#i was super dizzy and felt like i was going to faint the entire time

[phthalominekitty]

glass danse.

9/1/2001

my favorite band is the faint. just so you know.

there was anticipation, and it was building all the more as i packed up the car. i remembered my cell phone and the batteries for the hello kitty cd player. what a pity that the big gaping hole where the radio should be didn't just spout music. good music. batteries were a necessity. when you're driving three hundred miles to see a band play, you want music to get you jumping in the car seats instead of driving automaton style. the midwest does not exactly provide breathtaking scenery. sandy was ready and waiting when i picked her up, and we started off with a lot of money and a full tank of gas.

it was a long drive. sandy played navigator in the front seat, and we listened to tapes of goth rock, billy idol, and random mixes of sophie-ness. from six months ago.

when we finally got to urbana, illinois, we were a bit suprised to see it had a twin: champaign. that brought the population to around 90,000. jackson has around 70,000. both jackson and urbana/champaign are college towns. so it was like a metro jackson. we got into town at five o'clock. the traffic was horrible, but we finally found the venue… if you could call it that. it took asking for directions in a gas station before we realized that it was inside the university student union building. since we had the important location down, we took on the task of finding an affordable motel. i was too lazy to search, so we did travelodge. it cost us fifty bucks to stay the night, but we had two beds and hbo, so it was all good.

sandy and i showered, then donned our concert costumes. my fairly normal attire consisted of tan plaid pants, turquoise tank top, black-laced converse, and a light brown cardigan that was super tight. the cardigan that is the bearer of my eighties pinback buttons. heehee. sandy wore a red tank top and gray tech skirt, red sparkle tights and black maryjanes. we were stylin'. until we stepped out and it started to rain. by the time we arrived at the show's location, we were half-soaked and a bit fed up. at least i was, but what could i have done? i didn't even think to bring an umbrella…

anyway, the people filtered in. everyone looked like they'd come out of the same emo mold. nearly all the girls looked boring. all the boys were in thick black glasses. trainers and flight bags and cropped pants were everywhere. dyed black hair was everywhere. little denim jackets were everywhere. the first band was defender, and they sucked ass. the second band was dms. they sucked ass too. both of them sounded like they were trying to be like the faint, only without vocals. that just made them suck more. everyone just bobbed their heads and stood around trying to look hip-trendy-and-cool. so that's when i bought my merchandise.

there was one point where i took a quick trip to the bathroom and proclaimed loudly "if people don't dance, i'll be pissed. this is getting pathetic." the one goth girl there overheard, and said nothing. maybe she wasn't planning on dancing. i suppose that statement was a foreshadowing of sorts for the rest of the night.

when the faint came on, started setting up, the entire crowd pushed forward. i said, "fuck it", and went to the back. the music started. "hi, we're the faint". and i danced. sandy danced. i have no words for that, it was just… perfect. my eyes hit the sky, the stage, the red flashing lights as i spun. i jumped, i moved, i was magic and i FELT IT. it hit me so hard, i was dizzy with euphoric bliss. it was so… it was fucking awesome.

but guess what? NO ONE DANCED. three other people danced besides sandy and i. there was little movement in the crowd. those people made me confused. how could they go to a faint show and not dance? it could have made my night worse, but it made it better. "i'll show you". so i dismissed them, and i danced better, the music was louder, the feeling was stronger. i flew across the floor. people stared. how near perfect it was. if only i wasn't surrounded by deadbeats. but oh well. no matter. i was the one having a better time. and that may or may not be true, but i tell myself that because i can.

i've never danced better in my life, god.

i've never seen a better show than this, god.

when they closed with "worked up so sexual", i was ready, and i cheered. i clapped my hands and jumped. cliche as it was, i jumped for joy. there was a smile on my face, and it'd been there for as long as the faint was up there on that little stage. the boy dancing next to us (god bless him!) greeted us. we voiced our annoyances at the listless crowd and went our separate ways. sandy and i didn't bother to stick around to talk to the band. every single band member was immediately enveloped in a swarm of black-haired girls, all except the lead singer who had mysteriously disappeared. he was hot. i wouldn't have minded talking to him, but i don't think our marriage is in the stars.

we listened to "danse macabre" six times on the way home, and "blank-wave arcade" twice. we were rocking and i don't even register locking the keys in the car at the gas station fifty miles away from jackson (we got the window down and found them in a weird place wedged in between the seats). i don't even register teasing the blonde chicks in the tan car (we passed them, waved and blew kisses, then wouldn't let them pass us again. they were pissed).

i just remember that it was more than worth everything.

[apollo3-1-5]

guys pray for me that i didn’t get covid from mcr boston

[maximoffslilwitchintraining]

Since you’re asking…Wandanat x reader where reader faints because she forgot to eat and Wanda and Natasha find her when they returne home from a mission and they get super worried and a lot of cuddles, love, overprotection.

Thank you so much <3

A/N: thanks for the request <3 I hope you like it!

Word count: 1177

Warnings: panic attack, gn reader, otherwise fluffy

You finally closed your laptop after hours of non stop working. You had started early in the moring and it was now lunch time. All you remebered was kissing your girlfriends goodbye and then letting your work consume you, in order to not spend every minute worrying about the two. It was only a small mission and they were bound to be back by the end of the night, however that did not stop your brain from going over every single way the mission could go sideways. So it was hyperfixate on work or worrying yourself sick with fear that Wanda or Nat might be hurt, at this very moment. Understandably you chose the former.

You took a quick trip to the bathroom, before collapsing on the bed again. Your head felt fussy and a headache was coming on. You thought you better get some water, but within mere seconds sleep took you.

When you woke up it was already 6pm, you had slept for a good six hours and yet when you opened your eyes you only felt drowsy and disoriented. You chalked it up to the off sleep schedule, but as you started to rise you only felt worse. Once on your feet the room spun and you had to sit back down. You weren’t unused to dizzy spells, but before you had the chance to realise this wasn’t normal, your eyes went dark and you fell to the floor.

“Dekta! Are you okay?” Natashas panicked voice was the first thing you heard, before opening your eyes. You looked around in confusion. The two girls watched over you with horriified expressions, but let out a sigh of relief as you regained consiousness. You groaned as you started to sit up

“Careful.” Wanda watched your every move, arms out around you.

“How long was I out?” Wanda held on to you as she helped you onto the bed.

“No clue sweetheart, we found you like this when we got home.” You looked over to the clock, now rembembering the moment you passed out. It must have been mere minutes, your girlfriends timing it just right. You looked down, feeling bad that they had to find you like that.

“Y/N, when was the last time you ate?” You contemplated. You hadn’t. It hadn’t been intentional, but not entirely unintenional either. Though skipping one meal was one thing, all though acidental, not eating or drinking water all day was no good. They knew you had a tendency to skip meals,sometimes on purpose and sometimes out of forgetfulness.

“I- umm..” You look away trying to avoid looking them in the eye. You were incapable to them. However telling the truth seemed harder, you didn’t want them to worry, nor were you particularly excited to see the disappointment on their faces. Natasha sighed, your silence confirmed their suspicion.

“You haven’t eaten at all, have you?” Wanda spoke, placing her hand on your knee, squeezing slightly.

“I’m sorry.” Tears started rolling down your cheeks. Why did you always do this kind of stuff. It seemed like they always had to babysit you, and the guilt was slowly creeping up on you. They deserve better. With that thought you let out a sob, as that familiar tightness made it’s way from your chest and wrapped around your throat.

“Hey, no. You don’t need to be sorry. It’s not your fault.” Wanda pulled you close to her squeezing you in a tight hug.

“These things happen dekta, but we’ll figure it out, okay.” You wanted to respond to Nat, but your voice was gone and you were struggling to breathe.

“Y/N, deep breaths baby. Slowly.” Natasha placed her hand on your chest helping you slow down.

“You’re okay. We’re here and we’re not going anywhere.” Wanda’s voice is calm and soothing, as she strokes you back.

“Dekta, you are not a burden to us. We are here because we want to be. We love you and we will help you figure out how to make sure these things don’t happen.” You nod, giving her a weak smile.

“Sometimes the whole mind reader girlfriend thing is really helpful.” You joke wanting to lighten the mood.

“Mmm a real pain in the ass when trying to plan a surprise though.” Natasha chuckles. Earning a slight shove from Wanda.

“Alright, it is not my fault Y/N’s thoughts are so loud, they really can’t keep a secret.” She looks over to you lovingly, giving you a wink.

“I get excited about suprises.” You say, smiling now as you wipe the tears off your face.

“That’s one of the many things I like about you.” Nat smiles, making your chest all warm.

“Are you feeling better now?” Wanda asks as she runs her hands through your hair and you nod snuggling up to her.

“Much better.”

“Okay why don’t you and Natasha get comfortble on the bed and I’ll go get us all some food.” Wanda smirked looking down at you, realising you weren’t really ready let her leave. You pouted as she got up, but before you could complain Natasha threw herself on you, pushing you down on the bed.

“Hey!” You faked offence, but started to giggle as she held you tight, peppering kisses all over your face.

“I’ve missed you, and I need my daily Y/N cuddles you know.” She gave you a smirk.

“Oh I’m sorry how rude of me.” You climbed up the bed getting comfortble as she settled in your arms. You laid there in silence for a bit just enjoying the warmth.

“Dekta.” Nat was the first to speak again. You just hummed in response keeping your eyes closed. “Please promise me to be more careful in the future, I can’t loose you and neither can Wanda.” You hear the hurt in her voice as she says those words, and it’s painful, but you understand why she says it.

You look up at her pushing back the tears before placing a hand on her cheek.

“I promise.” You say and she nods, kissing the palm of your hand.

“Alright, I have returned with food.” Wanda walked in with a smile on her face. She proceeds to spread out a variety of snacks as well as leftovers from last nights dinner, on the bed.

“Wow.” You smile at all the food, while making room for Wanda to settle next to you. She’s quick to hand you the bowl of leftovers and you dig in right away.

“Thank you baby.” You say through a mouthful, making Wanda laugh.

“What should we watch?”

“Oh can I pick, please?” Wanda pouts.

“Anything you want, my love.” Nat and you share a smile as you watch Wanda excitedly hurry off to get the dvd. She’s quick back to pop in the dvd and get back in bed.

“I finished my food.” You Smiled at Wanda as she cuddled into your side.

“Good job, dekta.” She kissed your cheek.

“I love you both.”

Natasha kisses your temple.“We love you too dekta.”

[euphoricsunflowers]

aftercare — monsta x

request: Hey could I please request a headcanon/reaction with a male reader about aftercare with each monsta x member also possibly please make super fluffy n soft? (love your blog btw xx)

a/n: thank you so much nonnie 🥺❤️ hope you enjoy! this is very much with a focus on them in their little individual scenarios but pls let me know if you’d like to see a more reader focused version or if instead of this little scenarios you’d just want headcanons about aftercare with them individually in general (i think that was more what you originally wanted but idk this was just easier for me to write so just let me know if you’d rather me write actual headcanons)!!!

word count: 1.1k

content: sub!monsta x, dom!gn!reader, these are all still nsfw and some stuff have smutty intros to the little scenarios, just general aftercare stuff like cleaning them up, giving water, giving massages, offering food, etc.

—

son hyunwoo/shownu:

he shudders, body still twitching with little aftershocks of pleasure as he lies there, practically paralyzed by the cloudy feeling in his head and the heavy, comfortable ache in his limbs, “sweet bear,” you murmur with a kiss to his forehead, he smiles softly, “let me clean you up.”

he lies still as the warm cloth rubs gently against his skin, wiping off the mess that came with the intense kind of sex you had just had. it was incredible, but you both came out of it with a mess.

but shownu can’t exist in this world without caring for someone at any given moment, and so as quickly as the high completely dies down and you’re done cleaning him up, he offers to help you. he’s still aching with pain, so you try not to let him, but he’s insistent, and at some point you just gotta give in. you let him clean you up as you kiss little pecks of love onto his cheek, his chin, his temple, even his nose. he laughs endearingly, and all is comfortable. conversation is light, just soft little ‘i love you’s and little giggles of happiness.

though he’ll probably, in the awkward yet charming shownu fashion, ask to go get food soon after. 

lee hoseok/wonho:

his jaw hangs open with his pretty eyes closed as he takes in the overwhelming pleasure, shaking from a high that’s left him breathless. he has just enough mind left to remember that he could break the headboard if he isn’t careful with his muscled arms tied above his head. you both had to learn the hard way before just how strong he really was.

his heavy breaths are the only sounds that fill the room as you give him a moment to get himself together enough for you both to shower. you press faint little kisses on his hand or his shoulder as you wait patiently. there’s no rush, and besides, he’s quite the view like this.

your hand massages his chest absentmindedly the moment you can see those thoughts return to him, “was i- was i good? did you even cum? we can keep going, i don’t mind-”

“you can’t handle any more, sweetheart. let it go,” you cut him off, a soft smile on your features, “you were good. you’re always perfect to me.”

lee minhyuk:

cum splattered on his trembling torso leaves him looking so deliciously wrecked, not to mention the look of desperation and helplessness permanently etched on his face. his wrists are bruised from all the struggling in those handcuffs, and his poor butt will be stinging with an ache that won’t leave him for a week at least.

but he looks content as you wipe the cum off of him, helping him to the bathroom where you can clean him up properly. he watches you blankly with dazed eyes and a dopey little smile as you focus so intently, he’s endeared by how much you care every single time.

“baby,” you whisper to him, so spaced out and happy that you have to wave your hand in front of his face to get his attention, “let’s get you dressed. i’ll order us food, and we can have a movie night. how does that sound?”

yoo kihyun:

tears stain his cheeks as he hiccups, crying as he cums for the third time that night. he begs for that to be the last one because it felt like if he had to keep going his body would just break. he clings to your arm as you hush his crying, cum covering his stomach and thighs and the towel underneath him. he doesn’t even have it in him anymore to be embarrassed, the little tingles of pleasure rippling through him as the high subsides.

“kihyun, darling,” you say, running your fingers through his hair. he’s too sweaty for it to be too cute of a moment, but it’s comforting to him, your touch is such a comfort, “sweetie, you did so well. i’m so proud.”

he was grateful he was already crying because your loving words and your softest touch while he’s in such a vulnerable and bare state would have made him more emotional than he’d like to admit.

chae hyungwon:

he lays limply on the bed, still breathing heavy but mostly recovered from a high so intense that he’s always amazed at just how incredible being yours feels. you make him sit up reluctantly and hand him a bottle of water with the lid already unscrewed and as he drinks, you’re already sitting behind him, rubbing his back and all those tense muscles seem to relax with just a little bit of pressure.

he moans lightly the entire time, but you never do it hard enough to really hurt, “talk to me, won. how are you doing after that?”

“good, i’m alright. you- ah, you’re a lot stronger than i was anticipating,” he says somewhat exasperatedly, but you both laugh it off and he goes back to drinking his water.

you sigh comfortably, suddenly more lovey dovey in that moment, “i love you, won.”

he smiles, “i love you too.”

lee jooheon:

he holds the pillow close as he shivers even though he really isn’t cold. your session hadn’t been that intense, but you always make him feel so good and he’s so far up in the clouds that he needs you to safely bring him back down.

“honey,” your touch helps to ground him as you lay behind him, holding his waist.

he feels so small and adored being held like this, so dizzy and dazed he can barely do anything besides lie there and let you whisper little nothings in his ear.

he always gets butterflies like this. your words always make him happy but there’s something about being in this state while you whisper to him, “i love you, sweetie. you did so well, always my good boy,” that just gets him lost in contentment. you smile, “take your time coming down, sweetheart. i’ll be here the whole time.”

im changkyun/i.m:

his head between your thighs was definitely the prettiest sight, but it’s easy to admit that he looks adorable with his head resting on your lap. you would have stopped a while ago after he came, but he’s always adamant about you getting off too. his fingers gently rub your thigh as he sits on the floor beside the bed, still resting his head on your thighs and leaving faint little kisses that make you giggle.

“kyunnie?” you say, and his eyes flutter open, looking up at you so adoringly, “how do you feel, baby?”

he sighs comfortably, like he’s in a daze. you help him up off the floor and cuddle him on the bed, brushing his dark hair out of his pretty eyes as he murmurs, “i’m happy.”

“i’m glad,” you whisper, this time it’s you pressing kisses to his shoulder, “let me hold you for a few minutes and then i’ll get up and take care of the mess, and i’ll also make you something to eat, okay?”

—

taglist: @lovingonrepeat @neosincity @sub-hoshi-enthusiast @multidreams-and-desires @hobilluvvr @vanillaknj @yr-domxfantasies @treasure-hwa @fleurshopsub @rubyscloud9 @silencefavarchive @nct99 @bigkpopstan @monstaxdirtywonk @domreaderrecs and always feel free to ask to be added to/removed from the taglist <3

[ickle-ronniekins]

home for the holidays || christmas promises

A/N: hiii everyone! ya girls are here to provide a christmas collab entitled “home for the holidays” that we couldn’t stop freaking out about together like a bunch of dorks. we’ll each be writing two installments each for a four-part total series! alexa ( @harrysweasleys ) will be posting chapter two! super excited for this and thank yoooou to alexa for being just as excited about this collab and for being so patient with my wacky schedule!

desc: would it really be christmas at the burrow without a snowball fight just as the clock strikes midnight on christmas? fred’s happy to have you at his favorite place during his favorite time of year, and the excitement of the holidays seems to have him in a lovey-dovey mood.

pairing: fred x reader

word count: 1.4k

alexa and erica’s combined taglist(s): @mintlibri @seppys-return-to-madness @how-do-life-does @fopdoodledane @fredd-weasley @iprobablyshipit91 @laneygthememequeen @snakesonaplane-7 @keoghans @acciotwinz @the-hufflepuff-of-221b @62442-am @wtfweasleyy @thoseofgreatambition @sleep-i-ness @shadychaoticcollection @haphazardhufflepuff @afriendlyneighborhoodhufflepuff @kageyama-i-want-tobiors @letsfightsomeorcs @theweasleysredhair @hxfflxpxffs @wand3ringr0s3 @finecole @angelinathebook @highly-acidic @zreads @susceptible-but-siriusexual @hollands-weasley @andromedaa-tonks @cappsikle @mytreec @imseeinggred @idont-knowrn @auroraboringalis57 @godricsswords @annasofiaearlobe @alwaysasadaesthetic @starlightweasley @thisismysketchbook @izzytheninja @imboredandneedalife @hemmoporro @valwritesx @hannalannno @heavenlymidnight @msmimimerton @oh-for-merlins-sake @grierpilots @mikumana @pit-and-the-pen @diary-of-an-onliner @theweirdsideofstuff @vogueweasley @hufflrpuffforfred @phuvioqhile @marvelettesassemble @almostweepingbanana

“Fred! Y/N! Would you two get back out here! Ginny, blimey, can’t you wait a moment before sending another one my way? Bloody hell!”

George’s yelps echoed from outside the Burrow. His voice sounded very loud, because that’s how it always seemed during a snowfall, didn’t it? It always seemed especially quiet as the ground became covered in a blanket of sparkly white. It’s as if the falling snow could silence the entire atmosphere.

You tried to push Fred toward the snowball fight that was unfolding between his siblings, but he yanked you back to him and pressed you against the side of the house, hidden beneath the shadows of the night. The faint light of the moon highlighted his twisted features of hunger.

“Fred, they’ve called us five times now, I reckon we’ve got to get back out there, haven’t we? Besides, poor George is getting absolutely pummeled by your sister,” a laugh escaped you as you watched another snowball smack George right across the head. He groaned in frustration and shoved Ron into a nearby snowbank for laughing at him.

“Don’t care, that game’s for children anyway,” Fred told you. You could see his breath in the air and it was becoming increasingly difficult to not pull him into the nearby garden shed.

