go to bed, right?"

"Uh, yeah!" He nods, chest shuddering before he says, "so uh, sweet dreams?"

You smile tight at the kind gesture, and your hands opt to pull at the hem of your shirt instead, eyes drifting to an old pile of records you haven't regarded in months. "Thanks! You...too?"

Izuku smiles, though his eyes drift, "Yeah..."

You beam back. You figure you should probably go now, or something, until you think of something and slam a fist into your palm. "Oh! Also, I meant to thank you for saving me. I'm not sure if I did that. Did I do that?"

The greenette shrugs, "Uh, I think so?"

"Okay! Okay. Cool," you nod, flashing a tight smile. "Mmk. Night Izuku."

"G'night."

And see, you would move—except it seems as if your feet are glued to the floor and won't move no matter how hard you try, to the point where it feels like your straining and they're going numb, and yet you're still staring at Izuku's pretty fucking face.

"C'mon," he chuckles, scooting over on the futon to make extra space for you. "If you take all day, the beds gonna get cold, and then I'm going to have to crawl into yours like a creep."

"Oh my fucking god," you snort one breath and move to flick off the lights before stumbling through the darkness for the futon. "You're so weird."

"Weird in a good way, I hope," he lifts the blanket and you slide under—and swear your knee grazes his before it's snatched away.

"There's no weird in a bad way," you say once you've settled comfortably, tucking your hands under your head as you lay on your stomach. Izuku mimics your position, though he takes up much more of the blanket, and you find that it drapes over you like a tent over his shoulders. Neither of you close your eyes, for some reason.

"Hi," Izuku whispers.

"Hi," you smile back.

"Okay," he huffs, face twisting in determination, "Now it's goodnight."

"Right," you nod, but your eyes don't close. "Goodnight. Of course."

"Don't let the bedbugs bite," he says with a chuckle, and you can't tell if his eyes flicker to your lips or if you imagine it. Either way, you look them just in case.

"I better not have bedbugs," you snort. "I clean this place like a motherfucker."

Izuku's nose twitches at that with a nod. Moonlight pours into your living room and colors his pale skin silver, though you figure it won't take the sun much longer to color it a strawberry pink. "You really do. It's...different when it's quiet."

"Yeah," you agree, placing your hands on his chest. It shudders under your palms. "Kinda personal, huh?"

"Mhm," he nods, and though his hands wrap around your wrists, they never pull them away. You lift an eyebrow.

"A bad personal?"

Izuku doesn't hesitate, breath nearly ghosting your lips as he says, "Hardly."

"Would you..." now it's your chests turn to shudder, and sliding a hand up to play with his ear, you bite the bullet. "Like to get more personal?"

Izuku's lips melt into a grin against yours, "I'd love to."

His lips are softer than you thought.

Maybe because you assumed all of him was a bumbling mess, including his chapstick application; but they're fucking pillow-soft, and you don't realize how deprived you are until his hold around your body turns from protective to sensual and you melt from his heat.

"Fuck," Izuku huffs between kisses, growling when your grip around his neck tightens. "Watching you from across the club for weeks can do a thing to a guy's patience, you know."

"Oh?" You snort as he presses enthusiastic open-mouthed kisses down the column of your neck, hot and wet, and painful once his teeth dig into your collarbone. "A-Ah, Izuku—no marks."

"O-Oh! Sorry," he pulls away, lips red and swollen, and shiny with spit. You smile at the reaction.

"'S okay, Baby," you giggle at the speed to which his muscles go lax, and his eyes droop to your chest when you scratch the back of his head.

"Can I—can I suck your tits?"

He asks so bashfully it's nearly innocent, and you find your eyes dropping to your chest along with his before you're ditching his All Might sweatshirt all together.

"God," Izuku's eyes flutter as he gathers your breasts in both palms, groaning at the sight. "They're fucking perfect."

You shudder as his thumb ghosts a nipple, and Izuku dips an experimental hand under your lacy bra and pinches. Hard.

Your thighs jolt and hands fist the sheets, and a moan comes from the back of your throat before you can stop it. Izuku's hand rocket to cover your mouth.

"Shh—you don't wanna wake him up, do you?"

You shake your head, but it's hard to keep quiet when your nipples are as sensitive as they are. Izuku doesn't seem like he really means that statement, though, lowering his head with a devilish grin as if he knows that for himself.

“Sensitive, Mommy?”

“O-Oh um,” you flush at the nickname, and even more so when his lips close around your nipple and suck. Tangling a hand in his hair, you sigh, “Yeah, a little.”

Izuku hums at that, eyes fluttering to watch you bite your bottom lip in a poor attempt to muffle a moan, hissing as his teeth dig into the hardened bud. He pulls off with a slurp and moves to the other, but not without a few kisses across your chest.

“When’s the last time someone touched you like this, hmm?” Izuku nearly growls out before biting into the opposite nipple, and you shudder as he dips a scarred hand down the waistband of your shorts and panties. He chuckles after sliding a finger through your slit. “So wet for me.”

“It—It’s been a second,” you sigh, grip tightening around his shoulders as he slides a finger in. Even Izuku has to bite a lip at your tightness in anticipation, mouth descending over your nipple once more to send frissons of fire up your spine.

“No shit,” he grunts around your nipple, curling his finger. You gasp. “Think I can fit another one in there?”

“Why don’t you try?” You giggle, but it dissipates into nothing but air as he does, his two fingers filling you up enough to elicit a sigh.

“How’s that?” He breathes, face hovering over yours. As your hands coil around his neck, his free one reaches for your inner thigh and pulls it back far enough to give him a better angle as he presses you into the mattress.

“Good, it’s good,” you nod, and your hips start to move on their own, bucking forwards as if there’s any more finger left for you to fuck. (Spoiler: there’s not.)

“Good,” he breathes, eyes going glossy as he watches you writhe under him. You're positive that you're carving painful red lines into his back, but considering the way his eyebrows fold every time you do, makes you wonder if he doesn't mind. "Fuck I can't wait to fuck you—I can fuck you, right?"

"No Izuku, I'm just letting you finger me for fu-u—fuck."

He slides in a third finger and for some reason, it burns a little—but the burn only makes your eyes roll further, and he's stuffing you with a chuckle.

"What was that?"

"I-I—you're not pla—playing very fair," you huff, chest shuddering as he tilts your hips higher for a better angle. You suppress a scream when his fingers curl, jolting forwards at such a speed it makes the futon creak. Izuku tightens his grip around your waist to keep you from going too far.

"No one said anything about being fair, Mommy," he teases, and you whine when he removes his fingers, tapping them against your lips. "C'mon, you gotta get 'em wet so I can fuck you, right?"

You nod at the idea, enjoying the idea of being filled up much more, and coat his fingers to the point where they're dripping when he pulls him out. Izuku's chest rumbles.

"So good for me," he purrs, using your spit to coat his cock before he's sliding his head between your folds—you shiver, grabbing onto his back again. "Ready?"

“Mhm,” you nod, spreading your legs further—though you swear they do that on their own.

“Oh my, you’re um...tight...”

You whimper from the stretch and look between your legs, eyes widening upon seeing that Izuku’s much bigger than you had anticipated. Or had been warned of.

“F-Fuck, I can’t—“

“Shhhh, it’s okay, just a little more, okay?” Izuku nearly whispers into your lips as his hands move to rub your shuddering sides. Your eyes screw shut, “Jus’ a little more, Mommy...”

Izuku pushes deeper and you’re being split in half—because what else could that burn be—but you’ll admit, the feeling of accomplishment you receive once he bottoms out is surreal.

“Good—Good girl,” Izuku’s nearly quivering and plants his hands on both sides of your head with a huff.

“I-Izu,” you whimper as he starts to move, feeling impossibly full no matter how far he pulls out. Izuku shudders, mouth rounding into an ‘o’ when his hips slowly start to gain rhythm, and though it’s loud, you know the creak of the futon is unavoidable. You squeal as his head hammers into your cervix, pulling out a wanton Daddy before you have half a mind to shut the fuck up. You nearly freeze, and yet, all Izuku’s hips do is speed up.

“Yeah? Want me to be your new Daddy?” He moans, and you dig your nails into his back with a nod. The greenette curses at that, biting his bottom lip and his hand drops between your legs to rub at your clit. With thighs seizing around his waist, you slam a hand over your mouth to keep yourself quiet.

“Fuck—I make you feel that good, Mommy?” Izuku nearly wheezes, eyes suppressing the urge to screw closed, “So good you can’t keep your pretty mouth shut?”

“Y-Yeah, I—“ you gasp when he lifts your hips off the bed for a better angle, hands fisting the sheets. “Harder, Daddy—“

“Oh Mommy, if I go any harder I think I might break this bed,” he says, borderline bashful, but you find yourself saying fuck the bed as your hips buck in search of a feeling he refuses to give you. Izuku’s chuckle strains as he says, “So needy, Mommy. You that needy for my cum?”

Clawing at his back, you try your damnest to stutter out a yes. Izuku chuckles at your desperation before he cuts himself off with a groan, eyes rocketing to where you’re both connected as you tighten around him.

“F-Fill me up, I wanna—“

“You want another baby, Mommy?” Izuku pants, and you’re so close you start to feel a buzz in your thighs, praying he isn’t too far behind. You nod vehemently with a gasp and his lips slide into an exhausted smile, "Fuck, of course you do—and you’re gonna take me so well, aren’t you? All of it.”

Izuku finishes his sentence with a growl, pressing you further into the mattress—it squeaks like a squeaky wheel, and when it thunks a level lower both of you yelp, the back of the futon thumping on your hardwood floor with each thrust.

“Told ya,” Izuku wheezes, eyes scrunching in a chuckle. You return it.

“It—It’s old anyway,” you reply, but your eyebrows fold as quickly as they unfold from the crash. The creaking futon increases in pitch as his hips pick up the pace, “Fuck—fuck Izuku I’m gonna cum.”

“What’s my name?” The greenette challenges, and you find yourself shivering at the dominance he exudes. The finger on your clit disappears and you whine, knowing damn well you can’t cum without it.

“Daddy—Daddy please—“

“Good—fuck, so good for me,” his hand returns to your clit and you sigh at the feeling. As the coil in your gut threatens to snap, his hips speed up, and Izuku pants, “We’re gonna cum together, yeah? Cum with me Mommy, c’mon—“

“Fuck!” You drag red lines down Izuku’s back as you quake under the weight of your orgasm, broken bed whining as Izuku thrusts all his weight into you. Digging his teeth into your shoulder, the greenette cums with a broken moan, hips stuttering into yours for the final time that night.

The room fills with a comfortable silence, minus the panting, and Izuku rolls onto the mattress next to you with a bounce. It creaks, whines, and then drops again, catching both you and the greenette by surprise. (Again.)

“I think—I think we broke it,” Izuku says towards the ceiling as he catches his breath. You giggle at that, hands laid across your sweaty stomach, and turn to him with your head in the pillow.

“Gives me an excuse to buy a new one,” you say with a shrug. Izuku chuckles back.

“I guess,” he teeters his head to both sides. “I can...also pitch in, if you want. Since I broke the thing. Technically.”

His offer sounds apprehensive as if he’s encroaching in your space, as if he hasn’t been all up in your space less than a minute ago. You smile. “I’d like that a lot, actually. Thanks.”

"And um, breakfast? I mean," he snorts, though it seems rather defensive, and his eyes rocket to the ticking clock on your wall. Your eyes follow: five am. "I mean—fuck um, I feel like this might be weird but I think you're cool? Um, yeah, so breakfast, I can make it if you want because you're so busy being motherly and stuff and plus, it's Sunday but again, if you don't wan—"

"Izuku," you giggle, wrapping your arms around his gut with a little squeeze. "Breakfast sounds nice."

The greenette beams and his chest stutters. "O-Okay cool! Cool, cool. Breakfast then?"

You snort, driving your palm into his face to shut him the fuck up. "Goodnight, Izuku."

Izuku giggles, getting the message, and coils his arms around your shoulders to provide a comfort you haven't felt in a very, very long time.

"G'night Mommy."

[subwaysurf45]

Winter Makes Ice (Ep.7)

Summary:  you’re captured after a brawl at the Avengers building, Bucky and others must save you before Hydra makes a new Winter Soldier out of you, Bucky has given up that title

Words: 3412

Episode: seven

Warning: PTSD, vomiting

Masterlist! Winter Makes Ice Episode: Six

Time: 8:01am 

Date: October 7th 2024

Were you running late?

 Yes.

Your final appointment with Bruce was today and it was scheduled for 8:00 in the morning, you had set your alarm with enough time to get there but Bucky had other plans. While you were getting up Bucky snaked his metal arm around you, he knew you couldn’t break out of it, he pulled you back in his chest so you could stay for a little longer but you managed to bribe him after giving a few kisses down his neck. As you sucked his hand relaxed and when he didn’t see it coming and you snuck out to your bathroom to get ready for the day, you knew he was too tired to get up and pull you back. 

The surgery for both your nose and removing the serum went without a hitch, though you did have a panic attack a day later because it seemed too good to be true for you, everything else went fine. Bruce managed to take samples of your skin and make them into cartilage for your nose, it took a couple days for it to marry and accept your face, it would turn really red and then lose all colour in a matter of minutes. The serum removal took longer than expected, and it turns out what Bruce’s lab was creating wasn’t what he was expecting. The antibiotic would actually get into your bloodstream and split the serum from the red blood cells, but it wouldn’t remove them, the serum would still circulate in your body but just next to the red blood cells. 

A heart-lung by-pass machine was used while you were sedated, you could have been awake but seeing your blood fill a tube and then go back into you while a bag filled with blue liquid was just extra trauma you didn’t want to see. There were always complications with being sedated, but Bucky supported you no matter what. You weren’t left feeling sick after but like you hadn’t slept in days, you found there was a difference between waking up from passing out like you did in the cell and just lack of sleep, Bucky had looked at you quizzically when you said it randomly, but you couldn’t seem to explain. 

You still get headaches from time to time, it normally comes from that same spot in the back of your head and high on your neck, you’d feel around for a scab or scar but would find nothing. There was a bump when you’d checked recently but it seemed as though it was a goose egg form getting hit, but that was so long ago. You didn’t talk about your bump much because you thought people would look at you crazy, some people already did; while others looked at you like you were a ghost. 

As you walked to Banner's lab an agent stopped talking to her friend to look you up and down, and hand came to cover her mouth but you saw the smirk in her eyes. You just shrugged and turned into the lab. 

“You’re late,” Bruce said, he was sat on his stool with everything in hand, clipboard and pen at the ready. 

“Sorry,” you smiled and sat down. 

Bruce began to do the checks, he got good at hiding that he was taking blood, he’d point across the room to show a floating hologram of all your vitals and while you were reading over them he’d quickly stick the needle in to draw a bit of blood. 

He did the same except he pinched your thigh as he stuck in the needle point to make your attention go to your leg instead of the inside of your elbow. 

“Ow!” you slapped his hand away, “I’m used to it by now, and I also trust you and know you’re not trying to stick a foreign serum into me.'' You shook your head and read the file that was left open, “I can’t believe it’s my last test,” you sighed and leaned back in the chair. 

The whirl of the centrifuge wasn’t too loud, Bruce stood beside it with one arm holding his weight on the desk. He watched as you looked over the file again and again, your finger would trace the words and slowly find their way to the corner of the page to flip. The further you got into the file the further back you went, Bruce noticed you tend to stay on your injury report page a bit longer than the others, you’d study the little picture of a person and all the ‘X’s that were drawn where you got hurt; you could barely see the human drawing underneath. He’d watch as you read over every description of the injuries you’ve gotten, one time he asked why and you looked at him and said. 

“Because I go over how to fix each injury, so when I go back into the field I can stay on my toes.” 

But he knew you were just tired of feeling like you weren’t helping when in reality you prompted a medical breakthrough, not everyone gets infected by a mind controlling serum, but the new use of a heart-lung by-pass was being looked at by hospitals. 

Bruce took the blood out of the centrifuge and looked into the vial, there was no trace of blue like there was the first time he did it, just plasma and blood. You were still reading and he knew you’d pass his test so instead of telling you he was starting the evaluation, he just did it. 

“Close that book.” He lowered his voice which sent a boom through the lab. 

You didn’t close it but it did scare you for a second, a little jump but you went right back to reading. You weren’t trying to be mean by not listening but you had to show that you wouldn’t follow orders but rather respond like a normal human, the first day you flinched for the stool when Bruce asked you to walk it over to him but after that you tended to act like he wasn’t in the room. 

“Stand up.” he barked. 

You looked over to him, “no thanks,” you smiled, Bruce smiled back. 

“Can you stand for a second, please?” Bruce squinted and leaned back on the desk, he was challenging how you’d react to an indirect command, it was an offer rather than a command. 

“I don't know, can I?” You tilted your head to the side, a wide smile was being suppressed by a terrible poker face. 

“May you please stand?” Bruce walked over with a proud smile on his face, he was no longer challenging you. 

You just laughed and stood, “only because you asked so nicely,” you let your teeth flash while you both laughed. “Why did you choose standing? That’s like, day one stuff,” you sighed from laughing and closed the file. 

“Because I want to hug you,” he opened his arms wide, “to congratulate you. Now give me a hug, that’s an order!” he giggled but laughed even more when you pretended to scope him out, “just kidding, come ‘ere, kid.” 

You fell into a hug and wrapped your arms tightly around him, Bruce did the same. It was quick but it meant the world. “Thanks for everything, Bruce.” You smiled as you walked out of the room, “I mean it, you really helped me out.” 

“Don't mention it, you’re free!” he opened his arms wide to shew you out of his lab. 

You walked out and closed the door behind you, you only took a few steps before staring off into the distance. “I guess I am…” you muttered to yourself before continuing to walk back to your room. 

As you walked you didn’t even see Bucky in the kitchen “doll!” he called and you turned instantly, “breakfast?” he tilted the frying pan over so you could see french toast. 

Your eating and sleeping were the only things that didn’t seem to get better, nightmares plagued you every night and you could barely stomach a workout smoothie. Bucky would try his best to get you to eat but he typically ate your leftovers instead of making a meal for himself, it was hard to watch because you weren’t gaining weight and he still felt guilty when he’d touch your back and feel every ridge. 

“I’ll have a bit,” you smiled and walked over, “I’m a free bird now.” you commented as he slipped the bread on your plate. 

“Way to go, babe, I knew you could do it.” He scrunched his nose and took the stool beside you, “eat slow and as much as you want, no worries.” He kissed your temple before pulling out his phone. 

You slowly started to eat, you put the corner of the bread in your mouth and chewed slowly. The sweetness and the flavour was still overpowering, you weren’t used to this much intensity and it only made you feel nauseous. As much as Bucky acted like he wasn’t paying attention you could see his eyes look over as far as he can to gauge your reaction, when you’d catch him looking he’d just cough and look forward. You only got four bites in before turning your nose up and pushing the plate to Bucky. He didn’t want to seem disappointed but he was, not in you but rather himself, nothing was working. 

“What do you think you can eat?” He asked softly. 

“Plain yogurt?” you questioned. 

“I’ll give anything a shot,” he breathed and stood. The yogurt was far back in the fridge but he found it eventually, he poured a little bowl, “you want granola?” he asked. 

“Just yogurt,” she sheepishly replied, a thin line formed on your lips. 

He served it up and went back to eating the french toast, you scooped it up and took a spoonful. It was so plain and boring, nothing tingled on your taste buds. There was no category for it, it wasn't sweet or sour, it wasn’t savoury; it was just plain. The metallic taste from the spoon had more power than the yogurt itself. Nothing to chew, no berries or granola. 

It was perfect. 

In no time you scarfed it down, the spoon clicked on the bowl as you scraped for the ends of it. Bucky had been cooking your favourite foods to make you feel at home, you liked spice and sweetness normally. You’d turn down yogurt a month ago if it didn’t have your favourite granola in it, but what both you and Bucky didn’t realize was that you started with crazy flavours instead of the basics. Butter and bread, plain crackers, and maybe some almonds sounded great right now.  

Bucky looked over in shock to see you done with your food, he watched as you went to the pantry and pulled out some unsalted crackers. You plopped a few into your mouth and just waited to see if your body would reject it, but it didn’t.

“Guess I went too fast, too soon, huh?” he let out an unhappy laugh, “you could’ve been eating for a while…” he muttered and stood. He was exhausted, the darker circles under his eyes and the flatness of his skin didn’t go unnoticed. You woke up every night screaming and thrashing around in the bed, the sheets would be piled on the floor from your arms swinging around. As much as Bucky wanted some sleep, he knew for a fact that you’d been in disposition before, you’d been the one to gently ease him out of a nightmare for three weeks straight.   

“You did your best and I love you for it,” You smiled and leaned across the counter to kiss his lips, he sat back down again, “I would have done the same thing, if it makes you feel better.”

Bucky just rubbed his face and looked up to you, “how?” was all he asked. 

“How...what?” you giggled, but Bucky didn’t crack a smile. 

“Why are you so upbeat right now, I get it you finished your tests with Banner but, god, I don’t know how you’re so happy?” He didn’t sound angry but more in disbelief, if it were him, Bucky knew he’d be curled into a ball in the middle of the bed for days, there wouldn’t be anything to make him happy. 

You just sighed and sat down next to him again, “I’m not upbeat right now, if I’m being honest,” you looked forward and the sleek grey cupboards, “I can’t train because my stitches will fall out, I can’t run for the same reason. Half of the team treats me like fine china while the other half still punches me in the arm when they tell a funny joke, if I’m hanging out with Steve he will ask if I’m okay after every little thing while Tony doesn’t seem to understand that I don’t like sneak attacks anymore.” You wiped down your face with both hands, “my head still hurts like crazy, especially in that one spot in the back, everyone is too loud and I’ve been called ‘too quiet’ too many times for me to count.” You finally looked over to Bucky who had the saddest eyes, his lips curled down as he scanned over you, “you’re the only one who I can be, somewhat, happy around because you get it. Yes, you can be very cautious but you’ve backed off when I’ve said no and you’ve learned not to push when I can’t remember much. Bucky,” you cupped his face with one hand, you could feel him push into it, “you see me happy around you because you’re the only one who knows how to put a smile on my face right now, and I’m so happy it’s you.” Before he could say anything you pulled him in for a kiss, he hummed into it and reached up to place his hand over yours; it was still resting on his stubbled cheek. 

“I didn’t know I was doing all that right, I thought I was failing.” Bucky muttered against your lips, you could feel the sadness in his voice. 

“I still can’t lift my arm up all the way without it hurting, you wash my hair and put it in the clip when I ask, you might not have figured that food out or my nightmares but you do the little things, and that’s what makes it better.” Bucky’s arms moved down to hold you at your waist, you were still close. All he could do was smile, the kind of smile you use when you get a prize for a thing you really didn’t think mattered or when you’re embarrassed of how you fell in front of everyone; his lips turned down but his eyes smiled. 

The rest of your morning flowed into your afternoon easily, you’d spent some time just lounging in the bed and keeping each other warm. Little make-out session might brew but nothing went too far, it wouldn’t for a while and you both agreed on that. At one point you fell asleep curled up against Bucky’s chest, he stayed still and when it came time, he helped you out of your nightmare. The little kisses littered your face until you were calm again, he didn’t dare to fall asleep at this point because he knew you would too and being woken up by twitches and little pleads for help weren’t something he enjoyed for his own mental health. 

Time: 9:30pm

Date: October 7th 2024

Everyone filed into the cinema room for movie night, this was your first one since you came back. Bucky had tried to talk you out of it due to it being October and a horror movie was on the list, apparently it was a early 2000’s slasher, basically the worst movie to come back to. You were done with hiding away from the team, you wanted to see them again, scary movies didn’t bother you before because you knew they were just movies and alien killers weren’t real, you really didn’t know how much could change now. 

There was a bowl of popcorn for you and Bucky, you sat in the corner so you were nestled into the armrest and the back pillow, Bucky was on your left, cautiously watching you as Nat queued up the movie. 

“I now present,” she held her arms in front of the screen, “Camp Blood!” The movie faded in from black and a hush fell over the team. People snuggled deeping into their blankets and got ready for the movie, you just leaned your head on Bucky’s shoulder and threw a few pieces of popcorn- without butter -in your mouth.

Not even a half an hour later you were really shaken up, the gore and the blood had slowly broken down your walls and gotten to your head. You had hid it so well Bucky genuinely had no idea even though he was checking in on you after every kill, a little kiss to your temple before a double check. 

“I have to pee,” you whispered to Bucky and left the room. 

You sprinted down and to the back where there was a door to the outside, the air was suffocating and you couldn’t breathe. It seemed everything you could remember was flashing in your mind all at once while new memories were coming into play, it was all so overwhelming and you couldn’t handle it. You pushed the door open and stumbled to your knees and the cold fall weather opened your lungs so wide you thought they were going to pop, the gasps came out unevenly and some were quick shots of air. Your hand was pulling and scratching at the finally held bruise on your neck, it was like you could feel the chains slowly wrapping around you like a snake's tail, coming up around your neck and squeezing tightly. 

With one push, the chains in your mind snapped and all the popcorn you had eaten came back out, right onto the deck that was power washed three days ago. A few pieces of kernels got stuck when you took your first breath in but after spitting them out you could finally breathe again. 

You sat back up on your feet and just looked into the night sky, it was too cold for you to be out here but it was peaceful. With the serum you would have been fine with this weather but that had left you, you were free now, if you wanted you could run down the grass into the forest and never see anyone ever again. It was horrifying that that idea was pleasant to you, you’d never see Bucky ever again but you could be free. 

One foot hit the grass, but then the sound of a lock pulled you from your fantasy, you looked over your shoulder to see the lights off and the red emergency lights spinning around. You ran up to bang on the door but no one could see or hear you, “let me on!” you screamed for anyone but you knew these glass doors were sound proof. “Fuck!” 

“Soldat,” you froze, the voice you remembered vividly rang through your head, you shook it off and kept pounding on the door, “they’re never going to help you,” it chanted in your mind. 

“No, let me in!” you screamed again, your head hit the glass door in defeat, the voice mocked you in your brain. You pulled away from the glass and looked into the building, but then your focal point focused on the reflection. 

“Soldat, break in and kill them all.” the voice said, the slick hair and the notch in his brow, the leader that got away. To your horror, your break straightened and your chin went up, you turned towards the man who never gave you his name. He dressed in all black and wore a Hydra pin over his heart, “you really think we’d let you get away?” he asked, “you really think we only gave you the serum?”

“What is happening?” you asked, your mind was being taken over. 

“I’ll say it again. Soldat, break in and kill them all.” his smile grew. 

You didn’t want to, but somehow the other part of you did. 

“copy.” 

And the glass shattered with one punch. 

Winter Makes Ice tag list: @small-death-and-codeine​ @commonintrest​ @buckyys-doll​  @lil-baby-nor @wafflesncream​​

let me know if you want a tag!!!

[robininthelabyrinth]

Spilled Pearls

- Chapter 19 - ao3 -

Time passed, as it had a tendency to do.

After Cangse Sanren left, Lan Qiren remained in seclusion for the next two months, reviewing texts on the Lan sect rules regarding reciprocation, filial respect, and loyalty, and occasionally playing some new pieces – he’d started composing music as well as simply learning it, and that was a finicky business. Not only did he need to worry about the musical composition itself, like any normal musician, but there was also interweaving the spiritual energies and figuring out the way the song could be used as a spell, which was a completely different and often completely contradictory set of rules.

Moreover, the most powerful song-spells, he knew, were the ones that incorporated and drew on emotion, and he’d always had difficulty with those. Like most of his clan, Lan Qiren cleaved towards the more intellectual melodies, difficult but cold and distant, yet if he wanted to be truly innovative, he would need to find melodies in his heart.

Not long before he went to the Nightless City he had been inspired in a dream with a half-snippet of sound, which he had been painstakingly building up into a song in fits and starts, but recently he had found that whenever he played it the only image that came to mind was that of pearls scattered amidst blood-red mud.

The song was good, though, although it felt unfinished and incomplete. After he emerged from seclusion, he played it for his music teacher, first without qi and then with, demonstrating the suffocating and asphyxiating feeling of it – a heavy stone sitting in the midst of his chest, all his misery and anxieties wrapped up into musical notes – and his music teacher had been thrilled.

“You were born to write tragedies, child,” he said, examining the score proudly. “This is not only good but innovative, a new style with unexpected effects. I look forward to seeing you refine this further, and to your future works.”

Lan Qiren saluted deeply.

Music was just about the only thing that was going right for him at the moment.

The other disciples had been lured back into gossip by his presence, consumed by curiosity, and the teachers had come down on it hard, breeding resentment; even his few friends had been made tired by the whole fuss and only wanted it to die down. The rumors went by swiftly and quickly, anything to do with the Wen sect or the Nightless City almost immediately spread around everywhere, reaching his ears almost immediately upon his exit from seclusion.

One in particular caused him alarm, suggesting that Madame Wen had been discarded or even killed immediately after successfully bearing a son to her husband, but Lan Yueheng had convinced Lan Ganhui, always good at making friends, to write to the Wen sect disciples he’d become friendly with in the Nightless City to find out the truth. In the end, it turned out that Wen Ruohan had merely grown more distant from her, instructing her to go into seclusion for the birth a little early, and had perhaps sarcastically sent her a few treatises on the subject of a wife’s duty to support her husband. In the end, Wen Ruohan was an ambitious and ruthless man who encouraged his sect to take him as his model - as he himself had remarked, Madame Wen’s viciousness in fact demonstrated how she was an excellent match for him.

Lan Qiren hated that he was relieved that Wen Ruohan had not taken out his rage at what had happened on his wife, who had instigated the incident. He hated even more his suspicions that Wen Ruohan might have refrained from doing so not out of morality but out of the thought that Lan Qiren himself might disapprove - he wasn’t sure if that thought made him happy or sad.

At any rate, he soon didn’t have time to worry about things like that.

Lan Qiren’s refusal to explain in any detail what had happened at the Nightless City that had sent him fleeing and retreating into seclusion was largely not accepted by his curious peers, especially when someone had jeeringly pointed out that he’d probably told Cangse Sanren the whole thing already, and he refused to go to his teachers to complain, as he had in his youth.

His brother hadn’t accepted it, either.

He’d given Lan Qiren ten days after exiting seclusion, clearly expecting him to come and report on what had happened. When Lan Qiren had not done so, he had finally grown impatient and found him, demanding to know what it was that he had done that had caused such a fuss.

Lan Qiren had knelt and declared that he was unfilial and disobedient, that he had broken the rules, and requested that his brother punish him for his wrongdoing.

His brother had stared at him for a long time before realizing that Lan Qiren was serious – that he would rather be punished for intentionally breaking the rules against honoring and obeying his elders than tell what he had done or what had happened. Even when he was dragged to the hanshI, his collar pulled tight in his brother’s fist until he was thrown down to kneel in front of their father the sect leader, Lan Qiren did not object; he knelt without complaint, and even pressed his forehead to the ground in deference, but he did not speak.

The punishment his father decided upon for him was harsh, but Lan Qiren accepted it willingly. By the rules of his sect, an accepted punishment expiated a breach of the rules; once punished, he could no longer be persecuted for what he had done to earn the punishment. It would be over and done with.

Of course, there were always ways around that.

Technically, Lan Qiren’s breach was not in refusing to tell what had happened, but in disrespecting his elders by so refusing. A few days after he recovered from his initial punishment, his brother, still furious at having been denied, asked him the same question, with the same result. Their father looked disapprovingly at his eldest son – deliberately exploiting loopholes was not good etiquette – but again imposed a punishment.

Lan Qiren gritted his teeth and endured.

Lan Qiren’s brother did not bother him a third time, but by then it was too late; their relationship continued to deteriorate. Lan Qiren sought to avoid his brother whenever possible, and his brother’s disappointment in him grew; although he did not explicitly complain or impose punishments directly, he made his views clear. Those disciples and teachers that most admired him were, as always, more than willing to follow his lead and fill in the gaps, and for one reason or another Lan Qiren spent more time in the discipline hall than ever before. 

Eventually, noticing the division, others in the sect sought to reconcile them – their teachers, in the most part – but Lan Qiren rebuffed them, having noticed that their requests to be more considerate and free-minded were always aimed at him and never to his brother.

After poor Lan Yueheng, who never cared about anything but his alchemy and his mathematics and, possibly, the particularly indulgent outer-sect female disciple that guarded the stockroom of the ingredients he used to make things explode and regularly looked the other way when he came to get an extra helping, got roped into trying to tell Lan Qiren to be more forgiving, citing rules about fighting within families leading to nothing with a miserable and bemused expression on his face, Lan Qiren went to the teacher in question and rather acidly pointed out the discrepancy.

“He’s your elder,” the teacher said.

“Do not disrespect the younger,” Lan Qiren retorted.

“He’s your family –”

“Am I not his?”

The teacher sighed. “It’s not the same, with him. You know how he is – how he’s always been.”

Lan Qiren knew. Still, he said, “If you can identify where my conduct does not live up to the rules, please do so, and I will consider if my conduct requires modification. At the moment, I do not.”

“Qiren…”

“Why must I always be the one to yield?” Lan Qiren demanded. “I didn’t answer one question, and I took the punishment for it, as was my right. He is the one who is insisting on making a fuss, not me – why come to me? I don’t want anything from him.”

“That’s the problem. You shouldn’t fight so – why this, why now? You’ve always yielded to him before.”

Lan Qiren said nothing.

“He’s still your elder brother, Qiren. Soon, he’ll be your sect leader.”

“Do not fear the strong; do not bully the weak,” Lan Qiren said. “Being sect leader makes him more responsible, not less.”

“Qiren –”

“I have been a good brother to him for nearly twenty years, honored teacher. Perhaps not the most promising, perhaps somewhat embarrassing, but devoted in my own way. I have not changed so much. I am still loyal, still filial; I still do all that I am asked…the only thing that changed is that I expect nothing from him.”

Not even his love.

Lan Qiren knew better, now. He’d seen what a brother could be, what it should be - he’d experienced, however fleetingly, having someone genuinely care for him, listen to him and indulge him and take joy in his company; no longer would he accept his brother’s barely concealed disdain as an adequate substitute.  

“Qiren –”

“Has my father said anything?”

His teacher fell silent.

Lan Qiren bowed his head, having expected nothing better. His father was growing more and more distant from the world, less and less interested in the minutiae of everyday life; he could still stir himself to care for his precious eldest son, the child of his heart, but his oft-forgotten and overlooked second?

Unless Lan Qiren’s brother had complained about him, his father was unlikely to remember that such a person as Lan Qiren even existed.

“Does father hate me?” he asked, emboldened by his misery. It was the question he had always wanted to ask and had never dared to, and his teacher flinched as if struck. “Is that why he never saw me?”

“No,” his teacher said. “No – it wasn’t…”

“Does he blame me for my mother’s death?”

“He blames himself,” his teacher said, and sounded tired unto death. “From the very first. He thought that if he had not been sect leader, they might not have lost their children; if he was not sect leader, it wouldn’t have mattered if they’d had only one child left. But he couldn’t blame the sect, so he blamed himself – you don’t know how bad it was, Qiren; you don’t know what we all went through back then. When your mother died, he even lost his mind for a time.”

“What does that have to do with me?” Lan Qiren demanded. His hands had clenched into fists at some point, his knuckles pale and white. “If he blames himself and not me, then why did he – he never –”

He barely even saw me, he wanted to say. I am his son, just like my brother, yet it’s as if I don’t exist.

Why couldn’t he love me, too?

“You were very young,” his teacher said, his voice suddenly very distant as if he were remembering something. Lan Qiren looked at him in surprise. “I shouldn’t tell you this, but...she had just died, and he had lost his mind; none of us had realized the extent to it, thinking it merely grief. You were young, you didn’t understand. You ran to him, seeking comfort, and he nearly – he couldn’t risk having such a sin on his conscience, Qiren. You should not blame him.”

“What are you saying? That he neglected me and held me at arms’ length to console himself for nearly murdering me?” Lan Qiren asked, and thought back to all the times he had found himself afraid of his father’s glacial voice, terrified for no reason. If his father had tried to kill him in a rage, as his teacher suggested, shouldn’t he have been more scared of the heat than of cold?

Unless - his brilliant and accomplished father, who always acted as the rules said he should but who had lost his heart along with his wife - unless he had knowingly - 

Perhaps it had been the sect that had ordered their separation, not his father. Perhaps his father, who had spent years going through the motions of leadership and caring only about the son that reminded him of his wife’s joy and not the one who reminded him only of her death - his father, who led their sect and raised his eldest son and in so doing taught them all to be like him, overly partial to favorites and overly harsh to those that did not meet expectations - perhaps he had not objected to that arrangements. Perhaps it had been the elders that had set the rule of meeting only once a month, rather than not at all.

Perhaps they had thought that it had been for Lan Qiren’s own good that they had done so.

Perhaps they thought it was for his own good that they encouraged him to yield now to his brother’s temper, to humble himself despite having done nothing wrong, and all for the sake of familial peace.

That was not the conduct mandated by his family’s rules. Not the ones he followed, anyway.

It’s his fault, Lan Qiren thought suddenly. He saw the path we were walking down, my brother and I, and he did nothing to stop it; he loved my brother too much and me too little, and ruined us both through his negligence and indifference. He made my brother think he deserved the world that he then had to hold up on his own, while he made me think I deserved nothing...he could have done better by us. He should have done better by us.

Finding that his teacher had run out of things to say, Lan Qiren saluted him once again.

“I will be filial and loyal, as the rules require,” he said simply. “I will respect and honor my father and brother. Do not doubt that.”

He said no more. Instead, he returned to his quarters, wondering if they thought he was happy about how things stood between him and his brother, who he still loved.

Nothing could be further from the truth.

He thought miserably to himself that he had been happier living in denial, pretending to himself that there was brotherly affection between them, that his brother’s coldness was only because Lan Qiren had spoiled things somehow by being inferior than his brother would have preferred. When he could love his brother whole-heartedly and think to himself that his brother secretly loved him back, when he suspected but did not know that that had only ever been a lie he had concocted for himself. He had been far happier back then than the way it was now, when even the paper-thin one-sided façade of love was gone.

The saddest part of it all was that Lan Qiren still loved his brother, his stupid Lan heart as inexorable as a mountain avalanche already set in motion. He just didn’t much like him.

He did like Wen Ruohan, the brother that liked him back and might even have loved him if a man such as him could recognize such a tender emotion, but that wasn’t really relevant.

Lan Qiren knew his duty, whether to his sect, to his brothers, or to morality. He knew what he had to do.

For his part, Wen Ruohan waited over a month and a half after Lan Qiren’s exit from seclusion before trying to reach out again by mail. No doubt conscious of his dignity and ego, the powerful sect leader that no one ever really denied, his letter talked around the subject in Wen Ruohan’s usual high-handed manner and evaded either apologies or explanations; from his tone, it was likely that he expected Lan Qiren to respond in anger and denial, or even not to respond at all. Instead, Lan Qiren wrote back obediently, reporting dully on his daily life. When pressed, he even wrote a short summary of his ongoing projects, copying the words precisely from the submissions he made for his teachers to avoid excessive enthusiasm.

Wen Ruohan’s letters developed a certain level of concern after that, which Lan Qiren ignored in favor of continuing to respond politely but unenthusiastically; a filial younger brother, just as he was to his own blood brother, and nothing more. At the next discussion conference, he saluted Wen Ruohan to the exact degree required by their relationship and called him xiongzhang as a respectful younger brother ought; Wen Ruohan had an expression on his face that suggested he had bitten into a sour lemon and stepped in dog shit at the same time, and his eyes followed Lan Qiren around for the remainder of the afternoon.

Lan Qiren was concerned for a while that Wen Ruohan would try to summon him once night fell, forcing the issue, but he was saved through an unexpected twist of fate – namely, that Jiang Fengmian had, like all the others, completely misinterpreted Lan Qiren’s relationship with Cangse Sanren. The Jiang sect heir marched up to him not long after the opening ceremonies had been completed and asked him, stiffly, to swear that he had no interest in the lady and would not communicate with her in the future. Lan Qiren, thinking primarily of their friendship, refused, and then Jiang Fengmian punched him right in the face.

Lan Qiren might be cold and standoffish as a rule, but he did have a temper, and that temper did not hold with being assaulted over things that weren’t even his fault – neither of them were even involved with Cangse Sanren! – and having been so thoroughly goaded he had no choice but to hit back.

In the end, Cangse Sanren had slapped Jiang Fengmian silly and Lan Qiren’s brother had sent him to kneel in disgrace all night, reminding him no fighting without permission and with his eyes silently promised additional punishment when they returned home.

Wen Ruohan didn’t disturb him that night, and Lan Qiren was able to persevere. Indeed, Wen Ruohan troubled him much less than he’d feared, opting in his hurt pride to instead turn to Lao Nie and stay remarkably close by his side – Lao Nie was the one who looked apologetically at Lan Qiren and tried to find time for him, whether to invite him on outings or to scold his brother for the apparent breakdown in domestic tranquility. For his part, Lan Qiren ignored Lao Nie and didn’t hold it against him even when he started showing up to the discussion meetings with distinctive red marks on his throat.

All right, he held it against him a little.

How Lao Nie had such bad taste, Lan Qiren had no idea. Surely he, unlike Lan Qiren, had known enough to realize that Wen Ruohan was an evil man…?

Probably he had; it was only that he didn’t much care. Lan Qiren had promised to try to stop lying to himself about people he liked, and that meant he couldn’t pretend that Lao Nie wasn’t a remarkably callous man at times, ruthless and careless with anything that was outside his sect – even his friends. There could be no doubt that he loved them, sincerely and honestly, and yet…

Lan Qiren was a little disappointed, but not much, knowing that he, too, was irrevocably bound to such a man as Wen Ruohan. He couldn’t blame Lao Nie for the same thing he himself had done. 

Mostly he was just pleased that his suspicion regarding their relationship had been confirmed, even if somehow – unbelievably – no one else seemed to notice it.

In fact, he thought it might mark the very first time in his life that he’d figured out something interpersonal before other people had. Normally he would report it to someone at his sect as soon as he noticed that they’d overlooked it, wanting to do his best for them, but the sensation was too novel and his relations with his sect a little too cold at the moment; he hugged the knowledge to his chest instead, enjoying the brief warm feeling of knowing something other people didn’t.

He intended to tell them, of course, once they returned back to the Cloud Recesses, only they had barely brushed the dust of their journey off their shoulders when they were summoned to the gathering hall for what everyone had now expected for years: Lan Qiren’s father, eyes blank, made the announcement that he was officially setting the date for which he would be retiring as sect leader and retreating from the world, going into seclusion to try to break through the boundaries of cultivation and reach the heavens in a single bound or else die in the attempt.

Lan Qiren’s brother, naturally, would inherit.

He was as fresh from the road as the rest of them, but with his hands behind his back, standing beside their father, he looked as fresh and untouched as a new-bloomed orchid, as beautiful as a polished piece of jade. His eyes reflected the dichotomy that Lan Qiren had learned governed his brother’s life: pride, for the power that he was going to inherit and the accomplishments that everyone agreed made him worthy of that inheritance, and envy, looking at his own father with jealousy, longing also to withdraw from the weight the world had placed on him and do what he could on his own, unburdened by others.

Lan Qiren’s brother, Lan Qiren had learned, saw everything in his life through the prism of himself – did others have something he wanted, did he have something that they didn’t, how did he compare, was he being compared…when he got something into his mind, he cared for nothing else but how to achieve it, no matter the cost, and most of the time he was successful, too. He was fundamentally self-sufficient, requiring nothing and no one but himself, and so was capable of performing miracles – if he was motivated to do so.

Lan Qiren was much less capable. He was lacking in cultivation, lacking in social skills, lacking even in a similar degree of independence, longing as he did for the company and acceptance of his peers even as his introversion demanded sufficient time to himself. There was no way in which he was superior to his brother; in every respect, he was inferior.

And yet, sometimes, he thought that his brother was jealous of him, too.

(Their father retreating into seclusion meant that they would both be losing him – but it was really only Lan Qiren’s brother that lost something. For Lan Qiren, what he mourned was only the absence of what had never been there, and he had finished mourning for that already.)

In the end, the main change occasioned by the impending change in leadership was that Lan Qiren’s brother grew too busy to pay much attention to Lan Qiren, much to his relief. Relations between them grew…not warmer, no, but less fraught, and although Lan Qiren knew he ought to celebrate, he mostly mourned that the cause of it was not a real mending of fences but rather his brother simply forgetting that he existed, just as their father always had.

Lan Qiren took the first opportunity he had to get out of the Cloud Recesses, even attending a party to celebrate sworn brother’s new son with relatively little issue. During the visit, Wen Ruohan ignored him in favor of sticking ever closer to a strangely distracted Lao Nie, almost as if he were deliberately slighting Lan Qiren for having been cold in their last interaction and for not answering his letters the way he wanted. Lan Qiren briefly felt hurt at having been put aside and forgotten so quickly - assuming that he had been forgotten, which he wasn’t sure of, as Wen Ruohan ignoring him sometimes seemed almost performative - but then reminded himself that this, like his poor relationship with his blood brother, was only the results of his own actions, and those of others.

He didn’t – regret it, not really. He’d lived his life by the Lan sect rules, and he didn’t regret doing so now, no matter how lonely the results might make him feel.

Instead, he returned to the Cloud Recesses and began to plan out in earnest his plans for departing the Cloud Recesses to travel the world as a musician, the goal he had set since he was young and was finally, impossibly, on the verge of satisfying. He would need to stay for his brother’s ascension to sect leader the next year, he thought, and perhaps for a year after that – just because their relationship wasn’t good didn’t mean he was entitled to do things that would let other people talk about it – but after that…

After that, he would go.

He would make new friends, or not. He would learn new things. He would see what the world was like.

Sooner than he thought, Lan Qiren turned twenty, thereby finally becoming an adult. The event took place with little fanfare, and Lan Qiren sent back the gifts he received from both Wen Ruohan and Lao Nie unopened with a polite note indicating that he was unworthy of such attention, and Cangse Sanren’s with a much more emphatic note reminding her that he was largely uninterested in sexual matters and therefore had no need for these sorts of implements. 

His brother got him new guqin strings, the same gift he always gave – Lan Qiren had once been very happy to receive it before he realized that it was the storeroom distributing the gift in his brother’s name – and Lan Qiren returned that as well. Lan Yueheng was the only one who successfully managed to give him a gift by virtue of sneaking the fancy brush he’d bought for him into his table in such a way that Lan Qiren utilized it before realizing it was new, and then refused to take it back on the basis that it had already been used. He looked so pleased with himself over his little trick that Lan Qiren didn’t have the heart to scold him.

Time continued to pass: day by day, night by night, season by season.

And then she arrived.

[sunnyrosewritesstuff]

12. All About Bilbo from the POV of...Thorin

And FINALLY I’m done. Thank you guys so much for all the notes/comments/reblogs/etc. I appreciate each and every one of you. If you haven’t been keeping up and want to see all 12 POVs, you can click on the masterlist here or I may just go ahead and post them to AO3. Please enjoy the long awaited Bagginshield conclusion.  😉

***

Thorin knew after the battle, after laying in that healing camp, after finally being free to have thoughts not consumed by his treasury, there was only one edict he could make as his first one as king: the hobbit had to stay in Erebor. An advisor, a cook, a gardener, he did not care what occupation he took. He would invent a position if he needed to! He just needed Bilbo by his side if he were to be of any use to the mountain. Of course, convincing the hobbit of this was easier said than done.

 In all fairness, Thorin could have gone about it a lot better than all but demanding he stay. The hobbit ranted and raved, he seemed on the verge of lashing out physically (which Thorin would reluctantly admit he would have deserved), and he spent several long agonizing nights in Dale. Finally, Bilbo came back to inform Thorin that he would be returning to the Shire, he would be allowed six months to make his choice, and Thorin would respect it. Balin had to remind Thorin it would be within his best interest to accept. Thorin couldn’t argue with that. In fact, he needed Bilbo to know just how much he appreciated him before he left.

It was their first real conversation since the Battle. Thorin made his apologies and explained just how much the hobbit’s unconventional wisdom was needed both in his kingdom and to the king personally. In return, Bilbo expressed his fears during Thorin’s goldsickness and why exactly he turned over the Arkenstone. It was far from fixed, but it did go a long way towards regaining their former friendship. The hobbit would cite it as what finally convinced him to come back just under two years later. It should have been the happy ending Thorin had been waiting for. He never would have guessed just how wrong he was.

“I’m going to kill him.” Thorin growled.

“You’ve said that before.” Balin reminded patiently.

“This time, I’m really going to kill him. Whose idea was it to make him ambassador to the elves anyways?”

“I believe that would be...yours, Your Majesty.”

Thorin had no energy to deal with Balin’s misplaced amusement as he marched towards the hobbit’s room. He pounded on the door making sure this time that the sneaky burglar couldn’t claim not to hear him.

“I’m not answering if you’re going to be in a mood, Thorin Oakenshield.” Came the muffled response.

“You approved further negotiations after I told you I would not go to that despairing Mirkwood if my life depended on it!”

“Yes, I remember the conversation vividly.” Bilbo sighed.

“Then why…!”

“Your Majesty, if I may?” Balin interrupted. “Perhaps the hall is not the appropriate setting for this discussion.”

Thorin glared at his friend and advisor before turning that look onto the door before him.

“Let me in.” He ordered.

“Only on your word that you will quit raising your voice to me.” The hobbit conditioned.

“I will raise my voice if I please! I AM KING!”

“And with that winning attitude, who could forget?!”

“By Mahal.” Balin swore softly, closing his eyes and shaking his head.

Thorin silently fumed as he glared at the stone before him. Any that claimed dwarves were the most stubborn creatures on Arda clearly have not met Bilbo Baggins. Thorin took a deep breath to center himself before trying again.

“Master Baggins, will you please let me in so we can discuss this in private?” He all but hissed.

It was silent for a moment before the door swung open to reveal the curly haired hobbit who was currently sitting as the bane of Thorin’s very existence.

“There, was that so hard?” Bilbo answered snidely.

Thorin’s fists clenched at his side, and Balin rolled his eyes before turning to go the other way.

“I’m done with the two of you. Fetch me when you’ve figured it out or someone’s dead.”

Thorin gladly slammed the door on the traitor, leaving him and Bilbo alone. However, now that he had the hobbit before him, he found himself unfortunately speechless. He loathed that. As if his mere presence could steal all Thorin’s words away. His rather impromptu first words upon their meeting came to mind. Clearly, he was wrong about this burglar of senses.

“I’m not apologizing.” Bilbo began, crossing his arms. “They asked for a show of good faith from Erebor, and frankly I couldn’t see a reason to fault them.”

“You couldn’t?” Thorin raised a mocking eyebrow. “Clearly you remember our last stay in their wooded halls differently from me.”

Bilbo’s eyebrows furrowed with a scowl. “See! That’s exactly what I’m talking about. If you want this alliance to work, you’re going to have to bury past slights. Goodness, I couldn’t even imagine what the Shire would be if we held onto grudges the way dwarves do.”

“And I can’t imagine the state of my kingdom if I allow flippant hobbits to not hold people accountable for their actions!”