You snorted. “Says the boy who suggested it in the first place.”

“It was only so I could get you alone out here, actually.”

Fred revelled in the sneakiness of your actions. His parents were just inside, his siblings a few mere feet away, and yet he was about two bloody seconds away from pulling your jacket right off --

“Freddie!”

He hummed against your lips and listened intently for that moan he knew all too well, the one that sent him into a dizzying spiral each and every time he heard it. “Can’t help it, love,” he cooed as you pushed playfully against his chest. He secretly loved it, you fighting your own overwhelming instincts and trying to shove him away from you, despite yourself, because he knew how much you wanted it too. Your eyes glistened with obvious yearning.

Against your better judgement, you decided to indulge your own hunger and yanked him closer by the collar of his jacket. “What’s the matter, Freddie? Didn’t get enough last night?”

A slight sigh escaped him and he was immediately transported to your final evening in the castle before returning home for the Christmas holidays. The copious amounts of firewhisky had earned him a night full of heated kisses and a morning filled with a throbbing headache. But here he was, just hours later, and it was nothing that the feeling of your lips on his couldn’t cure. Though, as his mouth moved against yours, he began to feel drunk all over again.

He trailed his hands across your hip bones and underneath your shirt a bit, his fingertips grazing your exposed skin. It’s as though every part of him that touched you was setting you on fire. “No, darling, I definitely did not get enough.”

“Okay, then let me make you a promise.”

You piqued his interest. Fred pulled away but kept close as he waited for your proposition. He couldn’t help but notice the sparkle of the snowflakes that had fallen onto your eyelashes, and how the tip of your nose and cheeks were so rosy from the cold weather. If he didn’t get you alone, and really alone, quick enough, he felt like he was going to spontaneously combust.

“If you behave, and help me obliterate Ron for getting me square in the gut with a snowball, then maybe we can pick up where we left off last night sometime later.”

He wiggled his eyebrows at you as he raked his teeth through his bottom lip, eager for later to be right bloody now.

He nearly growled before pushing you back up against the side of the house, his mouth eagerly finding yours again, before a rogue snowball (definitely charmed by one of his siblings) smacked him right in the side of the head. He heard Ron, George, and Ginny fall into a fit of raucous laughter before running out of sight yet again.

He rolled his eyes and turned back toward you, nearly melting at the sight of your sparkly eyes and rosy cheeks. You sniffled a bit -- the cold always did make your nose a little sniffly -- and you pulled gently on the collar of his jacket. He felt heat rise up in his legs, into his stomach and his arms, and finally felt his face flush a crimson red, all because of how absolutely bloody adorable you looked into your little pompom hat and scarf that was far too large it looked like it was swallowing you whole. And yet, you were the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen in his life.

“What?” you asked, raking your bottom lip through your teeth at the sight of him going googly-eyed.

“Nothing,” he said quietly before tightening his grip around your waist and resting comfortably against you, his breathing finding synchronization with yours. “You know mum’s been absolutely dying to have you here, and for Christmas, no less.. I reckon she’ll even make you a sweater.”

You arched an eyebrow in surprise. “Oh really?”

“Yeah, really.”

“Well that’s kind of her,” you replied, the rosy colour of your lips resembling that of your cheeks, and Fred found himself internally whining and desperately trying to suppress his feelings of eager want down into the depths of his soul. Later. You were making it bloody difficult though, especially when you said, “I’d love my own sweater knitted by your mum. But there’s nothing quite like wearing yours.”

It sent his heart soaring. He honestly felt himself dropping to his knees with weakness, and he swore to himself that if he had a ring, he’d ask you to be his wife right then and there -- no script, no plan, just unwavering love. He leaned himself further against you to hold himself upright and you giggled teasingly at the weight of him on top of you.

He knew how much you loved wearing his sweater. Or any of his clothing, really, but especially the cozy sweater. You wore it more than he did, actually, but he didn’t mind. Looked way better on you than it did him, didn’t it? He loved how the sleeves were so long it went past your hands, how the oversized material hung loosely over your body, but in that adorable type of way he loved to see each and every time you two would wake up from a nap in the school dormitories. But if there was one thing he loved more than seeing you in it, it was taking it off of you.

Bloody hell, mate, pull it together.

He bit down on his lip and jokingly pulled your hat further down your head so it was almost covering your eyebrows, and you scrunched your nose and giggled, once again making the butterflies in his stomach dance around in delight. “I’m really happy you’re here.”

You batted your eyelashes at him, “Freddie boy, how can you go from being so incredibly alluring to so sweet and sincere in mere seconds?”

“Dunno,” he replied, ignoring the calls from his siblings again, “but I reckon it’s one of the reasons you fell in love with me, right?”

He meant it as a joke, as he did mostly everything. He expected you to laugh, or to playfully punch him in the gut, but was pleasantly surprised when all you did was blink as the gentlest of smiles tug at your lips. “Of course it is.”

Just then, in the quiet stillness of the night, you both heard the church bells in the village begin to ring, signaling midnight and the official start of the holiday.

Cheers from the front yard erupted, and by the look in your eye, Fred could tell that you figured you should both get back out there and celebrate with the rest of them. He agreed, but he forced just a few more seconds, testing fate or destiny or whatever it was, and as you began to walk out toward them, he gently spun you around and caught your lips with his. There was nothing hungry or wild about it; it was, if anything, one of the purest exchanges you’d both ever shared.

When you both pulled away, you hovered close to one another, your breath visible in the cold winter air, and Fred made sure to keep his hands wrapped around your neck and entangled in the strands of your hair. He caressed your cheek with his thumb, gently, tenderly. His voice was so soft, so quiet, his words gently landed in your ears like the snowflakes soundlessly melting into the ground. “I love you, beautiful. Happy Christmas.”

“Happy Christmas, Freddie.”

[sincerelyella]

Infinity & Beyond

Book: The Royal Romance/Heir (AU)

Pairings: Liam x MC (Ella)

All characters belong to Pixelberry except for Ella Brooks Rys who belongs to yours truly 🌺

Summary: Liam is even more protective than usual.

A/N: I’d like to thank @gkittylove99 and @sfb123 for your softness prompt requests. I hope y’all enjoy! Prompts will be in bold.

To my nakie twin/soul sister @burnsoslow -> I love you for not complaining when I send you these things and reading them 🥺💜 I love you a butt ton!

Warnings: Adult language, descriptions of body injury, fluff

Words: 1169

Every couple of minutes, Liam would wander into his bedroom and peek at his wife taking a nap. After he was satisfied that Ella was getting some rest, he would make his way outside onto the large balcony connected to their quarters.

“Why do you keep going over there to stare at her?” Drake asked as he flipped a burger on the grill.

“I don’t stare,” Liam bent down to pick up Malia and kissed her cheek.

“Daddy was looking at Mommy!”

“Smart kid,” Drake kissed the hand that his niece offered to him and she squealed in delight. “You hungry Lia?”

Malia raised her arms in the air. “I want pizza, Unka Dwake!”

Drake furrowed his brow and stuck out his bottom lip in pretend hurt. “Not burgers?”

“Party is hereeeeee!” Maxwell barged onto the balcony with bags in his arms. Olivia followed him out with a disdained look on her face.

“You’re always so … cheerful,” she brushed an invisible piece of lint from her red shirt.

“Auntie Liiiiiv!” Malia screeched and squirmed in her father’s arms until he put her down.

Drake nodded toward Olivia and Malia, now chattering away about how Lia wanted red hair like her favorite aunt. “That’s the woman’s way, Li,” he added slices of cheese to the almost cooked meat patties. “They abandon you when someone else catches their attention.”

Liam cringed when he heard Olivia tell his daughter she would dye her hair red when Lia was older. “Okay, I’m going to … check on Ella.”

“You don’t stare my ass,” Drake mumbled as he shook his head.

Liam walked towards his bedroom just like he had every ten minutes for the last hour. He peeked through the door that was cracked open and saw Ella drinking the tea he brought her a little bit ago. He pushed the door open all the way and shoved his hands in the pockets of his green sweater. “Love? You’re supposed to be resting.”

“I am resting, and drinking tea,” Ella lifted her mug in the air with a smile. “What kind is this?”

Liam bit his bottom lip as he let his eyes rove over her. Her pajama shirt hung off one shoulder, exposing her soft skin and her hair was tousled from sleep. The white bandage wrapped around her head contrasted her bronze skin. "I knew you wouldn't go to sleep willingly, so I brought you some chamomile tea and a blanket. Twenty minutes of shut-eye, okay?"

Ella pouted. “I slept already.”

“That wasn’t even an hour!”

She rolled her eyes. “Well, maybe if my husband wasn’t opening and closing the door every ten minutes, staring at me, I’d be able to sleep longer.”

Liam walked into the large bedroom and sat across from his wife with a stern expression. “You fainted walking around downtown,” he clenched his jaw at the memory. “You hit your head on the concrete and have a concussion. You’ve been doing entirely too much, Ella.”

She flinched at him saying her name. He must be really mad. “I was just-”

“Doing too much,” he finished for her. “You’re going to rest and you’re not going to do a damn thing until you’re cleared by the doctor.”

“He cleared me!”

Liam arched his brow at her. “He said don’t overdo it, don’t overexert yourself or do any exercise. Which is the entire reason why we aren’t having sex!”

“That was your doing not mine,” she mumbled and he narrowed his eyes in response.

“Love, you scared the shit out of all of us,” he took her small hands in his and ran his thumbs over her knuckles. “Maxwell wouldn’t stop screaming on the phone and Drake had to carry you to the ER. Even Olivia, of all people, was trembling when I got to the hospital! I thought you had died.”

“But I … I’m …” Ella reached up and felt her bandage, remembering part of that day, the blood, the screams, then someone lifting her easily and running. To where she had no idea. Then, everything went black. Ella was diagnosed with Graves’ Disease which meant her heart rate was always too high and she lost weight at an alarming rate. When she does too much, she notices she gets really short of breath and dizzy. She never told Liam about it because Lord knows what he would put in place so she didn’t go anywhere alone. Her fainting just ruined everything and now he was acutely aware of all of her symptoms.

Liam walking back and forth to check on her to make sure she didn’t die in her sleep was something she should have expected. Add on the fact that she was six weeks pregnant, and that equals super protective Liam. He wasn’t there with them downtown, he was at the palace in a meeting with the French ambassador. He’s never going to let me go anywhere by myself again. “Okay,” she whispered.

Liam cupped her cheeks with his hands. “Please,” he whispered back. “I need you, our daughter needs you, our friends, our little one ...” he looked down at her abdomen and back up to her face. “Just, stay here and rest.”

Ella nodded. “Promise. Now, what’s that?” She pointed to a large pink bag behind him by one of the closet doors.

Liam turned and followed her finger, then turned back to face her. “Oh! I found this in the mall, I figured it might be something you like.”

Her eyes widened in surprise. “You … went to the mall?”

“Drake wanted to get some high-powered thing for the BBQ grill, Max and I tagged along. Each store has a theme?” Liam gave her a confused look. “Is that the rule? Because some stores had random things that didn’t make sense. Why did book store have candy in them?”

“Those are … questions for another time, sweetie,” Ella cackled. “Can I have my gift now?”

Liam stood to grab the bag and set it on the bed in between them. Ella pulled out all the pink tissue paper and reached in to pull out a stuffed animal. “Ohmigod!” She squished it against her chest in a hug. “It’s Grogu!”

“After we watched The Mandalorian I wanted to get something for you,” he pressed his finger to her nose. “Boop!”

“Mommy!” Malia ran in and hugged Ella. “Wow! Pretty, mine!” She pulled Grogu into her arms and walked out into the hall, yelling for Uncle Max.

“What … just happened?” Ella looked from the door to her husband, who was trying his best not to laugh.

“Our daughter is just like you, taking everything that isn’t hers.”

Ella shrugged. “What wasn’t mine that I took, Your Majesty?”

Liam counted out everything on his fingers. “My sweaters, shirts, basketball shorts? Ring a bell?”

“What’s yours is mine …” she prompted, waiting for him to finish the sentence.

He rolled his eyes. “And what’s mine is yours. Fine, you win. I love you.”

“I know,” Ella grinned.

“A Star Wars reference? I see what you did there. Okay, my turn,” he cleared his throat. “I love you … to infinity and beyond!” He smirked, thinking he won until Ella let out a loud laugh.

“That’s Toy Story, not Star Wars!”

“Oh shit,” Liam shrugged. “Well, same difference.”

[saintprinsessa]

Feeling You: Wanda x Fem!reader

Summary: You were in the middle of a war zone, the Avengers had found Hydra’s base and planned on attacking them by surprise, but the plans didn´t go as initially thought.

You saw how Wanda was in danger and you just went to help her.

Even if it cost you everything.

Trigger warning: Explicit descriptions of serious injuries (broken bones and burns), just a bad word, a little self-consciousness, and a lot of angst.

Words: +5000 (Got carried away)

Author´s note:

I don´t love this one, it made my heart ache a bit tho.

This takes place when Vision was still awkward with the Avengers, so he is going to talk with more estimation.

Also more Agatha ones are coming! :)

Any mistakes are on me and me only!

Anyways, please enjoy!

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

The team was trapped, you were going in front, trying to clean the way to give access to Cap and Widow, they needed to enter the building and destroy the heart of it.

While fighting some guards, you looked up instinctively and saw Wanda attacking from a high position in the air, throwing energy blasts towards some armored trucks.

She is safe.

A bad feeling hit your gut, and your eyes searched around the field.

They landed on a guy who was standing on a tall rock not so far from you.

Before you could react, he shot an electric net, which captured Wanda, instantly wrapping leaving her motionless and shocking her until she was unconscious.

With widened eyes, following her all the time, you ran into the guy, throwing him into the nearest tree, knocking him over, and ran to catch Wanda.

fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck.

You gave yourself an electromagnetic impulse, and then your body was collapsing into Wanda’s in the air, but as soon as you touched her, the electric shot went through you, you shut your eyes tight and groaned.

You grabbed the net, your eyes started blooming with light, and with an inhuman effort, you tore it from her body, making her fall from you.

The net was giving you electric shots but you did your best to let Wanda land without her getting hurt.

Her body landed gracefully.

Yours not.

You were like a ragdoll being thrown into the ground, your ribs crunched, twisting inside you and making your organs turn, one of your arms twisted backward, you grunted loudly as your head hit the ground in a bumping motion, and you were dragged various meters, the hard rock floor cutting through your skin and bruising you.

Slightly dizzy, you managed to lift your head.

You needed to see if Wanda was okay.

And when you saw her chest rising slowly, you let go a relieved sigh.

Widow, Cap, and Bruce screamed at you, and by the time you were processing what they said, an explosion was the last thing you heard.

And then everything went black.

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

Wanda jolted awake terrified, breathing sharply, holding the sheets for her dear life.

What happened?

She cleaned some of the sweat on her forehead and started to ease her nerves, trying to calm herself.

Wanda left her room and went to the kitchen, the halls of the Avenger’s tower were empty.

Strange.

When she arrived, they were all gathered in there, all with worried looks on their faces, some facing the ground, some staring at something.

And then, the realization hit her.

Someone was carrying her back to the ship, in the middle of all the shouting and explosions, she saw that they were winning, she could remember that something hit her and she lost balance, but she was confused, she was falling from high, why her body was unharmed?

Then she saw another body being carried near her, and she quickly recognized who it was.

You.

But she couldn’t see your face, it was blurry and fading, your body seemed...

Lifeless.

Then she fainted.

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

“Where is (y/n)?”

The question was hesitant, almost like a whisper, and bit her bottom lip.

Maybe she just didn’t want to hear the answer to that question.

Wanda searched between all of them, they looked at each other with sad faces.

Clint avoided her eyes, Natasha was fiddling her fingers, lost in her mind; Cap looked at her but quickly returned his gaze to the floor.

Vision was leaning onto the counter with his arms folded.

“Vision.”

He flinched, Wanda used a stern tone, not a good sign.

“Where is (y/n)?”

Her thick sokovian accent slipped, the question was venenous, her eyes flashed red for a second.

Vision couldn’t bear it anymore, that was too much pressure.

“This compromises me a lot, Wanda, (y/n) fervently asked us to not tell you.”

He said nervous, clasping his hands together while he approached her.

“She is currently at Dr. Banner´s laboratory.”

As soon the sentence left his mouth, Wanda hurried off the room.

Vision turned around to watch the other’s faces, who only nodded, and quickly followed Wanda.

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

The doors of the lab flushed brutely open, Banner jumped backward losing balance and fell, Wanda made her way towards him stomping, her magic surrounding her menacing.

“Where?”

Her eyes lighted up dangerously for a second as a warning.

Bruce only pointed on a left hall, quickly shooting up on his feet and guiding Wanda, she was following closely, every step as a threat for him to walk faster.

He unlocked the door and Wanda pushed him aside, not having a pinch of patience.

She gasped.

You were nowhere to be seen.

If looks could kill, Banner would be three meters underground.

“I- I swear I left her here.”

He put his hands as if surrender, he quickly went to check your last vital signals registered on the machines.

“Her body was recovering quickly.”

He smiled nervously at Wanda, her anger was replaced with concern.

Thousands of negative thoughts were racing on her mind.

Vision appeared, traversing through the wall, his eyes saw the empty gurney in front of him and then settled on Wanda.

“I bet she is breathing and stable, Wanda.”

He tried to comfort her while he patted her shoulder, just for Wanda to turn and hug him.

She started sobbing like a child, she couldn’t contain herself.

She had so many things to tell you.

Vision soothed her, caressing her back awkwardly, he didn’t know what to do with human emotions.

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

Four weeks had passed.

You hadn’t shown any signals of life.

Tony had sent multiple drones to seek for you, the other avengers were searching every day in your favorite spots around the town.

Wanda, on the other side, every day that passed, the first thing that she did was go to your room, and run her hand through the sheets of your bed, your figure still draw in them, she would spend the whole day locked in there.

She also had a shirt that you gave her, she would sleep every night in her bed, hugging the shirt tightly.

“I should have told you, I should have done so many things, (y/n).”

She felt heavy, her eyes swollen for crying till she was dry, her throat sore, she was tired.

She still hoped that one day, she would wake up, go to your room and you would be there.

You would be sleeping peacefully, waiting to the alarm to wake you and spend your day making the avengers laugh at your silly jokes, training almost half of the day, and in the afternoon, while everyone was occupied, you would approach silently to Wanda’s bedroom, hesitantly deciding if knock or not the door, which she would sense you and would permit you to enter, you would find her sitting leg-crossed in her bed, while watching a 50’s black and white sitcom.

She would invite you with a warm smile and a slight nod, asking silently for you to sit on her side.

At some point in the show, she would look at you from the corner of her eye.

You would be watching the show attentive, trying to understand what was happening, but your thoughts, were flooding with Wanda’s presence, how warm she felt, how her company calmed you, she made you happy, she made you feel safe.

You would feel that someone is looking at you, and you would turn to see Wanda, who is now looking at you fully, with a small blush on her cheeks.

You would smile at her, your heartbeat would rise and your eyes would gleam with emotions.

Wanda would retrieve the smile.

“Hey.”

You would say cheerily.

“Hey.”

She would reply sheepishly.

The show would end and you would ask if she wants to see another episode.

She would say yes.

She always says yes to you.

And you would spend the entire afternoon watching the show, maybe you would leave Wanda for some snacks and then would return with your arms full, making Wanda laugh.

Or maybe you would fall asleep because the show not more entertains you, and she would look at you with devotion and adoration.

Some nights you would stay there, Wanda always let you stay, she would hug you, let her head rest on your chest and sleep with you, the next morning you would jolt awake and shower thousands of apologies to Wanda, she just would laugh and say that it was okay.

Some nights you would wake up in the middle of the night, super embarrassed, apologizing and leave, saying that it won’t happen again.

Wanda despised that kind of nights.

She loved your company.

Vision entered her room once again, always forgetting about privacy.

He would do this every day, bringing her some food, and she would eat half of it, just for respect.

Wanda’s head shot up, watching Vision approach to the bed.

“What do you want, Vision?”

Wanda asked dryly, her accent became evident these past weeks, it seems that it tended to appear when she was annoyed.

“I excuse myself for the bargain, Wanda, but I kindly remind you to ingest the nutrients your body needs.”

He replied while gesturing towards the plate he left that afternoon, deep in him, he was hoping that Wanda at least, ate, because her lack of resting and lack of self-care was clearly evident.

She scoffed and returned to her curled-up position.

Vision sighed, this needed to change.

She was not fine.

“Wanda.”

His voice was stern now.

No response.

He put his hand on her shoulder and squeezed gently.

“You need to eat something, if you continue like this, you will pass out.”

Still no response.

“The Avengers, including myself, are doing everything in their limits to find (Y/n)”

He trailed off a bit in the end.

Wanda turned her head to look at him.

“She will appear, I can sense it.”

Now her whole body was facing him.

“I think she would like to find you doing well.”

He dedicated Wanda a slight smile, she replied with another.

“Thank you, Vision.”

He just nodded and left the room.

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

Two weeks passed after that.

Wanda recovered some color on her face, her lips were plump again, and her eyes were refreshed, she would give a small smile if she encountered someone on her way to the kitchen or returning to your bedroom.

When she opened the door, she squealed when she found Vision inside but smiled afterwards.

“Vis, what are you doing here?”

He was in the middle of the room, looking outside through the gigantic window.

He glanced over his shoulder but didn’t move.

Wanda, slightly confused, approached him.

“Are you okay?”

She grabbed his shoulder, slowly turning him to her.

She locked her eyes onto his.

But they weren’t Vision’s eyes.

They were (y/e/c).

“Wanda...”

Vision talked, but that wasn’t only his voice, there were hints of yours too.

“(Y/n)?”

She smiled hopefully and cupped Vision’s face.

“You look stunningly delicious, Wanda.”

Vision smiled fondly like he was feeling your excitement.

The compliment was a joke between you and her, she was trying to learn english compliments and asked if the Froot Loops could be described as “stunningly delicious” .

She laughed a bit and looked into your eyes.

It was you but how?

“How have you been? Have you lost weight?”

The Vision-controlled-by-you asked pressing her cheeks together, her face now looked like a Blowfish.

The body quickly retracted his hands and took a step backward.

His eyes turned blue again.

“I’m sorry, Wanda, I hope that didn’t bother you.”

That was Vision, embarrassed of grabbing Wanda´s face like that, even if that was you.

You apologized mentally to him, he said that it was fine.

Wanda laughed a bit, she realized that you two were talking mentally as he had his eyes closed but they were moving furiously.

“How are you doing all this?”

She approached Vision again, he opened his eyes and they were yours.

“It’s a long story, but we are somehow connected.”

You smiled a little while remembering something.

You sighed and looked at her again.

“I just wanted to see you, to check if you were doing fine, Wanda.”

Her eyes started watering, and she shivered a bit.

Oh how much she missed you, how much she missed your face.

“Where are you right now, (y/n)?”

She simply asked and that took you by surprise.

You gulped and tried to take Vision back, but she grabbed your shoulder to keep you in place and grasped your chin so you couldn’t avoid her gaze.

“Where are you!?”

Her voice broke, she was crying.

Your eyes closed shut, you were concerned for her, you wished, no, you dreamed of being there, replacing Vision.

“I’m sorry, Wanda.”

You cupped her face and hugged her tightly so she won’t move.

“I really am.”

She shoved Vision backward so she could look at your eyes.

“Wait! (Y/n)!”

She shook Vision when she saw how (y/e/c) were fading to give access to Vision´s ones again.

“Don’t go...”

Wanda trailed off when he saw the pitiful look on his eyes, she started sobbing loudly.

“I apologize, Wanda.”

He hugged her, but not like you.

Nobody could hug like you.

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

They stayed in the room after that, it was quiet, Vision was sitting beside Wanda the entire time, she stopped crying after some time; when it got too late, he left the room and quickly returned with some food.

“How...”

Wanda mumbled as Vision was setting a little table in front of her.

“How is she connected with you?”

Wanda asked nervously, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear and scratching her arm.

Vision nodded and sat again, giving Wanda a glass of water and observing her.

She took the hint and began to eat.

After a few seconds, he started talking.

“I don’t have a proper explanation of it.”

Vision said frowning.

“One day, (y/n) just approached me, she touched the stone...”

He motioned his hand hanging over the stone a little.

“And suddenly, I could feel not just me, but her too.”

He looked at his hands.

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

And it was true.

When you arrived at the tower, Vision was a really interesting being for you.

You quickly befriended everyone, even him; he would ask about some human things, and you would gladly tell him everything you knew about it, still amazed at the fact that he could think properly and feel too.

One day, the curiosity took the best of you, and you asked if you could touch the stone, slightly embarrassed, you didn’t know how Vision could feel about it.

He smiled at you and nodded, bending a little so you could reach his forehead.

You thanked him and softly pressed your digits into the rock.

Click.

Everything made sense, his existence, how his body worked, how he could feel things, you now could see how he was conformed, you watched his energy flowing in his body.

He was a sophisticated invention, and when you looked at his eyes, the stone glowed.

Your eyes flashed.

Vision could see your brain working, your veins pumping and your nerves functioning, you were something more than a simple human, yet you were made in blood and flesh.

He could feel you and you felt him.

You two shared a smile.

He was a good artificial friend, and you were the closest he has been to a human.

When you got hurt in the battle, he left the Avenger’s tower, even if told he had to stay and not intervene, and when he found you, lying unconscious on the ground, he carried you to the lab immediately.

He felt how you were physically hurt, while you were screaming to the others from pain in the lab, crying.

He felt.

He had felt you thinking loudly while you escaped.

Then he felt how you were hiding from the avengers.

No.

You were hiding from Wanda.

He could feel...

Your sadness.

So he contacted you, through a mind bond you both had, at first that scared the shit out of you, but quickly was replaced by relief.

He was... happy to be talking to you, you two agreed that he would check on you, but he wouldn’t say anything.

In his visits, he told you about everyone, you felt horrible, and when he told you about Wanda’s breakdown, you made him promise that he would take care of her.

And he gladly did.

Because this was not an order, like the ones that Stark gave to him.

This was something that you asked.

And while you were asking, he felt your sorrow.

So when he returned another week and told you that Wanda was doing better because he raised her hopes about seeing you again, you had to do something.

You couldn’t appear, no.

His stone was enlightened again.

And you understood that this connection was deeper than you initially thought.

When you looked at him, he nodded, and you hugged him.

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

Wanda stopped chewing and gazed at him, in disbelief.

He sighed.

“Wanda... is there any possibility that I could see inside your mind?”

She gave him a confused glare, frowning, and shook her head.

“It’s just... I feel like...”

His stone gleamed for a second.

Wanda’s eyes shot up and she approached him, she slightly raised her hand, and Vision stiffened.

That was not what he wanted, and Wanda caught up.

She closed her eyes and let her hands rest on her legs.

Vision nodded and softly pressed his hand into her temple.

Now, he no only felt how you were observing, but now, you were feeling Wanda too.

She felt painfully broken, flooding with anguish and melancholy, she felt like someone tore apart half of her soul.

You felt her.

And now you were crying disconsolately.

Vision quickly drawled his hand back, he had his eyes closed and a pained look on his face.

Wanda blinked a few times and give a concerned look at him.

“Vis, what happened?”

Vision opened his eyes.

A tear ran down his cheek.

“I know where is (y/n).”

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

You were gathered in a corner of the room you were living in, crying, you couldn’t stop your tears anymore.

You missed Wanda, you missed her laugh, her voice, her eyes, her warmth.

You missed the moments you spent with her.

I should have told her...

You heard someone bursting into the living room.

Vision?

You didn’t have the forces to confront him right now.

“(Y/n)!?”

You froze.

It wasn’t Vision.

It was Wanda.

“(Y/n)!? Where are you!?”

She screamed with hope in a faint voice.

Everything was dark, Wanda quickly lighted the only bulb that was in the room.

“(Y/n)! Please!”

She cried out, her heart pumping hard in her chest, her face tear-stained was desperate looking around.

And from all the darkness, you appeared.

Wanda went through thousand of emotions when she saw you.

You were different.

Skinny, almost in your bones, your body slightly curved, like you were using just a foot to put your whole weight, one of your arms was bruised; the other one holding a cane.

You stepped more into the light, and she took in your face.

Your lips were dry, you had a big cut in the bottom one, half of your right ear was missing.

And the whole part of your eyes was bandaged.

You were wondering if your mind tricked you, there was no sign of someone in there.

Until you felt an arm wrapping you tightly.

You dropped your cane and hold onto the figure.

Wanda started sobbing into your shoulder, she had one of her arms grabbing you strongly by your back and the other one was grasping your shoulders, trying to feel you as most as she could.

“I thought that I had lost you.”

She continued to cry until she had little hiccups.

You were crying too, your bandages were damped at this point.

“I’m sorry...”

You replied breathlessly.

She left the embrace, but she continued to hold you, her hands were now at your waist.

“I won’t leave again.”

You nodded slowly, trying to reassure her that it was a promise.

She observed you and reached the bandages to tug them off, but you quickly grabbed her hand, stopping her.

“Wait, Wanda.”

You called quickly, your heartbeat raised, and your breaths became shorter.

“You don’t have to.”

You were anxious, repeatedly trying to put her hand down.

She cupped your face with her other hand and caressed your cheek with her thumb.

“I want to, (Y/n)”

For a moment, you dug your nails into her wrist but you quickly surrendered.

It was Wanda after all.

As soon as you nodded, she retrieved her hands and used her magic to undo the bandages.

It all happened slowly, she carefully took every layer, hesitating a little, because every layer she took off made you stiffen more.

At the final layer, she used her hands, she grabbed gently the last strand, removed it, and let it fall into the ground.

She gasped and her eyes softened.

The superior part of your face was the most affected.

The whole upper area was in a dark crimson pinkish color, burned, and in living flesh.

It covered all of it, and it reached from ear to ear.

It seemed like it was healing slowly, but the worst part was your eyes.

They were covered mostly in a milky white layer, leaving a quarter of your (e/c) at sight, swollen and sticky, tears staining your eyelids.

Now they were moving, desperately trying to seek something.

Wanda sensed your hesitation.

“I’m happy to see you.”

She smiled and leaned forward but stop inches enough so you were feeling her hot breath against your face.

“Does it hurts?”

You blinked a few times.

“No, it doesn’t.”

She brushed her nose with yours.

She read about it in a book, it was told that Eskimos couldn’t kiss because of the cold weather, so they brush their noses gently to show affection.

It was something that she liked, and you despised.

You crunched your nose and smiled.

She smiled too.

“Wanda, I have something to tell you.”

You took a step back, trying to make some room but you almost tripped so she caught you by your back.

You had one of your hands grabbing her coat and the other one her arm.

“And if I don’t say it know, It seems that probably I won’t have the chance to do it other time”

You chuckled quietly.

“ I...”

You sighed, she was giving you time to talk, you thanked that.

“I love you.”

She became ecstatic.

Your eyes stared forward, unsure, moving rapidly, waiting for an answer.

The room was silent.

You were trembling at this point.

She shook her head rapidly, coming back to reality, and when she realized that you couldn’t see her, she grabbed your hands and let you cup her face.

You eagerly touched her features, going from her forehead, tracing the corner of her eyes, caressing her cheekbones, and when you cupped her jaw, you could sense that she was smiling.

“What do you feel, (y/n)?”

A tear touched your hand and you carefully wiped it away.

“I just feel you.”

She kissed the palm of your hand.

“Good.”

She said softly and her eyes shot up red.

She was letting you into her mind.

Memories, feelings, and thoughts of her were being shown to you, so you shared yours too.

You saw how she would check on you while you were training, using a facade of “I like to see some moves to use later” knowing that she doesn’t use close combat, or how she would prepare foods that you liked in a thankful form for missing dinners when you preferred spending the night with her.

You saw how the high ranked members on meetings would make her feel less saying that she was dangerous, so it was safer to not use her in order to protect the civilians on there; but she would simply shrug it off because, in the afternoon, she would see you again.

You saw how she spent these weeks going to your bedroom and hugging your shirt, crying until she fell asleep.

You saw how she was shattered into million pieces and made her best to compose herself in the hope of seeing you again.

On her side, she saw how your eyes were fixated on her in Stark’s parties to see if she was having fun, and when you come to realize that she was getting a bit uncomfortable, you would smoothly distract anyone that was talking to her to give her some space, or how would you seek for her in every mission just to see if she was doing fine, even if you were the one that needed help.

She saw how you would have a terrible day and it all disappeared when you saw her.

She saw how you caught her while she was falling in the mission, and made sure that she was okay.

She saw how your body fell, twisted, and cracked, how the mine near you exploded.

How you screamed in agony, crying loudly and begging the others to not let her see you like this.

Because in every thought that you had.

She was present.

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

You abandoned each other’s mind, her magic burst in a blast in the room when you broke the connection.

“Wow.”

You both said in a whisper at the same time, with your foreheads pressed.

“(Y/n)?”

Her gaze was fixated on you while she was brushing her slender fingers through your long hair.

“Yes, Wanda?”

This time, your eyes were searching for something, it seemed like you were searching for her lips.

“Can I kiss you?”

Your eyes shot up and somehow they looked into Wanda’s

“You can.”

You closed her eyes and stood still, Wanda closed hers too and leaned, kissing you dearly, making you both melt into the kiss.

It felt good.

Like new stars forming in the universe, like a laugh of a newborn or the soft caress of a mother.

Her lips had a faint taste of salty tears mixed with her sugary strawberry lipstick.

Your lips felt softer than they seemed, they had a taste of chocolate syrup covered with a hint of mint.

You had been eating your favorite candy, Vision had brought a box of them without being asked.

It’s a gift, he said, smiling.

Your hand tried to reach her face so she took your hand, grabbing and squeezing it lovingly.

You were the one that broke the kiss, with your eyes still closed but you didn’t pull apart from her, her body was emanating the heat you missed and craved.

She didn’t try to move away neither, she was enjoying the moment.

“I love you too, (y/n).”

She murmured against your lips while you formed a smile.

She laughed, and took you into her arms, picking you up, and started swirling you around.

You chuckled and screamed startled at her to stop, she stopped and lifted you higher, with a smile on her face that quite reached her ears and observed you for a moment.

Your hair was falling in cascades on her face, it framed your features perfectly, your eyes were squinted because of your wide smile.

She lowered you a bit, so now you were hovering her face.

You instinctively inclined your head, searching for her face and she made it easier when she guided your lips to hers.

This one felt like shooting stars too.

Your heart was doing stunts in your chest, she hummed into the kiss and both of you sighed excitedly.

You let your hands rest on her shoulders and wrapped your legs around her torso, then she had her hands securing you by the waist.

She broke the kiss this time, your body was melting into her touch.

You let your chin rest on her shoulder and closed your eyes, letting go a deep breath.

This felt right.

Wanda nodded, and raised her hand to rub your back, she agreed.

This indeed felt right.

“I’m sorry.”

You said suddenly, swallowing a sob, the guilt tightened your chest.

“Don’t be.”

She was smiling sadly, she still couldn’t conceive the thought of never seeing you again.

“But I only caused problems, I made you feel miserable.”

You buried your head into her neck, your voice was quiet.

“I was sad because I remembered all the happy moments that you shared with me, I couldn’t bear the thought of losing you, but you are alive, (y/n).”

She was excited now.

“I have the chance to show you how much I love you.”

You giggled and kissed her neck, making her laugh too.

You backed a bit, forgetting that you couldn’t see her, but that didn’t bother you in the slightest, she was there, and you could feel her.

“Wanda?”

You asked knitting your brows.

“Yes, (y/n)?

She cupped your cheek, watching you with a goofy smile.

“Are we floating?”

You laughed a bit, you could somehow sense that you weren’t on the floor, but it became obvious when you let go of your legs from her waist and your feet just felt air.

And you were right.

Absently minded, Wanda started floating while sharing the kiss with you.

“Yes, we are.”

She was laughing sheepishly, she slowly started lowering you both, holding you tenderly, until she reached the ground and she helped you to stand.

You both had your hands intertwined.

“I’ll stay with you from now on.”

She stated, taking your expressions, you were thinking.

“First me disappearing, then you gone? The others will freak out.”

You chuckled at the thought, imagining the chaos that would lose Wanda’s disappearance.

She kissed both of your hands, and leave them to grab your temples and rest her head over yours.

“Vision knows where are we, if they need us, they can talk to him.”

You shook your head, smiling.

“Poor him.”

You could hear a soft voice in the back of your head.

I wouldn’t mind in the slightest.

“Oh and (Y/n)?”

Wanda asked, a smile could be heard in her voice.

“Yes?”

“You look stunningly delicious.”

She snorted and gently kissed your nose.

[catxsnow]

TAKE THE BULLET B.W.

Request:  I saw your post about requests! Can you do a Batman x reader (from the animated movies if you do him) where the reader is apart of the JL and almost dies by jumping in front of a bullet during a mission with the team to save Bruce? Fluffy/angsty stuff. 

Warning: injury, angst, fluff

A/N: I’m so sorry it took this long! It’s been sitting in my WIP for ages and I just never got around to doing it until now 

Gif not mine

Word count: 2.3k 

You knew the risks of being in the Justice League.

A constant target on your back, the willingness to lay down your life to protect the people of your world, even the on demand requirement of your presence when someone was endangering the world. The second that you joined the team, you lost your freedom to have a normal life.

When it came down to it, it was all worth it. Knowing that you saved hundreds, thousands, even millions of lives because you stood up against an evil greater than yourself. The nightmares that haunted your sleep because of the horrors that you saw. The pain you endured because you refused to give up. Everything was worth it.

Your whole life you had been the one to willingly put yourself through all this torture to save lives. It was engraved in you to make the world a better place, no one expected you to make a difference like this one. No one expected you to be a hero, one of the best at that.

For so long you were on your own. You had your friends in your civilian life but no one truly to understand what you had to endure as a superhero. That was until the Justice League formed. It was a rocky start - a bunch of people who didn't believe that they needed to be a part of something bigger.

While many of the heroes found it a burden to have people that relied on you, you found it a blessing. People to finally understand who you were, that accepted you for the person that you were, not some freak. This team meant everything to you, enough that you would give up your life for your teammates.

And that was exactly what you had done. It was a dangerous mission, everyone knew that. As prepared as everyone was, they weren't expecting you to take the bullet for Batman. You saw the blast coming while he was fighting off another monster. There wasn't enough time to get him out of the way and he had no idea that it was coming for him.

So, in a moments haste, you had put yourself between the blast and him. Batman might have driven you crazy half the time, but he was only human under that suit. He would have never survived the blast. You barely did and your suit was impenetrable.

Batman didn't make friends. He didn't stick around to get to know his teammates and he certainly wasn't chatty with anyone. You found him insufferable most of the time but that small part of you couldn't help but be intrigued by him. Batman acted as if he were Superman even though a bullet would stop him just as it would anyone else.

He was meticulous with everything he did. No matter the situation, he knew every detail about everything. Batman was cold hearted, except for the split second time that you got to see him smile.

The team watched in horror as you fell to the cement. Your suit was half disintegrated and your breathing shallow. The blast had almost killed you. Almost.

It was Hal that got you out of there, bringing you to safety and away from the fight that you could no longer be a part of. Everyone had seen you go down. As devastation filled them, so did determination. They couldn't lose this fight, not after what you had done for them all. Batman most of all.