Bilbo pointed a finger at him. “You’re shouting.”

“A'lâju Mahal (Shame of Mahal)! You are...irritating!” Thorin bit back.

“So you’re saying people shouldn’t be forgiven?”

Just like that, the fire that had been steadily building in his breast was snuffed out. Still, Thorin Oakenshield did not bend completely.

“I believe there is a difference when that forgiveness is desired.”

“And I think Thranduil fits the bill...in his own way.” Bilbo shrugged under Thorin’s disbelieving look. “He’s let his son go, he’s lost Tauriel to Dale due to his actions, he’s gotten back the gems he’s been denied. I think he’s ready to make amends. I’m not saying we have to pretend he’s not hurt us. I’m just saying, it would be a good show of...neighborly airs to meet with him and see what he has to offer.”

There was logic in the hobbit’s words, even if Thorin did not want to hear them. And that simple thought probably was the single summary of all their hard feelings as of late. He turned to leave before he had to accept any more difficult truths.

“Fine. Have it your way.” He spat. 

The long disappointed sigh that followed him cut quicker than any blade.

***

The journey to Esgaroth where they would spend the night before continuing into the dreaded woods the next day was...tense to say the least. Even Dwalin was uncomfortable, and that was saying something. The inn was a welcome sight if only to get an ale and free Thorin of the abrasive atmosphere surrounding the hobbit. The man who owned the inn was tripping over himself to welcome the King of Erebor, and when Thorin was finally allowed peace in his own room, he was reluctant to leave. However, that ale was calling his name, and he waited long enough that surely the hobbit’s final meal was complete to avoid any awkwardness.

That was too little credit to the brilliant burglar. He waited until Thorin was sat down at the bar halfway through his ale before he appeared at Thorin’s elbow as if out of thin air.

“Why are you avoiding me?” Bilbo demanded. “In fact, what possible excuse could you have to be angry at me if you are in fact angry?”

Thorin was choking on the amber liquid that had rushed down the wrong pipe. 

“Well, you see…” He edged around his persistent cough.

“Need I remind you, I’m only doing the job you gave me. Going back further than that, I’m only here in Erebor because you insisted I be.”

“If you would just let me…” Thorin growled only to be interrupted again.

“Is this some sort of punishment for taking the Arkenstone? You lure me back with words of forgiveness and then argue with every single decision I make when I’m only trying to help…”

“IT’S BECAUSE I LOVE YOU! You confounded creature!”

Thorin nearly sighed in relief to finally see the hobbit’s mouth had stopped moving. It was as he took in the widened eyes and nervous stance that his words were able to catch up to him. His hands shook as his eyes darted around the significantly quieter room.

“You love me?” Bilbo whispered.

Thorin didn’t want to have to deal with this in front of all these men and dwarves, especially Dwalin’s irritating smirk. Grabbing the hobbit’s hand, he led him into the hallway where it was a little more private.

“You love me?” Bilbo repeated once they were alone.

Thorin sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. This was one secret he had hoped to hold onto for a little while longer. Not that he was never going to act on his feelings, just he was waiting for a little more time to pass. For the chasm between them to be bridged stably once more. But they hadn’t been able to stop arguing! He certainly didn’t expect Bilbo to accept him right now, but he also would not lie to him.

“Yes.” He answered, holding steady for the ire that was sure to erupt.

Instead, the hobbit all but flung himself at the dwarf king, his mouth immediately meeting Thorin’s. It was abrupt, it was warm, it was wet, and it was wonderful. When Bilbo pulled away it was to utter a phrase he never even allowed himself to hope to hear.

“Thorin, take me to bed. Now.”

The dwarf’s jaw dropped at the invitation and the open lust dilating the hobbit’s pupils.

“Wait. Now?” Thorin repeated, his mind whirling but not connecting.

“Now.” Bilbo asserted as he wrapped his arms around Thorin’s neck to kiss him again.

“Shouldn’t we...discuss...this?” Thorin persisted through their kissing, rather stupidly in his opinion.

One that seemed to be shared by the hobbit if his sigh and impatient glare were anything to go off.

“Discuss what?” Bilbo demanded. “I love you. You love me. I’ve bloody been waiting for you to do something about it for months. Now are we going upstairs...or would you rather we postpone until after our meeting with the elves?”

Thorin all but slung the hobbit in his arms making his way as quickly as he could to his bedroom. The sly, conniving, extremely frustrating hobbit. And finally, finally he would be his.

[wtf-yoongi]

Softie. / MYG

pairing | yoongi x reader

summary | just a morning with min yoongi 🥺

prompts | “i love you more than coffee.” *distant gasps* + “every morning you kiss my forehead before i leave for work, why was it my lips today?” from this prompt list.

genre/warnings | disgustingly fluffy + very domestic

words | 1,990

note | i wanted to write something like this and then it fitted the prompt someone requested two ages ago and it became way too long for a timestamp and here we are

Very rarely does something beat the smell of black tea in the morning. Not any black tea, but this one in particular.

Forget it, nothing beats it.

The earthy tones coming from the leaves are enough to get you excited about your day and you’re careful not to scoop too much from the fancy, squared, tin box. It is, after all, precious and expensive — it seems like it gets pricier and pricier every time you restock it, almost to the point you’re begging the clerk for a discount.

You know it’s too much and you should stop spending money with that, the same money that could buy you enough tea for a whole year, but this is exactly the way luxury items go. Just above average, pretty packaging, minimalistic logo and a warm feeling in your heart from doing something special for yourself.

Like a ritual, you twirl the spoon and breathe in the steam coming from the pot before closing the lid. The instructions say you should brew it for three minutes and you’re proud to say you haven’t got that wrong once — not even on the day of your sister’s wedding, when she called saying she burned her ring finger, accidentally saw her fiancée and there was a real possibility of them not moving forward with the ceremony that day.

Even though she married with the ring on her middle finger, since the other one was bandaged, everything worked out. A little bit like a sitcom from the 90’s, but it did — in the end, it always did. That’s why you spend way too much money on that tea, because something about it makes things just work somehow. It’s unexplainable, quite magical and, to be honest, a little childish, but you love it.

Naturally, your hands start moving while the three minutes pass, refilling the kettle with water when you hear the shower stop running like you do every single day. In between the tea being served on a mug and his lazy morning footsteps, there’s only enough time for you to eat your peach yogurt.

“Hmm,” he hums and you can hear him getting closer as he speaks. “Treating yourself today, huh?”

You guess Yoongi can smell the black tea as well.

As you’re focused on adding the perfect amount of honey to your mug, there’s no time to turn or even look up at him coming into the kitchen with a sleepy and sweet look on his face. In such a small room, it only takes a heartbeat for him to stand next to you, leaving a quick kiss on your temple and short squeeze on the curve of your hips.

“Any special occasion I should know of?”

“Not really.” You shrug and, for a moment, Yoongi’s aftershave replaces the smell of tea completely. It’s fresh, clean and light, like most things he enjoys without noticing. “I just wanted something different.”

“I’m jealous, I want something fancy too,” he says without any weight to his voice, reaching for the coffee beans placed at the farthest corner of the pantry — the ones he also saves for very few mornings. “Did you sleep well?”

You nod quickly and excitedly, turning ninety degrees to open the refrigerator in search of milk. “I had to. There’s this big presentation today I’ve been preparing for five…”

“So there is something special going on.”

You stop in your tracks to look at Yoongi’s knowing smile, coffee grinder in front of him rumbling and doing its job while he waits.

“You’re a creature of habit, you know that, right? You wouldn’t drink this specific tea if something wasn’t going on.”

You smile at him, finally moving again to add a dash of milk to the mug and mixing it to check if it was enough. “If you weren’t so emotionless, I’d say that’s romantic.”

“Oh, you want romantic?” Yoongi’s tone goes up an octave, mocking you a little. “Fine. How about I love you more than coffee. In fact, I love you more than the smell of freshly ground beans in the morning and you know I love that very much. How about that, huh?”

It’s your turn to mock his words. “Oh, wow,” you gasp, raising a hand to the center of your chest. “How am I going to move on from this? I better email them saying I won’t be able to make it today. After this? Woof! No way I’ll be presenting anything but fifty slides of my favorite Yoongi pick-up lines.”

“That would be a satisfied client, don’t you think?” He plays along, adding the coffee to a French press and topping it with the water you just boiled. “Oh, do you want some toast? I feel like eating toast for some reason.”

And just like that, with Yoongi reaching for the toaster above your head, you’re both interested in something else. He pinches your side with his free hand and you take a step to your left, giving him enough space to place the appliance on top of the marble counter.

“You do have time for toast, right?” Yoongi asks as he turns it on and starts looking for bread. “I don’t want to make you late, the first two can be yours.”

“The tea is still a little too hot, I have time.”

“Good.” He nods shortly. “Sit down. These will be done in no time.”

You watch as Yoongi reaches for plates, knives, butter, strawberry jam and places all of them on the small kitchen table. Meanwhile, you sip the tea slowly, quietly enjoying it and, deep down, wishing for it to work its magic once again.

“Are you nervous about the presentation?” Yoongi asks just as he places two perfectly toasted slices of bread in front of you. He soon moves back to set two more on the toaster and turns to you again, waiting for an answer.

“I’m okay. It’s been worse.” You shrug, focusing on the butter as it melts when it meets the warm toast. “This client is nice. Even if they don’t agree with something, it’s not like…”

“Don’t bring Mr. Moon up again,” Yoongi warns you, slightly uncomfortable and somewhat ready to politely offend Mr. Moon if he ever showed up in front of him. “I’m still not over that. Who does he think he is to mistreat everyone because of a grammar mistake?”

You laugh at the way he seems so bothered by that. “It was a good thing, though, don’t you think? We kicked him out because we didn’t need his business if it meant we had to deal with that.”

“Serves him right,” he huffs. “He was being an ass for a long time, the grammar incident was just the tipping point.”

“And you don’t even know about the emails he sent to the junior analysts. He would literally…”

“Please,” Yoongi interrupts with a tight smile and warm eyes, nothing but light humor in his words. “Don’t make me hate him more. This is bad for myself, I have to be the better person.”

“You’re right,” you agree with a smile, taking a bite and adding a few words in a muffled voice. “He’s a problem of the past. And a solved one, thank God.”

You swallow just as Yoongi sits in front of you with perfectly done toasts for himself. He adds butter and strawberry jam to both of them before speaking again. “I’m glad you’re not nervous about this stuff anymore.”

“I’m glad too,” you admit and take a sip of the magical tea before continuing. “Shaky hands are also a problem of the past.”

“I want you to know I’m very proud of you. This sort of thing is not easy to overcome.” 

You giggle. “Yoon, you’re getting soft again.”

“When am I not?” He takes a bite and soon covers his mouth, not being able to stop a smile from forming. “I am a softie, this is who I am.”

“No, but you’re particularly soft today, I think. It all started when you were whining about me leaving the bed,” you say while getting up to place your plate in the sink. When you turn around, Yoongi is looking at you with what you can only describe as adoring eyes. “See? This is what I mean. Do you have a mirror? Look at yourself, there’s nothing not soft about you today.”

He’s the one giggling now, motioning for you to move with the hand that’s not busy with a toast. “Go finish getting ready, you’re going to be late!”

You hurry out of the kitchen with a smile, soon entering the bathroom to brush your teeth. It’s still kind of foggy, nothing but the perfume of Yoongi’s shower gel everywhere, and you have to wipe the mirror with a towel to see yourself properly.

The nervousness could be worse, yes, but it’s still there a little — well, today is the day you’ve been preparing for the last five weeks and there’s a lot at stake. You inhale and exhale deeply, concentrating on the goal rather than the challenge. What happens, happens, but you’re pretty sure you’ve done everything you could and that’s enough to leave you satisfied no matter the outcome.

“Yoongi, I’m leaving!” You call out, fixing a strap on your shoulder and immediately feeling the weight of the laptop and the heavy (but pretty) leather notebook you bought last fall — another one of the luxury items you treated yourself with. When you look up, the man is standing with another one of his knowing smiles and a thermos in hand.

“Were you really not going to drink every single drop of the tea you spend way too much money on?” He raises an eyebrow, extending his arm so you can take the travel mug from him. “I know you’re good and don’t need the magic from the tea, but…”

“Shut up,” you say jokingly, slapping his hand in the process. “And thank you.”

“Come here.”

Yoongi slowly takes a step to meet you halfway, hug awkward given the weight on your shoulder, but you couldn’t care less. He’s warm, inviting and has a comforting hand on your back while the other moves to cradle your jaw.

“I told you you’re particularly soft today,” you say just as he creates enough space to look into your eyes. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” Yoongi mumbles before pressing a kiss on your lips. You barely have time to register what is going on or close your eyes and it’s already over.

“Are you sure? Because every morning you kiss my forehead before I leave for work,” you point out, one eyebrow raised in doubt, but eyes as soft as his. “Why was it my lips today?”

“You may not notice, but the taste of black tea and honey on your lips…” He hums, closing his eyes to show just how much he likes it. “So good.”

“But I brushed my teeth.”

He leans in again and, this time, stays for a while longer — not barely enough for you, but you’d take anything with a smile.

Yoongi shakes his head. “Doesn’t matter. Still there.” He turns both your bodies, getting them closer and closer to the door. “Do you think this happens because the tea is that good and strong? Or maybe it’s because you don’t really do a good job brushing your teeth…”

“Ah, Yoongi!"

Before you know it, Yoongi is simultaneously opening the door, leaving another kiss on the corner of your mouth and pushing your body out. It seems like only a second has passed, but you find yourself right in front of the door when Yoongi is inside with only his head peeking through. 

“Don’t just stand there, you’re going to be late! Call me when the presentation is over and you have a yes, okay?”

He closes the door, but you can still hear him giggle on the inside.

Read more ›› masterlist

[tamagochiie]

when the rumbling came; erwin smith

pairing. Erwin Smith x Fem!reader 

synopsis. You were tired of work, of people, and of life treating you poorly. You quickly came to the conclusion that if you were going to end your life, now would probably be a good time as any. 

word count. 3.36k

tags + warnings. TRIGGER WARNING! depression, attempted to attempt suicide, reader being completely dead inside (metaphorically), modern!au, office!au (just a pinch), angst, comfort/fluff, 

notes. I don’t romanticize depression or suicide. Writing is my way of coping and dealing with everything that’s going on right now; don’t worry, I’m okay, really I am. So, this one shot is more or less self indulgent. Please, if you you’re going through some hardships don’t hesitate to reach out for help. My inbox is also free, and I’m always willing to listen. 

You had alway built yourself in a firm foundation made of rocks, that nothing could ever shake you and even if it did, you’d snap back like an elastic band. But very recently, very, very recently, you’ve been living on a faultline and for a while now there’d be tremors - nothing strong enough to shake you, though. 

But your foundation soon turned into sand as the weeks came by and stress came to you in waves. The little tremors eventually turned into big ones. You found yourself swaying, crumbling, and now you were barely reaching the end of the week without falling to your knees and weeping, your pleas for mercy hung in the air, right in your face as if it were mocking you. 

The home you had built for yourself had fallen into rubble and nothing could protect you. 

Nothing could save you from all the wind and rain, and quite frankly, you weren’t entirely sure if you wanted to be saved. Being saved meant continuing on, meant trudging through the fight and you had no more fight left in you. 

So there you sat, on the very edge of the roof of your office building with your feet dangling. Night life in the city glimmered and glowed, completely ignorant to you suffering. But it looked nice and you found yourself thankful because at least life was kind enough to give you one last “good” view before you did the deed. 

I’d just have to scoot and I’d be on my way to the pavement, you thought idly. 

You weren’t even scared, and maybe that’s what scared you, that you were completely okay with ending it here. That you didn’t even bat an eye when the idea came into your head while you bought yourself a sandwich during your lunch break. 

It kinda felt easy like solving 1+1.

So maybe it was your calmness that scared you. Maybe it's the fact that once you had made up your mind, you had been set as if you were picking out clothes for the next day kind of set. 

You swung your feet, feeling yourself scooch closer to the edge and your heart didn’t even race - not even a flutter.

You craned your neck back to look at the sky, not a single star in sight. You heavily sighed and played with your hands while you teared up and eventually cried. All the burdens you carried, the responsibilities you shouldered, and the insecurities you kept close to your heart flooded out of you in one single, painstaking sob. 

Your chest heaved and your voice cracked as you screamed into a void, knowing you’d never be heard over all the honking and clamouring from the city beneath you. 

“I dunno who's listening,” You croak to the night, your throat dry from all the crying, “but if I’m not supposed to die tonight, can you give me a sign...or something? Like, send someone out here to do a handstand or something. If - If there’s like, any sliver of hope I have left or whatever...If I’m not supposed to end here, then just do that because I really dunno if I’m supposed to hang on anymore...” 

You never prayed a single prayer in your life, maybe just once when you were wavering in your ability to attain such a fine job as this, or when both your parents fell ill and you were left alone to fend for yourself. But other than that, you more or less suffered silently, cried to yourself when you needed to, and pulled yourself out of trouble. 

It was late into the night, so the prayer was already silly to begin with. Everyone had gone home and you made sure of it because you hid in the bathroom until the lights turned off and the floor of your office was completely silent. 

And the more you thought about it, as you imagined yourself hiding in that bathroom like a dumbass, you felt your cheeks flush in embarrassment. 

Well, it wasn’t like you were going to be alive to bear it into tomorrow morning anyway. 

You flinched at the sudden sound of the fire exit creaking open, the metal scratching against the pavement. You turned your head and squinted at the shadows and the little light provided by the exit sign. 

“Hello?” You called out to the shadows and flinched when you saw it move, heedlessly pulling yourself away from the edge as you leaned back to take a closer look. 

You gasped lowly as a familiar, rather burly figure emerged from the darkness. It was your boss, Mr. Smith, who had his eyes widen in surprise, as if he was shocked to have actually found someone on the roof. 

He narrowed his gaze on you and wore a tight lip as he studied you intently. He stayed near the fire exit, hand in the pocket of his clean cut slacks while the other hung by his side. 

You had sworn everyone had gone home. 

Not everyone, you supposed. 

“Can I help you?” You asked through your sniffling, but Mr. Smith kept quiet; the silence grew to be quite awkward the longer he stood there. 

After a few beats, he stepped forward, rolling up the sleeves of his button up shirt before he ran his fingers through his hair. A tremulous breath escaped his lips as he spun on the heels of his shoes, facing the wall. 

You cocked your head, blinking owlishly at him. And in one, fluid motion, with little to no effort, he bent down to lean onto his hands and kicked his feet up to the air, leaning against the wall for support. 

He did a handstand. 

What? 

You would be laughing if you weren’t in the state you were in. 

Mr. Smith was still looking directly at you as he stood on his hands, his clothes bunched up beneath his chin while his face burned red from the sudden rush of blood to his head.  

All you could do was leave your mouth hanging open, blinking at him in bewilderment. 

With a faint grunt, Mr. Smith brought his feet back to the ground and pushed himself off his hands. He brushed his hands together to dust away the dirt before he looked back to you as he ran his hands down the creases of his vest. 

“Before you say anything,” He spoke, his voice deep and velvety, “I have absolutely no idea why I did that, but there was a little voice in my head that told me to.” 

You licked your lips and stayed quiet, still taking in what had just happened. 

“But my question is,” He began, “are you okay?”

“Do I look like I’m okay?” You spat, but you bit your tongue and cleared your throat when you realized who you were talking to. “Sorry,” You quietly muttered, twisting yourself back to look at the building in front of you. 

You listened as the footsteps behind you drew closer, ultimately coming to a quiet halt. 

“Mind if I join you?” He dipped his head down to look at you and you glanced at him in the corner of your eye, shrugging your shoulders. 

Mr. Smith took the spot beside you and swung his feet over the ledge, mirroring the way you sat before digging his hand back into his pocket to pull out a packet of cigarettes. 

“You got a lighter?” He asked, sticking a cigarette between his lips. You shook your head, amazed at his nonchalant demeanor. “That’s okay, I’ve got one.” 

You watched him with a puzzled look as he lit his cigarette and blew a smoke. 

It was pretty obvious what you were trying to do; your eyes were red and looked sore, your cheeks stained with tears, and not to mention you were setting on the ledge of a build without your shoes on. 

How was he so calm?

“I’ve seen you around the office,” He recalled, blowing a few more smokes before he turned to you, “you look like a hard worker.” 

“Depends on how you define ‘hard worker’,” You mumbled. Mr. Smith brought the cigarette in front of you as if signaling you to take it. You do. “I’m more of a half-assed worker that’s just ebbing and flowing bullshit just to get the job done so I can go home and wallow in self-pity in silence.” 

He chuckled. It sounded sweet. 

“So why are you sitting on the ledge?” 

You drew out a smoke. 

“I don’t wanna live anymore.” You deadpanned. “I hate my life and I hate that it’s fucked me in the ass -” You blew another smoke before passing it back to Mr. Smith, your body a lot more calmer and your mind unfiltered, “ - without even my consent.” 

“I don’t blame you,” He said earnestly, and it shocked you. The golden boy who strolled up and down the office floors with his chest out, head held high, and a smile that made every woman’s knees go weak was agreeing with you. His eyes looked like it held all the hope and promise in the world, yet he was agreeing with you.“But are you sure you wanna do that? What if life gets better?” 

You snickered though no trace of amusement on your face. 

“I’ve been living on ‘what ifs’, Mr. Smith,” You pointed out plainly, “I’m not about to keep going. What’s the point of living on ‘what ifs’ when nothing happens? At the end of the day, I’m just an idiot that keeps thinking, ‘What if today’s better?’, ‘What if there’s a new flavor of ice cream that’s been released and it turns out to be my favorite?’ -- it’s stupid.” 

“What if your boss gives you a raise?” He smirked at you playfully but you only rolled your eyes. “What? It was worth a try.” 

“Your try was shit.” 

“What about if you tried a different approach?” 

“Look, Mr. Smith,” You sighed in annoyance and snatched the cigarette from his hand and propped it between your lips, “I don’t have a lot of fight left in me, okay? I’ve tried, I failed. That’s it. So, would you just leave me to do what I need to do? Please?” 

“If you wanted to kill yourself, you would’ve done it by now.” 

You threw him a sour look, offended that he didn’t think you could do it. 

But why would you be upset about that? 

“You don’t know me.” You muttered.

“I know well enough that if you wanted to call quits, you wouldn’t have sat here for nearly an hour, praying for a sign.” 

“You heard?” 

He nodded. 

“You lied!” You raised your voice and without giving it much thought, you punched him in the arm. “You said you didn’t know why you came up here!” 

“Oh, I didn’t,” He calmly argued. “Not completely, anyway. I saw you go up when I was on my way out. When I noticed you didn’t take your things, not even your phone, I had a gut feeling it was something bad.” 

“I waited for a little while,” He explained, “I thought that maybe you wanted some fresh air, but the longer I waited, the more worried I got. So I went up the steps just to check on you, and your voice...did you know your voice carries well in the stairwell? I heard your voice, small and completely detached from life. Even then, you were asking for help, and how could I refuse?”

“Do you make it a point to get into other people’s business?” 

“Only when they’re trying to take their life.”  

“And now what?” You sounded detached and uninterested, and he didn’t blame you for it. He never spoke to you outside of meetings or work, not even once. Of course his words wouldn’t have any impact. “Are you gonna tell me not to go through with it, talk me down or something? You gonna tell me ‘If you can’t live for yourself, then live for me’? That kinda dumb shit?” 

He shook his head, a faint pout on his lips. Despite your mocking tone, Mr. Smith remained calm and didn’t take it personally. Though you kinda wish he did, so he could leave you alone.

“No, nothing like that....” Mr. Smith weighed his options, choosing his next words and his next approach carefully.

He’s been here before and he falls into shallow thought, remembering all the things he didn’t do and see if he could do it now.  

“I - I’ve been both on both ends of the situation, I just -” Mr. Smith sighed heavily, as he rubbed his hands together, “- I didn’t do anything last time, so - so when I saw you I thought maybe I could somehow make up for it.” 

“That kinda sounds shitty,” You pointed out. 

It was indeed a shitty thing that you were somehow being used to clear a conscience, but you understood where his heart was at.  It was nice that he was trying - it was nice that someone had noticed. 

But that’s all that it was for you: it was just nice. 

“I’m just so fucking tired,” You admitted, your eyes stinging with fresh tears. You tilted your head back to keep it from spilling, but like all of your attempts at anything, you failed. “I’m so fucking tired of being tired, and nothing’s going right. I’ve tried different approaches, changing my mindset. I even did all these stupid Pinterest self-help boards, but that didn’t help either. I’m desperately grasping for straws and I’ve finally decided to just...stop.” 

You rolled your head, looking at your boss with lifeless eyes and it terrified him. He didn’t know what to say - not then and most certainly not now. But what does anyone say to a person who’s given up all hope and interest in living? 

You seemed to have made up your mind and Mr. Smith worried that he’d have another life in his hands. He didn’t want that and he found himself growing desperate. 

He liked you, whether it be a co-worker or something else, he liked seeing you around the office. You were smart and though you looked soft spoken, you most certainly weren’t. You never ceased to amaze him with the things you submitted, so he truly wondered why you felt so inadequate. 

Mr. Smith couldn’t help but blame himself for not paying attention.

“I say don’t die,” He said rather confidentiality, and you furrowed your brows at this. He was becoming persistent in his meddling. “I say wait it out another day or week, and then if you really wanna, fine. I’ll even leave the emergency exit unlocked for you.” 

You widened your eyes, your mouth parted but not a single sound came out. 

“Why should I wait when I can do it right now?” 

“Because of the ‘what ifs’.” 

You grunted. 

“I already told you --” 

“Yes, but what if I tried to help you?” 

“I’m not going to be your charity case, Mr. Smith,” You chastised. “I’d rather die than be your charity case.” 

“You won’t be,” He said rather calmly. A small smile crept across his lips and his eyes twinkled against the faint glow of the city lights. “You’ll be my friend and I, too, need a friend.” 

“Mr. Smith --” 

“Call me Erwin.” 

You cleared your throat. You felt embarrassed to say the least. You opened your mouth and found it weird when you spoke his name. You didn’t like it, but it was something you could get used to. 

“Why would you wanna be my friend?” 

“Because life’s fucked me in the ass without my consent, too.” It was weird hearing something so crass coming from the poster boy of perfection and all things pure. You almost thought you’d completely lost it and had imagined he ever said it. “And I heard that suffering with someone makes the experience a little less painful and a little more bearable. So, won’t you be my friend and suffer with me?” 

Mr. Smith noticed your hesitance, even more so when he held his left hand out for you to take. It felt formal like he was trying to close a business deal or something. It was a bit weird. 

“You’re not gonna be my reason for living,” You said, letting his hand awkwardly hang in the air. But he didn’t bother to retract it. “I’m not looking for a savior.” 

“You’re looking for your strength and so am I, so let’s just look together and see what we find, mm?” 

You looked at him, studied him. Why did he care so much, and why did you want to know? 

After all, you did ask for a sign, yet here you were being stubborn and pretending as if you hadn’t seen it at all. You didn’t believe in miracles or spectacular alignments of the universe, but when you took his hand, you felt a warmth of reassurance - a sense of peace. 

Suddenly, with a high pitch yelp from your lips, Mr. Smith quickly moved his left hand and wrapped it over you and pulled you down with him as he threw himself back onto the pavement behind you. His right hand cushioned your blow and he winced in pain when he caught you. 

You found yourself tightly gripping onto the material of his sleeve when you took a peak to check on Mr. Smith. He was looking down at you, a nervous smile plastered across his face. 

You shoved him off, muttering to yourself as you patted yourself down. 

“That was uncalled for.” You grumbled. 

“How would I know? You would’ve changed your mind for all I know.” 

“I took your hand!” You chided. “That was basically me saying, ‘Okay, I’ll be your friend’! What if you had thrown yourself forward instead!” 

“But I didn’t.” He replied calmly, a smile, one that irked you completely, pulled the corners of his lips. 

“Yeah, but what if you had?” 

“But I didn’t.”

He stood up from the floor and patted the dust and dirt of his pants before reaching down to help you up from the ground. 

“Thank you for being my friend,” Mr. Smith grinned. “I promise you won’t regret it.” 

You rolled your eyes as he kept his hold around your hand, shaking it. 

“Your promises don’t mean much to me.” 

 It had been months since your moment on the rooftop with Erwin. Though he had been keen, inviting you out for lunch, for dinner, and spared some time for small talk in passing, you were still walking on eggshells, especially because you worried that it might’ve looked unprofessional. 

But really, no one cared as much as you did. Everyone had just assumed Erwin was just being kind. But still, it gave you more stress than it did comfort you, and though you had spat a few unkind words his way, he never left. 

He always came back with a bright smile and offerings, whether it were candies or actual food. 

Eventually, you eased in and you were no longer agitated. You found yourself looking forward to Erwin’s occasional visits to your desk or when he’d ask you out for some coffee. 

At the end of every day Erwin would never miss a beat and would ask you how you were doing, and it never felt performative or forced. He was warm and genuine, and he’d share his burdens with you, too. 

And you found yourself realizing that he was right, that struggling with someone made things a little less painful and a little more bearable. That despite the struggle, knowing someone so patient and understanding, would be there to catch you. 

“Hey,” You spoke over the rim of your freshly brewed tea as you sat across the little round table of the coffee shop. Erwin’s eyes flicked up at you as he took a bite of his muffin. “Thanks,” 

He raised a brow and cocked his head to the side, “What for?” He asked, his words muffled by his stuffed mouth. 

“Thanks for being my friend.” 

He smiled, a few crumbs falling from his lips and onto his plate. 

“Thank you for being mine.” 

[negasonicimagines]

Revelation; Part One

warnings/kinks: a/b/o (if you’re penis-repulsed this isn’t for you), smut (duh), brief daddy kink, even briefer mommy kink, cum-eating, cum-marking, cockwarming? (does it count if it’s a/b/o?), light bloodplay, borderline somniphilia (consensual), poisoning, suicidal ideation, allusions to cheating, mentions of conversion therapy, vague mentions of s*xual ass*ult (it doesn’t actually happen in the story, it’s just referred to a lot due to the nature of this universe)

uh… this is another one of those stories that’s just kinda Heavy, please be careful & don’t continue reading if doing so is unsafe for you. I have a variety of other works that don’t have such intense themes, which you can find on my masterlist!

request (+details): Omegaverse: Alphas Yukio and Ellie with a beta reader, but it turns out that reader is a late-bloomer omega who goes into her first heat unexpectedly. / Omegaverse: The setting could be anywhere. The three of them waking up with reader burning hot, believing to be sick but is actually going into heat. The reader could be by themselves when it happens and her alphas come home to a omega in heat / I can’t get this omegaverse idea out of my head, and I hope you don’t mind me telling you this. Reader being alone and confused when her heat came, her alphas gone on a mission. During the time they were gone, Reader made a nest of her alphas’s clothes out of instinct on their bed. By the time Yukio and Ellie returned, Reader is a hot mess from trying to get off, moaning their names and begging for her alphas to help her for she don’t know why she feels like this and is scared.)

synopsis: After Wade discovers you're dealing with suicidal thoughts, he takes it upon himself to help you out, leading to one disaster after another.

author’s note: thank you so much to the lovely anon who requested this for spending so much time with me & making sure everything was juuuust right! Fun fact: we pined, started dating, and broke up, started dating again, and broke up again all before this was published 🙃 sorry everybody, it’s been a rocky road for the past… forever.

Standing guard after school for a few extra bucks is a pretty sweet deal, you have to admit. You mostly just sit around with a pair of binoculars munching on your snack of choice, using a gun loaded with tranquilizer darts to drop anyone who threatens the safety of the school and its residents. If given permission, or an order to do so, you can use your bow and arrow to really take down your enemies.

You’re pretty lucky in life overall, you also have to admit, with two alpha girlfriends and a variety of friends and acquaintances, not to mention the advantages your mutation gives you.

It makes you feel even more guilty for what you’re really thinking about right now. Not Ellie, not Yukio, not keeping an eye out for threats, nothing but a simple question:

Would it be more efficient to slit your wrists with the point of one of your arrows, or to fling yourself from the top of this turret? Which would hurt worse? You look from the sharp arrow you hold in your hand to the plush grass below, managed by some of the other students.

It’s far cheaper to pay students to maintain the yard and house, not to mention it gives students like you a way of earning the kind of spending money that other students receive from their parents or from jobs in town. Your post would be snatched up in no time if you were to pass.

Speaking of parents.

Your father’s exact words to your mother were “I hate that you use a highschool mistake to keep me trapped with you forever!” the last time you happened to hear them argue. They were no longer invited to parent-teacher conferences after that.

It’s a fine reason for him to be angry, but, unfortunately, you’re the highschool mistake he was talking about. The one he’s always talking about whenever they fight. Maybe if you were gone, he’d finally be free. Maybe you’d finally be free from his resentment. He, fortunately enough, rarely lashes out at you directly; however… There’s always been a distance.

Would he love you more if you were gone? If you saved him from… Well, you? You’ve always wanted him to love you, to look at you with something other than anger or resentment. Would he finally be proud of you, for owning up to every horrible thing you are and have done by paying the ultimate price? Would everyone?

You’re holding the bladed tip of the arrow right against your wrist, almost like a normal person might hold a bracelet to their wrist -- trying it on for size, without really thinking about it.

Suddenly, though, Wade’s here. And he’s definitely thinking about it. He yanks the arrow out of your hand, accidentally snapping the wood that makes up its length.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

“I- Uh, I don’t know,” you mumble, embarrassed, because you honestly don’t. Being alone with your thoughts gives them the space to grow from their poisoned roots into something dark you don’t really recognize as yours.

“You- You don’t know?!” Wade questions, and the unusual severity of his tone stuns you to the point of laughter. “This isn’t fucking funny, what the hell is wrong with you? Why were you-?! What were you-?! What the fuck are you doing?!”

“I’m standing guard. What the fuck are you doing?” you echo dryly, resorting to quips to avoid telling him any more than he already knows.

“I’m freaking out! I can’t kill you for apparently wanting to kill you, so that’s all I can do! I thought you were on antidepressants!”

“I am. Have been for years. They don’t cure depression, they make it easier to manage.”

“Apparently fucking not! Come on, let’s go talk to somebody and get you an appointment with a psychiatrist. You’ve been on the same prescription all these years, right? Maybe you just need your dosage upped.” Wade’s not asking, he’s telling, his hand wrapped around your bicep to pull you along, although his grip isn’t as tight as you’d expect for a man of his stature, let alone an alpha.

Why does he care so much? He’s always so gentle, even when you piss him off like this. Tears well up in your eyes but you blink hard. You know he’s been through worse. That most people here have. You have no right to cry.

Wade yells at a surprised Charles Xavier until an appointment is set up, which goes pretty well. Four days after that incident, you meet with the psychiatrist who agrees that upping your dosage is the smartest decision, frankly, she’s surprised it wasn’t done sooner. And, after about a week of your new dosage level, you’re feeling better than ever.

Way better.

“You… You’d really wanna do that? For everyone to know I’m yours?”

Ellie nods, cheeks darkened. You’re straddling her, and the two of you have been trading heated kisses with Yukio. Who would’ve thought more of the medication you were sure killed your libido before you could even develop one would be what rescued it?

“Of course we would. I know you don’t like to stereotype, but some of the stereotypes have truth to them. We’re… Territorial,” Yukio reminds you.

“I’m… A beta,” you remind her in a teasing echo of her tone.

“Our beta,” Ellie cuts back in. “Absolutely perfect.”

“Even if I’d rather not let you guys, y’know…” Your hand rubs at the space between your neck and your shoulder - where they’d likely mark you with their teeth - nervously. “...today? Or go farther than what we’re doing right now?”

“Of course, baby! The fact that you’ve even done this much…” Yukio trails off, looking over you. Your lips are swollen and still slightly parted as you continue to pant a little. The top few buttons of your (well, borrowed from Ellie) flannel are undone.

“We’re so grateful, and so proud of you,” Ellie continues, drawing your attention back to her. “We’re willing to wait as long as you need, even if that waiting only ends because you’ve decided that being with us like that isn’t something you want.”

“I do. I always have, I just… I don’t know.”

“The feeling’s still there, in your stomach, right?” Yukio wonders.

“Yeah, a little. It’s like… I know it’s not wrong, but something doesn’t feel quite right. Maybe I should just try to ignore it, I mean, you two have needs-”

“Hey. You know better than that, Y/N. We don’t, okay, babe? Not like that. We wanna have sex with you, not- Not hurt you. You understand that, right?” Ellie reassures you.

“I do, I just feel bad for being such a- I don’t know, a tease?”

“We love you. As in, you. If you forced yourself to do something you didn’t want to, just for us, how would we forgive ourselves?” Yukio says what she’s said a million times, but every time it surprises you. You tend to see yourself as only being valuable in what you can offer others— protection, a laugh, some good advice every now and then —you never expect anyone to care for you outside of that. But here they are. Absolutely perfect.

And you were thinking of flinging yourself off a tower a couple weeks ago. Should you tell them? They just think you went for an overdue checkup, which is technically the case. You don’t know what’s worse, hiding it or telling them. You’ll have to talk to Wade, he’s good at giving advice. Might not be good advice, but he’s definitely good at giving it.

“Everything okay, sharpshooter?” Ellie hands gently squeeze your hips to get your attention.

You blink back out of your thoughts, smiling a little and blushing at the nickname.

“Yeah, yeah, of course. Sorry, I just zoned out. I’ve had a lot on my mind lately.”

“Everything okay?” your alphas ask, again, in unison. Your alphas. They probably couldn’t handle it if you had a problem they couldn’t solve, the guilt of not being able to provide for you would overwhelm them.

“Yeah, totally,” you reply, because it is, now, especially here with them. Ellie starts to button up your flannel.

“Oh, we don’t have to-”

Ellie gives you a pointed look, then looks down at her crotch, then back up at you. Your blush deepens.

“Yeah, I’m guessing a cold shower’s in order,” Yukio agrees. “El, you can go first.”

“We can’t go together?” Ellie asks.

“Well, I don’t wanna leave Y/N alone. Our brave little beta did a lot more than usual. Don’t want you to feel used, baby,” Yukio explains to you both.

“Oh, duh,” Ellie agrees. You give her a quick smooch on the forehead before dismounting her and allowing yourself to be pulled into Yukio’s arms. Ellie grabs some clean clothes and heads off. As soon as the door shuts, Yukio giggles, and you look to her with a curious, confused expression.

“Now you’re all mine to cuddle.” Yukio gloats, kissing the top of your head. “Mm… You smell really good, babe. New shampoo?”

“Ish, yeah,” you agree, despite the fact that you started using it nearly a month ago at this point. Maybe the body heat you built up from the makeout session made it smell stronger, though.

Yukio keeps sniffing you, but you don’t call her out on it. She’s a little bit quirky, sure, but there’s no need to make her feel self-conscious about it when the tickling sensation feels kinda nice. She tosses in a few soft presses of her lips against your skin, too, so it’s not like she’s the only one who benefits.

Yukio eventually stops this, though, instead requesting to scent you. You’ve told the girls before that they don’t have to ask, but they— especially Yukio —seem to prefer to. You figure it’s likely to reassure them that you not only tolerate but appreciate their alphahood.

“I love you, you know that? Not just ‘cause you make me smell like petrichor. I’m surprised Ellie doesn’t spend all day huffing your scent, I… I know I would, if I could smell it.” You didn’t mean for the sad envy to ring so clearly in your words, but it’s as sharp as a knife, cutting deep enough to make Yukio gasp softly with sympathy as she rubs your wrist against her scent gland, eyes snapping open.

“Well, next time it’s about to rain, we’ll go outside, then. Every time it’s about to rain,” Yukio insists. “Who- Who told you?”

“Wade. I was just curious. He said Ellie smells like a campfire, the scent even clings like it. He even said I smell a little weird. Most betas smell like something, but I’m just… A blank canvas.”

You feel her rumble a bit with a growl, and her arms wrap tightly around you… Protectively? You blush.

“Y-Yukio?” you nervously ask, caught off guard. Ellie’s usually more of the growling type. Yukio’s pretty good about keeping her possessiveness and any other “negative” alpha traits in check. This side of her doesn’t come out often.

“What was he doing that close to you?” she snarls protectively, and if the growl wasn’t enough to get your heart racing, that was. “Sm- Smelling you?”

“Yukes, Wade’s the same age as my parents. Honestly, he’s- He’s kinda- He’s nice to me. We’re friends. I think if he was going to hurt me, he would’ve done it by now. You two keep forgetting I’m just a beta. No one wants a piece of this pie except for you and Ellie.”

“You’d be surprised at the way some alphas… It’s sick, but they- Because betas, you know, they don’t really produce slick like omegas do, and they don’t have quite as much give, uh… So, some alphas, um, they… Just let me hold you, okay?” Yukio requests. “I can’t talk about it, it’ll make me too mad.”

“I respect that. Thank you. I, uh, I didn’t realize that at all, so thank you for helping me be even safer,” you reassure her. She’s trembling. “Do you want me to hold you, instead?”

“No, no, this will make me feel better. I just… I love you. Can you just…? Just- Just say you’re mine.” This is a request Yukio has semi-often. When she feels weak in comparison to other alphas, when she feels overshadowed by Ellie, any time she needs reassurance or is just feeling bad, she’ll probably ask. You get it, being hers (and Ellie’s, of course) makes you feel better, too.

“I’m yours, Yukio. Always yours. You make me so happy, both of you. Happier than- You make me feel so-“ You get a bit choked up. These girls, these alphas… They’re so important to you.

“Oh, no, baby, please don’t cry,” Yukio implores, watching your eyes water. You turn so that your face doesn’t just rest on her chest but is buried in it.

“It’s just that no one ever loved me before you two. No one, ever. Not my parents, not my ’friends,’ no one. I don’t know why I’ve been so emotional lately, I’m sorry.”

“No one at all?” Yukio questions, but that’s the missing puzzle piece, she realizes. You’re always treating hers and Ellie’s love for you like it’s something you have to earn, no matter how much they insist being yourself is enough. She fully grasps now that it’s never been enough before.

She holds you even tighter.

“Mm-mm,” you confirm, shaking your head a little. “You and Ellie just mean the whole world to me. And- And… Wade’s my friend, too. Can I still, y’know, spend time with him?”

“Yeah, yeah, of course. I just- He’s a nice guy, but… I don’t want him to put you in danger. You can handle yourself, though. Can’t you, sharpshooter?” Her fingers trickle up your ribs as she says the nickname, making you giggle and squirm.

“Absolutely, but it is nice to have two strong, sexy alphas take care of me instead every now and then,” you admit, albeit a bit teasingly, blushing softly. You turn back so that you can see her adorable face.

“Really?” Yukio asks, but she knows.

“Really,” you agree with a smile.

“I’m yours, too. You know that, right?” Yukio checks, fiddling with your hair a bit.

“Mhm. It’s nice to hear you say it like that, though.”

“I can think of other ways you might like to hear it,” Yukio flirts.

“Yeah, you think so? Show me,” you tease back.

“I will…” Yukio trails off as she trails her finger along your jaw, tipping your head up to the perfect kissing angle and- “Eventually, little beta.”

“I- I’m taller than you,” you weakly protest.

“Your breath still hitched,” Yukio reminds you with a giggle and a gentle tap on the tip of your nose.

You stutter a little more before giving up, burying your face again and whining.

“I’m sorry, Y/N, I just can’t help myself. You’re too cute,” Yukio half-heartedly apologizes, still chuckling to herself as she strokes your back.

Ellie returns from her shower, inky tendrils of hair ruffled around but with no product in.

“She’s asleep?” Ellie asks, sounding a bit disappointed, but there’s still a significant amount of fondness in her tone.

“She’s not,” you mumble back, and both girls chuckle, Yukio untangling herself from you. You can’t help but pout a little, already missing the bubblegum-haired alpha.

“I know Yukio’s your favorite, but you could at least act a little bit happy to see me,” Ellie half-jokes, and you smile, pulling (though she doesn’t give any resistance) the girl back into your bed. She holds you the same way Yukio did, but you don’t really mind the lack of variety.

“You’re both my favorite,” you argue. Ellie takes a deep breath, likely taking in the way you’re completely embraced by Yukio’s scent.

“I don’t think that’s how favorites work,” she chuckles.

“Out of all the people in the world, you two are both my favorite,” you insist. She takes the hand you have resting on her ribcage and holds it inches from her scent gland. “Please,” you say, before she can even ask. Ellie takes a whiff again.

“Did she leave anywhere untouched?” She wonders.

“N-not really,” you stutter, because now you’re thinking of where she didn’t touch you.

“Well, she’ll have to share a little, then,” Ellie says.

You hum with delight as she scents you.

“You make a new friend?” Ellie questions.

“Huh?”

“You smell… Different,” she responds, looking at you… Well, differently. “Like roses.”

“I have a new-ish shampoo?” You offer, but that just seems to intensify the look.

Your phone rings. It’s Wade. You wriggle out of Ellie’s loose hold on you, answering.

“Hey, you know how I’m your academic advisor?”

“Uh, yeah?”

“Well, apparently, thwarting your suicide attempts isn’t my only job. I also have to tell you when they need you in the office, which is now.”

“Seriously?! I didn’t even throw that pencil at Richard, and even if I did, he deserved it for being such a-“

“Oh, right! Should’ve opened with the good news. Your parents are here to visit.”

“What?! That’s-“ You sigh, not wanting to alarm Ellie any more than you already have. “Okay. I’ll be there. Just give me a second to get dressed.”

“Wow, no shame at all. I salute you. Toodles!” Wade hangs up before you realize he misunderstood you.

“What’s wrong?” Ellie asks.

“Nothing, just… My parents are here.”

“Your… Parents?”

“Kind of have to have those to exist, usually,” you remark, and she snorts.

“I know- I- Well, we’ve known each other for a while, and you don’t really talk about them, so I sort of assumed…” Ellie trails off.

“Oh, um, yeah, no, they’re very alive,” you confirm with an awkward chuckle.

“Right. I’ll go get ‘Kio, and we’ll all go, okay?”

“Uh- Um- Yeah.”

“What is it?”

“My parents, they kind of… They- I love you. And I’m not ashamed of you.”

“But they’ll be ashamed of you,” Ellie understands.

“I haven’t seen them in so long, they don’t even know that I like girls, let alone that I’m dating two, or that they’re both alphas… I want you and Yukio to come with me, but, if they start to- If they’re how they are, I-“

“Give my energy to helping you instead of hurting them,” Ellie uses Piotr’s words.

“Perfect,” you agree, and Ellie smiles back, but it falters. You didn’t mean to worry her so much.

“I’ll go get Yukio. You get changed, okay?”

“Mhm,” you agree, and she heads off to the bathroom. You steal one of Ellie’s band tees and an oversized cardigan of Yukio’s for comfort, finding a pair of high-waisted bottoms to tuck the tee shirt in. You throw on a pair of sneakers, and when the girls emerge from the bathroom, you pop in to freshen up.

Once you’re done, Yukio’s caught up on the situation and the three of you make your way to the front offices.

Wade meets you outside.

“Oh em gee, Y/N, you’ll never believe it, I actually went to high school with both of your parents.”

“Uh… Cool?” You respond, because you’re not entirely sure how to.

“Yeah, uh, I get now that it’s probably not really good news that they’re here, huh? No wonder I found you doing that the other day.”

“Doing what?” Yukio and Ellie ask, though for some reason, Ellie’s is tinged with suspicion, maybe even anger.

“I- Listen, it’s not a big deal, I got my prescription updated and all that good stuff, okay?” You prime them. “I was thinking about killing myself the other day and Wade caught me.”

“Thinking?! You’re gonna call holding the fucking tip of an arrow to your wrist thinking?!”

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Ellie sounds as angry as Wade does, but she looks pained. This is why you didn’t tell them.

“Hey, she doesn’t need this right now,” Yukio argues, but she looks hurt, too.

“I mean, I was just considering if it would be more painful than jumping off of the turret,” you mumble, your defense embarrassingly weak.

“We’ll talk about this later,” Ellie decides, and Yukio nods. You three follow Wade to Xavier’s office. Wade breezes in, but you’re practically stuck in the doorway, nervous to look at even the backs of their heads, before they turn around.

“Y/N,” your mom says with a grin, but you know all too well how fake that is. She approaches you, pulls you into a hug, and you want nothing more than to push her away and scrub yourself clean. She doesn’t really love you. The second you speak out of turn, or make a mistake, or give her any excuse, she’ll remind you of your worth. (Or, rather, the lack thereof.)

She slips back into her seat next to your father, in front of the desk where Xavier sits, simply observing.

“It’s been so long,” your father says, but his smile is almost blatantly fake. “Your hair, it’s different.”

“Like you said, it’s been a while,” you say, giving a grimace and an awkward chuckle.

“I don’t think I like it,” he says, like he’s giving his opinion on a sculpture in an art exhibit by some long-dead artist who doesn’t care what he thinks. Like it’s something just… Objective.

“Not sure what to do about that,” you reply sheepishly.

You don’t fully realize that you’re holding Ellie’s hand until she squeezes it reassuringly, three times. A secret code. You step further in to make room for the girls.

“So, uh, I have to ask… Why the sudden visit?”

“Well, we got an e-mail about your medicine, and we wanted to come check on you. Make sure this is the right environment for you,” your mother explains.

“You weren’t sure before you stopped talking to me for two years?” You half-joke, playing dumb.

“Has it really been two years?” A normal person would be asking this rhetorically, and they’d be embarrassed. Your mother, though, is simply trying to gaslight you.

“Longer,” you assure her.

“I thought this place was supposed to provide conversion therapy,” your father says, eyeing your hand, then Ellie’s other hand. “You’re such a fucking liar,” he hisses to your mother.

“Wow, maybe my mom dying when I was young was for the best. Better than this for sure,” Wade jokes, gently elbowing your side. You chuckle, grateful for even the slightest ounce of comic relief.

“You’re even more of a freak than you were in high school.” You squeeze Ellie’s hand tight as your father’s expression darkens even further.

“Funny you should say that, considering-“

“Wade,” your mother cuts him off.

That’s weird, to say the least. You just file that away for later. You have bigger fish to fry, like surviving this visit.

“Y/N, why’d you go for a check-up at all? You barely needed the anti-depressants in the first place,” your mother wonders.

“Because it wasn’t barely. Why else would they raise the dosage?” You ask, and the expression on her face is as stupid as the question she asked.

“Don’t speak to her that way,” your father scolds, like he didn’t just call your mother a fucking liar himself. “You are so ungrateful for everything we’ve done for you, do you realize that?”

“I’m sorry, what have you done for her, exactly? Answer quickly, please,” Ellie retorts.

“El-“ you start, but realize this isn’t anger, but advocacy.

“Well, we sheltered and fed her for over a decade,” your father remarks, smirking like he’s won.

“That’s your job!” Wade argues.

“Mr. and Mrs. L/N… I politely asked that you refrain from visiting the campus, and while I appreciate your concern for Y/N’s well-being, I must ask that you remain respectful of her, her fellow students, and my staff. Causing unnecessary conflict is exactly the reason you were almost banned when you last visited,” Professor Xavier finally speaks.