Only when you were safe in the infamous Batcave did Hal leave your side again. At the moment, there was no better place for you. He knew the secret identity of Batman, he also knew that Bruce was going to want to be the one to help you. After that night, he owed you a life debt.

As much as Batman liked to make everyone think he was invincible, he was only human. Humans had a heart, and with that little move that you did, you had gotten right into his.

><

You woke up cold. The air was still and held a frosty bite to it. Your whole body ached and as you tried to move it flared even more though your nerves. An IV was stuck in your arm and you were no longer in your suit. It wasn't the new clothes or the medical supplies that got you curious, it was the location.

No one in the Justice League had been lucky enough to step foot in the Batcave. It always seemed like some sacred place that all your other teammates were afraid to step foot in. Their bad mojo rubbed off on you for the longest time as well. Batman's secret lair always seemed to spook you.

Sitting in there now, you didn't feel the same way. Aside from the cold and darkness, the place wasn't nearly as dramatic as you thought it was going to be. Large super computer, training area, the med bay that you were in, and a collection of memorabilia. Nothing like you expected it to look like.

"You're awake."

You nearly jumped at the voice. Batman stood to the side of you, his cowl off so you could see his face. It was the first time that he ever trusted you with his identity and least to say, you were shocked. Bruce Wayne hid under that cowl. Billionaire playboy by day, Gotham's hero at night.

Without the cowl on, he looked far less intimidating. Whether it was his piercing blue eyes or the fact that he was really just some human. You felt less of a need to cower away from him and more of a pull of attraction. He was handsome, extremely.

"How long was I out?" You asked. Your voice was hoarse and the cough that erupted in your chest only put you through more pain. It was going to take far longer for you to heal than you wished. However, seeing Bruce alive because of you was well worth the pain. You couldn't imagine Gotham without it's Dark Knight.

"Three days."

"Fuck," you muttered, laying back down to the pillow. Your eyes sealed shut in frustration at the lost time. "I take it the rest of the mission went well then."

"Minimal civilian causalities," Bruce told you. He took a step closer to you and reached for the bandages that crossed your stomach. Faint burn marks that would never fully heal laced your skin. They did as much as they could, but you would be left scarred forever. Just a reminder for Bruce that you nearly died for him.

Before he could touch the material, you had snatched his wrist. Your eyes were still shut when you did the action, but they popped open when you grabbed him. Bruce retracted without saying anything. He nearly complained as you pulled the IV out of your arm and swung your legs off the side of the hospital bed, but remained silent. You were a grown woman, you could decide if you felt healthy or not.  

"Thank you," Bruce found the only way to stop you in your tracks. Your hands gripped the side of the bed and he couldn't tell if it was because you were suddenly dizzy, or shocked by his words. It was both. Your head hung low and you didn't wish to gaze up at him. Memories of the searing pain you felt flooded you and seeing his face was only a reminder of it all.

You knew that taking that blast might of killed you. You knew that the second it hit you that you might not be waking up the next morning. Was it worth it? Saving someone as heartless as Batman? You weren't sure yet. You were alive and breathing, that was going to have to be good enough for now.

"I would be dead without you," he continued. You still didn't move. Bruce went down to his knee. One hand gently on you leg and the other balancing on his own. His touch caused you to flinch, catching him off guard. He felt the need to step away from you, to give you the space that you desired. "I'm sorry."

"I saved a teammate, Bruce," you used his real name. His narrowed slightly; he didn't think you recognized him. You showed no reaction as you saw who he really was, he just assumed you were as oblivious as Hal. "I'd like to think you would do the same but who fucking knows."

"I've dedicated my life to saving people do you really think that I wouldn't do the same for anyone else on the Justice League? For you?" Bruce grit his teeth. He stood up from his spot on the ground and towered above you once more. This sudden coldness that you were giving him was nothing that he expected when you woke up.

You were always so kind to everyone on the team - even him when he pushed you away so many times. After taking the risk of dying for him, he thought that you would be willing to show more kindness. Someone willing to die for another obviously enjoyed their presence . At least he thought so.

"I think that it's been months that we've been working together and it's only when I nearly die for you that you decide to show your face," you scoffed. "Then again why does it matter who's under the mask, you're still the same asshole either way." This time, you jumped off the bed and tried to walk past Bruce.

You never even made it two steps past him before he grabbed your wrist and stopped you. You tried to pull out of his grasp but it was no use, he was far too strong for you. Bruce tugged you back, nearly causing you to trip over your own feet as you did.

"I kept you alive, the least I deserve is a thank you," Bruce's voice lowered. If you were going to be cold to him, then he was going to be the same right back. "But then again, why does it matter? I'm still the same asshole anyways that could have let you die." He let go of your wrist, but his words only frustrated you more.

After taking the bullet for him, you thought he would be more willing to open up to you. To be himself while there was no one else around. It didn't take long to realize that he would never do that, or maybe this was him being himself. You would never know the truth. That was what angered you.

You wanted to argue with him, to yell at him for being such a soulless dick. However, Pain erupted though your entire body. Your knees buckled from below you as you held onto your wound. Bruce had caught you just before you hit the ground. He easily swooped you up and set you back down on the bed.

This time, you didn't argue as he lifted the bandage to see what kind of hell your skin was in underneath. Bruce worked in silence. He dabbed a clean cloth around the wound and sterilized it. The sting of alcohol made you bite your lip to hold back the hiss of pain. With more grace than you ever thought he had, he wrapped you with a new bandage.

As he tried to walk away, you were the one to stop him. You grasped his hand, far more delicately than he had grabbed you. He could easily snap out of your hold if he wanted to, yet he found himself stopping to turn back.

"I'm sorry," you apologized. He was right, Bruce did save your life. "I guess I just expected you to be... different without the mask on. I assumed we all were. Maybe in this life we're always hiding behind some sort of mask, even without realizing it."

"Sorry to disappoint."

"Bruce," you stopped him from walking away once more. "I just meant that I'm grateful for you to trust me with your identity. And that you saved me, you understand what it's like to be human under the suit. I know that trust doesn't come easy to you."

A silence fell between you. The intensity of his stare made you feel vulnerable. Cowl on or off, he was still the great Batman. A deadly weapon and a savior to Gotham. You hadn't meant to get upset. He was the last person on the team that you wanted to make angry - even more than Superman.

"Do you wanna get a drink?" Bruce suddenly asked. The corner of his lips tugged up and it was the most that you had seen him smile since that brief first time. You looked down at the over-sized clothes that you wore and then over to his Batsuit. Together, you looked to be quite the pair.

"I hope being a billionaire means you buy good whiskey," you agreed to his offer. Bruce pulled you up off the bed with the hand that had been resting in yours the whole time. You were thankful for his help. The wound you had surely would have taken you down once more if it wasn't for his support.

You stopped several steps in. Bruce looked down at you, worried about your wound. With a second of hesitation, you stood on your toes to kiss the corner of his lips. Your hand rest on his chest as your lips lingered on his skin. Your hand felt as if it was burning a whole through his chest.

He didn't expect this sudden act of affection, but he appreciated it nonetheless.  "If you'd let me, I'd like to get to know the real you - whatever version that may be," you offered. Bruce had trouble opening up to people, but maybe it would be easier with you.

"I'd like that."

[greasygyeom]

gigil | ten

pairing: Ten x Female Reader (Fluff)

words: 1.9k

warnings: might be disgustingly cute idk.

A/N: Gigil is a word used to describe the overwhelming feeling that comes over us when we see something cute.

At 1 am, with bare minimum noises in the background, save for a stray car zooming away in the distance and a blanket of stars overhead, Ten walked back to his apartment; feet dragging on the pavement, as they traced his displeasure along the way. 

For the third night in a row he’d had to stay overtime at office, simply because someone else had been too lazy to finish their portion of work assigned to them.

Had it been any other day, he would have pulled through without feeling this level of annoyance. Any other week, he would not have complained; he liked working alone, when no one was around to disturb him and ask him stupid questions. But the fact that this was happening during the few days your schedule wasn’t as tight knit as usual, was really testing his patience.

He’d thought long and hard on whether he was being too dramatic about it, because it wasn’t like he never got to see you—your off days always had his name written on them—it was just that off-late he’d been wanting to see a lot more of you.

For him, dating you had started as a breezy ‘hmm I’ll see where this takes me, I’m not looking for anything serious’, but had quickly and quite irreversibly morphed into an intense whirlwind of ‘fuck, I might love her’ and at the end of six months it had rendered him dizzy. 

He didn’t know when exactly he’d started to crave more of your attention, but on days it overpowered his entire existence. He wasn't yet used to the out of the blue pangs of wanting to hug you until you fell asleep in his arms, but he loved the warm and fuzzy feeling thoughts like these left him with.

On most days he could prioritise his work over his neediness for you. Today though? Today had been one of those days, where it had served as a roadblock between what he had to do and what he really wanted to do. Instead of being in bed, cuddled with you, watching a cute coming of age movie, he had to stay back and redraw the anatomy for a new character because some of his peers were incompetent. 

Half an hour of brooding and a long silent walk later, he finally reached his building. On his last call you had already been yawning, so he assumed you were fast asleep and entered the apartment as quietly as he possibly could… only to find you lying on the floor.

His heart dropped down to his stomach as the worst, most horrible thoughts of you being injured and unconscious and him being too late in taking you to the hospital clouded his mind.

His panic lasted only about 30 seconds though, until he switched on the lights and it unravelled a completely different story.

You were passed out on the floor alright, but because you’d fallen asleep cuddling with his cat. He didn’t see the cat because your back was facing the entrance. Louis had fit himself comfortably in the crevice of your concave form, lying curled up, snug next to your stomach and was using your arm as a pillow.

Ten’s heartbeat slowed down with the realisation that you were indeed alive and okay and he breathed in a sigh of relief, giggling fondly at the sight of you two sleeping so peacefully; completely unaware of his presence. 

He was kinda jealous of Louis, which was an insane thought, but he wanted in on what looked like a super cozy cuddle session.

Of course, he had to grab his phone and take some pictures first—how could he pass off this opportunity to stock up on some free serotonin. But as soon as he was done taking photos from every angle, he sat on the floor next to you, your back towards him, and rested his chin on your waist. It was a challenge to not kiss the sliver of skin peeking through, from between your shirt and boxers and an even bigger challenge to not wake you up.

He extended an arm to pet Louis, but the cat wasn’t having any of it. 

Within minutes Louis was out of sight and reach and it was just the two of you, on the cold floor. With no cat to disturb, his attention naturally wandered over to you. It was too tempting to not kiss your bare skin. Your hands were tucked under your head, like a makeshift pillow; sooner than later you were bound to get uncomfortable—it only made sense to wake you up. It was definitely not because you looked too cute and he couldn’t stand not being able to squish you. 

“Baby” he whispered softly, “Wake up.” 

You stirred at the sound of his voice, pushing your body towards him, but not really moving.

He had the widest grin plastered on his face, just looking at you. “Let’s go to bed, you’re sleeping on the floor.”

You hummed in response, too lethargic to actually move and also just a scat annoyed.

When he stroked your cheek, you shivered under his touch, goosebumps forming all over your body. His touch was electric. 

Feeling a bit smug about the reaction he just elicited out of you, he pulled your shirt up, just enough to expose your waist, and planted soft kisses alongside your ribs.

You squirmed with every kiss, until you were wide awake and sitting upright, fighting him off.

“Why why why” he giggled, as you pushed him away.

“Why!! Look at the tiiime.” You whined, not letting him have his way for the 800th time.

His face fell, “I know baby, I’m sorry. If it makes you feel better, I was really sulky the whole time I was there and not here.”

“No, that does not make me feel better.” You replied, “I don’t want you to sulk when you’re working.”

“Ayee you can’t have both.” 

“Both what?”

“Be mad at me and not let me be mad at my work.”

“I’m not mad at you.” You pouted, crawling into his lap, “I just really missed you.”

There was something so soothing about your presence, something he couldn’t really explain. He held you tight and buried his head in the crook of your neck, taking in the faint vanilla-esque scent you naturally emanated. 

“I missed you too, baby.”

You ran your fingers through his brownish-blonde hair, your heart skipping beats every time you felt his hot breath on your skin. You weren’t one to feel ticklish easily at all, except for under his touch. It was a phenomenon that perplexed you too. So when he slipped his hand under your shirt, to feel your skin, you shivered again. 

He raised his head and gave you a knowing, smug smile.

God he was so infuriating with how attractive he looked when he smiled like that.

“You’re lucky you’re this cute.”

He grinned even wider. “Oh? What’s that? You think I’m cute?”

“Yeah, I think you’re very cute. What of it?”

The cutest laugh escaped his lips and he cupped your face, “I think you’re cuter, now please kiss me.” 

He puckered his lips and in anticipation, closed his eyes, deliberately acting like a cringey young adult rom-com hero, but two could play that game, right?

You pecked him on his cheek instead. 

His dramatic reaction sent you into a fit of laughter and the whole time you were trying to contain yourself, he was gazing at you as if nothing else existed in his world, with the goofiest, most endearing smile on his face. 

He’d never told you he loved you—even though it’s all he’d thought about the past couple of days—partly because he was scared and partly because he didn’t want to scare you away. 

But the way you made his whole being melt into a mush of happiness, made him not want to hold it in anymore.

“Hey,” he interrupted your hysterics in a serious tone, causing you to stop and look at him. You couldn’t match the intensity in his eyes, but it sparked a wildfire at the pit of your stomach.

“I love you”

Did you hear that right? Did he say he loved you? 

“You what?”

“I love you.” 

You beamed ecstatically. “Good, ‘cuz I love you too.”

“Oh thank god” he exhaled in relief, but before he could finish that sentence you had him caught up in a long, sweet kiss that knocked the wind out of his lungs. 

In the dead of the night, you could only hear his soft moans as you bit and sucked on his lower lip. His hands wandered all over your body, grabbing and teasing you, while you focused on how he tasted like liquor and chocolate, without having any. 

Everything about him was intoxicating. 

“Let’s go in”, he signalled towards his room, when you finally parted away from him.

You looked delectable with your messy hair and slightly swollen lips. Ten wanted to devour you.

“Ohhhhh Mr. Lee why do you want to take me into your bedroom at 2:30 AM.. What are your intentions?” 

“To show you how much I love you.” he seduced, “Will you let me?”

“I’ll let you do whatever you want, baby” you replied, getting up and holding your hand out to help him.

“I wonder what good deeds I did to have found you in my life.”

You rolled your eyes as you walked towards his room. “And I wonder the exact opposite.”

He gasped. “Is that how it is huh? I guess you’ll never find out how much I love you then.”

“Aww.” You chuckled, closing the distance between you, “It’s okay, I can show you right here how much I love you instead?”

“No, I can feel Louis looking at us and I’m not about to traumatise my son. So, I’m gonna give him some treats and be right in.”

“Fifteen minutes or I’m going to sleep.”

“I’ll take five.”

“You and I both know you need at least fifteen minutes with Louis.”

How does this woman know me so well, he thought to himself walking over to where his cat was perched. 

“What do you think, Louis? Did I do the right thing” Ten whispered, nuzzling his nose in the fluffy fur. 

Louis meowed.

“Yeah, I think so too. She’s really great isn’t she.” 

Louis meowed again, making him chuckle.

While pouring some dry food in the bowl for his cat he realised he actually hadn’t eaten anything since afternoon, yet he felt full… full of this happiness and a kind of contentment that he’d never experienced before. He cringed at this disgustingly sappy thought and made his way back to you, into the bedroom. 

You were sprawled on the bed, already asleep, not even having managed to get under the blanket.

“So cute”, he fondly murmured, as he got in bed too and encompassed you completely in a hug—his arms now wrapped around your waist and one leg overlapping both of yours.

You stirred, but he pulled you in closer,

“It’s okay, go back to sleep baby.”

He heard a little affirmative hum and you turned around to face him—eyes half closed—to give him a tiny peck on his lips and then hid your face in his chest. 

You started falling back into your world of dreams and he fell right in with you, following you through a field of daisies, admiring your beauty as the sun glowed on your face; just like he would if you were awake. And tell you a thousand times over how beautiful he thought you were and love you and kiss you until you fell right back into his arms at the end of every night. 

There was something so sweet about that feeling, it made you smile and you thought yeah… it seemed like a good way to spend the rest of your life.

[thetorturerwrites]

Eos

Summary: Unblinking, unfocused, you stared at the metronome, losing track of what you were supposed to do. She liked the metronome, Dr. Howard, because it kept her patients calm when reliving their trauma. At least that’s what she told you.

It was your name that drew you back. Not your actual name — the one he’d given you. Your legal name. The one in all the papers.

A/N: This is not for the faint of heart. And do not come for me over this. Non-con/dub-con is a valid fantasy.

That being said, this should be considered a prequel to Get It Right and is for @findyourdarkness​, who wanted more.

C/N:  DEAD DOVE; graphic depictions of violence; Non-con/dub-con; Torture; Stockholm Syndrome; Kidnapping; References to Emesis/Vom; References to forced addiction; Blood and bits; Med/surg; LOOK YOU KNOW WHO I AM OK

All the way behind the cut....

Tick tock tick Tick tock tick

Unblinking, unfocused, you stared at the metronome, losing track of what you were supposed to do. She liked the metronome, Dr. Howard, because it kept her patients calm when reliving their trauma. At least that’s what she told you.

It was your name that drew you back. Not your actual name — the one he’d given you. Your legal name. The one in all the papers.

“He held you captive for three years,” she said, as though you didn’t know, down to the hour, how long he had you. “Are you ready to talk about what he did to you?”

The detective said they needed to know so they could make an accurate accounting in the file.

But how could you answer?

“The... the first year…”

... was all pain.

You didn’t come to his life willingly; he stole you from a happy home and a family that loved you. In the dead of night, he crept into your house, punched you so hard he fractured your jaw and broke your nose, and carried your limp body out with no one the wiser for it.

Your jaw was wired shut for weeks, which lent itself well to his design. The first few days, you shouted yourself dizzy, but all that came out was a muffled wheeze; and when you cried too hard, you choked on your own spit. The blockage at your broken nose kept you from breathing normally.  Inside a week, you learned to not scream lest you asphyxiate from the effort.

Everything made you wretch — the smell of him, the smell of yourself, the water, the air, the plump head of his cock as it rubbed against your puffy, useless mouth.

Thinking you’d suicide your way out of this hell and deny him his newfound plaything, you plastered yourself to the corner of the dismal room, refusing food and water. Undeterred, he shoved an NG tube into your battered nose to scratch along the back of your throat. Force feeding you was something he thoroughly enjoyed, as was the waterboarding that inevitably followed to ensure hydration made it down your gullet.

That was the first time he fucked you.  Drenched and bent over the very table he drowned you on, he wracked open your body and growled possessively at your pitiable screams. Your muted sobs only made him pound at you, claw at you, that much harder. On autopilot, your body made space for him, clenched tight around each violent shove of his dick, and fell headlong into something you tried to tell yourself was just a physical response.

Mangled as your face was, bruised and locked up tight, you could do nothing but swallow the bile, the half processed liquid diet, the snotty water your body tried to expel as you jerked and quaked through the unwelcome orgasm.

You told yourself it meant nothing.

“WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS?!?”

You screamed when he caught you trying to escape, having scraped your fingers bloody, trying to gouge the lock from the door. He dragged you down into the bowels of his house, throwing you into a pitch black cellar. He forced pins beneath your nails so you couldn’t use your fingers and set them with super glue.

“To keep you from pulling them loose,” he chided.

It was a gruesome manicure, and it set your teeth to grinding. Your fingers throbbed, and you could feel each individual pin. It drove you mad until you finally did rip one set of pins free, along with the entire nail. Your echoing screams only drove you further into a rage; and soon, there were no more pins. No more glue. No more nails.

Exhausted, you collapsed into a dirty heap in the corner.

Under his feet, beneath his very floor, you continually wailed and pleaded, shouted and begged, but he ignored you. For days, possibly weeks. He only came to see you nourished, which no longer included the NG tube, but instead a handful of supplements he forced you to swallow, washed down by a gallon of water and his sticky seed.

You were too filthy to be fucked, he told you.

Angered by his judgment, you spat at him.  You rallied and railed that you were filthy because of him. He kept you in that hole with only a goddamn bucket and a worn mattress on the floor like a fucking animal.

Your outburst cost you the bucket and gained you a regular rotation of ORS, accompanied by his thick fingers buried in your cunt and his weighty palm pressing on your abdomen until you could no longer control your bladder. You wept each time he coaxed the golden liquid from you and fumed when he told you how much better he liked you when you behaved.

That became the first rule.

You asked his permission to urinate.

When you disobeyed and relieved yourself without asking, he shoved you face first into your own waste and belted you bloody. When you followed the rule, when you waited for him to arrive and told him of your need, you often got his fingers in your pussy, pumping and curling, sending you into a subdued, subtle orgasm until you pissed in his hand.

The alleviation of your discomfort was always so palpable.  Punctuated with breathy, grateful moans, it stole your dignity. You hated that he wanted this ritual, but you hated more than you came to crave it. Each time, he pressed his lips to your temple and bore your sagging weight. He clucked and crooned that you could be such a good girl if you wanted.

He only had to slap you once before you licked his dirtied hand clean.

Complying with his demand earned you food, water you didn’t have to fear, and a clean mattress, but your basement cell was still frigid, and your bare legs and feet still froze. It was only when his harsh treatment and inhospitable accommodations made you ill that he relented. He carried you and your pneumonia up into the house proper and helped you through the first bath you could remember in what felt like months.

Too feverish to enjoy it properly, you cried into his shoulder, clinging to him as he washed your back. And though you knew it was madness, knew it was the sickness, you murmured thanks and fell asleep against his broad chest.

Tock tick tock Tock tick tock

Dr. Howard stared at you, mouth agape, for an uncomfortably long time. Unable to remain stoic, her face telegraphed every thought. She was horrified, plainly terrified, and, at the same time, amazed that you sat here in her office, telling her such awful things as though you made pleasant conversation.

“Do you, ah…” Her brow furrowed, and she fidgeted. “Do you need to take a break? Get a snack? Use the…”

You chewed the inside of your lip subtly as her thought trailed off. Use the facilities, your mind furnished. She couldn’t bring herself to ask you if you needed to pee, given what she’d learned. You debated telling her you couldn’t force yourself, no matter how hard you tried. Instead, you had to wait until need won out over volition.

“No, thank you.” You brushed an imaginary fuzzball off of your skirt hem and looked away, a flush creeping into your cheeks at the memory of his fingers inside you. “I’d rather do this all today, if possible.”

“Ah.” She nodded and scribbled something down. “Please, go on.”

Your gaze crawled over the books lining the wall behind her desk, reminding you of his library and the mountain of books he made you read to him. Your shoulders rose and fell on a sigh, the intake of breath no longer steadying as it had been then. It was simply function now.

“The second year was transformation. That’s what he called it.”

Satisfied that he broke you of any desire to flee, he started with your teeth. Uncommon, you made it to adulthood with all of your wisdom teeth, which he had removed to make more room in your mouth for his cock, to ensure they wouldn’t scrape at him when he forced himself into your throat, which he did every morning.

No longer banished to the basement, you slept tied to the foot of his bed. First, it was with heavy, scratchy coconut rope, and your mornings started with a roughshod swallow when he awoke. You knew better than to outright fight him, but you still leaned away, still shook your head no, and he punished you for it with a face fucking so brutal your lips split.

When you accepted his cock with no derision, no argument, you earned medication, a sedative for your night terrors or a pain pill for your discomfort. When you sucked his dick of your own will, without him holding you in place and rutting into your mouth like a savage, you earned a less coarse rope and a pillow upon which to sleep.

That became the second rule.

Knelt at the side of his bed, you worshiped his cock every morning, gulping down whatever he saw fit to give you that day, be it his cum, his piss, or a blend of both.

Next, it was your eyes. Nearsighted on the left and farsighted on the right, your prescription was so strong, he had been a blurry demon for a year without your glasses. And now that he no longer had to beat you senseless every day, that would not do.

“The devil is in the details,” he said, wanting you to remember every moment in vivid color.

You cried when you saw him clearly for the first time. Great, untamable sobs erupted from your chest because you didn’t understand how someone so beautiful could be so inhumane. Even without perfect vision, you knew he was tall, wide, and muscular. You knew his hair was dark and wavy. But you didn’t know the line of his nose was so poetic. Nor did you know that his lips quivered as he pondered.

It was only when you saw the details, just as he wanted, that you realized you knew him. You’d seen him. You remembered smiling at him in the shop every day. Putting together the puzzle, you realized he planned for this, for you.

Halfway through the year, when you were compliant, quiet, and addicted to the steady stream of pharmaceuticals he plied you with, there came a tracker in your throat and laryngeal chondroplasty to make the pitch of your voice more pleasing. You had a pretty voice, he told you, but your screams weren’t high enough. Your whimpers didn’t have that special something.

He tested it by withholding the medication he’d allowed you to become dependent upon. You scratched at the walls, shuddering and whining. You jerked against the iron collar keeping you within a foot of his bed. You pleaded with him for just one pill, just one of anything to make you feel better. You bartered with nothing and promised to do anything if he would chase away these tremors, these shakes and hallucinations.

Only when he wanted, no sooner, did he give you what you sought. Two little pills were all it took for you to brace yourself on hands and knees and whore yourself for him. That night, he fucked you hoarse.  On the floor like a beast, he slapped and choked you while shoving his massive length all the way into your guts and prodding you to say what he wanted again and again and again.

And you did.

Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

That became the third rule.

You thanked him every time he fucked you, more so if he allowed you to orgasm.

You couldn’t remember when your breasts changed. You’d simply awoken one morning from a medicated fog to burning chest muscles and tits that sat higher, perkier than before. He liked to palm them as he made plans, to pluck and tug and roll the nipples until your ragged breathing lured him away from his blueprints.

He never allowed you any clothing, even when he set you to working in his home. He wanted to feel your hips, to dip his fingers into your sex when he caught you bent over to clean, to fuck you whenever the fancy struck him. He often kept you in his lap, either curled into his chest upon it or bent over it and strapped to his chair.

Finally, you underwent tubal ligation. He debated the pros and cons — though not actually with you — of it versus an outright hysterectomy for weeks.  He didn’t trust the vasectomy he had and wanted to be sure.  Children, he reminded you, were not part of his plan; and thus, they were no longer a possibility for your future.

After the last surgery, he put you through a detox program. Less harsh than the abrupt first round, he combated your withdrawals and illness by wringing a long string of orgasms from your overheated body. You slept through half of it; and when you weren't sleeping, he sent you into orbit with his lips, his fingers, his cock.

From then forward, he allowed you human food, even teaching you how to cook his favorite dishes, but he controlled your portions, your supplements, your hydration.  And your exercise to stave off atrophy.

At the close of the year, after the false color had grown out and your long hair hung its natural hue, he told you that your transformation was complete. Your body was stronger, having run the gauntlet in his name, and you were healthier than you’d ever been.

Pressing your lips into a firm line, you looked away from Dr. Howard, diving into the memory as though it would warm you.

His fourth rule was that you ride his dick every night, slowly, languidly. He didn’t always cum when you did it, a fact that somehow sorely disappointed you, but he wanted to watch you stretch and writhe. He wanted to run his hands over the body he molded, to appreciate the effects of your metamorphosis.

At midnight of the third year, he gave you a new name.

You cried when he said it, when he repeated it again and again. Head tipped back, his hands everywhere, filled to the brim with his thick cock, fat tears spilled from the corners of your eyes because he said it with such tenderness, such possessiveness you felt branded by it.

He wasn’t wrong. You were a wholly different person — whether or not you wanted it.

“What was it? The new name?”

She asked on bated breath. She even leaned forward in her chair, engrossed as though your life, your ordeal, was a suspenseful movie or salacious novel. The look you gave her was charged with ire, a clap back on your features that needed no words.

Realizing she’d been caught, Dr. Howard slipped back into clinical professionalism and rifled through the file on her lap. She made a few notes, which you believed were little more than doodles and simply a way to regain some ground she’d lost.

“When did you learn he was hurting people?”

“June of the 3rd year.”

She looked at you incredulously, taking off her glasses to huff slightly. “He’d killed 6 people by then. What were you doing?”

“Training.”

Your education into his extra-curricular activities began the day he called your new name, and you looked up automatically. It took time. You rarely realized he was even speaking to you until he threw a book at your head or kicked the chair out from beneath you. To punctuate the conditioning, he buried his face between your thighs at least twice a day, but he wouldn’t let you cum until you repeated it to his satisfaction.

“My name is… my name is… my name is…”

Much the way sheltered children are bought private educations, he arranged for you to have tutors in subjects he deemed fit.  You studied anatomy, infrastructure, and chemistry. You learned to speak Italian, Dutch, Farsi, and a handful of other languages. Some more than others, but all to the point you could get by. He demanded you slog through massive texts on physiology, engineering, even rudimentary architecture.

For a month, he hired a dominatrix to teach you about knots, rope, and bondage. You tied yourself to chairs and columns, learned how to wiggle out of what most people thought were secure bindings, and made quick-and-dirty cuffs and gags from a single length of clothesline rope. Every lesson ended with you in a hogtie and him balls deep inside you some way or another.

Masseurs came to teach you about pressure points and fascia. Nurses gave you lessons on starting an IV, administering fluids, and creating an arterial tap. You learned jiu jitsu and how best to break bones, how to perform a choke hold properly, and the quickest way to subdue someone twice your size.

He hosted dinner parties at which his guests, doctors and lawyers, discussed Mozart, politics, and hypothetical ways to disarticulate a human body, to eliminate evidence of a crime, to elude the supposed authorities just by being patient. Don’t make rash decisions, they said. Stay calm; don’t deviate from your plan.

“Why did you not try to escape?” One red brow piqued over Dr. Howard’s eye, and she continued. “It is arguable that you were well qualified to fight your way to freedom. Why didn’t you?”

You looked towards the window. This was the thing she wanted to know more than anything. Yes, she wanted the gory details of his crimes for the records, and she wanted to know how you made it through all that time alive. But she really wanted to know why you weren’t chained to a radiator, emaciated, or addicted to heroin. The way she expected. She especially wanted to know why you didn’t run.

“If I had a suitable answer for that, I doubt I’d be here, Dr. Howard.”

Two and a half years into your captivity, his ownership was complete. You not only obeyed without hesitation; you often anticipated his demands, and you routinely left his home for errands without the compulsion to flee. Now when he beat you, it was because he wanted to see you suffer rather than needing to re-educate or punish you. When he took away your food or your bed, it was to sate his sadism. Instead of waterboarding you in the basement like a hostage, he plunged your face into ice-cold bath water while he fucked you from behind in ornate hotel rooms around the world.

It wasn’t that you were too afraid to escape. He eviscerated everything that made you you. To where you knew you’d never fit into the life, the family, you had before. It was this revelation, this acceptance that planted the seed that would become his trust.

He believed you would never leave. To say you didn’t believe the same would be a lie.

His seventh victim instituted your fifth rule.

Your information, your input, was accurate; or you paid the consequence.

He nearly lost her because the information you gave him on the tunnel system was outdated. The city filled in some tunnels with concrete to keep the streets above from collapsing, but that information hadn’t made it onto the schematics you found online. You didn’t know he needed the information to kidnap someone, but that was the night you learned it was him leaving women stitched up and bloody in abandoned churches.

The only kindness he showed you was that he did not carve at your sides the way he did with them. But he used the same coarse black thread. He sliced off chunks of your skin and rubbed the same jagged salt into your wounds. And he sewed your flesh to itself to pay back the trouble you’d caused.

All before he dragged you to the edge of his bench, yanked your head back to hang over it, and forced his cock directly into your throat. He gripped your neck as he watched himself slide in and out; and right before he climaxed, he tore at the dreadful stitches with his bare hands so he could cut off your screams with the throb of his dick and gag you on his cum.

After that, your research was tireless, your intel unshakable.

“Did you ever help him kidnap or hurt someone?”

You met her assessing stare, certain that the true reason you were here was because the law, the victim families, needed someone to blame.  Everyone knew it was him, but some rookie hotshot was too excited to get his load off, and the guy they came to arrest ended up in the morgue. You were the only link to him, the only potential prosecutable person. Despite the fact you were, in the most basic sense of the word, a victim, too.

“I gave him the information he asked me for.” You nodded, giving her this admission because it was true. What you told him directly led to the suffering of others. “But I did not take part in any of his crimes beyond that.”

She must have believed you because the interview wrapped up within 30 minutes of that confession. It isn’t uncommon, she told you, for victims to develop Stockholm Syndrome, but your case was particularly severe, and the bond was particularly strong because of it. She would give her report to the detectives, and she scheduled you for another appointment in a few days.

“It will take a lot of work, but you can come back from this.”

Feigning a brief smile, you left, threw the appointment card into the street, and ducked into the nearest taxi. This life, this ‘real’ life, felt foreign, muddled. The car felt too small; the hotel felt too empty. Everything you knew from the last three years was ripped violently from you, and the rest of the world expected that you would pick right up where you left off and carry on.

Inside your room, you dropped your things to the floor. The key clattered, and your bag tipped over haphazardly. Trivial things. Without turning on the light, you dramatically tore off your clothes and, blessedly free from all of that fucking fabric, pondered all the things you didn’t tell Dr. Howard.

You didn’t tell her you hadn’t seen your family since they had found you, or that you didn’t want to.  You didn’t tell her you couldn’t stand to wear clothes when you were in whatever semblance of home you had. He kept you naked for so long, always ready for him, that it felt sacrilegious to hide behind them.

Passing by the full-length mirror, you gazed at your reflection, tracing your outline in the glass.  When she asked why you refused a rape kit, you hadn’t shared how he’d cemented his ownership of you with tattoos, the kind nobody else knew about.  Tattoos he could see in the dark.  Absently, you ran your fingers along the UV ink marking your sternum, admiring the soft glow it lent you. His molded clay. His masterpiece.

You barely heard it, your name whispered. 

It was so soft; you didn’t think it was real. Sobs jumped up into your throat, and you covered your mouth to keep them quiet. You pressed your forehead against the mirror, trying desperately to keep your mourning on the inside of your skin.

Again it came, louder, surer.

Your tears, your breath, your heart stopped.  You whipped your head around to look over one shoulder to the black mass occupying the darkest corner of the pre-fab room. The little desk light switched on, casting that corner, and its person, into a soft glow.

You flew to him, leaping over the bed and shoving the ottoman out of the way. You vibrated, barely managing to not throw yourself into his arms. You only touched him when he allowed it, but the effort to obey in this moment was colossal and brutal.

“You…” Your voice wavered. You lifted bewildered eyes to his, pushing your hands into your hair to keep from reaching for him. “You’re here.”

“On your knees, pet.” The barest hint of a smile tugged the corner of his mouth up.

It was all the permission you needed. You hit the floor with a thud and pressed your face between his thick thighs. You ran your hands up his sides and fought the urge to tear his clothes to pieces. You slid loose the expensive belt with its silver buckle and tugged pants and underwear out of the way. Your heart rate kicked up higher and higher. Your mouth watered.

When his growing girth sprang free, you kissed the little dip where it met his body, nuzzling your mouth and cheeks there elatedly. Frantic for the velvet feel of his skin, you enveloped his dick with your mouth on a soft whimper. You mouthed and licked and nipped until he was fully erect, straining red and purple.

His ragged breathing drew your focus, searing this minute, and the way he looked, into your mind forever. Flushed, dotted with beads of sweat, lips parted and panting, he was everything you dreamed about these desolate weeks and more. Beyond that, he missed you. You saw it in his face.

Wasting no time, you curled your tongue around the head of his dick and slid onto it, humming at the weight on your tongue. Slicking up his length, you vaulted into a quick pace, bobbing up and down hurriedly. You needed to taste him, to feel the twitch right before he poured into your mouth. His soft groan at your tight, insistent lips had your eyes upon him, which earned you another heavenly purr of approval. He allowed you to worship, to lathe him with your tongue and bathe him with your spit.

But then, he didn’t.

Wide hands wrapped entirely around your skull, and broad hips surged forward to lodge his cock as far into your face, and down into your throat, as physically possible. Where you’d have fought him before, you now groaned. Your body tightened, lengthened, moistened.

Your desire for his meanness was grotesque, carefully curated and expertly executed.

“Did you tell them? Hm?”

He pulled you off of his dick so fast you sputtered. Sticky ropes of spit connected you to him, and you struggled to think. He didn’t give you any time to answer before he bucked forward and sunk back in. You gagged around him. Your tongue jumped and tried to curl up, but he occupied every centimeter of your stretched mouth.

“Did you fucking tell them?”

At the next reprieve, as you sucked down air miserably, you shook your head as best you could against the tangle of his fingers at the back of your skull. You blinked hard to make the two of him combine to one.

“Th-they didn’t ask me that.” You fought to steady your heaving chest, to calm the thunderous beat of your heart. “They think you’re dead.” You bit at your swelling lower lip and tried to hide the falter of your voice. “I thought you died.”

“Get dressed. We’re leaving.”

Every muscle clenched. You wanted to obey, but you also needed something in this moment. You couldn’t put words to it, but you crumpled, both hands slamming against the floor. You keened, louder than you expected, because the war inside you was too great.

“Please.” You wept, reaching out to clutch at the toe of his shoe. “It’s… it’s been weeks. I need…”

Your dick. Your hands. Your belt. Make me see stars. Make me bleed and scream and burn. Drown me. Bite me. Hit me. Crush me underfoot. Anything so you’ll see me.

The me you made.

“Stand up.” His fingers dug bruises into the soft flesh under your arm and hoisted you up. “Fast.”

He spun you and lifted you onto your toes. You clawed at your own thighs for a bit of leverage, but he held you exactly where he wanted with his incredible strength. With not even a hint of caring, he lined the fat head of his dick up with your opening and slammed all the way home in one vicious thrust.

Valiantly, you didn’t scream. You shook and swallowed hot tears, but you didn’t scream. You remembered the rule, though, and the words tumbled from your mouth louder than you intended.

“Thank you. Fucking Christ, thank you. Thankyouthankyouthankyou.”

He gripped half of your face in his right hand, shutting you up with a growl and making himself an effective handle. He dug fingers into your soft belly and rammed into you, painfully filling you, driving you mindless. The flutter of his breath at your ear, the sexy grunt against your shoulder, the bite at your throat, all of it coalesced to send you reeling.

“We have fucking work to do.” He groaned into the side of your neck, his thrusts unrelenting but stuttering. “And you’re begging to be fucked like a common whore.”

You squirmed at the lewd squelches coming from your flooded cunt and whined against his palm. You knew you’d pay for it later, for making him wait with your idiot feelings, but even the thought of that lit you up, fire under your flesh. Another gush of molten slick perfumed the air as you imagined him carving you up again or tying you to the bedpost and beating you to sleep.

Cursing, he wrapped both hands around your hips, and threw himself into you recklessly. You plastered both of your hands where his had been to dampen the shrieks you couldn’t possibly keep down. You knew better than to cum without his permission, but he hadn’t even given you leave to beg. Still, your body tightened, and your cunt contracted, dangerously close.

“Say it, pet.” His voice was choppy, split by labored breaths. He was going to spill into your sloppy pussy any second, and you flew, leaving your body until he gouged trenches into your back with his uneven nails. “Fucking say it.”

An otherworldly calm settled over you, slipping you further away from whatever the normal world was and into this mania with him. It was delirious, abhorrent, obscene.