“Almost banned?!” Wade wheezes.

“Yeah,” you sigh, and Wade’s laughter immediately ceases. “I was cheating in school, according to- To Dad.” The word is poison in your mouth.

“Come on, we all know you’re not smart enough to get those grades on your own. Probably screwing some teacher, just like Mom.”

“That’s enough,” Ellie snarls, eyes glowing orange.

“I never screwed a teacher!” Your mother protests at the same time.

“Oh, that’s right, you just blew Mr. Morin. My bad. Wow, Y/N, you really must be something special for all these alphas to be fawning over you. Maybe I did fuck up once or twice, after all, I’ve heard daddy issues-“

“Well, you visited! Now get the fuck out,” Wade chirps.

“Mr. L/N, must I repeat myself? I know you and Mrs. L/N were interested in a tour. Perhaps a less crowded area would help ease your minds,” Xavier reminds you all of his presence once more.

“That sounds like a great idea,” your father agrees.

“I’m starting to get a bit of a headache, maybe you could show us your room first and I could lie down for a bit in there?”

“I-“ You look to the girls, not wanting them to have to deal with her alone.

“Actually, Miss Phimister and Miss Kitsuna would be perfect additions to a rescue team. The orphanage your friend Russell came from was actually part of a network for mutant trafficking, and we found another hub in Maine. The jet takes off in fifteen minutes, and you two will be back in time for dinner. Better get ready and briefed.”

“But-“ Yukio starts, looking to you.

“Go, be superheroes,” you tell them, and they head out. “Uh, how about we swing by the library first, to give them time to change, and then to our room?”

“You share a room with them? Somehow, I’m not surprised.”

“We were roommates before we started dating,” you correct him.

“Dating… Aw, I bet you really think that’s what it is, too. Having parents in a sham of a marriage really did a number on you, huh?” Your father condescends.

“You know, it’s pretty fucked up how fixated you are on her sexuality. Do you like to picture it, you goddamn creep?” Wade defends you, and your skin crawls. You’d never thought of it that way before.

“Let’s just get that tour started, ‘kay?” You squeak. The sooner you get this over with, the sooner they’ll be on their way, hopefully.

“Good idea, Y/N,” Wade says. “Come on, Textbook, let’s go.”

“You didn’t just call me-“

“Oh, but I did, Textbook. Hey, Y/N, did you know that was your dad’s nickname in highschool? ‘Cause he was so fuckin’ easy to shove in a locker.”

You cover your mouth with your hand, trying not to laugh and failing.

“Just show us the library already, Y/N,” your mother says, pinching the bridge of her nose.

You take your parents to the library, as requested. Wade keeps pace with you while your parents fall back. You can’t hear their exact words, but you know your parents are bickering.

“You never said it was this bad.”

“It’s not that bad. It’s definitely been worse,” you admit, busying your eyes with the paintings that line the walls so that you don’t have to meet Wade’s gaze. You might just cry if you do; you can feel the sympathy radiating off of him.

In these past few months, Wade’s been more of a father than your dad, even more of a mother than your mom, but for some reason that doesn’t make you feel more justified in how you feel about your parents. In fact, it just makes you feel worse, and even if you’ve never actually expressed it, you’re still ashamed of the fact that you wish Wade was your father instead. He actually cares, while your parents are simply legally obligated.

From the day you met, Wade’s always been there for you. If you were to tell your parents what you almost did the other day, they’d just call you attention-seeking and insult you in other ways. All they’d do is make you want to try again.

You and Wade stop at the entrance to the library and wait for your parents to catch up. They do, and you open the double doors to reveal the room.

“It’s like Beauty and the Beast,” your mother gapes.

“I thought so, too,” you agree, attempting a smile, but your parents just ignore you, wandering around the large room. Your mother excuses herself after a few minutes of spinning, saying that the dizziness is making her headache worse.

“All these books and you’re still… The way you are,” your father comments, looking at you with such disdain.

“Winner of the science fair with her loving partners, three years in a row?” Wade questions. “Oh, or maybe you’re talking about the fact that she’s a published poet. How embarrassing for you, I’m sure.”

“Wade,” you protest under your breath, embarrassed. They don’t even know that stuff. After middle school, you stopped telling them about your accomplishments. You figured out that all they’d do is ruin them for you.

“No, no, trust me. It’s more about the fact that she’s slutting around with alphas and won’t even save us the embarrassment of them being girls,” you father spats.

“That’s enough,” Wade snarls.

“Oh, that’s right, we can’t forget that she’s yours, too. I guess anything with a dick is daddy considering I was too busy putting food on the table to play dollies,” he remarks, and you suddenly feel light-headed.

“Seriously, Textbook, I really don’t want to hurt you, especially not in front of Y/N, but I fucking will if you make me.”

“Just go,” you urge Wade, starting to feel a bit dizzy, surely from the stress. You brace yourself on him, disguising it as a touch meant to comfort him. He looks concerned as the edges of your vision start to darken a little.“I- What you’re doing, I appreciate it, but-“

“You appreciate it? You appreciate him disrespecting me, disrespecting our family?!”

“Our family?!” You finally snap. “All I ever wanted was for you to love me, and you couldn’t do that. You just couldn’t. And now we’re a family?! No. No, you…” You start to pant, your face feeling even hotter than before. “You… I hate you,” you manage to get out before your world goes completely dark.

“Fuck yeah, Y/N! I’m so prou-“

But when Wade turns to you, you’re halfway to the ground. He catches you, though, and he catches a whiff of something… Familiar.

Lavender. It’s not just the Wilson scent, sure, but it’d be too much of a coincidence. You smell just like him. You are him, or, rather, made of him.

He’s torn between ecstatic and furious.

“Hey, can we get some help over here?” your father calls out to no one. It’s not a school day, and lots of students are out on missions. He reaches out to you for once in your life, but Wade’s now sitting on the floor, cradling you in his arms.

“No,” Wade argues. “Not yours. Mine.”

“What?” You father asks incredulously. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“She’s. Not. Yours,” Wade repeats, and the more he inhales your scent, the more out of control yet calm he feels. Like he’s in the eye of a hurricane. “My baby. Mine.”

“You’re not saying…” your father trails off as Wade gets up, still cradling you. Wade has to take you to your room; help make you a nest, now. He can smell it on you.

You’re in heat.

He gets to your room quickly, practically tossing you onto your bed. Wait… Isn’t your mom supposed to be here?

And that’s when he hears the sound of pills spilling onto the floor.

He nearly rips the bathroom door off of its hinges. Luckily, your mother spilled what Wade quickly realizes is suppressants, and not your prescription.

“You. You could’ve killed her. You are very, very lucky that my baby-“

“Our baby,” your mother corrects.

“No, you take pills, you can’t even smell her, let alone feel her like I can. It- It’s so much it fucking hurts. I’ll say it again, you’re very lucky my baby is in heat, or your arteries would be emptying in that shower. Now, go. Don’t come back.”

You groan in pain, stirring, and your mother takes Wade’s advice. Wade calls Yukio. Then Ellie. Then Yukio. Then Ellie.

“What the fuck, dude?!”

“You need to turn around. Now. I don’t have the time to explain. It’s Y/N.”

“Is she okay?” Ellie, always skeptical, asks.

“Obviously fucking not, or I wouldn’t be calling. She’s in heat.”

“But-“

“I said that I don’t have time to explain, fucking turn around! I’m on the verge of going fucking feral, Ellie. You both need to get here, now.”

“Wade, get out,” Ellie immediately demands.

“I can’t,” he admits.

“Get out! Shit, Wolverine! We need to turn around!”

“I can’t. It’s not like that I swear, it’s… I’m going fucking crazy, just one of you will do, but someone needs to get here.”

“Wade, go.”

“I would never hurt her! Come home!” Wade barks before hanging up. He returns to your room to find you’ve made a nest instinctively - thank goodness for Yukio’s affinity for pillows and blankets - and now you’re curled up in pain in the center of it.

“Wade,” you whimper. He’s scared to step closer, not sure if he’s what you want, even if you despise who you thought was your father. “What’s happening to me? Everything hurts.”

“I really don’t know how to say this, but… You’re in heat.”

“But I’m a beta,” you argue, wrapping your arms around yourself.

“That’s what we all thought. But… Remember how you didn’t smell like anything before? Uh, let me start over. When did you start on your anti-depressants?”

“I was about twelve,” you confirm, not sure what that means.

“Yeah, I think those were suppressants. That it’s always been suppressants, no matter what the bottles said. Until you got a prescription without your mother knowing. Do you understand why your mother would do that?”

You shake your head, and he approaches the bed, sitting down carefully as not to disturb your work.

“Her boyfriend around the time she got pregnant with you was a beta. We know him as Textbook,” Wade teases, before continuing: “But, what no one realizes is that he was at Niagara Falls on spring break around the time when you were conceived, and she was hanging out with her next-door neighbor the whole time. Her next-door neighbor was me.”

“Oh, so I’m your highschool mistake,” you say, connecting the dots.

“Huh?”

“Ha, well, whenever my parents- Well, I guess not my parents, but that’s beside the point, uh, whenever they argue and it gets really bad, my father- Well, not my father, but, uh-“

“Continue,” Wade urges.

“Basically, sometimes he uses ‘a mistake I made in highschool’ as code for ‘Y/N,’” you explain. “But the truth is, I’m the mistake you made in highschool.”

“You’re not a mistake,” he disagrees. “You’re- You’re one of the best things that’s ever happened to me. Lots of things are made by accident, but that doesn’t make them mistakes! Penicillin, potato chips, Post-It notes, popsicles! They were never supposed to exist but they do and the world is much better off with them in it.”

“You really do have a lot of useless knowledge,” you realize.

“So do you, that’s why our team always wins trivia night.” Wade slips off his boots, joining you in your rearranged bed. “C’mere,” he suggests, guiding your head to his neck.

“S’really you,” you mumble, already weary, and Wade worries for what’s to come. He almost doesn’t even want to let the girls in. He could get you pain medicine, he could probably even find sedatives. Then no one would ever be able to even touch you, let alone hurt you. “Lavender. You never mentioned the lavender, just the sandalwood.”

“I didn't think you’d be impressed,” Wade admits.

“It’s relaxing,” you tell him. “It’s nice to have things in common with someone.”

“You smell like roses, too, not just lavender,” he makes sure you know.

“Yeah, but I think that’s mostly concentrated in an area I’d rather not discuss with you.”

“Well, just make sure that if you do decide to do anything more with them than cuddle, which I can gladly go through the rest of my life without knowing, bee-tee-dubs, that the girls are wearing alpha condoms, especially if one of them knots you. Standard condoms work in a pinch if it’s just for one, y’know, go, but for heats they’re basically useless because of everything I just said. If they hurt you, I will make their deaths look like accidents.”

“S’not like I can get pregnant anyway…” You mumble, embarrassed. “I’m- I’m really glad it’s you. I- I wished so many times that it was you instead of him. Ow, ugh, that one was bad,” you groan, massaging your stomach.

Meanwhile, on the jet, Ellie is furious with herself.

“Yukio, you don’t get it, I smelled her. She smelled like an omega, but I thought- I assumed she was cheating on us. That maybe she didn’t want to be with us like that was because she wanted to- I don’t know, to be on top? It seems so stupid now.”

“Hey, I noticed she smelled different, too. There were other signs we both missed, anyways. Think about how emotional she’s been lately, or how much farther we’ve been going in other ways. How clingy she’s been, too.”

“I guess I didn’t really notice it because I liked her being more open and needing us more,” Ellie admits. “She- She almost fucking killed herself. And I thought cheating was what she was hiding. I- I just-“

“You can’t beat yourself up over it,” Yukio insists. “We’re on our way back, and Wade’s there to protect her.”

Speaking of Wade being there to protect you, he continues to comfort you as the pain gets worse.

“S’too hot,” you complain, and he releases you from his hold, rising from the bed. He knows he’ll have to leave you soon, because you’re likely going to need privacy before the girls get home, but it’s hard to part from you knowing you’re in pain.

“I’m gonna get you some water, okay? And after that, I’m just gonna stand guard outside the door until your girls get here. I know there’s some stuff you need to do, and that’s only gonna get worse.”

“It’s already awful,” you admit, and he chuckles.

“Good luck, kid. I love you.”

Wade gets a case of bottled water from the school’s industrial-sized pantry, bringing it to your room and tearing it open for you before leaving once more. You take one, immediately guzzling it down.

In privacy, you take off Yukio’s cardigan and your bottoms, leaving you in Ellie’s tee shirt and your underwear. You decide to go ahead and free yourself from the constriction that is your bra, feeling a bit embarrassed that you’re not leaving much to the girls’ imagination for your first time together. You eventually decide to undress completely, wondering when the hell your girls are gonna get here.

[ellitx]

I know this is mostly a venti blog but will you write for albedo again? would love to see more of him with your writing.. oh also I hope this doesn't come off as pushy haha I was just wondering

I did made a snippet of another albedo x reader and the draft is sitting here for months now ajskks

It has 1.7k words and albedo still hasnt appeared yet orz so uhm, here ya go even tho its not yet finished im sorryy

This looks like aether x reader at the start

            The soft clouds of Mondstadt were a wonderful sight to see. Hues of white and blues scattered across the horizon, making it seem like a smudge of a paintbrush, beautifully painted on the canvas. 

            You were wandering at the town square of Mond, mindlessly checking the shops that will ever catch your interest. You passed by Marjorie’s souvenir shop, boring. Checking Timaeus’s alchemy, yeah you’ve already learned a lot, no need to go back there. 

            Unfortunately, there was none at all.

            A tired sigh slipped from your lips and furrowed your brows. There was nothing to do and you’ve already done all your tasks. Klee was still stuck in her confinement, so you can’t play with her today.

            What a bummer…

            Another sigh came and your stomach released a sound hungry grumbling. You squirmed and wrapped your arms around your waist to silence the noise. Walking around the town made you starve for sure. 

            You noticed a lot of people have been crowding at Sara’s restaurant. Was there an event or something? You shrugged your shoulders to brush those thoughts off, more focused on getting food than the commotion that is happening in front of you.

            “Excuse me—“

            “Please, traveler!! I’ll give you a meal for free!”

            Your brows raised in surprise seeing the Honorary Knight was here. “Ooh, free meal?! Traveler, say yes! Say yes!!” His floating companion, Paimon, exclaimed whilst floating around and wiggled her little legs in excitement. “F-fine… we can’t say no to a free food.”

            Aether placed his hand on his hair and ruffled it with a sigh of defeat. From the corner of his eyes, he saw you waving at him.

           “[Name]!” You approached them and gave a big grin. “Hey! Didn’t know you’re already back here in Mondstadt.”

            He chuckled and rubbed his neck sheepishly. “Yeah, we just recently arrived.” Before you could respond, Sara called out your name. “[Name]! Perfect timing, I also need your help.” 

            You tipped your head and hummed. “Sure. Is it another delivery?” The waitress shook her head and jutted her thumb behind her. “Lots of customers are coming and we need you two to give these orders on their table.”

            Your eye twitched and squinted at her in wariness. “I don’t mind but please don’t tell me I still have to wear that uniform.” 

            “Even though it’s a must, there's no need to. There's not enough time to change. Just give these meals to their respective tables.” She clasped her hands in front in a begging manner. Breathing in relief, you went to the counter to take the plates and set off to serve them.

            “You owe me a free Flaming Red Bolognese!” The outlander chuckled at your words and mimicked your action, ready to do the task.

            The duty actually went smoothly than you thought it would be. With Aether helping you out, it was fast and steady but with a few slips here and there. Just as you were already done, another pack of customers came rushing in.

            “Woah!! [Name] really is the waitress again in Good Hunter~!” 

            “Hey! First come, first serve!! And no skipping lines!”

            You stopped in your tracks and slowly turned your head. This is bad. Really bad.

            Your throat bobbed seeing lots of customers gathering in the diner. Then you slapped both sides of your to shake off the nervousness. Paimon glanced at you and floated over. “Woah, lots of people came. Shouldn’t you two handle it?”

            Aether seemed like he was about to pass out from exhaustion and hunger. “I…I just want something to eat…” Head clouded and hazy, he unknowingly grabbed the emergency ration by her legs and opened his mouth ready to take a bite to get rid of his starvation. It surprised her as she wriggled out from his grasp and stomped her foot in the air.

            “Get a hold of yourself! Sticky Honey Roast is almost there waiting for you!”

            “Huh?! Says the one who just floats around and does nothing to help!”

           This is going to be a long day.

  —

             “Good work, everyone!” Sara clapped and wiped her head to remove the sweat that was slipping on the side of her head. The waitress then put out a meat dish coated with sweet honey sauce. The fragrant of the freshly cooked dish wafted through their noses making them drool.

            “Finally!!” Aether cried and took a big munch of Good Hunter’s beloved dish. 

            “And here’s your Flaming Red Bolognese, [Name]. They’re freshly cooked, so eat it while it’s still hot.” She winked and gave you a fork. You thanked Sara and twirled the spaghetti with your fork, letting its long noodles snake around it.

            “Ah, by the way, I have another request for you.” You quirked a brow at her as you chew your food, signing her to continue. “A client asked me to prepare a banquet and since we’re currently low on staff, do you mind if you do the baking?”

            You grabbed a napkin and wiped the red stains on your lips. Her request made you raise a question though. Why you and not someone who’s good at baking? Well, you can bake too but at an approaching proficiency level only. 

            The first person who came to your mind was Noelle. She can do everything perfectly well with ease. However, she seems so busy lately, so asking her to do it will make you feel bad and you don’t want to add another task to her hands.

            And the other one is…

             I-I don’t know anyone else who can bake…! 

             You can also ask Aether but you don’t want to trouble him any further especially since he just arrived here. You've already lost count of how many sighs escaped from you. Well, it’s better to help a friend who’s in trouble than just leaving them there struggling.

            “Sure, but why me?” You asked. Her lips curved and grinned at you as her eyes gleamed like the stars at night. “Your Moon Pie was so heavenly! When I took a bite of it, all the taste came to me at once. And the meringue was perfect! Not too sweet and not too bland.”

            “I would do anything to have another plate of it…” She placed her hands on her cheeks as she whined, drooling just thinking about the said pastry. 

            “So what kind of pastries am I going to bake? I hope it’s not too many.”  Sara propped her elbows on the counter and leaned forward. “Just a cake that’s all.” She then waved her hand, motioning you to come closer.

            Aether looked at them who are whispering to each other. He saw your face turned beet red and before puffing up your cheeks and playfully slapping her arms. Whatever their chat was, he shouldn’t bother wanting to know it.

            Food is here. Food is free, must eat it. Yes, only these thoughts must be inside his head. He continued relishing the delicious meal with Paimon across gnawing the plate clean.

  —

             “Flour, check. Eggs, check. Milk, check. Now all I need is… strawberries!” You were currently shopping for ingredients in Blanche’s shop. Your eyes scanned the racks, looking for a pack of that delicate pink fruit. With the continuous search for the red fruit up and down the shop, you're starting to lose hope at no signs of sight of that sweet berry.

            Did they run out of stock?

            You went towards the shop owner and asked. Sadly, she said yes, much to your dismay. 

            “There might be fresh strawberries in Springvale. You should ask there. Or—” Blanche suddenly smirked, making you feel unease about what’s behind that mischievous smile of hers.

            “You could ask Albedo to grow one for you. He can easily grow out those with just his alchemic powers or something.” Huh, it can be. You closed your eyes and give a thought about it. 

            “Albedo? I mean yeah, but he’s busy right now.”

            “Eh? But he’s right behind you.”

            The mention of the said male standing behind you made you immediately whirled your head in excitement. You feel delighted knowing about it, but rather expecting to see his figure there, you see nothing. No one and not a thing was there. Only air greeted you. 

            The shopkeeper snorted and covered her mouth to hold her laughter as small tears started to create from the edge of her eyes. You can’t believe she just did that. You felt your cheeks heat up in embarrassment that Blanche just tricked you into thinking the Chief Alchemist was really there.

            “S-sorry sorry.” She said in between her giggles and shook her hand. You grumbled and took out a pouch of mora to pay for the ingredients and shoving it into her hands.

            “Keep the change.”

            And with that, you marched your way off to Springvale with your face still flushed. Blanche looked over to the waitress of Good Hunter and gave her a thumbs up with that impish grin still glued to her face.

i have to cut it off here since its not finished yet. It’s just klee and reader are baking. idk what happened to my motivation in writing for albedo ;; but if you read the snippet you can get the whole idea of this oneshot

[dakarimainink]

Dancing Under The Stars

WARNING: Fluff, friendly, slight angst, cute

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x You (Reader)

Wordcount: 2.5K

Note: Not betad, all mistakes are my own.

This was a request by anon:

"If possible could you do a sequel to “Happy New Year” I really liked it and thought it was so cute!!"

Thank you, anon 🥰 Here is part 2 to "Happy New Year". This was fun to write. I hope you all will enjoy.

💛 Every reblog is highly appreciated and help out writers a lot! 💛

Masterlist

You had met Pedro twice now. The first time was at the coffee shop right after New Year. You had stumbled out of bed, freshened up and found him standing outside, keeping an eye out with his hat resting atop of his head. Once he had seen you, he had instantly embraced you and wished you once again, a happy new year. He had taken you in to the coffee shop where he bought you something warm to drink and you sat down in a quiet corner where he actually told you the somewhat thrilling story of his hat.

Between your first and second time meeting up, you had been exchanging some texts here and there, but Pedro being the person he was, he rather wanted to call you if you texted him. You didn’t mind at all, as it would usually turn into a facetime call and he would make some funny faces to make you smile, especially if you had a tough day.

The second time you had met up, almost four months had passed since the first meet up. You had opted for a nice walk in the park, as it was all you had time to, due to him having a tight schedule. He had been open about his career and you respected it by not poking your nose too deep. You took what he gave of information and usually spoke of everything else than his current projects. He was more interested in your life and what you were up to every day.

Today was the third time to meet up with him. You were nervous as you hadn’t seen him in a very long time and exactly five texts were exchanged during that time. He hadn’t called you and you hadn’t called him.

You were surprised when he suddenly called you late one Wednesday to ask to meet up with you. He had apologised profusely as he had woken you up with his call, not realising the difference in time zones from where he was and where you were. That was a month ago and you had finally found a timeslot appropriate for the both of you, even though it was Pedro who mostly never had time. You didn’t blame him though.

You had dressed up for the occasion and you stood in front of your mirror, looking over your form to make sure everything was perfect. You snapped your head to the side as you heard your doorbell ring. Taking a deep breath to calm you nerves, you walked to the entrance to answer.

You met a bright smile and warm brown eyes as you opened the door.

“Hey.” Pedro chimed as he met your gaze.

You opened the door wide and stepped into his open arms, feeling the warmth envelop you immediately. You inhaled deeply and slowly, sensing his earthy musk and spices of his perfume. Reluctantly letting go, you took a step back and gave him a once-over.

He looked amazing as always, with his trimmed beard, slightly rough hairstyle, black trousers and a black shirt with the two top buttons open. He had rolled up his sleeves to his elbows and were wearing a silver watch.

“You look amazing.” He smiled and gestured to your clothes.

You blushed. “Thank you. So do you.” You admitted, your cheeks ablaze as you couldn’t stop staring at his arms. The shirt was perfectly hugging his form and you couldn’t help but note the slight outline of veins up his hands and arms.

You grabbed your coat and purse, before locking the door behind you and following Pedro over to his car. He held the passenger door open for you and assisted you in getting in. He went around the car and got into the driver’s seat.

“So, where are we going?” You asked as you clicked in the seatbelt.

He chuckled at your question as he secured his seatbelt and put the car in drive. “It’s a surprise.” He answered and you drove off.

You had no idea what his plans were for you, all you knew was that you had to dress up, not ballroom style, but date night style. Wait, was this a date? No, it would be strange if it was a date and he didn’t say anything about it. Right? You hadn’t seen each other in so long and Pedro didn’t seem like the man who would suddenly take you out on date without a warning.

You shifted in your seat and leaned your knees towards his side. You noted the lit up display in the middle of you with small icons of different apps covering the screen. You recognised most of them, but your eyes widened at the text message icon.

“Uhm…” You pointed at the screen with an amused smile.

“I can explain.” He chuckled as his eyes were filled with panic.

“Please do, because to me it looks like you’re ignoring people.” You laughed.

“It’s just that people text me and instead of me texting back, I call them.” He explained hurriedly. “I’m not ignoring people, but for some reason the texts won’t appear as read.”

You supressed a laugh. “Sure, sure, sure, if you say so.”

“It’s true!”

You both laughed, him trying hard not to drive off the road as you begun to drive out of town. You watched as the buildings became smaller and fewer, the amounts of cars and people grew scarcer.

When you had finally managed to get out of town, he drove uphill. Thoughts flew through your head. Is he gonna kill me? Oh god, what if he’s a murderer. No, don’t be foolish, he’s too kind to be a killer. Shake it off!

Without thinking you shook your head. In the corner of your eye, you noticed him glancing at you and a flush of red crept up to your cheeks.

“Are you okay?” He asked, shifting his grip on the gearstick. You watched his fingers caress it and it was almost like a trance.

“Uhm, no. I mean, yes. I am okay.” You cleared your throat, tearing your eyes away from his hand and out the window. “Where are we going?”

“We’re there soon.” He smiled reassuringly, and that’s everything you needed to know.

~

He finally stopped the car and you looked out. It was dark, very dark and you turned to him anxiously.

He just smiled at your worried look. “Come.” He simply said and got out of the car.

You climbed out of the car and closed the door behind you. He held out a hand to you and you grabbed it, feeling the heat envelop you immediately.

“I remember you told me, one of the items on your bucket-list was to dance under the stars.” He begun explaining as you walked towards a bushy area. “Well, I saw there would be a meteor shower today, which would hopefully make it a little more special than what this day already is.”

You suddenly noticed the sound of music in front of you. Leading the way, still holding your hand, he pushed aside some branches and revealed an open spot decorated with candles and a speaker playing soft piano music. But it was the view that made you gasp as you stepped closer.

“It was Y/F/N who helped me set it up. I hope you like it.” He smiled and let you step ahead of him, your hand covering your mouth as you looked out on the city you lived in. You turned around to look at him. “Happy birthday.”

Your eyes widened. It was your birthday? Last time you had even noted the time was New Year’s Eve. You blushed at the fact that you had forgotten your own birthday.

A confused but amused expression spread across his face. “You know it’s your birthday, right?” He almost chuckled at the sentence he just spoke.

You cleared your throat and looked down in embarrassment.

He laughed and took a step closer to you. “Oh, Y/N…” He cupped your face and tilted it back, meeting his eyes. You were both smiling at this point, amused about the situation. “Lost in time, huh?” He mumbled, more to himself. He let go of your face, took one step back and held out his hand to you. “May I have this dance?”

You nodded and placed your hand in his. He pulled you to him, placing his other hand on your hip while you raised your own free hand to his shoulder. The soft piano music hummed through the speaker and you began to move slowly.

He spun you around once, before pulling you to him again and feeling the heat radiate from him.

“Thank you.” You beamed up at him. “No one has ever done this before. I am actually surprised you even remembered my bucket-list. Especially how briefly we talked about it.”

He chuckled. “I believe it’s safe to say, I remember most, if not all, we talk about.” He seemed proud and confident in his statement. “Mostly because I have good memory, but also because I enjoy your company.”

“Really?”

He scoffed. “You sound surprised.”

You cast down your eyes to his chest. “Well, I suppose a little.” You caught your lower lip with your teeth, slightly chewing on it.

He stopped for a moment and held your chin between his thumb and finger, lifting your head to meet his gaze. He hooked your lip loose from your own grasp, softly tracing it with his thumb before saying: “I mean it, I enjoy your company greatly.” He let go of your chin and grabbed your hand again to continue your slow dance.

A slight blush crept up your cheeks, feeling almost short for breath. Without another word, you continued to slowly move in silence together, listening to the soft hymns from the speaker and the very distant sounds of the city.

~

“You’ve danced before?” He asked with a warm smile.

You looked up at him, holding his gaze. “Very little.” You admitted. You scanned his face, he seemed calm, except for a small strain in his eyes. “Is something wrong?”

The smile faded from his lips for just a moment as he assessed your question. “I just feel bad for not being more in touch.” His fingers twitched once against your body. “I have had you on my mind quite often since we last met.”

Your lips parted at his honesty.

“And I wanted to apologise for last time we met up. A short stroll wasn’t exactly what I had in mind, but it was-”

You shook your head with a giggle, stopping him in his tracks. Your movements stopped, but you held the position and you looked up at him. “Pedro, you don’t have to apologise. I understand you are a busy man with a hectic career.” You began and you could see his shoulders fell down. “And I know you have a family and friends you would prioritise spending time with than some random woman you met at a party.”

His eyes darted back and forth, not quite sure what to say next, so – you continued.

“Besides, the little walk in the park meant a lot to me and I really enjoyed myself. It is always nice to do something that doesn’t involve a lot of… everything. Just two people walking, talking and enjoying the scenery around them is what I prefer. In fact, I rather sit down in a park and have a lunch than go to some fancy restaurant, all dressed up and pretending that everything is perfect.”

A contempt smile had widened on his lips as you had spoken. You continued your slow dance to the soft music. Sometimes your eyes catching each other and sometimes staring out on the glittering city.

A warmth spread out across your chest as you actually realised what he had done for you tonight. You couldn’t remember last time someone did something like this for you, with no expectation to reciprocate.

“I am glad you enjoyed it.” He suddenly said. “I did too.”

You beamed up at him and he pulled you just a little closer to him.

~

Pedro escorted you up to your front door. You unlocked it and opened it, before turning to him.

“Thank you for an amazing evening and the lovely birthday-gift.” You smiled and walked into his open arms, hugging him tightly and taking in his deliciously spicy musk.

“It was a pleasure to spend the evening with you.” He emphasized as he let go of you. He fished in his trouser pockets with a smirk on his face. “But I have another gift for you.” He pulled out a small black box and your eyes widened. He noticed your change and chuckled. “Don’t worry, I am not about to propose.”

You rubbed the back of your neck and chortled nervously. You didn’t actually believe he would do it, but a small sting did shoot through your mind when you first saw the box.

He handed you the case and you darted your eyes up to him in question. A nod of confirmation let you know to open it and so you did.

A smile widened on your lips as you looked down at a long silver necklace with a pendant of a hat.

You couldn’t help the supressed giggle escape your lips. “A hat?”

He grinned widely at you as a small flashback of New Year’s Eve popped into your mind.

You shook your head with a smile, closed the box and pulled him in for another hug. “Thank you.”

He pressed you tightly against him. “I promise it won’t be long until next time.”

“I am already looking forward to it.” You said with a low voice.

You let go of each other and gave one last smile and wave before he walked back to his car. You locked the door behind you and leaned back on the door, breathing out slowly. You rose the black box up to your chest and pressed it against yourself. Closing your eyes, you slowly sank down onto the floor.

Your chest felt somewhat heavy as you saw Pedro in your mind. It was painful to know he was the only one who had wished you a happy birthday. Not even your family had reached out to you, not that you completely blamed them, you had even forgotten yourself.

You opened the black box and looked down at the small brown hat handing on the necklace. A wide smile stretched across your lips and the warmth you had felt earlier, came back and spread out across your body. You were truly looking forward to seeing him again.

Suddenly, three knocks on your door made you shoot up to your feet. You straightened your clothes before opening the door.

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY!”

Your friends and family stood huddled outside with wrapped gifts and cakes. They were all dressed up and wide smiles across their faces.

You gaped at them in surprise. One by one, they hugged you, stepped inside and made themselves at home, preparing for a celebration of your day.

You went to bed that night, filled with warmth and happiness, and with a necklace hanging around your neck.

(Wanna be added to my tag list for Pedro Pascal and his characters? Let me know and I will happily add you)

@cynic-spirit, @lililolli, @notabotiswear, @sara-alonso, @blankmooon, @xoxo-callie, @mamacitapascal, @thewaythisis, @greeneyedblondie44, @stevie75, @mswarriorbabe80

[an-annyeoing-writer]

vulnerability. – chap. 1.

Read the prologue here

Story info:

Pair: Byun Baekhyun x Reader

Rating: +18 for mentions of s*x and violence (future chapters)

Genre: angst, smut

Chapter info:

Release date: 16th May 2021

Word count: 3 727

Warnings: mentions of trauma (nothing descriptive)

Vulnerability Masterlist || Fanfiction Masterlist || Ko-Fi

Taglist:

@shesdreaminginoverdose @mybiasdashboard @marimsun @byuns-asscheeks @multi--kpop--fanfics @vunv @making-me-blush @skittlez-area512 @bloopbloopkai @byuns-asscheeks @baekyeonoreo @kimcarinaa

Please, always comment on the newest chapter if you wish to be added to/removed from the taglist. I will be also checking the tags, so if you're shy – feel free to leave a note this way.

Previous (Prologue)

Chap. 1.

Living in a small apartment close to the city center was not always convenient.

You regretted you couldn’t buy all the pretty things that you saw in stores or on Pinterest, because they’d easily overwhelm the limited space. Your neighbors constantly reminded you that they’re a few meters away from you, with screams, children’s cries, music, or chopping meat at 2 AM if that’s what a particular neighbor decided to do.

Fortunately, as the time passed, you got used to most of it and started to appreciate the small space, almost effortless to keep clean, close to both your university and the workplace, and the city center – an area that was always restless during the long days and nights that you spent watching it through your tall window, as if waiting for someone to look back at you.

Despite the comfort of living alone that you tried to indulge in, you couldn’t help growing lonelier and lonelier with every passing day. At the very least, your job and university often took the worries off your mind, and they eventually became your whole life, an existence that focused on never-ending effort in the name of better future, as though there was nothing in the present worth fighting for.

You studied finance; you didn’t give it much hope at first, but it ended up becoming interesting as you started connecting the dots and realizing how broad and important this topic was. Yet, as any newborn financier, you used your secret knowledge in the mysterious field of retail. In other words, you worked part-time as a cashier in a convenience store. Twenty four years old, on your way to getting that famous Master’s degree, already more than halfway through the process, yet – education without experience mattered nothing, as you realized the very moment you started looking for your first job, unable to keep counting on your parents. Not like you wanted to stay in touch with them, anyway.

Adulthood was difficult; the small apartment, due to its location, costed more than your whole family’s used to in your hometown. A small scholarship kept you set up with electricity and water fees, but for WiFi you needed to depend on a close-by library with a good signal; it turned out to have the connection good enough to reach from at least one place in your apartment, the one you coincidentally used for occasional observations. You weren’t sure whether you discovered the WiFi while sitting or if you developed the observing habit upon having to spend your time there over any other place. The only downside of this solution was that some sites were blocked after a scandal over men in the library performing actions other than polite studying, with the help of library computers. The event was outrageous to some, but primarily it became an object of jokes and memes all thorough the city, and maybe even country-wide to some extent. Either way, in times of need, your phone still had its meager data transfer. Good enough.

It was Saturday now; Saturdays were good but busy, because you worked at nights, then slept the shift off, and after you woke up, you could go and study all that you missed throughout the week, if for any reason the classes didn’t sound appealing enough or something else happened, distracting you from them. You spent Saturday afternoons either by the window of your room (where the WiFi reached) or just went straight to the library – a place way more spacious than your own apartment, and quieter as well. The only issue was, that you couldn’t snack in there and you ought to stay quiet. You decided to go with the latter and set foot towards the library.

Therefore, when your phone suddenly rang there, a few faces snapped towards you in obvious disapproval; you cursed internally, before you even managed to pull the phone out of your pocket, because you panicked so much that your hands shook at the initial attempt to do so. You got up from your seat and quickly disappeared between the bookshelves, where the people staying by the tables wouldn’t hear you so well anymore.

“Hello?” you whispered into the phone.

“Hello. Am I disturbing you?”

Your heart dropped as you recognized the voice, although you weren’t completely certain if you recognized it well, it sounded a bit different through the phone. The number was unknown on your phone, but there was only one person that could be calling you today.

You took a few seconds to compose yourself; less than you actually needed, but just enough so that the silence would not turn awkward.

“Um… I can’t talk loudly, but that’s okay.”

“I can call you later.”

“N-no need to, I’ll just whisper.”

“Okay, then.” He was quiet for a few seconds, but you heard some shuffling on the other side. “Do you have time tonight?”

The question was sudden, so you weren’t completely sure, if you did. But your mind felt too empty to figure that out, anyway.

“No. I mean, yes. Sorry, I meant I don’t have plans. So, um, yes, I’m free.” This didn’t sound professional at all. However, you heard quiet laughter on the other side and exhaled almost audibly in relief; it was the first time you heard him laugh with you, and it served to calm your nerves like a wave of calmness coming over you.

“Well, do you want to meet? I’m going to a museum and I don’t feel like going alone. What about that?”

“A museum? That… sounds nice.” When was the last time you’ve been to one? What a perfect opportunity to make a fool out of yourself. “What time?”

“Around six? If that’s okay with you.” If you remembered well, it had to be around three now.

“Sounds alright, where should we meet?”

“I’ll pick you up.”

“Okay. Thank you.” What were you exactly thanking him for? Hard to tell. But you heard him laugh again; you felt like he’s mocking you, but you quickly realized it couldn’t be the case – a warm voice like this couldn’t be ill-intended.

“Sure thing, you’re welcome. We’re set up, then?”

“A-actually, I have a question, if it’s not a problem.” You bit on your lip, knowing than in less than ten seconds, you were going to probably embarrass yourself in front of an educated and serious adult.

“What’s the matter?” he asked politely.

“So, um… What should I wear?”

* * *

You were grateful for the few tips given by Byun Baekhyun at the end of your conversation, because otherwise you’d either be underdressed or overdressed. You ended up wearing a more elegant university attire, something you usually wore for exams, but which didn’t make you appear too formal; a long, woolen skirt that was your private treasure due to its ability to keep you warm even in winter (and it was still spring; the weather was questionable), as well as leather shoes, a beige shirt and a thick, knitted cardigan. You felt quite modest; something told you that it wasn’t a regular date. You didn’t feel a need to reveal anything, or to focus on your feminine attributes. You just felt like it wouldn’t serve any purpose. As long as Baekhyun was concerned, you had an impression that he’s more interested in your mind than in the way you look – the clothes you wore last time, just a little bit revealing and suggestive, had done nothing to save you. You wanted only to look appropriate, and you were sure you managed to achieve at least that.

As you found out soon enough, he wasn’t particularly dressed up, either. A button-up shirt without without a tie – bow or neck type – and jeans, made of high-quality denim, not like the ripped through or worn out ones people sometimes wore. And a suede coat. Although he wasn’t dressed up to look attractive, it would be difficult not to feel attracted to him. Byun Baekhyun had his own aura of independence and considerate distance connected with subtle proximity, and this time, you had the chance to appreciate this harmony, working perfectly for him, highlighting his soft masculinity. Even more so, when you noted a small, gentle smile that appeared on his lips when he spotted you leaving your apartment block.

“Hi there” he spoke.

“Hi there” you replied.

“The museum is nearby, so I didn’t take the car, is that okay?”

It was probably too late to change the means of transport anyway, so the question was pointless. But no, you didn’t mind.

“It’s okay. What museum are we going to?”

He put hands in the pockets of his coat and tilted his head to the side, observing as you approached. You crossed your hands over your chest; it was a bit colder than you expected, and the skirt only warmed you up at the bottom, the wind still reached the top.

“You should put on something warmer. It’ll get even colder on the way back” he spoke. “Go back and get yourself a jacket, I’ll wait.”

You wanted to oppose and say it’s alright, but you didn’t; it didn’t feel right to argue with him. You only nodded and went home to retrieve a better outwear; you were back in no time.

“So? Which museum?”

You looked up at Baekhyun: the man walked by your side, or – in fact – you were walking by his; he stayed in control of the situation, but resonated with warmth and peacefulness rather than the coldness and stillness you experienced last time. And especially as he spoke, you found yourself easing into the conversation more naturally, and your initial fear quickly turned into innocent shyness upon the older man’s presence.

“A complex of museums nearby. There’s everything there, a historical museum of the region, one about the history of mining worldwide, and an art museum. I wanted to see the last one, I heard they unveiled a few new pieces since the the last time I went. You’re not local?” He glanced at you with polite curiosity.

“Not really. I moved here to study” you explained. “I know the nearby area, but I’m not too… um, social. I only know where to do the cheapest groceries and where they sell the best bread.”

“Where?”

“Behind the river, by the intersection with the highway. It looks small but really, you should try it out. Especially their cinnamon rolls.”

Baekhyun hummed.

“That sounds nice. I can recommend the best pizza in return.”

“You eat takeouts often?”

“Yep.”

“You’d save money if you cooked for yourself. Pizzas are expensive.”

Another warm laugh reached your ears, and through them, your heart as well.

“I’ll save money if I spend the time for cooking on working instead.”

“Okay, that’s a valid point. But homemade food is healthier.”

“Depends on where you buy your takeout.” He seemed to have an answer to your every doubt. “I wouldn’t trust just any restaurant, you know? It’s basically what my diet consists of.”

“Variety is also important. Don’t argue with me on that.”

“I won’t. But I won’t take you for a pizza, if that’s your stance on that.”

“I didn’t say I don’t want it” you remarked right away; he replied with laugh, which you found yourself copying naturally.

The conversation flowed smoothly, reaching more or less unimportant topics: the city life, current events, your university, possible career, Baekhyun’s interests – you found out he likes music; it’s too sad to work in silence – and the museum you were going to.

The place you felt initially quite neutral about, brought you more peace than you expected it to. It looked harmonious and the lights were soft. No one hurried through the gallery, and the paintings, although not so interesting at first, you soon learned to appreciate, trying to catch onto small details that, you could tell, Baekhyun already knew by heart, but he smiled every single time you pointed at something specific that caught your attention, even if it was as silly as matching colors, or realistically portrayed lights – these were your favorites.

And, slowly but surely, you got accustomed to the pretty sights, excitement turning into relaxation, and even Baekhyun himself seemed more content than you thought he’d be in your presence.

“You’re different,” you spoke as the two of you sat on a bench in front of one of the tall, monumental pieces; this one was a modern painting full of splashes and mixed colors, soft browns, yellows, and greens, so big that it definitely wouldn’t fit in your bedroom – the first thought you had upon seeing its size.

Despite the painting being in the very center of the gallery, you were the only ones watching it now.

“What do you mean?”

“You’re different today than you were yesterday” you elaborate. “Less… intimidating” you tried to put your thoughts into words.

Baekhyun laughed in response; the laughter was soft and warm, which made you exhale in relief – you feared that he’d feel offended at the remark.

“Yesterday was different. I needed to test you.”

“What do you mean?”

He stared at the painting as he leaned forward, resting elbows on his knees and shifting a little bit, probably thinking how to say the thing he had to say, without causing misunderstandings. You stared at him, completely having lost interest in the painting by now, ready to hear out whatever was to be spoken.

“People often come to me because they’re attracted to me. Well, not blaming them” he grinned; you rolled your eyes a little, but it did relieve the tension, most likely according to his own intention. “However, I’m not interested in romantic relationships. If you come to me expecting a date, you’ll get disappointed. And you won’t be able to handle what it is truly about, if I’m the only thing keeping you interested. It’ll be a hassle for the both of us.”

He glanced at you only briefly, ensuring that you’ve heard him so far before shifting his eyes back forward.

“So I’m always like this at first, just to see how determined you are, and how you behave under pressure. Then I leave you for a few minutes so you have the time to reconsider and leave if willing. That’s a safety measure for you.” He stopped for just a few seconds. “And you – all of you – always check what’s on the other side of the sheet. That’s a safety measure for me.”

“Safety measure?”

“Trust is the basis of the whole deal. If you don’t admit, that you looked at it, it means you’ll keep hiding things later on as well, and I can’t have that.”

“So if I…”

“Yes. If you didn’t correct your statement, we wouldn’t be here right now.” The words sounded ominous even despite the calm tone that Baekhyun used.

“I understand.”

You actually did; the strange aura of yesterday’s meeting finally started to clear out, leaving the simplest facts that all fit into the bigger picture. Yet, you still didn’t know enough. There were more things, more questions, each of which demanded an answer of its own. However, you were still unsure of your stance, and of what Baekhyun had planned for you – for the both of you.

“Will you accept me, then?” you asked finally, breaking through the silence.

“I don’t know yet” he replied in an honest tone, finally reciprocating your gaze. His features were soft, you could tell, he tried not to hurt you with his words. “You’re a nice girl, but I’m not sure if it’ll work out. I need more time. Primarily, I need to get to know you better. And I feel like you need more time, too.”

You nodded slowly.

“Could you, um… tell me more about it?”

“About what I do?”

“Yeah. You didn’t tell me much last time. You mostly only asked questions.”

“True. I may answer some of yours, if you’d like. What are you interested in?”

You cleared your throat; some questions seemed more intrusive than the others and you preferred to leave them for later.

“What would you want to do with me, if we set up a um… a scene?” Is that how you professionally call it? You didn’t remember all that well; you were, in fact, with no experience, only the Internet and your own curiosity to lead you forward – the temptation to explore your interests had been progressing in silence up until now.

“Well, depends on what would be suitable. I do different things with different people. Sometimes, it’s about what they like, and sometimes about what I like, and, the most often, it’s about what we both like. Everyone needs a different approach. I enjoy finding the right approach, and exploring it. It’s different when you start with a virgin, different when you start with a brat, different when you start with someone experienced, different when you start with someone with trauma. The last type is a person I don’t like engaging in. It’s a vulnerable ground and the person often seeks relief instead of therapy. I’m not a therapist. I’m a dominant.”

You took your time to analyze his words and put them all together in your head before you spoke again.

“You wrote something like that on the sheet. That I may have trauma.”

“That’s different,” Baekhyun was quick to elaborate. “Everyone has trauma of sort. Childhood traumas are more common than you think. I meant specifically trauma that comes from similar ground as the one I’m on. It’s not the case for you. According to what you said, you’ve never had any experiences like this and never engaged sexually or romantically.”

Pointing that out hurt a little; yes, so what if you’re 24 years old and a virgin? You had the right to choose your pace. But, you quickly realized, it was your own insecurity poking at you, because Baekhyun sounded anything but judgmental. He didn’t seem particularly impressed either – and you were thankful for that as well. You’ve seen enough men sounding excited when a woman was discovered to be unexperienced. You hated that even more than those who made fun of you; and in the long run, you just learned not to overshare. Telling Baekhyun this truth wasn’t the easiest, so having him say it so casually was definitely weird in your ear.

“However, that’s also a vulnerable point. You don’t know what you’re getting into. It looks different on the screen or in the books than it is in real life. I’m not going to reject you just because you’re new, because everyone’s been at some point. But you must understand, it’s a responsibility, and I don’t want to take one I’m not capable of handling.”

“Have you ever been with someone else like that?”

“With a virgin?”

“…Yeah.”

“Yes. Once. But I didn’t handle it too well back then.”

“What do you mean?”

Baekhyun rubbed his chin, pressing his lips together in slight uneasiness. But you didn’t revoke your question – maybe you should have, for the sake of his comfort, but you felt that the answer wouldn’t be meaningless to you.

“She wanted to be exclusive,” the man finally answered. “I tolerated her for too long. I should have broken the deal as soon as I started seeing red flags, instead of ending up sleeping with her. It made everything only worse.” He spoke quietly, making sure people passing by at times would hear no word. You heard everything clearly, though. “That’s why I’m more picky now. Breaking the deal is not a good thing if it comes from one side. It may leave the other devastated, that’s why I’d rather reduce the risk in advance.”

He looked at your face, seeking understanding and acceptance. You nodded slowly, trying to keep your face as neutral as possible. You didn’t want to add to the pain already displayed on his own. But you appreciated his transparency.

“Does it mean that sex is not always involved?”

“With me, it rarely is” he admitted patiently. “I’m not against it, but I usually do other things. People rarely expect it, and I never pry. Mainly, because in this particular case, I do expect exclusivity. So, as long as no sex is involved, I know some of my subs are dating other people, or even engaging with other doms. However, for safety reasons I demand health checks prior to intercourse, and so on. Not just for me, but because I’m not exclusive myself.” You wondered if his choice of vocabulary was meant to make things less awkward. “However, actual sex is only one of the possibilities. Sexual pleasure that doesn’t involve direct touch may be used as a tool for training, for rewarding and for punishing, even as entertainment… not necessarily to the person it influences. As I said, it depends on who it’s done with. And it may take different forms, too. What’s your stance on that?”

“I don’t feel like I’d be able to as much as undress in front of someone who’s not my doctor” you answered almost instantly, the answer obvious to you, a matter you’ve thought about enough. “Although… well, I suppose it takes time. I’m not against the idea, just… you know.”

Baekhyun only nodded; you glanced at him, feeling a need for any reply that’d soothe you a little.

“I understand. That’s okay.”

You figured it out now; using more formal language made it less embarrassing to listen to. It’s like he tore the words off emotions and left facts only, and you found yourself easing into saying more and more, your embarrassment dissolving as well. No judgments were made.

“Is there anything else you want to know?”

“A lot, to be honest. But I think I know enough for now.”

Right as you said the last words, a sound echoed in the museum, in a soft female voice saying that the museum will close in fifteen minutes.

You took one last glance at the huge painting in front of you, but you felt like, at this point, you wouldn’t find anything new among the random stains and splatters. Baekhyun got up from his seat on the bench and so did you. You spotted him hide a small yawn behind his hand.

The day was coming to an end, and so was your small date – as un-date-ish as it could be.

* * *

Please, reblog if you enjoyed, it'll help me a bunch!

Author's note: hope you're enjoying it so far! Trying to give it a bit sense before more things happen, and, hopefully, this chapter clears it out a little bit. Feel free to talk to me if anything is unclear!

Next (Chapter 2.)

[sserpente]

A/N: Requests from two anons. No crying involved but definitely an anxiety-inducing situation for RC if that makes any sense. Enjoy! ♥

Words: 2118 Warnings: brief mention of past abusive relationship, attempted rape

“Honey, don’t you think you have enough candy by now? Who’s gonna eat all that?”

“Me!” Your niece stuck out her tongue as she half-walked, half-jumped through one of the many dimly-lit hallways. Her pumpkin basket was full to the brim already but, as you had suspected, there was no stopping her. You did not mind. You weren’t exactly keen on the annual Dauntless Halloween party in the pit. Lots of alcohol, sweaty bodies and so much fake blood it would take you weeks to get it all out of your clothes, off of your body and your hair. You didn’t hate Halloween, in fact you loved it. But you would rather curl up on the sofa in your tiny apartment reading a good book instead of drinking yourself into a coma.

Your niece looked unbelievably cute in her witch costume. Long ginger hair stuck out from under the pointy hat with the fluffy spider sitting on top. She’d had a little black broom as well—and you were not surprised you had had to keep carrying it after only three apartments already.

She was bound to get tired soon, so you kept telling yourself. You could already see yourself becoming a blanket burrito with a steaming mug full of hot chocolate and some of the leftover sweets you yourself had bought for the other children prior to trick or treating with your niece. You were so lost in thought that you only realised too late she had already started at the next apartment door and gave it a vigorous knock.