He made you his own pet monster, blood hungry, wanton, and vulgar.

“My name is Eos.” Somehow, your breathy voice was stable. “And I belong to Kylo Ren.”

[snowstark]

Hi lovely! I had a prompt idea. How about Peter almost being too late for school so just quickly grabbing an apple & right before lunch Flash corners him & threatens to lock him up in one of the lockers (Peter has bad claustrophobia since the building so he complies) but bc of his metabolism he’s feeling super dizzy & down so when he gets to the tower/compound to work with Tony he’s not himself & he faints. Tony is super worried, takes care of his baby and makes him fess up about the bullying. X

“You’re late, Parker.”

The apple fell from Peter’s hand and landed on the ground with a light thump before rolling away. Peter closed his eyes tightly, feeling the hard metal of the locker press into his back.

“What’s wrong? Are you scared, Petey-pie? Do you want me to call your mommy?” Flash laughed and patted his face. “Oh, wait, I can’t; she’s dead. When was the last time you saw her again, penis?”

Peter’s eyes shot open, a rush of anger washing over him until it was nearly overwhelming. “Shut the fuck up, Flash!” he snapped, raising a fist. “At least I’m not stuck with your miserable snobby parents.”

It was true; it was no secret that Flash’s parents were rather apathetic towards their son. And Peter’s words had clearly hit a sore spot, judging by the way Flash’s scowl grew. Coldly, the other boy responded, “Say that again, Parker, and I’ll shove you up into this locker. Then we’ll see who’s talking.”

Peter paled, feeling his heart skip a beat at the prospect. His mind flashed back to the incident with the building, how he’d barely managed to escape in one piece. He shuddered at the thought of being locked up in a small dark place. No, never again.

Flash smirked, seeing the look of fear on his face. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.” He gave Peter one final rough shove, making his head hit the locker with a clang before storming away. And to top it all off, he kicked Peter’s apple hard enough to send it rolling down the hallway.

Peter rubbed the back of his head with a hand, wincing. Even being Spider-Man didn’t mean he was invincible against bruises. And he could already feel one forming.

Peter sighed ruefully when his stomach growled. Another thing that came with being Spider-Man was his fast metabolism. And Flash had kicked away the one thing he’d brought to school with him today. Great. Well, he would just have to manage.

The rest of the school day was uneventful. His stomach kept growling insistently, reminding him of his sad fate. He had to go work with Mr. Stark now; not that he minded because he adored working with the older man. Mr. Stark was just a different breed, Peter mused as he left the school property. Peter loved to debate with him and just talk their asses off; it felt nice to know someone who understood him so well.

It didn’t take long to get to the Tower. Peter may or may not have taken a shortcut by changing into his suit and swinging the rest of the way. But hey, who could blame him?

It wasn’t until he landed in front of the Tower, panting, that that probably hadn’t been the best idea. Using up that much energy made him even more tired and hungry, and fuck, it was going to be a long day.

Tony seemed to notice that something was off the moment he met Peter’s eyes, but Peter didn’t give him the chance to ask him about it because he jumped right into their current project, babbling on and on. It wasn’t until Tony reached out and placed a hand on his chest that he realized he’d been rambling too much.

“You okay, kid?”

“Yeah.” Peter nodded, and whoa, he suddenly didn’t so good. He swooned and mumbled, “‘m fine, Mr. Sta…” Then, he fell backwards, the world spinning in front of him.

When he awoke, it took him a moment to regain a sense of his surroundings and figure out where he was. He blinked and stared into a pair of eyes that glittered with concern. “M-Mr. Stark?”

The man’s face cleared instantly and he huffed. “Jeez, kid, you passed out hard.”

Peter winced when he was jostled and realized with a flush of hot embarrassment that he was cradled in Tony’s lap, as though he was a small child. “‘M fine,” he mumbled, but his actions proved his words wrong when he couldn’t even make himself sit up on his own.

“You fainted,” Tony said gently, steadying him before giving up and just pulling him onto his lap. “You’re going to be feeling tired for a while.” Smoothing back the hair on Peter’s forehead affectionately, he added, “What happened? Do you know why you just passed out like that?”

A pause. Then, Peter shook his head reluctantly. “No. Not really.” He hated lying, but he didn’t want to tell Mr. Stark what had really happened. What if he thought he was weak, and didn’t deserve to be Spider-Man anymore? Peter couldn’t stand the idea of that. He was nothing without the suit.

But it seemed he’d given the wrong answer because Tony frowned, looking even more concerned. “We’re going to the doctor,” he said firmly, leaving no room for argument. “No, actually, I don’t want you fainting again on the way. I’m calling a doctor here so he can check you over.”

“No!” Peter yelped, scrambling to his feet and staggering. “I’m fine, Mr. Stark!”

And of course, because life fucking hated him, his stomach growled. Like it was trying to make a statement. Or remind Peter of his lie. Or expose Peter’s lie. Did it even matter?

Tony’s eyes flashed to his stomach, and then slowly moved up to his face. Uh oh, he looked dangerous. “Peter,” the man said slowly, stepping forward. “Did you pass out because you were hungry?”

Peter gulped. “Um,” he managed intelligently.

Tony facepalmed himself, staying like that for a while until he just silently gathered Peter in his arms, holding him close. “What happened?” he asked gently. “You can tell me.”

And before he could stop himself, Peter was spilling the entire day out to Tony, seeking comfort and validation against Flash’s nasty words. When he finished, Tony was quiet for a while. So was Peter.

Then, Tony spoke. “You know his words weren’t true.”

Peter nodded jerkily and to his shame, felt tears welling up in his eyes.

Tony sighed and gently wiped the tears away with his thumbs. “We’re going to eat pizza,” he informed Peter softly. “And then we’re going to talk about how to handle pretentious little brats like him.”

Peter nodded again. He was directed by Tony to sit down and he obeyed without question. He watched Tony move around methodically, calling their favourite pizza place and placing an order before plopping down on the couch next to him. “Mr. Stark?” he ventured.

“Yeah, kid?”

“How do you deal with bullies like Flash?”

Tony smirked and shot a glance at him. “Do you want a demonstration tomorrow, kid?”

Peter couldn’t suppress the smile that tugged at his lips at the display of protectiveness. “Maybe,” he admitted. It wouldn’t hurt Flash, only ruin his pride. He knew Mr. Stark wouldn’t actually do anything to harm the idiot anyways.

Tony grinned. “Alright. You want a demonstration, you’ll get one.”

“Thanks, Mr. Stark.” Peter couldn’t express how grateful he was, so he just leaned against Tony’s shoulders, relaxing when he felt the man wrap his arm around his shoulders.

“Don’t mention it, pal. For now, we’re just going to work on finishing the forty boxes of pizza I ordered.”

“FORTY?!”

[mushyjellybeans]

It’s Always You

Pairing: Steve Rogers X Reader

Request: Hello!! Is it possible to request a Steve X reader smut? Where the reader is a new enhanced avenger and they just don't get along well until they come to a heated argument? (Given to me by @sebbbystaaan 💜💜)

Word Count: 1,745

Warnings: Angst, fluff language (Sorry cap), Smut, unprotected sex, oral sex, Sam is a little shit, 18++ please.

Masterlist

"Listen to me! You purposely disobeyed an order! You're a goddamn idiot and you could have gotten yourself killed! I don't your death on my damn conscience. Follow my orders or stay on desk duty next time!" Steve yelled in your face before he stormed off the quinjet, adjusting his shield on his back. You scoffed and rolled your eyes, he should be grateful. Because of you, you were able to download an entire database of confidential Hydra files, their future experiments and foil their plans to build bio chemical weapons. And this is the thanks you get, a scream in your face by your captain.

It shouldn't really surprise you however, because you and Steve never did get along. The moment Fury recruited you, he looked down to you, and it wasn't because of the height difference between you.

You were a mutant, you were able to feel feelings by a touch of someone's forehead. And sometimes you were able to help them feel different. You helped his best friend, the infamous Bucky Barnes. Helped him through his nightmares, his depression. But Steve didn't care, in fact he had warned you in front of everyone to stay away, that you were useless and you weren't needed.

You followed after him and grabbed his arm. He spun around on his heel and glared down at you and shook his head. He carried on walking into the common room, where the rest of the team were lounging.

"Firstly, don't you ever talk to me like that! I'm a part of this team Steve, whether you want me to be or not! And secondly, if it wasn't for me you wouldn't have access to those files! Because I did NOT see anyone else willing to sacrifice their lives to get them!" You seethed.

"That's because they are not an imbecile like you."

Your mouth gaped open and before you could it, your hand made contact with his cheek. You slapped his so hard his head moved to the side. A red mark was visible. Loud gasps and a few 'oh no' were heard behind you.

Steve clenched his jaw and got right in your face. His breath fanned over your skin and your breathing picked up. Steve would never hit a woman, you knew that but he could get you off the team if he really wanted to.

"Fine. If you wanna go and get yourself killed, go ahead." Steve stormed off, leaving you with your lips slightly parted and body trembling. Once the adrenaline wore off, you came to your senses and realized what a huge mistake you had made. You had slapped your captain, in front of his teammates and friends. You needed to fix this and fast. You ran after him, down the long carpeted hallway until you reached his door.

His door was ajar and you knocked once before you let yourself in. Steve was sitting on the foot of his bed, his head lowered to the ground.

"Steve?" You said softly. He didn't look up, but your voice caused him to tense. "I just wanted to apologize, for everything. I know you hate me and we've never really gotten along but I shouldn't have disobeyed you and I definitely shouldn't have slapped you, so I'm sorry." The air was thick with tension. Steve stood up slowly and stepped towards you. Your feet kept you grounded in one place.

"Do you know why I got so mad?" He said, also with a soft voice. His eyes danced around your face and you pondered his question.

"Because I disobeyed an order?"

"Because I care. Because I worry about you every time we're out on a mission, and the fact that you sacrificed your life to get those damn files with no backup Y/N. I could never live with myself if anything happened to you."

Your heart thumped loudly in your ears and you wanted to believe this was all a dream.

It became a reality when Steve reached his hand out and cupped your cheek. He licked his lips before he dipped his head and captured your lips. His lips were soft and they tasted of cherry.

Steve's left hand grabbed a hold of your waist and rubbed circles on the skin. His right hand was in the nape of your neck, holding you close to him, afraid you'll disappear from his touch.

The kiss deepened and it lit a passion in your souls. Your mouths became competitive when you fought each other with your tongues, fighting for that dominance. A moan slipped into his mouth as his crotch grinded against your belly.

With your mouths attacking each other, Steve walked you back towards the bed until your knees hit the mattress. Steve gently pushed you down so you were lying on the bed. He crawled up and hovered above you, his thick thigh separating your legs.

"I've wanted you for so long."

×××

You were a withering mess. You fisted the sheets as Steve's tongue danced heavily on your clit. He sucked on the nub as he pulled his lips away, your slick trailed from his lips and he reattached his tongue, lapping you up like an ice cream cone. Your back arched off the bed and pushed your hips further into his mouth.

"Steve- mmm!" You moaned. Your coil snapped and Steve gave a few kitten licks to ride out your orgasm.

Steve grinned as he crawled back up towards you. His clothes were already disregarded when you were making out for 30 minutes on his bed.

"Sweeter than pop tarts." He smiled. His beard and lips glistened with your arousal.

Steve ran his length between your folds and gathered your juices. His tip prodded your entrance. You were slightly worried about how his huge fat cock was going to fit. The serum absolutely enhanced everything and you loved it.

"You ready, doll?" He slurred. Drunk off your taste that lingered on his taste buds.

Fuck, if you weren't the sweetest little cutie he's tasted.

"I'm ready, Stevie." You smiled up at the man, and spread your legs even further apart to accommodate his huge frame.

Gently and slowly, Steve pushed forward. Your walls sucked him in and squeezed around his hard throbbing cock.

"Fuck baby, you're so tight. Jesus Christ doll, I'm not gonna last." He grunted as he pulled his hips back, only for you to suck him back in. "Ah shit yes, this feels so good oh my god. Your pussy is so tight and warm." He moaned.

Your head was thrown back into the pillow and your eyes shut. Your arms curled around his shoulders and your feet planted on the mattress as Steve set a rhythm.

He was so large. His veins hitting the nerves you never knew existed and his engorged tip hit a few sweet spots you could never find with toys or fingers.

It seemed the only method was to have a super soldier cock do the work for you.

"Steve oh my god you feel so good, so big." Steve moaned at your words and grabbed a hold of your breasts.

He sat back and lifted your legs over his shoulder. The new angle allowing him to hit deeper and harder and you fucking screamed.

"STEVE!" Your voice broke as he picked up pace, pounding into you with no remorse, no care if you could even walk afterwards, you didn't fucking care either.

You were dizzy and addicted from the skin on skin and the obscene rattling sounds the headboard made as he fucked you hard. Your walls clamped down and he roared at the feeling.

You wet your middle finger and slid it down to your throbbing clit. You were about to cum for the second time, your sat up on your elbows and watched as his thick cock disappeared in and out of you. Steve watched your face intently. He was hitting your spot with such force you couldn't hold back anymore. By your constant clenching, he knew you were close too.

"Cum for me baby girl. Cum over my thick cock."

"Oh my god, Steve." Your eyes rolled back in your head and a final flick to your clit, you came undone over his cock.

"Shit, shit, shit!" He chanted. Steve stilled his hips, his pelvic bone to your clit and you felt his cock swell around your walls, long spurts of his cum filled you to the brim.

When you both came down from your high. Steve smiled down at you and pecked your lips as he pulled out gently. Some of his cum leaked out on to your inner thighs and on the sheets.

"Wow." He hummed and wrapped his arms around you to pull you close to his sweaty body. "We should do doggy next time." He smiled.

His heart beat echoed in your ear as you traced patterns around his chest.

"Next time?" You questioned, tilting your head to look up at him.

"I hope you don't think this was a one time thing." He grinned, and kissed your nose. You giggled.

"I'm glad it isn't." You admitted. "But I won't disobey any more orders."

"If you do, I'll punish you." His hand slithered down and grabbed one of your butt cheeks, giving it a firm squeeze. You yelled and laughed.

Silence came to you and it was comfortable. You were enjoying each others company when you heard faint footsteps outside the door.

"Oh Steve, oh yes, harder! Fuck me harder! Mwah mwah mwah!" Sam mocked through the door and you blushed. You hid your face in his neck as Steve laughed and shook his head.

"Maybe one day we'll experiment with Bucky. He's an animal in bed I heard, and we'll do it when Sam is asleep in his room since Bucky's room is next to his." He winked and you grinned. You wasn't sure if Bucky would ever truthfully agree to something like that. But to piss Sam off? That would be worth it.

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[221bshrlocked]

thought you were mine (1)

Pairing: Bucky x Reader (ABO Dynamics)

Words: 4921 (not even mad about it)

Warnings: Smuuuut. Pining. Some form of angst. Really dirty dirty talk.

Summary: Your heat arrives unexpectedly and Natasha isn’t around to help you like she usually does. What happens when another alpha gets a whiff of your scent and some lines are crossed?

A/N: I know I have been away for so long and I am really sorry. I don’t know why I have no motivation but I promise I’m trying. I decided to just write whatever comes to mind even if it is shitty just so I get the crap writing out of my system and then I could get to the good writing again. There will be either one more part or two more parts.

You tapped out for god knows what time in the last ten minutes, shaking your head at Natasha when she stood up with a grin and helped you off the ground. She tried to tell you how she got the upper hand this time, but you brushed her away, wobbling to your drink before sinking to the ground and drowning in the cold liquid.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re distracted.” She snatched the towel from your hand before sitting next to you, dabbing her neck and reaching for her own drink.

“You don’t know better then.” You growled back, turning away from her immediately when you saw her raise an eyebrow at you.

“Careful omega, or we’ll give those agents something to talk about.” She smiled at you before taking in your facial expressions, grunting when you looked to the ground and ducked your head to the side, silently giving her your submission before struggling to stand up. She followed suit and patted you on your shoulder, turning to the other end of the gym when she saw where your attention was focused.

“Why am I not surprised?” She whispered before taking her things and walking towards the group of alphas and grinning when one of them left almost immediately.

“What’s wrong with him?” Natasha pointed at Bucky, maintaining eye contact with him until he went back to his weights.

“You know very well why he’s avoiding you.” Steve whispered right back, shaking his head when Sam raised his hands as soon as Natasha crossed her arms at the tone. “Come on you know she’s not my type Steve.”

“I know that, and Sam knows it, and pretty much everyone in this compound knows that! But you somehow, randomly, always find a way to have her submit to you in front of him and let’s be honest, that’s not something you’d want to see from the omega you’ve set your eyes on in, literally, decades.” Steve angrily stuffed his jacket and water bottle in his duffle bag before wrapping it around his arm.

“Who said I’m doing this randomly?” Natasha chuckled when Sam left, muttering something about not wanting to know what the plan was. Steve, on the other hand, swore under his breath, catching onto what Natasha had in mind. “This is a dangerous game you’re playing Romanoff, and I’m not sure Bucky will like it.”

“He’s obviously too thick-headed to do anything so I’m just giving him the little push he needs. Besides, they’ll thank me later.”

“Don’t get involved Nat.” Steve puffed out his chest, his blood boiling at hearing someone talk about Bucky in such a way. But it was a big mistake to do that in front of subordinates, his nose flaring when the smell of fear clouded his judgment.

“Mind your own fucking business Rogers.” Natasha growled right back, turning around quickly when she heard you running and grabbing her arms to try and pull her away from Steve. She could also smell the hint of fear in the air and took your hands right away, rubbing your wrist slowly and telling you that her and Steve were just getting a little carried away.

“Calm down love, it’s fine.” She wrapped her arm around your neck and pulled you in, nudging your scent gland softly before laughing and turning away. You slowly began to calm down, telling her it was best the two of you leave because you felt light-headed from all the angry pheromones pumping through the air.

She led you out of the gym, turning around just in time to see a very red-faced super soldier throwing imaginary knives at her. She could tell he was about to go into rut and hoped you weren’t able to smell him. You, on the other hand, could definitely smell his scent. It was so much stronger than before and you thought he might start his rut soon but that shouldn’t have been possible. Tony and Bruce had him on strong scent blockers so technically, you shouldn’t have been able to smell that minty scent you’ve grown so fond of in the last few months. But here you were, breathing the sweet aroma as much as you can until you realized it was making you dizzy. A dull strike of pain shot through your stomach and you blamed the alphas almost fighting for it. You needed to leave the gym as soon as possible and the opportunity presented itself on a silver platter when you saw Natasha and Steve arguing.

While Nat was talking to Sam and Steve, you couldn’t keep your eyes off of Bucky, watching him almost lift the entire fucking machine off the ground. Something had made him angry and you wished you could run to him and soothe the pain away, finding it heart-wrenching that your alpha needed to be taken care of and you couldn’t do it. Your mouth watered when you saw his jaws clenching, sweat forming on his forehead & neck and rolling down his shirt. Then he noticed you were staring at him and dropped the weights aggressively, turning around to avoid looking at you because had he maintained eye contact, he would have lost it and pulled you away from everyone. 

Wait, since when was he your alpha?

You brushed the thought aside when Natasha told you she’ll go shower so the two of you could walk around for a bit.

Bucky almost broke the wall when he saw Natasha nuzzling your neck. He wasn’t sure when the two of you started getting this close but he didn’t like it. He didn’t like it one bit. And the fact that you didn’t tell her to stop angered him even more. She could’ve easily calmed you down without getting this personal! As soon as you walked out, Bucky was able to breathe again. He was barely keeping himself together, the smell of iris flowers flooding his brain and making him go crazy. For some odd reason, it was even sweeter when you were at the gym. Maybe it’s because you were sparring with Natasha but that shouldn’t do it. He knew everyone was on scent blockers most of the time. Then again, his sense of smell was heightened when he received the serum. Whatever caused him to be able to smell your scent this strongly drove him mad with lust and anger, and he knew one more interaction with you today and he would be pushed over the edge. So he decided to return to his room and stay there until he made sure he was in the right mind to have a conversation with anyone without wanting to rip their heads off.