“Honey, no, not this one!” Shit. Only a few heartbeats later, the door opened.

“Trick or Treat!” She cried out. She was grinning as she held out her pumpkin basket, waiting patiently for her next victim to give her even more sweets. Only the person who had opened her hardly seemed impressed and instead raised an eyebrow at her. Eric used one of his muscly arms to lean against the threshold, his gaze wandering back and forth between your niece and you.

No one ever dared to knock on Eric’s door, presuming he would breathe down their neck for even considering he would give out candy to enthusiastic little children. Unfortunately, your niece did not know that.

Eventually, his gaze came to rest on you.

“I am so sorry, she was too fast.”

“What happened to your face?” He asked instead of reacting to your half-hearted apology. Oh, right. Embarrassed, you felt your cheeks turning crimson red. You had let your niece put some Halloween make-up on you. There was a giant spider with big orange eyes sitting on your right cheek while she had decorated the left with a black spider web. One thing was for sure, your niece would not become the next Picasso.

“Nothing… my niece thought we should match.” And perhaps next Halloween, she should turn you into a mouse so you could hide in a mouse hole to save yourself from Eric’s scrutinising—and now also downright amused—glance. There was a slight hint of mockery sparkling in his blue eyes as well, so you noticed when he stirred.

“Let me see if I can find something.” Oh. That was unexpected. As he disappeared, leaving his apartment door open, you just stood there dumbfounded all the while your niece tripped on the spot all carefree and blithe. This wasn’t really happening, was it? This was literally your nightmare before Christmas!

About a minute later, Eric returned. In his hands, he held a massive bar of Hershey’s chocolate. It was one of those treats only the leaders of Dauntless were privileged enough to receive every now and then. Your niece’s jaw dropped, eyes widening.

“There you go. You think you’ll be able to carry that?”

“Yes! I’m strong!” She pointed out, emphasising her words by making a muscle with her free arm. “Thank you!” As soon as she had accepted the chocolate, she was already off to the next apartment door. Only you still stood there, seemingly frozen in place.

“Uh… thank you.” You managed to choke out sheepishly.

“You’re welcome…” He mumbled in response. “I’ll see you at the party later.” And with that, he closed the door on you, once again leaving you standing there completely dumbfounded.

You had seen him around on Halloween. Eric never dressed up. Instead, he spent the night sitting at the bar all by himself, occasionally chatting to his fellow leaders and sipping some whiskey—completely unimpressed by his fellow Dauntless members’ craziness and excessive alcohol consumption. In that aspect, he was pretty much like you.

You spent the rest of your niece’s trick or treating pondering over his words. You were certainly overthinking it but what exactly had he meant by that? Did he expect you to show up? You had not planned on going. Would it be rude not to show up now? Jesus, it wasn’t like he had asked you out on a date. Eric was merely not as cold and condescending towards you than to others, perhaps because you always made an effort to be nice and polite to him, especially during your initiation.

And yet, once your niece was returned to your sister and you finally rid yourself of all that make-up on your face, you found yourself picking out something to wear to the party. It was almost like your hot chocolate, book and blanket sighed when you left your apartment and headed to the pit instead.

Halloween was on a full moon this year. Maybe you were going crazy. What were you even expecting? In the end, you settled for wanting to prove to Eric that you were a social person who would not curl up all alone on a day like Halloween—that you were tough; that you were Dauntless.

But you were beginning to regret your decision as soon as you reached the pit. Exuberant laughter and chatting along with loud music nearly blew your ears off, the smell of sweat and alcohol immediately numbing your senses. You coughed a little as you started fighting your way through the dancing crowd, your legs stirring you towards the bar almost automatically. Yep, definitely crazy, you thought to yourself.

At least your make-up was a little more on fleek now. You had gone for a mysterious vamp-look, with smoky eyes and dark-red lipstick, a black dress and your knee-high combat boots to complete your appearance. You felt quite sexy but then again, nothing could quite compete with some cosy pumpkin pyjamas.

“Hey, sweetheart… Can I buy you a drink?” Great. There went another reason for which you hated parties like that. Glancing to your left from the corner of your eye, you spotted an already tipsy man dressed up like a zombie approaching you.

“No, thank you. I can pay for it myself.”

“Don’t have to. I’ll pay for it if you’ll dance with me.”

“No, thank you.” You repeated, a little louder and sterner this time. But instead of letting it go, the man stepped right in front of you. He looked still young, probably among the new recruits who had recently passed initiation.

“What are you so scared of? It’s just a drink.” Only ‘just a drink’ was usually accompanied by the expectation of more than just dancing. You were not wary because of prejudice. You were wary because of personal experience in your old faction and an abusive ex-boyfriend.

“Come on, Drake.” The young man joining him was dressed like a zombie as well. They had done well with their make-up. They were nearly unrecognisable. “It’s not your fault you look like a troll. Allow me to buy the lady a drink.”

Annoyed, you rolled your eyes. “I appreciate it but I don’t want either of you to buy me a drink. Let me through, please.” Perhaps you should go find your friends.

Oh, it had been such a stupid idea to ditch hot chocolate and your warm blanket for this, for Eric. But whatever had gotten into you, you were too stubborn to accept the consequences. Only when you attempted to move past them, they cornered you. Two warm bodies pressed against you, one from the front, one from behind. You shuddered when their hands made a move to wander up and down your arms and waist, moving to the rhythm of the ear-piercing music—and even though everything inside of you screamed to lash out at them and make use of your combat skills, you forced yourself to keep calm.

“Let go of me, you scumbags.” You hissed. You’d give them ten seconds at most. If they did not let go of you until then you would kick the shit out of them. One, two, three…

“You’re in Dauntless, act like it.” They were not entirely wrong, so you hated to admit. The majority of men and women here in Dauntless made no secret out of their countless one-nightstands. Sneaking off and making out in semi-public places was risky, reckless and brave all at the same time—even your friends had told you about the adrenaline rush.

Four, five, six…

“She said no.” A stern voice suddenly came to your rescue. You did not need to turn around to know who it belonged to. Eric stood like a particularly intimidating bouncer. You could practically feel the heat radiating off of his body as he positioned himself behind you with his arms crossed.

“Eric! Come join us. We should take this happy ensemble to a quieter place. Ever had a foursome, love?”

“She said no. Take your hands off her before I rip them out and throw them down the chasm. Don’t think you’re safe just because you’ve passed initiation now.”

“Geez, spoilsport. Come on, Drake.”

“I was about to handle this myself.” You hastened to explain when they finally staggered off, lifting your chin up in a proud and independent manner. Eric slightly raised his eyebrows. Well, at least the reason for your presence at this uncomfortable party was here now.

“I know.” Apparently, he’d been headed for the bar as well. With your heart in your mouth, you found yourself following him until you finally reached your destination and asked the barkeeper for a cold beer. Eric went with his traditional whiskey.

“You’re shaking.” He remarked, arms crossed on the counter.

“I’m cold.”

“Cold? This is a sauna. You were afraid of what they might do to you.” He said matter-of-factly and oddly, without any hint of scorn in his voice. The urge to react all defensive overwhelmed you nonetheless.

“So? I went through one abusive relationship, I’m not keen on going through that again because some arseholes believe I have to have one-nightstands for the sake of being Dauntless.”

Eric hummed; in silent agreement, probably. For a brief moment, he was still. You took the time to take a few eager sips from your beer. At least that compensated you a little for relinquishing Halloween night as a blanket burrito.

“Your face looks better than before.” He said then.

“Yeah… thanks. I told my niece begged me to do my make-up for her candy hunt. I didn’t have much choice in the matter.”

The Dauntless leader smirked. “I take it you did not intend for her to knock on my door.”

“No.” No one ever does, you added quietly.

“Well, she seems tough. She should stay in Dauntless once she’s old enough to choose.” He paused.

“I hope so too. ‘Faction before blood’ only sounds easy.”

“Tomorrow, nine o’clock in the training hall. I’m going for a run.” He suddenly commented out of the blue. Your eyes widened. Excuse me?

“Huh?” Frowning, you studied his face, searching for the joke you quite apparently did not understand. “Are you asking me out on a date?”

Eric raised his eyebrows once more. “Was I being unclear?”

“Well, no but—“ There was one thing you knew about Eric for certain. You did not defy him. Ever. There was a part of you which wanted to, simply out of spite but the other… the other had dragged you all the way to this party merely because Eric had suggested to ‘see you there’. Heavens, was this really happening? Was the most fearful Dauntless leader of them all actually taking an interest in you? Should you thank your niece for being the trigger… or damn her?

“Good,” He interrupted you harshly, “Tomorrow, nine o’clock in the training hall.” When you said nothing, too flabbergasted to even respond, he simply downed his whiskey and ordered a new one. Well, Happy Halloween to you. It honestly seemed like this was going to be a promising night after all.

-

A/N: If you enjoyed this story, I would appreciate it so much if you considered supporting me on Kofi! It’s either for caffeine or red wine, I’ll take both. ko-fi.com/sserpente ♥

[arcadejohn127-9]

Can you do a headcannon with the undateables now dateables please?? 😁 with an mc that wears a ton of make up and one day she doesn't cuz she forgot and they are like astounded by mcs looks and compliment them and tell them they don't need to wear so much cuz they are beautiful! Thank you!!!

I'm sure you didn't mean it for it to be like this, but this ask has a "I got stuff that's internalised" vibes and so I'm going to make this a teaching moment.

To Everyone who follows, wearing makeup or not is up to you - how much you wear is your bussiness. Besides, what is considered 'alot' could be a natural look depending on how many products you use.

I personally don't use foundation or concealer, my face is spotless and smooth and I incorporate my eyebags into my eye looks. But there's still the amount of eyeshadow I use as contour, actual eyeshadow, eyeliner guide and even to add more vibrance or odd colours to my lips. I also use eyeliner. Which doesn't seem like alot but its full face look.

Your makeup is your business and you shouldn't shame those who do wear it or those who don't nor should you rely on a man or woman to tell you when you look good. Your always look good, period. The trope of girls who stops wearing loads of makeup turns out to be naturally pretty just links to a mindset that people who do wear makeup only wear it because their ugly or trying to hide their true appearance.

Which is stupid because unless you're going out your way to do face morph looks, makeup is used to enhance features you already have. It just helps to bring attention to how pretty your features are.

"they don't need to wear so much because they're beautiful!" You don't stop being beautiful when you put makeup on. Again how much you wear and what you do with your appearance is your bussiness.

But I think that's enough of me going on, let's actually get into this.

Diavolo:

"ah, what a surprise, you're not wearing your makeup today, did something happen?"

He looked at your curiously

You dissmivley waved your hand, smiling

"Oh-! Yeah- I forgot to do it this morning and didn't want to run late for class, that's all."

"you look stunning might I add without it, it's a refreshing change - that sounded rude...I didn't mean for it come out like that."

He immediately looked guilty

Hand over his mouth realizing his words, he his lips pursed

It looked like he was internally beating himself up about it

You decided to be nice, patting his shoulder, seeing he didn't mean for it come out like that

"You're right, I am stunning but yeah, I get what you mean, it's new and I look good without it but I also good in it! It makes me feel good and lets me show off my favourite features."

You used your hands to shape and point out said features

Diavolo intently watched your hands but still had a guilty and apologetic expression

"I see, forgive my rudeness I never intended to imply anything, I'm glad you have something that makes you feel confident and happy."

"it's okay, Dia, perhaps I can do a look on you aswell? Show you the appeal."

Diavolo could be a child at heart and he almost squealed

He has been interested by your makeup ever since you've arrived

But instead of letting himself show his full excitement he nodded, grinning

He was aware of his butler's eyes on him aswell as Lucifer's

"I'd be delighted to."

Barbatos:

"I had a feeling I'd see a surprise today, it appears it was you, is there a reason you've decided to not do your usual look?"

"it sounds silly but just forgot, I was so tired this morning I'm pretty sure I dreamed doing my routine and couldn't tell the difference."

You laughed at yourself, gently scratching your cheek

You were embarassed by how easily tricked you were by your tired mind but you couldn't really blame yourself

You haven't been sleeping much so after finally getting the best sleep in your life you were bound to get groggy

He smiled, tilting his head to the side

His eyes looked as if he was scolding you

"thats abit alarming, get your needed sleep though the change isn't uninvited, you're very pretty."

You could tell he meant no harm by his words

But you've dealt with situations similar to this where the person was being very passive aggressive

It made you feel bitter and have a need to explain yourself

"I'll be sure to sleep, thanks but this isn't going to be a permanent thing, I'm very much happy with my usual look! Makes me feel more pretty~ I don't think there's such a thing as being too pretty."

You both chuckled at your end statement

"Fair, I do not control what you do but I advise you stop spending so much with asmodeus, you're starting to sound like him - I have actually done makeup myself, perhaps you'd like to see some examples? I'm intrigued if you have any feedback or tips I could use."

"asmo is just truthful! But on a serious note, I'd actually love to see that and feel honoured you'd want my feedback! You better not back out on this."

Solomon:

"I almost didn't recognize you, what a stray from your usual look, it's very off brand - I'm afraid viewers might be displeased."

You couldn't help but smile

He was using an inside joke you two made

After refering to one of the years as a season you two started making a few jokes about it

But it became a habit and now you two just had a thing were you pretended you were self aware TV characters

"Oh no! We can't have the ratings go down! Haha- I don't look that different, don't be ridiculous, I think it's just your eyes old man."

You poked the side of his face, near his eye

He frowned, he let you have passes on calling him old due to favouritism

But still got grumpy when you joked and brought him his age

You did only say it to tease and if he got genuinely upset or mad about it you'd immediately stop

"I'm not old, just wise - just for that your fanbase has shrunk but sadly, your good looks will bring them back."

You had a light blush on your cheeks, waving your hand

Acting as if you've swooned for him you leaned against his shoulder

"you're so kind yet so mean~ but I'm sure they'll prefer my normal form than this one, I kinda feel naked without my makeup - it's almost shameful."

"don't say that so loud, who knows who'll turn up naked, I'd rather not experience that today."

You bursted out laughing

Meanwhile he looked like he was experiencing Flashback'

Simeon:

"I like the new look, it's very natural! but is that makeup or your actual-"

"My face is bare, I forgot to put it on, not really bothered today."

His slender finger was pointed to your face, squinting to see if he could see

You almost wanted to laugh but you just lazily shrugged your shoulders

"oh! You're still look just as beautiful, I can't believe I couldn't tell, ever since I saw your more extra looks I've been looking into makeup and I saw people could make it look like they weren't wearing any."

"Thanks but don't worry, I'm not Insecure without it or anything, just really enjoy it! - oh? You're looking into it? Is there any looks you like specially, some people are really amazing at looking extremely natural or being really artistic - it's amazing."

He nodded

"pardon me then, I didn't mean to imply anything I just saw how much bad press was around it all and wanted to say incase but yes, I'm extremely intrigued by high light! It's so sparkly!"

He looked apologetic before his expression turned into one of awe and inspiration

You smiled, happy to see he was interested in something you were already passionate about

It was good to see him wanting to learn and gain interest

"You're sweet Simeon but this human is very happy! I see~ let me do your makeup later or a day you're free, I can give you my extra shimmery high light to really make those cheekbones of yours pop!"

His eyes were sparkling so brightly

Grinning from ear to ear with excitement

"I'd love to! Please, I want you to show me all your amazing ideas."

Luke:

"Your face is different, you're not wearing makeup!"

"And your face is still childlike, you're correct though, I forgot to do it."

You both pouted at each other, glaring

The moment quickly ended as soon as he started to speak

"oh, I thought this was going to be a thing now....you're pretty, why do you wear it? You don't need to especially the amount you normally wear."

You frowned

Annoyed no one has taught him about this kind of thing and how what he was saying was rude

Mentally noting to speak to Solomon and Simeon about this

But you couldn't be too mad, he was a child

You decided to make this a reaching moment for the young angel

"Well you see Luke, anyone can wear makeup even if they're super confident with their features or super Insecure, it makes people feel good and extra attractive or it can make you look dead and gross - really up to the person - and I'm just someone who really likes wearing makeup and alot of it, what may seem like alot to others could be basic to others, it's all about your personal touch and wants."

"I see....I'm sorry I didn't really understand-"

He looked absolutely devastated

Ashamed and guilty and extremely apologetic

"It's okay, I know you're still learning about these things - hey, how about I do your makeup and we can see what you like?"

You lifted his puffy hat, ruffling the messy hair beneath it

He didn't even swat your hand away

He was too excited and relieved by what you were saying, he jumped up and down as his hands turned into fists

"Really?! I'd- I'd like that, I'll go ask Simeon if you can come over and do it for me! Maybe we can try out your kind of style?"

"Sounds perfect, now go ask~"

He hastily rushed off to find the older demon

You watched from slight afar him asking permission but gave simeon a 'we need to talk' look

[libra-kirishima]

Could I request some angst-to-comfort with Mirio? I've had a rough past few weeks. Feel free to make it as soul crushing as you want. Also, absolutely love your blog!

Your rough couple of weeks probably long since past by the time I'm getting around to this, but I hope you're doing better babe! Had more fun with this than I'd like to admit. Gender of the reader wasn't specific in the ask so I just went with fem reader. Hope that's ok!

Also includes the very slightest hint of manga spoilers but not to the point where it makes a difference.

You knew you shouldn't be alone.

All you wanted was to be alone, but as you heard the sound of footsteps gaining on you as you walked alone at night you knew you shouldn't be alone. You tried to walk faster, just hoping to make it that last stretch until you were safely back on campus, but you could tell it was no use.

"You shouldn't be walking alone at night like this." The person following you spoke, quickly catching up to walk by your side. You let out the breath you were holding when you saw that the person following you was just your boyfr-

Your ex-boyfriend. It was Mirio all along.

"It's not safe for you to be out this late. I don't want anything to happen to you, you know." He added, approach closer until your bicep touched his. His tone was surprisingly warm, with no hint of condescension. It took you off guard. You could tell that he really cared about you, and that realization hurt more than it should have.

"Get lost." You responded. "I don't want to hear anything you have to say to me.

"I'm not letting you walk all the way back to campus by yourself."

"Oh, now you care what I do?" You rolled your eyes at him stepping away so the two of you were no longer touching. Despite your anguish, you still longed for his contact again after you pulled away. "How did you know I was here anyways? Or where I was going for that matter."

"I saw you sneaking out by yourself, so I followed you."

"So you're stalking me?"

"No! Well, in this case yeah, but-"

"Why?"

"I told you that I didn't want anything to happen to you." You were clearly feeling argumentative, but he spoke back to you with a casualness that honestly made you jealous. You rolled your so hard that he was surprised they didn't fall out of their sockets.

"No, not that. Why do you always feel this weird need keep tabs on me in general? Following me around, pairing up with me for group projects, trying to sit next to me at lunch or in the common rooms, calling me and texting me constantly even when I said I never wanted to hear from you again."

"I just wanted the chance to talk to you." He admitted. "I want to tell you everything but you haven't even spare me a second glance."

"I don't want to hear anything you have to say." You repeated, turning away in hopes of ignoring the holes his stare were burning into your skin. You noticed that he drifted closer to you, so you were once again shoulder-to-shoulder. Despite retaining your anger, you allowed his touch to linger this time.

"Why?" He asked you sincerely. It was the first time he spoke to you in a way suggesting anything other than his typical optimistic nonchalance. You chose not to answer him, instead allowing the few steps to the front gate to be silent. You reached out to pull it open, but found it locked.

"Fuck me-" You groaned. Mirio moved to try the gate himself, though it still wouldn't budge.

"(Y/N)," He spoke again. "Please just talk to me. If you still hate me afterwards I understand. I know I hurt you. I wouldn't be able to forgive myself knowing that I hurt you irreversibly." For the first time since you noticed he was following you, you allowed yourself to really look at him. You felt the love he still had for you in his eyes. It was a gaze you missed, knowing that it was all for you. It made your heart ache with every second you stared at it. He wasn't yours anymore and it hurt to remember. You knew you shouldn't cave this easily, but you would allow yourself the indulgence for tonight.

"I'm going to try to find another way on campus. You have until I do to say whatever you need to. No exceptions. And if nothing changes when you're done you have to agree to leave me alone. Deal?" He nodded eagerly, chasing after you like a lost puppy as you began walking along the campus border.

"I- um- uh, this is a lot harder than I thought it would be." He scratched the back of his neck nervously. You shot back a sarcastic 'Is it?' to which he nodded. "I didn't think I'd get this far." He admitted. You shot him a bewildered look, watching the way he fiddled with his hands. Things you'd seen Amajiki do countless times but it was a strange look on Mirio. He was confident, bold, self assured even at his weakest points. It dawned on you that you must really mean something to him to be allowed to see this side of him. In the near three years you'd dated him, you'd only experienced him like this a handful of times. "I'm sorry." He finally spoke after a while.

"That's what you followed me out here to say?"

"I can't tell you enough times how sorry I am."

"You've told me that you're sorry countless times but do you know what you're sorry for? Do you care? Or are you just telling me what you think I want to hear?" You asked, too weak to continue making eye contact with him. You busied yourself feeling along the bars of the fence, no longer looking for anything in particular. The silence that passes makes you assume that you were right.

Part of you knew that that was the case all along.

So why did it hurt so much?

Would you seriously rather hear empty repetitive apologies? Did you really want to continue to be told what you wanted to hear without depth or meaning? No. It had nothing to do with anything he said. What you really wanted more than anything was your boyfriend back. But you wouldn't let yourself be used again. You didn't want to feel the sort of pain he put you through again. Your tears threatened to overflow right as he spoke.

"I'm sorry that I hurt you. I know I hurt you in so many ways and I can't take back any of them. That kills me to know, and I can't tell you how bad I feel about it. I'm sorry I pushed you away for so long. I was so afraid to tell you what I was feeling in the moments leading up to when we broke up. How much I hated myself for letting Eri go. How afraid I was that I couldn't save her. How hard it hit me after losing Sir Nighteye. I wanted to shield you from all of it. I was so afraid of losing everything that I pushed the most important person in my life away. I thought that keeping it all to myself would make things better for you, but they only made both of us feel worse." His way of speaking was a lot more composed than you would expect of him. He'd been thinking about all of this for so long. You stopped trying to keep yourself from crying. "When we broke up, in a way I did lose everything." He admitted sadly. "I'm sorry I didn't let you see me when I was in the hospital after I lost my quirk." He continued after a while. "I figured that you would think it was better than it actually was if I kept everything from you. I wanted so badly to keep you from being involved that I ruined the connection we had to each other. On that regard, I'm sorry I never told you that I got my quirk back. I figured you didn't want anything to do with me at that point since you wouldn't listen to me telling you I'm sorry. I didn't think that maybe you wanted to start with a normal conversation. I know you still care about me."

"I do." You said between sniffles.

"I know you do. And I took that for granted for so long. I'm sorry. I can't take that back but I can promise that I'll be better. I'm so glad that you still do. That's why I never stopped trying. If not now then I'd try to tell you I'm sorry until you stopped loving me."

"I can't." You confessed. It wasn't until now that you realized you were sat on the concrete crying. He had sat himself next to you, not fully hugging you but still rubbing soothing circles into your back.

"I'm sorry I threw away almost three years of our relationship so easily. And I'm sorry I spent so long blaming you for it. I should never have blamed you for refusing to put up with the pain I was causing you anymore. I'm sorry I didn't tell you all this sooner."

Mirio kept himself at a distance from you. A choice you appreciated and respected, but at that moment all you wanted was to be held. You leaned over and wrapped your arms around him, sobbing freely into his shoulder.

"I'm sorry too."

"For what?"

"I'm sorry I cut you off. I'm sorry I was so mean to you. I'm sorry if it seemed like I was trying to turn your friends against you with the way I talked about you. I'm sorry I never listened to you. I'm sorry you had to go through these lengths just to talk to me. I love you so much and I didn't want to be hurt anymore. I didn't know what else to do but I shouldn't have done that. I missed you so much that the only way I could think of moving on was to convince myself that I hated you."

"I miss you too." He whispered, placing a kiss on the crown of your head. "I miss being the one that has to wake you up in the morning. I miss being the first person to see your beautiful smile every day. I miss letting you pick the movie and then falling asleep on my chest halfway through. I miss you coming to dinner at my dad's house. I miss you sneaking into my dorm when you get lonely. I can never stay mad at you for long when I see you, even though you wake me up at 2 in the morning." You scrunched your nose up, but laughed softly at his words. "I miss that too. The way your nose would scrunch up like that. I miss hearing you laugh and making you smile. Knowing that I want to spend the rest of my life making you happy."

"Can we start over?" You asked wearily. He nodded, wiping his own tears away before flashing you the smile you loved so much.

"Yeah, I'd like that." He whispered.

You smiled into the crook of his neck before pulling away, leaning in to kiss your boyfriend once more.

[queenmuzz]

It’s a Date

@shiranyaaww​ shared this pic, and said that it would be perfect for a Dante x Reader fic, so who am I to refuse?

You’re not going to cry, you tell yourself.  There’s a tonne of reasons you shouldn’t.  Your makeup, that you spent a good half hour applying, will get smeared.  Your dress, which you had spent days picking out the cutest ensemble, will get ruined by tears.

And you definitely don’t want the patrons and waitstaff of an out of the way cozy restaurant you’d heard rave reviews about to see you blubbering like a beached whale.

“Pardon me miss,  would you like to order now?”  The waiter asks, the concern on his face now slipping past his professional veneer.

You fake a smile, “Just more water please, he shouldn’t be much longer.”  A lie, and he knows it, the patrons giving you pitiful glances know it, and worst of all, you know it.

But, whether out of denial, or a vain attempt to prolong the charade, you make a great show of picking up your phone and checking your texts.

5:32 PM: Hey there, I’m at Figaroni’s now.  A bit early, so I’ll just reserve us a table.  Can’t wait to see you!😘

5:56 PM: Still waiting!  Are you lost?  It’s kinda out of the way, if you need directions, I can send them to you.

6:22 PM: Could you please text me?  I just want to know if something came up, and you can’t make it.  I’m not upset, just worried.

And underneath each text is the cold line:  READ.

You scroll through your social media, attempting to see where he might be.  You had been so excited for tonight, your first and second dates had gone so well, you thought this one would be the one that would make you two an official couple.  But now, posted just a few minutes ago, is a pic of him and a few friends at the bar, taking a group selfie, with the caption.  

Bored, so went out to hang out with the buddies, gonna wake up with a horrible hangover for work but... #YOLO

You quickly turn your phone off, trying to pretend you hadn’t seen it.  He was just running late, that’s it.   It couldn’t be that he had just ghosted you and the date, so he could hang out with his buddies.  No, because that would mean you’d dressed up, primped up, and got all excited...for nothing.  And if it was for nothing, you had just been made a fool, a goddamn lovesick fool, all in front of everyone.  If you broke down now, you’d just confirm what they thought.  The best thing to do was to leave the waiter a nice tip for dealing with your behaviour, and run out of the restaurant, and try to not think about the conversations they’ll have about you.

But you’re just frozen on the spot, knowing that the moment you stand up, you’ve accepted to yourself that you’ve been strung along, treated like the fool that you are, and you can’t just handle it.  You’re between a rock and a hard place, emotionally.  The tears spill out…

“Hey, sorry about being late, babe traffic was absolutely disgusting!”  

A man sits down in front of you, and for the briefest moment, your heart leaps out of your chest hoping that you had been wrong, your boyfriend just posted a photo of an old party he went to a week or so ago.  But then, your heart falls.  It’s not him, in fact, it’s nothing like him.  He’s wearing a red leather coat, a casual shirt with what you hope aren’t blood stains on it, and worn finger-less gloves.  He looks completely out of place in this restaurant, and yet as you look through his silver white bangs into his blue eyes, he feels like he’s meant to sit in front of you all along.

But still, you’re emotionally guarded.  You don’t know this guy, never ever seen him in your life, and for all you know, he could be just out for a free meal, under the guise of pretending to be your absent boyfriend.

He notices your shocked expression, peeks around the nearby tables and then lowers his voice. 

“Name’s Dante.  I couldn’t see a pretty lil’ thing like you looking so sad and alone, so I decided to fix that. So, let’s just play it by ear.”

You want to say something, but then the waiter comes up, looking rather relieved, and asks you if you’re ready to order.  Despite having nearly an hour to peruse the menu, the sudden appearance of this man has thrown you off.

“I’ll have the Pizza Prosciutto e Funghi” he says, his pronunciation perfect, not even looking over the menu.  

The waiter nods, “Would you like it cooked your usual way, sir?”  

Dante smiles, and winks at you,  “Extra crispy?  You bet.”

The waiter turns to you, and you barely are able to blurt out what you would like, your voice cracking, your carefully prepared pronunciation mangled.  Neither the waiter, with his professionalism, nor your replacement date seems to notice.  The man does a bow and turns toward the kitchen.

“Don’t worry about paying,” your mysterious saviour says as he pulls out some bills from his coat pocket.  “Got paid today, and I have time to spend it before my brother starts complaining about what I do with it. So,” he says as he reaches out for a piece of bread out of the basket, “Let’s get to know each other.”

So over pizza and pasta, you and him traded your backgrounds.  You had told him about your job, your family life, your interests.  And unlike the guy he replaced, he listens intently, never interrupting, unless it was to ask for more info about something you said. And as you spoke, the pain, the self consciousness melted off of you.  By the time you started asking him, as he wolfed down yet another slice, about his life, you had felt the familiar flutter of butterflies in your stomach.

“I work for myself, it’s actually just become a family business.” He says, as he wipes his face and hands off with the napkin. “My nephew runs a mobile branch, smart kid, runs it better than I run my own business.”  His smile deepens as he reminisces, and his eyes seem to sparkle more in the candlelight. “My brother recently joined too, and although he can be a pain in the ass…” for one brief moment, a flash of regret passes over his face, before it's replaced back by his beautiful smile, “but I wouldn’t trade anything in the world for having him back.”  In the now dim evening light, you no longer notice his out of place clothes, his face is all that matters, from the whiskers on his chin, to that mane of white hair that you have to resist the urge to reach over and run your hands through.  So engrossed in him,  you’re actually a bit startled when the waiter comes to take your empty plates away.

“Try the strawberry gelato,” Dante suggests, “They make it right here, and it’s to die for.”  

His eyes light up at your expression as you try the delicious concoction,  “There, that’s what I like to see, a beautiful girl like you shouldn’t be made to cry.” He grins as he sneaks a spoonful of your dessert, “Don’t know what the douche bag thought was more important than spending time with you, but trust me, it wasn’t worth it by a long shot.”  You silently thank the candlelight for hiding your rapidly growing blush.

He pays the bill, leaving a hefty tip, (and compliments the waiter and the chef, you notice) and helps you put on your coat before escorting you outside.

“Thank you,” you murmur as you walk to your car.  It’s such a meager word to express what he’s done for you.  The dinner was the smallest bit, it was the way he saved you from social embarrassment, and turned a mortifying situation into an experience that you would treasure for a lifetime.  Your only regret is that this will be a one time thing.  You shouldn’t get your hopes up, he only did it because he pitie-

“Here,” he smiles as he hands you a piece of credit card sized paper.  “I know it’s my business card, but it’s also my home phone number.  Call, and just ask to speak to Dante and say the password.  I’d love to do this again, if you want.  I know this place that makes some mouthwatering burgers…”

And with that, he walks off to his bike, hops on, and with a click of his tongue and a dashing smile, he pulls out with a squeal of tires into the night.

Only when he’s out of sight, do you read the card with trembling hands in the dim light of a nearby streetlamp.

Devil May Cry

And written hastily on the bottom, is a messy scrawl of words:

Password: It’s a date.

[jaminjims]

heartbeat || p.jm

@jiminiestanposts requested: Hiii, could I request a top male reader x bottom jimin please?? Where the reader likes jimin but jimin doesn’t like him back. After a few months, though, jimin gets jealous when the reader and another member seem close, and this is when he realises that he loves the reader. Angst at the beginning, but fluffy at the end when reader and jimin get together😊 Thank youuuuuu!! 💜💜💜

a/n: ahh its been awhile hasn’t it? over the past few months sooo much has changed for me! i’m getting into the colleges i applied to (hallelujah) and i’m almost done with the college craziness (hopefully)! i’m so sorry this is posted so late, but my computer broke a few months ago and is still broken, so i had to write this using my phone (which was icky) but i hope my writing skills aren’t too rusty. thank you so so so much to the lovely jiminiestanposts for requesting and i hope this is what you were looking for bub! (also, i hope everyone has had a good holiday and is staying healthy!) 💖💖

pairing: jimin x male danceinstructor!reader

genre: angsty at the beginning, christmas fluff at the end <3

words: 2.1k

warnings: unrequited love (at the beginning), sadness, jealousy

~**~

Your hands were numb as you walked into the BigHit building. This winter has been grueling and even you can admit to being a baby when it comes to the cold.

You shrugged off your jacket and pulled off your hat once you entered one of the many dance practice rooms that BigHit had within its walls. Setting up the sound system was almost second nature as you were rounding the three month mark of being one of BigHit’s dance instructors. You technically weren’t supposed to be promoted as early as you were (you had been working as a back-up dancer for only a year before being promoted) but one of the instructors was on leave because his wife gave birth, and it quickly became apparent that the dance staff needed another set of hands for teaching.

But the other dance instructors didn’t look down on you for being promoted out of necessity, as did any of the other background dancers. They agreed that out of all of them, you were one of the most talented because of the sheer amount of power you held over your body and the dominance that you portrayed when you were dancing. Because of the talent you held, you were assigned to work with BTS themselves.

Today however you were working with the trainee’s because Miyoung, a fellow instructor, got sick with the flu and needed someone to take over. You were glad to help, but most of the trainee’s weren’t glad that you were teaching. You’ve been told that the way you taught was really hardcore and labor intensive, especially to people who don’t train with you often, but you just wanted them to be the best they could be.

The trainee’s didn’t see it that way.

So when the time came when you announced that practice was over, all of the younglings dropped to the ground and heaved out groans of relief. You could’ve sworn some even fall asleep.

It was then that Jimin decided to peak his head into the door of the practice room and smile at the scene. The trainee’s all scrambled to their feet to greet him but he just smiled and told them to rest. They made their way out of the room, thanking you timidly as they went.

Jimin started walking over to you and your heart skipped a beat. “Hyung! I thought we talked about working the young ones to death!” He laughed and you would’ve felt lightheaded if you weren’t leaning against the mirrored wall.

“If they wanna be as good of a dancer as you, Jiminie, then I have to be hard on them.” You laughed, still a bit out of breath.

Jimin just hit you on the shoulder and scoffed, “You are better than me 100 percent, hyung.”

You swore this boy was out to kill you.

Park Jimin was perfection in human form. While you wholeheartedly agreed that everyone in BTS was handsome (you had no qualms admitting it out loud) Jimin just did something to you that the other boys didn’t. His personality was nothing to look over, either. All Jimin had to do was be himself and you were there at his beck and call.

Ever since you had started working as BTS’ personal dance instructor, it was like a part of you that you didn’t know was missing fell into place. You had become fast friends with all of them, and there was a certain calmness you felt around them. They were like a family, and you were surrounded by that positive energy almost instantly and brought into their circle.

For a while you passed off your growing affection for Jimin as that. You were enveloped by the good vibes they gave off and that was how you rationalized suddenly wanting to be around Jimin. Hold his hand, make him smile.

But eventually you had to face the music. When your thoughts started to stray to him whenever you had any free time, or when you fantasized about kissing him, taking care of him, you knew what had happened.

You were falling head first in love with this man. (if you weren’t in love with him already)

Yet, you were also scared of what the implications of that were. You started to question yourself more. How does he feel about you? Is he even interested like you are? Does he feel the connection you do? There were so many questions and sometimes your feelings got overwhelming. There have been a couple close calls when you almost confessed just to get it off your chest.

But it’s not like you could just go around confessing your love to one of the members of the world’s biggest boy band.

You almost jumped when you felt a head on your shoulder. You looked down and got a face full of Jimin’s hair and you felt your skin burn where his bare arm touched yours.

He suddenly looked up at you with his big doe eyes and a pout on his face, “What’s on your mind? Are you ok?”

No, you were not ok and he was the reason.

You tried to sort through your thoughts as he looked at you like that, but all you could hear was your heartbeat all the way up in your throat. You were suddenly overcome with the strong urge to kiss him and pull him into a hug so you could protect him from the world. You battled with yourself as the both of you looked into each other’s eyes.

Screw it.

You pushed yourself off the wall (causing Jimin to stand up straight as well) and leaned down before you had the chance to chicken out (where this sudden braveness and affection came from, you would never know). Your lips met his soft ones as you grabbed his head in between your much larger hands.

It was sweet and soft, and you had no intention of deepening it if he didn’t want it. A few seconds went by before you felt his tiny hands push against your chest.

You leaned back and looked into his shocked eyes. Your hands were still cupping his cheeks as he struggled to make a sentence, “Y-Y/n I-“

You interrupted him; you had to let your feelings be known. It was unfair to both of you at this point, and you felt like you were going to explode. Besides, you were already to far over the edge to stop now. “I love you. I am in love with you, Park Jimin.”

His eyes widened even more than before and his mouth parted in disbelief. The room seemed to hold its breath with you as you waited for his response. After a few seconds he stepped back with a frown on his face.

Oh.

“I’m sorry Y/n, but I don’t feel the same.”

Oh.

He left the room, almost slamming the door behind him. In his place was the love that would never be reciprocated.

So much for not confessing.

~~

It had been two months, three weeks, and six days since you confessed. Not that Jimin was counting or anything though.

After the Confession of 2020™️, as he had dubbed it, he’s felt rather misplaced. He doesn’t really know how to describe it.

After he had left the practice room that day, Jimin almost ran back to the dorms. His mind was on overdrive and he didn’t even know what to think, let alone feel.

You loved him. Not like, but love.

He couldn’t fathom how you, the dancer that got promoted in a year (that was a record), the guy that fit in so easily with him and his brothers, the one who had such a deep voice it made something inside him tremble, was in love with him. He was angry at first; how could you just say something that monumental, just out of the blue like that? What was Jimin even supposed to say? The lack of regard you seemed to have for his feelings on the matter made him angsty and upset.

What made him stop and think was the fact that you had pretended like nothing had ever happened.

You went back to treating him like you did before and didn’t bring it up again. But, there was a certain air about you. You seemed sad, and if you were a little more distant than usual, Jimin pretended not to know why when it was brought up one night while BTS was having dinner.

But after thinking about this for longer than he would like to admit, he realized that you only had his feelings in mind.

You decided to not let your feelings get in the way of your relationship with the others. You acted like nothing happened because he had rejected you, and you didn’t want him to feel uncomfortable.

Jimin felt like an ass after he figured it out. Of course you would be that considerate, that’s just the type of person you are.

The kind of awkward ‘what happens now’ energy surrounding you both went on for a couple more weeks, but it was when Jimin saw you in the practice room, lights off, head down, and shoulders shaking that he realized maybe you weren’t as ok as you made yourself out to be.

He wanted to go in and check on you, apologize, do something to make sure you were ok.

In the end, he didn’t.

Maybe that’s why, months later, he felt an uncomfortable prickly sensation deep in his gut when he saw you leaning against Hobi-hyung, laughing with tears in your eyes.

Yeah, he just felt guilty. Nothing else.

Yet that same prickly feeling only amplified when he saw you hanging out with Hoseok, dancing with him, grabbing lunch with him. Jimin didn’t get it.

All he knew was that he wanted you here with him instead of his hyung. He wanted you to be laughing, dancing, and eating with him, not anyone else. All of a sudden you were the one that he was thinking about. What were you doing at the moment? Were you smiling? Suddenly he missed your smile. Were you happy? Now he wanted to talk with you, to make you laugh.

This was getting ridiculous.

It was Christmas Eve, but Jimin was anything but cheery as he saw you hugging Hobi in greeting, thanking him for letting you spend the night on Christmas.

Was it just him or could he see you blushing?

All of a sudden, without really knowing what he was doing, Jimin pulled you away from Hoseok and marched you both into his room. You were surprised at the action and a little concerned as you looked at Jimin’s agitated face.

“Hey, are you alright? What’s up Jiminie?”

His heartbeat sped up.

You frowned when he didn’t answer your question. You put your head to his forehead because he looked a little red. “Are you sick? You don’t feel like you have a fever.”

Jesus christ, was this what it felt like to you when he would do anything? He could barely hear you over the sound of his own heartbeat. He wouldn’t be surprised if you could hear it too.

Your eyes softened when you saw tears at the corners of his eyes. You whipped at them softly, “Hey, whatever is bothering you, you can tell me.”

It was quiet for a minute and just as you thought he wasn’t going to answer, Jimin inhaled sharply.

“I love you.”

You paused, short-circuiting for a minute as you processed what he said.

He stepped closer to you, “I love you, L/n Y/n.”

His lips timidly met yours and before you knew what you were doing, you were kissing him back, full of passion.

You put every once of love, sadness, everything into the kiss to try to convey what you couldn’t say in words. You put your hands on his cheeks and tried to push him closer.

Once the two of you parted for air, you looked into his eyes. “God, I love you so much. Park Jimin, you have no idea what you do to me.” Both of you were a blushing mess.

A very small part of you wanted to be angry at him. He made you go through all that heartache, for what? But you would worry about that later; right now, you just wanted to be close to him.

You pulled him into a hug and his small hands found their place at your sides, tugging you closer. Jimin giggled into your chest, feeling lighter than he has in the last few months. “Merry Christmas, Y/n.”

You kissed his head, a giddy smile on your face. “Merry Christmas, Jiminie.”

[end]

~**~

end note: for some reason i love this fic so much!! maybe it’s because it’s my slow progression back into writing for them, but something about this one hits me in the feels (in a good way). i hope you guys have an amazing new year (here’s to hoping 2021 is bounds better than 2020!!🥂) and christmas break. again, thank you so so much to jiminiestanposts for the amazing prompt! and i want everyone to know that i support them and that they are loved 💖💜❤️

masterlist

request something!

taglist: @boba-tea1206​

[quietlyimplode]

drugged + (Do you write Laura?). Maybe Clint and Nat came back from a mission and although Nat seemed okay, Laura finds her during the night not doing so well.

Hello Anon! Thanks for sending this one through. This was supposed to be a drabble that turned into 1800 words so uhh thanks?

Also @paperairplanesopenwindows this was completey written with you in mind. I hope the rest of the month is kinder.

.

Kind Words.

Laura drys her hands and smiles at the now familiar sounds of the quinjet landing. Clint’s home. And if she’s very lucky, Natasha will be here too. She stands at the door with Cooper in her arms, his squashy baby face outwards on the baby carrier, his arms and legs free. Clint has been trying to make it home more to see him grow, she knows he’ll be devastated if he misses milestones, but as she’d confessed to Natasha, he was missing them anyway.

She walks out on the driveway, and down the stairs, watching as Clint appears down the ramp, Natasha trailing behind him. They’re both smiling, which she takes as a good sign. She frowns in the sunlight and thinks it may have been the trick of the light to see Natasha suck in a big breath, because when she looks again, nothing is wrong.

They greet each other with hugs and kisses and she passes Cooper across to the two of them, stretching her back and sitting down for the first time that day.

It’s a quiet affair, their homecoming, and she thinks she likes it better that way. She ruffles Clint’s hair; tells him he needs a shower as he pouts and asks her to join him. Laura concedes as Natasha offers to take the baby, the first shower she’s had baby-less in almost six weeks. It’s bliss.

She’s quiet as she heads downstairs, and finds Natasha staring. Not just lost in her own world, but it takes three goes of her name to get her attention. Laura frowns again. That is not at all like Natasha, who always at least acknowledges her on the first. She’s been able to get Cooper to sleep, and Laura smiles, wiping the concern off her face, tells her she’s magic and offers her some tea.

Natasha watches and they lapse into easy conversation, the goings on of the farm, the chickens and horse, right down to the vegetables Laura has been growing. She hopes this is a safe place for Natasha, that she doesn’t have to hide anything, because Laura distinctly gets the feeling that’s what’s happening.

She presents Natasha with the tea, Clint checking in on them before heading out into the garden, there’s nothing like seeing the land rather than just hearing about it. She talks softly to Clint, asking him to much out the chicken coops even though it’s almost 5pm, it’s a small job that will help in the long run. He pouts and kisses her telling her he’ll be an hour.

Laura returns to her chair, finding Natasha gone but the steaming mug of tea still there. Laura sighs. Nothing like a ninja assassin in her midst. She picks up her phone and scrolls through it, losing time on stupid things but liking the abstract company whilst the baby sleeps.

When she realises it’s almost hit 6pm, concern for Natasha sends a cold shiver down her back, unsure whether to go look for her or let her be. She has no idea how long it’s been since she’s had time to herself, and she doesn’t want to ruin that if all she has had lately is people around her.

Making a decision to start dinner instead, she sets the mince on the stove and spaghetti in the saucepan and makes an easy dinner that she knows both of them love. Cooper wakes with a cry and snort and she pulls him into the high chair, feeding him like normal; just the two of them. Clint wanders in as the spaghetti finishes and they move around the kitchen with practiced ease, finishing cooking dinner and providing simple entertainment that only babies like.

They share a look when Natasha doesn’t appear for dinner and Laura asks if there’s anything she should know. Clint shrugs and shakes his head, making Laura frown. Twice in the six hours they’ve been back, she’s seen Natasha space out and that just when she’s been in the same room, now she’s been missing for almost three hours, she just wants to know she’s ok.

Stomping up the stairs and leaving Clint to have some floor time with Cooper, she checks the bedrooms and the upstairs space, not finding Natasha anywhere. Nervousness curls in her guts as she sends a message to her, and hears the vibration of a phone in Natasha’s room. Poking her head in again she sees the phone on the nightstand.

Laura hurries back down stairs and tells Clint she’s missing. She could be lost, cold or passed out from an untold injury, for all Laura knows. Clint laughs it off and says she’s fine, she probably just gone for a run. He maintains that nothing has happened in any mission over the past two weeks that would make Natasha on edge or even remotely triggered. He says it with such conviction that it makes Laura go from frantic to pissed off in a matter of seconds as she moves outside, the cold air hitting her making her wish she had a coat.

She tries the chickens first, and then the barn. With no luck she looks around the farm in twilight and spies the light of the quinjet door.

She calls out, hoping that it’s nothing like Clint said. She doesn’t think so though. Sometimes, he just doesn’t understand. Sometimes it needed to be Laura.

There’s no response as she makes her way inside, as she navigates to the cockpit, she finds Natasha curled in the seat, asleep.

Laura smiles. She sits down next to her on the other chair and sends Clint a message she’ll be here if he needs any help with Cooper. He sends a thumbs up back and she rolls her eyes.

A little after 9, Natasha shifts in her chair and looks over to Laura whos sharp eyes are watching her every movement.

“Hey.” She says, softly. Natasha lips curl up in a smile that doesn’t even touch any of her other features.

“What’s wrong Nat?” She asks, before anything else can be said.

Natasha turns away and has her face schooled when she turns again.

“Nothing.” She replies.

Laura looks at her, piecing eyes break through Natasha’s now glassy ones, unaccustomed to being the one under this much scrutiny.

“Did something happen?” Laura asks, ready to play twenty questions.

“No?” Laura’s eyesbrows raise around the negative answer that’s clearly positive. “Yes?”

Natasha drops her head into her hands.

“Nothing happened.” Natasha groans. “Nothing’s wrong.”

Laura doesn’t respond. There’s a sadness or maybe frustration that’s oozing from Natasha. She knows she’s asking the wrong questions.

“Did Clint do something?” She loves her husband but sometimes he is an idiot. She doesn’t think he’d do anything deliberately, but she knows that Natasha’s head can be a minefield, and so a small part of her wonders if this separation from him in the house is Natasha’s way of getting space from him and trying to work it out in her own. She knows she’s close to the mark as Natasha closes her eyes and tips her head back, pushing it against the headrest.

“What did he do?” She asks quietly.

Natasha doesn’t respond but keeps her eyes closed. A tear slips out to which she furiously wipes away.

“Nothing.” She gets out with a stuttering huff.

“Hey,” Laura reaches over and grabs Natasha hand. “If he’s done something, anything, you can say it. It’s ok,” she squeezes her hand. “Ok?”

Natasha shakes her head.

“It’s not him. It’s me. It’s always me.” The hand not holding Laura’s hand comes up and covers her face.

Laura’s heart breaks for her, she keeps hold of her hand and squeezes it again.

“Hey.”

When she doesn’t get a response, she gently pulls the arm away.

“Hey. This is not on you. If there’s something he did, he needs to know not to do it again, yeah? If it hurts, if it hits hard, it’s important?”

Natasha is silent, perhaps contemplating Laura’s words.

“It’s stupid.” She whispers. “Please don’t tell him.”

Laura rubs her her thumb over Natasha’s knuckles.

“It’s not stupid.” She assures.

“He yelled.” Natasha admits. “He was yelling at Peter and Wanda for doing something stupid, I don’t even know what,” she exhales deep, “and it just sent me back. Yelling always lead to pain, and I don’t… didn’t want that for them. I can’t stop thinking about it, and when I do I get stuck.” Natasha finally looks over to Laura.

“It’s not his fault. He wasn’t wrong.” And then quieter. “Please don’t tell him.”

Laura isn’t really sure what to do.

She’s not sure if Clint has realised. Feels that he would have said something if he felt she was off. He hadn’t known. Natasha is far too good at hiding her feelings and she never wants her to feel like she has to do that here. Whether it be with her or Clint, she wants her to be able to say something.

“I’m not going to say anything.” She whispers.

Natasha looks at her, face blanked.

Laura continues, “Nat, your triggers are nothing to be ashamed of, the fact that you’ve survived all that you have is a miracle and amazing in itself and I am so so glad you are here. Sometimes though, you need to say something, and not battle through yourself. If you don’t want to tell Clint, you can always come to me.” She squeezes her hand again.

“Ok?”

Natasha nods. Laura’s sure her words are lost, and shame is overriding everything, but the words bare saying.

“Do you wanna come in or do you wanna stay here?”

Natasha shrugs.

“I have to go out Cooper to bed, but if you choose to stay here I’ll come back with blankets and some food. If you wanna come in, the house is warm and there’s food ready.”

She kisses Natasha’s hand, and as she leaves, she feels Natasha follow behind her.

She slows her pace and they walk comfortably back to the house.

“Thanks.” Natasha says, over the crickets.

Laura opens the door for her and smiles.

“Hey. Sometimes you just need to talk it out right?”

Natasha nods, there’s still an air of sadness around her but she seems more out together than when she’d left Laura alone with the cup of tea.

They don’t say anything as they find Clint wrestling Cooper in his onesie. Laura laughs.

“I can help.” She says, relieving him and tag teaming out. She puts the TV on and points to the food on the table, giving Natasha something to do away from where Clint is.

She hands Cooper back to Clint and sends them off to bed. “Good luck,” she grins, hugging them both.

“She ok?” Clint whispers as he holds her close. Laura nods her head into him.

The night ends quietly, with Clint snoring on the couch, and Natasha watching television, some balance restored.

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