Bucky left the gym abruptly, his mind replaying the way your eyes roamed over him as he worked out. But he was imagining it right? Because there was no way you’d be checking him out. You never gave any indication of your interest. Actually, you never even conversed with him for a long period of time outside missions. His rut must’ve made him misunderstand signals. But you smelled so fucking good.

When he realized his nerves wouldn’t calm down for the rest of the day, he stayed inside, going as far as ignoring Steve when he came around to ask him if he wanted anything before he left for an urgent mission.

It was hours later when you woke up after your walk with Natasha. She was doing a hell of a job keeping you calm and collected when Steve called and said there was a mission. You whined and felt horrible but still told her to go. She could smell the lies on you when you told her everything would be fine. It’s not like this was your first heat or anything.

Kicking the covers away from you, you struggled out of bed into your kitchen, grabbing as many cold water bottles as you could before returning to your bed. You asked Friday to turn down the temperature in hopes that the chill air would help but it was only a matter of time before things took a turn for the worse.

A fleeting thought invaded your mind and you brushed it aside quickly, refusing to dwell on it because knowing the state of incoherency you would soon be in, the decision would not be in your favor.

Three floors down, Bucky was pacing back and forth, metal arm whirring and making him angrier because he needed some quiet, but he would never receive it. He kept on thinking back to the morning interaction with you and Natasha, his blood boiling when the image of you nuzzling in her neck was brought back over and over again. He growled at the memory, realizing that he’d need to speak with Bruce and Tony when they return because clearly, their fucking suppressants didn’t do shit.

He was about to grab his phone and call Steve when a whiff of your scent hit him. His body froze. There was no way he could smell you when you were nowhere near. Unless…

“Sergeant Barnes, it appears that Ms. Y/L/N is in need of…medical attention. Her vitals are unstable. Should I call Mr. Stark or the doctors upstairs?” Why the AI chose to tell Bucky this information he would never know.

“How long has she been like this?” Bucky asked through gritted teeth.

“About four hours Sir.”

“Fuck me!”

“I don’t see how this could help the situation Sergeant Barnes.” Friday responded instantly and had Bucky not been on his very last nerve, he would have laughed at the sarcasm.

Not thinking about the consequences, Bucky pushed through his door, choosing to ascend the stairs instead of taking the elevator to calm his nerves before he approached you.

As soon as he was on your floor, his stance wavered. He smelled iris flowers all around him to the point of almost choking on the sweet scent. Before he could walk to your door, he heard your faint whines calling for him from behind your apartment. Bucky closed his fists in an attempt to control himself before approaching your door. He was about to knock when it was pulled open for him aggressively.

And the sight in front of him took his breath away.

You were wearing nothing but a sheer nude camisole that left nothing to the imagination, skin sweaty and slick running down your legs. Your hair was dishevelled, chest heaving before you attempted to take a step forward.

“A-alpha…”

Your legs unfortunately gave out on you before you could go to Bucky. But he was quick, leaning forward just in time to catch you before you fell to the floor.

“Sweet omega,” Bucky whispered before carrying you back to your bed. He could tell you tried to make a nest for yourself but it wasn’t up to your standards. Slowly laying you down, he stepped away and grabbed as many pillows and blankets as he could, placing them around you before getting behind you on the bed.

“Alpha…please, hurts so much. Need you, James please alpha I-” Your little whimpers were music to his ears, but Bucky couldn’t betray your trust, not when you were in no mind to make any proper, consenting decision.

“I know ‘mega, I know doll, wanna help you so fucking badly, wanna make you cum on my cock till you can’t fucking remember anything else…but I can’t. I’m sorry darlin’.” Those were not the words you wished to hear from the one man you’d wanted since forever. You whined, tears rolling down your cheeks as his hands soothed your arms.

“Alpha please…I’ll be so good to you. Don’t you wanna knot me Bucky? I’ll do whatever you want me to do, just- fuck please, please.” You begged and begged but to no avail. Bucky cursed into the night air, wishing he could take you right then and there, but he knew that once the two of you finished, everything would be different.

“Fucking damn it, I’m sorry baby. I’m so sorry. Come’ere.” Bucky turned you around easily in his arms until you were straddling his thighs, the show of strength making a new wave of slick run down your thighs and wet his sweatpants. Bucky couldn’t tear his eyes away from the sight in front of him. You looked so fucking incredible, so fucking ready and hot for him. Knowing he was the one turning you on made him harder than a rock, but he pushed the thought back again.

“Shhh, I know doll, omega you’re so sweet. So wet and beautiful for your alpha huh?”

“Yes, yes all for you. Always for you James.” Bucky made sure he’d ask you about that little comment later but now, he needed to make sure you weren’t in pain. He held you close to him, letting go for a second to take off his sweatshirt before wrapping his arms around you and bringing you flush to his chest. Looking into your eyes, he gave you a warm smile before taking hold of your neck and drawing circles right under your hair, pulling you to his neck until your nose was nudging his scent gland. He noticed your heart rate was slowing down, in return calming him down a bit. He thought he’d have to ask you to stay in his arms but the opposite happened. You wrapped your arms around his back, fingers feeling every muscle movement on the naked skin before you rubbed his scent gland harshly.

Bucky was losing his mind with every pass you made. His hold tightened around your form, his brain refusing to think of your hard nipples brushing against his chest and the impossibly wet sweatpants beginning to flood his boxer briefs.

“That’s it doll, there you go. Just wanna help you out baby, don’t want anythin’ else. Wanna know you’re safe. Is that alright Y/N?” Bucky whispered into your ears, watching your neck like a hawk and sensing your heart rate speed up again. You hummed and nodded, not wanting to distract yourself from the task at hand for one moment. Bucky couldn’t help but chuckle, knowing how hard it must be for you as well. He kept on lulling you and massaging your back, occasionally sliding his hands a little too low or too harshly. You’d moan against him before nudging his gland aggressively in return. The longer you scented him, the hotter you grew. Having an alpha in your arms that refused to knot you was painful but some part of you understood why he wouldn’t go there.

Suddenly, Bucky combed his flesh hand in the nape of your neck, pulling you away from him and not giving you a chance to ask any question before he was mirroring your actions. Keeping his metal hand on your exposed skin to keep you cool, Bucky leaned forward, leaving wet kisses on your own scent gland before nipping at it lightly. He could feel you shaking in his arms, happy that he was the one causing such a reaction from you. He continued to bite and lick your neck, his hold on you surely leaving marks in the near future and the thought of knowing you’d have more than one mark on your body because of him caused him to growl.

You started rubbing yourself on his thighs, nails digging into his skin the needier he became with his actions.

“Such a needy omega aren’t you doll? You wanna cum baby? You wanna show your alpha just how slick that pussy can get? Fuck darlin’ you’re driving me mad. Wanna bury my face in that sweet, wet cunt of yours. Wanna fuck you with my tongue doll, lick you dry and have you drench me. Goddamn omega, you’re so good for me.” Bucky pulled away, holding your waist tightly before flexing his thigh muscles in time for you to rub your pussy on him. Supporting your weight on his shoulders, you looked away embarrassingly, eyes aimed at the ceiling as you continued to use him to get to your pleasure. Some part of your brain registered the fact that he was in control this entire time, not once forcing himself on you even when he was told he could. The fact that an alpha like him allowed you to use him so you could relieve yourself, without even asking for anything in return, was making you emotional and lustful.

“Look at me omega, fucking look at me when I make you cum.” Bucky growled, his voice shaking you to your core and you couldn’t help but obey him, eyes slowly drifting until you met his barely blue orbs. He was somehow as breathless as you, a flush taking over his features and making him look all the more handsome.

“Bucky, Bucky, oh god….Bucky,” you prayed his name with every pass of your soaked pussy over his thighs, mesmerized by how patient he’s been so far.

“Yeah doll, ‘m right here, keep going love, wanna feel this cunt drench my thighs baby. Fucking hell, smell so good, so perfect. So fucking warm and sexy using me to get off. Come on darlin’, cum. Cum. NOW!” James growled the last bit, biting his lower lip when your legs started shaking and you screamed his name as you continued to fuck yourself on his thighs. Bucky puffed out his chest, rolling over until you were beneath him. He was breathing harshly, the new position making him realize he might lose the control on his alpha. Before he could pull away, you crossed your legs behind his back, making him fall against you, his weight making you feel safer. You could feel his cock twitch against your wet thighs and you rolled your hips a few times, arching your back against him and keeping him flush against you.

“Y/N please…I c-can’t, fffuck you feel so good, omega, listen-” Bucky was saying one thing but his body was doing something else. His hips swayed against your naked core, and he was almost ashamed of how he was humping you like a fucking teenager. You both looked down in unison, watching your cunt wet his crotch.

Bucky didn’t mean to look down but as soon as he saw your pussy, something snapped in him.

He pushed off of you instantly, walking away from the bed to the balcony in an attempt to calm himself down and smell something that was not you. He could hear you shuffle behind him and hoped to god you were either putting something on or settling down beneath the covers.

“Alpha…” The moan came out so lewdly Bucky was close to coming in his pants. He turned around to try and tell you that he should leave when he stopped breathing.

“Y/N I think I should g-”

Bucky’s eyes took in your body, now free of the camisole and open for him. He walked around the bed slowly, calculating his next steps wisely as he committed this image to memory. You were on your knees, face against your pillow, hands fisting the covers and ass round and ready in the air.

“D-doll?”

“James.” You licked your lips and watched him fight an inner battle with himself. Bucky wanted nothing more than to pull his sweatpants down and shove his cock in your pussy and fuck you till neither of you remembered the current year. He swallowed the lump in his throat, kneeling down on the bed and grabbing your hips before pushing you on your back. He grabbed his sweatshirt and pushed it into your arms before laying down and pulling you into his arms.

“Sleep doll, you’ll need your energy for later.” You frowned, wanting to ask him why he continued to turn you down but his hold on you only tightened. Bucky continued to stare at the ceiling, pushing his own desire back and urging you to continue scenting him. You obliged, knowing this was probably as close to a comforting-Bucky as you could get. You decided to make the best of these moments, shoving the sweatshirt beneath the covers before wrapping your arm around his chest. You could feel his muscles tense when he felt your nails digging into his skin, relaxing against you as soon as you nudged his scent gland again. Bucky couldn’t help but pull you closer to him when he heard you take a long whiff of his neck, finally relaxing enough to not hurt your feelings any more than he already has.

But as much as he tried, Bucky couldn’t get an ounce of sleep. Not when he felt your skin getting warmer by the minute. You however, had no trouble dozing off, finding the alpha’s presence much more helpful than you thought.

Then your heat decided to kick it up a few notches and you became restless again. Bucky felt your uneasiness before you did, attempting to pull away and see what he can do. He realized his mistake as soon as your eyes fluttered open, a look of absolute need written all over them when Bucky dared to make eye contact. Before he could say anything, you took hold of his metal arm, wrapping it across chest quickly and making sure Bucky couldn’t pull it away. He didn’t know what to do, his lips shivering when he looked down and saw where his thumb was. Bucky’s fingers twitched against the hard nipple beneath his hand, incapable of stopping the small action when it occurred again, this time a little rougher and firmer.

“J-James-” Your raspy voice broke the silence, your own hands laying above Bucky’s and pressing it harder against your breast. “Please. Ple-please James.” The sound of his name falling from your lips had him angrier than ever, more at himself for being in this situation than anything else. You dared to wrap one thigh around his hip, wanting to get any small relief from the alpha in your arms.

“Ahh fuck, doll you gotta stop doing that. I can’t. You know I can’t.” Bucky tried to reason calmly with you but the wrecked voice only edged you on, your hips bucking against his already wet sweatpants. Knowing this would only get worse for him, Bucky did the first thing that came to mind even though the more rational part of his brain begged him not to take this any further. Not caring how rough he was being with you, Bucky took hold of your wrists and flipped your around, pulling your back flush to his chest before sitting up against the headboard with you between his thighs.

“You want some relief doll? Fine, I’ll give you some fucking relief. Open your legs.” He growled against your ear, no longer shying away from touching you. You were so focused on how perfect his metal arm felt against your chest that you didn’t hear what he said.

“Omega, I said…open your fucking legs!” Bucky bit your shoulder, his fingers pinching and rolling your nipples harshly until you obeyed his command. Your legs were shaking in anticipation, eyes looking down at your sweating limbs and watching as he played your body like he was your mate. Bucky didn’t bother to take things slow, a part of him thinking speeding this up would get him some closure. Just one more touch, one more look at your skin reacting to him, one more. He pretended this would help him out, not realizing things were only going to get worse after this.

“So fucking pretty, smell so good doll. Smell like me, fuck I want you. I want you so fucking badly ‘mega. I can hardly breathe baby, can’t think straight anymore. Everywhere I go, I only think about you. How you’d fit in my arms. How perfect this cunt would be choking my cock. How pretty our neck would look with my mark on it. How fucking wet you’d get with just the thought of your alpha having his way with you. God baby I wanna fill you up, breed your fucking cunt so no one would dare come near you. You’d like that wouldn’t you love? Hmm?”

“Oh James don’t stop. D-don’t stop. Alpha please. Make me yours. Make me yours James. I don’t want anyone else.” In a moment of overstimulation, you pulled your neck all the way back until your head rested on his shoulder, presenting yourself for him to have his way with you. Bucky only growled at the pure submission he could feel, biting on your shoulders harder before continuing to rub your pussy. He cupped your breast with his other hand, watching your pussy as it drained the sheets beneath the two of you. his eyes went everywhere, from the way your legs opened up for him to how your nipples hardened with every pass of his fingers against him. He was close to exploding, his cock straining harshly against his sweatpants and making him wish he wasn’t an honorable man.

You kept on rubbing your back against his crotch, the biological part of your brain begging you to reach around and grab him. And when you tried to move, Bucky knew what you were attempting to do, distracting you with switching his actions. His right arm trailed up your body, drenching your skin with your own juices while his left arm descended your hot skin grabbed at your thighs. He wanted to distract you as quickly as possible, coating his metal fingers with your cum before slowly inching two fingers inside your clenching pussy. You gasped against him, looking down and crying out his name when he fucked you relentlessly. Bucky was close to asking if this was okay with you but then he felt the way your walls squeezed his fingers and knew this was probably helping out more than he thought. The cold of his hand was doing wonders to your aching core, opening you up like never before until you couldn’t take it. You came around his fingers, hands trying to grab at anything to keep you sane.

When he didn’t stop, you turned around and begged him, swearing and whispering against his scent gland and hoping he would have some mercy on you. But then he turned you around in his arms until you were sitting on the bed, his fingers still knuckle deep inside of you.

“Fucking look at me. Look at me when I make you cum Omega. This what you wanted right? You wanted me to make you cum? Don’t even know what you do to me…driving me fucking insane. Fuck that’s right. Scream my name. Scream your alpha’s name omega. Fucking looking at me now!” For the first time during that night, Bucky was the one initiating the kiss, his lips devouring your own like he belonged to you as he fucked you with his fingers. You moaned into the kiss, not sure if the tears falling down your cheeks were because of how sensitive you were or the fact that he continued to call himself your alpha yet he refused to fuck you.

When it was all too much, you grabbed his wrist to attempt and slow him down, hands moving to his biceps when he continued to drive you mad with need.

“Ple…please. No more. N-no more.” You were heaving against him, your breaths coming in shallow and quick. He stole one last kiss before reluctantly tearing himself away from your body. Your eyes suddenly felt heavy, limbs incapable of moving on their own. When Bucky saw the state you were in, he smiled to himself, knowing it was because of him that you were like this. Lifting you up slowly, he laid you on the bed again and pushed his sweatshirt near your head. You were about to ask him where he was going when sleep took over from how forceful your orgasm was. Bucky wanted to change the sheets but the sick part of him knew that if he were to try to do so, he’d probably end up stealing the wet sheets and keeping them for himself. Lord knew how hard the past few hours were on him but he still wouldn’t want to disrespect you like that.

He laughed at that last thought. It’s not like he didn’t already cross the line.

Stealing one last look, Bucky asked Friday to update him every few hours in case your heat got worse. And Bucky swore to God the AI was too embarrassed to reply to him but it did so anyway. He left your quarters with an unsettling feeling in his chest, a feeling he did not expect to feel anytime soon. And when he arrived at his room and shut the door, it felt like someone has stabbed his heart with a knife and twisted it to make sure he was in pain. The control he had on his alpha ceased to exist and Bucky couldn’t try to calm himself down even if he tried. He threw his chair across the room, growling into the dark air as the chair shattered through the balcony sliding doors. Stripping quickly, he walked into the shower and turned on the cold water, standing under it until he could no longer smell you on his skin. But he knew that wouldn’t be possible until at least a few days when his scent gland was no longer holding the trace of what the two of you had done.

[babysizedfics]

Little Accidents, Big Developments

Chapter 7: Sweet and Sour

[This is an age regression story]

Chapter Summary: Patton feels bittersweet, Virgil likes rattles, Roman wants milk, and Logan bottle-feeds the baby.

Chapter word count: 6,000

Other chapters: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 / bonus

Read on AO3 or below the cut!

Content warning: One bit was so cute that I squealed loud enough to make myself dizzy. Be warned.

oOo

‘Love you, baby,’ Patton called back to the staircase. He remained completely still, waiting in nervous anticipation and praying that he would hear a response.

Then, thankfully, a tiny, ‘Wuvoo,’ returned and it soothed the ache in his chest slightly.

With a far more relieved sigh than he would have liked to admit, Patton continued his journey to Roman’s bedroom. He could hear Logan murmuring words of comfort to Virgil, and there was simply no excuse for the way it twisted Patton’s stomach. Wasn’t he the one who was so eager to get Virgil to overcome his separation anxiety? Wasn’t he the one who had encouraged various activities that would hopefully have resulted in Logan being more at ease with the act of caregiving?

And yet seeing Virgil have no negative response to Patton leaving him and cuddling up to Logan had kindled a bitter fire in Patton’s stomach that, try as he might, he could not snuff out. 

Seeing Virgil literally shy away from Patton had been heartwrenching. His own baby, hiding from him.

Patton swallowed past the aching lump in his throat as he approached Roman’s door. It would be no good to cry in front of his little prince.

‘Kiddo,’ Patton called with a gentle knock on the door. When there was no answer, he spoke through the wood louder, ‘Roman, are you okay?’

After a few seconds of silence, Patton threw the door open, scared that Roman was hurt.

The prince was merely hunched over his workbench, obviously deep in concentration.

‘Darling, I’m coming over,’ Patton said louder, approaching the workbench.

The lack of response didn’t surprise him. It wasn’t uncommon for Roman to be so engrossed in a project that he lost awareness of his surroundings. Worrying as he had first found the state, Logan had carefully explained to Patton that this was known as “hyperfocus” and as long as they checked on Roman to make sure he wasn’t foregoing his basic needs, it could be entirely healthy. Patton caught a quick glimpse of purple and black material in Roman’s hands before patting his shoulder to get his attention.

Roman instantly yelped and threw himself on top of the bench, hiding the pile of fabric under his torso. ‘Don’t look!’

Without a moment’s hesitation, Patton slapped his hands over his eyes. ‘Okay, I’m not looking, I’m not looking!’ He wouldn’t overstep his son’s boundaries.

‘Oh, it’s just you. It’s cool, Padre, you can look. I just finished!’

When Patton pulled his fingers down, the workbench was clear of the body that had laid across it so hastily before. He noticed that the fabric Roman had been working on was rather familiar.

‘Is that… Virgil’s hoodie?’

‘It’s a junior version!’ Roman proudly proclaimed, holding up an exact replica of Virgil’s hoodie - besides the fact that it was missing the drawstrings and the zipper. And it was only big enough for a newborn baby.

Patton smiled encouragingly and did his best to be gentle when he said, ‘That’s beautiful, Ro. But Virgil isn’t physically a baby, I’m not sure he can fit into that.’

‘It’s not for Vee,’ Roman chuckled, then reached to the other side of his workbench and held up a pile of grey fluff. Patton recognised it instantly.

‘You fixed Meeko!’

Roman nodded. ‘I made him a little hoodie so him and Virge can match. And…’ As Roman shook the toy slightly, a faint rattle sounded from it.

‘Oh my gosh,’ Patton gasped through a wide smile, ‘he’s a rattle!’ Virgil would love it!

The smile on Roman’s face was a little shyer than was normal for the usually confident creative side. He dressed Meeko in the hoodie with nimble fingers. ‘Just, you know,’ Roman stalled by fidgeting with the plaid hood on the toy, ‘to say sorry for yesterday, I guess.’

Patton fought to retain the genuity of his smile. Apparently everyone was maturing besides him. Virgil had seemingly overcome his separation anxiety, Logan had learned to be more affectionate with his boys, and now even Roman was learning to apologise for teasing his brother. And that only made the bitter concoction of jealousy and dejection in Patton’s belly bubble away all the more viciously. In spite of that:

‘That’s wonderful, sweetheart,’ Patton beamed. ‘He’s going to love it.’

‘Yeah!’ Roman agreed enthusiastically, jumping up from his seat. His shyness had apparently been chased away by Patton’s praise. ‘Where is he? I wanna give it to him!’

‘He’s in the living room with Logan. We’re about to have a family Winnie the Pooh party!’

‘Oh, okay,’ Roman muttered, turning away. ‘I’ll just give it to him after, then.’

It wasn’t the excited response Patton had expected from Roman. Both of the boys loved Winnie the Pooh. Patton thought Roman would have been bouncing off of the walls by now. ‘Don’t you want to come to the party?’

‘Am I invited?’ Roman spun around and looked at Patton with wide eyes, finally appearing excited about the idea.

Did Roman think they were leaving him out? With a frown, Patton said, ‘Sweetheart, it’s family time.’

What really broke Patton’s heart was the way Roman deflated at that.

‘Of course you’re invited.’ Patton held his arms open wide. ‘Come here.’

Honestly, the cuddle wasn’t optional. Whether or not Roman had moved over to him, Patton would have been wrapping his arms around his little prince as tight as he could bear. Though the haste with which Roman launched himself into Patton’s arms did make it a whole lot easier.

‘You’re just as much a part of this family as any of us, little prince.’ Patton pressed a firm kiss to Roman’s temple.

‘I’m part of the family,’ Roman whispered into Patton’s shoulder. It was spoken like he didn’t believe it and was willing the phrase into his mind.

Patton squeezed him tighter to match the squeezing of his heart. His own son had not believed he was part of the family. How could Patton have allowed such a thing? Why hadn’t he noticed? Had he failed Roman as a Dad?

It wasn’t until Roman winced and ducked away from his hand that Patton realised he had been running his fingers through Roman’s very precious and carefully-styled hair.

‘Hey, watch the locks, Pops!’ The hug was broken as Roman stepped back.

And normally that was fine. Normally, Patton didn’t bat a single eyelash to how protective Roman was over his hair. He would just giggle, pull his hand back, and move on. But right now that had stung far more than he was able to explain. Especially to Roman’s concerned look.

‘Patton, are you okay?’

Biting his lip, Patton made a timid request: ‘Do you… Could you be little right now, Ro?’

He didn’t blame Roman for being shocked by the question. He never pushed Roman’s littlespace. It was different with Virgil; it was part of Patton’s job as his caregiver to incite his regression if he noticed the younger side was particularly anxious or overwhelmed. But Roman’s littlespace was entirely on his terms; it was voluntary and not necessarily done to relieve him of emotional distress in any way. Roman was the only one to decide when he became a child.

So was it selfish of Patton to ask for it?

‘I’m sorry. Don’t worry about it.’ Patton shook his head and looked to the floor. ‘Your silly old dad is just -’

‘Hi, Dad!’ Roman quickly interjected. He always greeted everyone again when he became little, and Patton always found it adorable. ‘I’m little now!’

With a rush of comfort, Patton looked up to see that Roman’s face was indeed overtaken by the familiar childish excitement. This was what felt right to him, no matter what. He couldn’t always handle the feelings that swirled around in his belly, but, by Jove, Patton could handle taking care of his little ones.

‘Hey there, sweetie pie! How’s my favourite little prince doing?’

‘Good!’ Roman bounced in place with a bright grin. ‘I really wanna give Vee his present! And then I’m gonna get him to bounce with me like Tigger! Th-then - then - then we can go on an expotition!’

It was a struggle not to melt into an adoring puddle on the spot. The slight stuttering informed Patton that Roman was incredibly excited, and it was just adorable that it was because he wanted to be with his baby brother. But there was the issue of Virgil’s newly younger mental age.

‘That sounds super fun, Ro,’ Patton agreed. ‘But I’m not sure if Virgil will be able to do all of that with you.’

Witnessing Roman go still and slump in on himself was a true tragedy. ‘How come?’

‘Your Mom and I did something new with him and it made him regress a bit younger,’ Patton explained, praying that this would not rekindle in Roman any jealousy of his little brother. ‘I think he will need lots of quiet and lots of cuddles. Do you think you can be a good big brother and be extra gentle around him today?’ Then Patton added, ‘He’s going to need a really good role model to look up to,’ remembering that he read something about using this phrase to help older siblings feel better about a baby in the family.

‘Yeah!’ Roman yelled. If anything he appeared even more excited after this revelation. His hand smacked over his mouth as he realised his mistake. ‘Oops, sorry.’ A muffled giggle came through his fingers, followed by an exaggerated whisper of, ‘Yeah, I’m gonna be the bestest brother ever-est.’

Patton chuckled and reached out to huddle Roman into his arms again. ‘That’s already true, baby.’

He was thankful that Roman simply hugged him back, and didn’t comment on the new nickname that had slipped through Patton’s lips quite unconsciously.

The hug did not last for nearly as long as Patton would have liked, but Roman was clearly eager to see his brother and was all but vibrating on the spot. Even if he had tried, Patton was sure he wouldn’t have been able to hold him back.

‘Hang on, sweetie,’ Patton called as Roman dragged him to the door. ‘How long have you been working on Meeko?’

Roman paused and frowned thoughtfully as he looked down at the toy in his hand. It was clear after a few seconds that he had lost track of time while working. It was a fairly common occurrence.

‘Do you remember when you started?’

‘Before lunch,’ Roman said quite proudly.

So Roman had been working, likely nonstop, for about 5 hours, Patton realised. It was important that he kept his worry from showing on his face as that might have made Roman think he was disappointed with him. He wasn’t at all, he just needed to make sure Roman was healthy. ‘Okay, little prince, let’s stop by the bathroom before we go down and I’ll get you some juice in a bit. Did you eat?’

Roman pointed to a plate on his desk that had crumbs on it.

‘Good boy,’ Patton praised with a warm smile. He gave Roman one more tight hug before taking Roman’s free hand once more and leading them through the house.

After a short bathroom trip and with no small amount of rambling from Roman about how cool Tigger was, they continued on to the living room. As they approached the door, Patton could hear Logan speaking in a low, hushed tone - it was identical in tone to when he counted aloud to calm Virgil down, and Patton felt the strangest thrill that his baby might have missed him after all if he needed to be soothed.

‘Knock, knock,’ Patton announced as he led Roman into the living room.

He was not met with the sight of Virgil crying and reaching out to him as he was so used to seeing. Instead, he and Roman had walked in on what looked to be an incredibly intimate moment between the baby and his mama.

Logan was sitting in the corner seat of the couch, reading from a large board book (which Patton did not recognise). In his lap, Virgil was curled up against his chest with his eyes closed and his pacifier bobbing slowly in his mouth. His fingers were wrapped around the handle loosely.

‘Pooh and his friends were still planting seeds when Kanga happened by,’ Logan read in a voice so soft it could have been a whisper.

No one got to hear what Kanga did next, as Logan suddenly noticed the two new presences in the room.

‘Oh,’ Logan murmured, his cheeks dusting a faint pink. ‘Greetings, you two.’

‘Hi, Mom!’

Patton quickly squeezed Roman’s hand to get his attention and mimed that Roman should keep his voice down because of the sleeping baby. ‘Remember what we talked about, honey?’ he gently reminded him.

‘Oh, yeah,’ Roman whispered, then looked over to the two on the couch. ‘Sorry, Vee.’

Virgil’s eyes remained closed and he made no movement. It was a near-identical image to the way Patton had found them cuddling earlier. It was undeniably sweet, though this time it was quite tainted by the frustratingly persistent sinking feeling in Patton’s stomach. If nothing else, Patton could at least credit himself for focussing on the positive, and not letting his involuntary bitterness permeate into the atmosphere of the room.

‘Mama Logan has done it again,’ Patton whispered, dropping Roman’s hand and reaching into his pocket to bring out his phone. Jealousy or not, this had to be documented. ‘And you said I was the sleep siren.’

Logan looked down at the boy in his lap with a breathy chuckle. He closed the book in his hands. ‘I had no idea he was so sleepy.’

‘He wasn’t before,’ Patton hummed, snapping a couple of photos with a soft smile.

‘Perhaps the reading has tired him out,’ Logan suggested, though it sounded uncertain.

‘Nah, it’s ‘cause your voice is nice.’

Both Patton and Logan turned to Roman in surprise. Had Roman - who was typically nothing short of stubborn in admitting the merits of others - just complimented Logan?

Apparently oblivious to the reaction from his caregivers, Roman skipped over to the sofa - the poster boy of childish innocence. Sparing a moment to place the hoodie-clad Meeko on the armrest, Roman turned to the boy on Logan’s lap.

‘Hello, baby,’ he whispered. Then he slowly reached out to stroke his fingers over Virgil’s hair as gently as if he were handling the most fragile small animal.

Patton held his breath and pulled his lips into a tight line to avoid making any noises that betrayed his excitement. With a swift swipe on his phone screen, he began recording a video.

‘Are you being gentle with your little brother, Roman?’ At Logan’s sly side glance, Patton knew he had clocked the video recording.

On his screen, Patton saw Roman nod without looking away from his brother. ‘I’m being really soft, look.’ He raised his hand from Virgil’s hair and lowered it again to stroke it slowly.

It was indeed a gentle touch, as the younger side made no sign of waking or disturbance to his sleep. Roman looked up at Patton with joy sparkling in his eyes.

Patton resigned himself to the fate of having multiple adorableness-induced heart attacks a day.

‘Well done, little prince,’ Logan murmured. There was a blur of bright colour on the phone screen as Logan dropped the board book to the cushion, and the unfamiliar cover caught Patton’s attention as the logical side continued talking. ‘Virgil is a lot younger than usual today, so we need to be extra quiet and calm. In fact, I believe he’s only -’

‘Logan, where did you get that book?’ Patton interrupted.

Silence fell, only broken by Virgil sighing deeply in his sleep. The look of guilt on Logan’s face was displayed quite clearly on the phone screen. Patton looked over the device to see it even more prominent in real life.

‘I, um -’ Logan cleared his throat gently and shifted a little to duck his head into Virgil’s hair. The height difference being so uneven meant Logan only succeeded in hiding his chin. ‘I summoned it.’

Patton’s own shock was reflected in Roman’s dramatic gasp. He looked delighted at this news.

‘Mom summoned!’ Roman giggled, looking over to Patton with a mischievous smile. ‘Dad, Mom broke the rule!’

‘Quiet voices, sweetie,’ Patton whispered, though it was too late. The auto-focus of the camera blinked as Virgil’s body began shifting slightly on Logan’s lap.

‘Mama?’ 

Patton quickly buried his phone in his pocket, knowing that Virgil took after his Mama when it came to being shy on camera.

‘Mama’s here, sweetheart,’ Logan assured their littlest one.

Being a few feet away from the rest of his family, Patton had quite the vantage point to witness all of their reactions. And so the way Roman’s eyes snapped onto Logan when he had referred to Virgil as “sweetheart” was achingly obvious to Patton. As was the reason behind his sudden pout and his whinge of, ‘Dad, my legs are tired.’

It seemed Patton wasn’t the only one who had been bitten by the green-eyed monster that evening.

‘Poor little prince,’ Patton cooed and moved to sit on the couch beside Logan. He held his arms out to Roman. ‘Come here, cutie - oof!’

It was worth a few bruises on his thighs to have his 5’11” kiddo practically pounce onto his lap and send them both tumbling back against the couch cushion.

‘Baba,’ Virgil’s quiet voice babbled.

Patton pulled both him and Roman upright to look at his sweet baby. ‘Hello, tiny stormcloud.’

How exactly was Virgil tiredly rubbing at his eyes so adorable? Patton had long since given up trying to answer these sorts of questions. It just was.

‘Hey, Vee!’ Roman whispered loudly, waving at his brother. ‘You’re a smaller baby today.’

At his brother’s voice, Virgil pulled his hand back down to blink slowly at Roman. Without responding, he whined a little and dropped his head back to Logan’s chest. His Piglet toy hid his face.

‘It’s all right, Roman,’ Logan said soothingly, ‘Vee is just a little more shy than usual.’

‘Oh…’ After a moment of quiet, Roman leaned against Patton more heavily. ‘Okay.’

Patton tightened his arms around Roman to try to comfort him.

‘You summoned?’ he mouthed silently to Logan over Roman’s shoulder, unable to ignore it anymore. It was completely unheard of for Logan to break the house rule about summoning and bending reality only in emergencies. He was the one who had enforced the rule so strictly in the first place.

‘Uh, did you have something you wanted to give your brother, Roman?’ Logan blurted, entirely ignoring Patton despite clearly having seen the question.

Time froze for Patton as he saw Roman reach out to delicately hold Virgil’s shoulders, then lean forward and press a soft kiss to his head. Virgil hummed and lowered his toy to smile at Roman when he had pulled back.

‘Wo-Wo!’

‘Oh my gosh.’ It was a good thing Patton was already sitting down.

‘That was very lovely, little prince.’ Logan’s voice was far less squeaky than Patton’s. ‘But what about the friend that you put on the armrest?’

‘Oh yeah!’ Roman gasped, apparently unaware of his influence on Patton’s blood pressure.

Leaning over Logan’s lap (and causing Virgil to push further against Logan’s chest), Roman grabbed Meeko and hesitantly held the toy in front of Virgil. It seemed he had lost some confidence as he fidgeted with the stuffed raccoon. ‘Um, I fixed Meeko and gave him a cool hoodie like yours.’

It took a few seconds for Virgil to lift his head back off of Logan’s chest, but when he did his face lit up. Pale hands slowly dropped Piglet to the couch as Virgil timidly reached his hands out for the toy.

Once Roman had handed him the present, Virgil’s dimples popped up with a smile. ‘Burble.’

‘Clever baby,’ Patton cooed. ‘It’s purple just like your -’ he paused at Logan’s pointed look towards Roman, ‘- your favourite colour!’ He thought it was a pretty smooth save.

The truly endearing moment happened when Virgil hugged the toy tight and it rattled at the movement.

Virgil gasped through his pacifier and looked down at it in shock.

‘Oh my, what was that, Virgil?’ Logan asked, clearly feigning excitement for the baby’s benefit.

A more pronounced rattling sounded as Virgil shook the toy more energetically. Then he squealed in what Patton assumed was excitement. His body started bouncing lightly on Logan’s lap as he held the toy up to his mama’s ears and rattled it again.

‘That’s a nice sound,’ Logan agreed with an encouraging smile.

Then Virgil held the toy up to Roman’s ears and shook it again.

Roman giggled at his little brother’s antics. ‘It’s a rattle, Vee!’

At last, Virgil turned to Patton and held the toy up to him, whining, ‘Baba.’

Getting the hint, Patton leaned forward so that his ear was by the toy and Virgil rattled it loudly again. Patton was glad that his happy squeaks were loud enough that he could still hear them over the toy.

‘Do you like it, sweetie?’ Patton asked, sitting back to observe Virgil’s adorable wriggling. He still shook the toy with both hands and giggled.

‘Can you remember the word we say when someone gives us a present?’ Logan prompted.

Virgil just fell into Logan’s chest, suckling his pacifier as he kept rattling his toy.

‘Sweetheart,’ Logan whispered, his voice sounding a little scratchy, ‘can you say thank you to your brother?’

‘Wawaba,’ Virgil muttered as he played.

Looking back up at Roman with a smile, Logan translated, ‘Virgil says thank you.’

There was a slight crack in his voice and Patton reached out to rub his hand over Logan’s chest as he cleared it. ‘Are you getting a cold, Lo?’

‘No, I strained my voice while reading to him,’ Logan explained quietly, then sent a pleading glance to Patton. ‘Could you perhaps get me a drink?’

‘Of course, Loganberry. What would you like?’

‘Hot water with lemon and honey would be perfect.’ Logan’s hand settled over Patton’s, holding it to his chest for a moment longer. ‘Thank you.’

‘Me too! Me too!’ Roman cried, waving his arm up in the air as if Patton wouldn’t be able to see him otherwise (despite the fact that he was acting as the creative side’s chair at that moment).

‘Yes, little prince.’ With no small amount of reluctance, Patton pulled his hand away from Logan’s chest and nudged Roman to get him off of his lap. ‘I’ll get you a sippy cup with apple juice.’

‘Perhaps Virgil would like a bottle of milk,’ Logan suggested.

Feeling a twinge of guilt at not having thought of that himself, Patton nodded and stood from the couch. Then he was stopped by Roman tugging on his wrist.

He turned back to the little with a questioning look. ‘Are you all right, little prince?’

Roman, strangely, looked shy. His eyes spared a side glance to Virgil (who was still rattling away and appearing completely enthralled by the sound) before they looked back up at Patton. ‘Can I have milk too?’

Though Logan didn’t make any kind of comment on the question, Patton could tell he was thinking the same thing as him. Roman was obviously getting jealous of Virgil and apparently wanted to act younger to combat that.

‘You can have whatever you like, sweetie,’ Patton said, patting Roman’s cheeks lightly and pressing a kiss to his forehead. When he pulled away he was glad to see the previous timidity replaced by happiness.

‘Warm milk and honey?’ Roman asked with an excited smile.

Patton returned it. ‘That sounds lovely. Do you want to stir in the honey yourself?’

‘Yes, please!’

Before leaving, Patton’s instinct was to reassure Virgil that he would be back within a few minutes. Though the baby’s attention was entirely held by the rattle. It would be best to slip out unnoticed and avoid any upset. (And avoid finding out if there would not be any upset.)

Making Logan and himself hot lemon water and heating the oat milk for the boys (he had sworn they still had a carton of Roman’s almond milk but he couldn’t find it anywhere), Patton had an opportunity to properly collect himself.

As he cut into a lemon, the rind burst with a spray of juice and the fresh scent of it rushed into Patton’s nose. It was intense and pulled at his chest as if a weight was attached to it and forcing him back to earth.

It took a moment for him to realise he must have been lost in his head with all of his insecurity and guilt. So Patton decided he needed to practise the mindfulness he and Logan always pushed so adamantly onto Virgil.

Remembering a grounding technique he had seen someone do on youtube, he cut a wedge of the fruit and without a moment’s hesitation, he bit into it - skin and all.

The bitterness attacked his taste buds and he winced, sinking his teeth further into the zesty flesh against his distaste. The juice stung a mouth ulcer that had been bothering him, but his head was suddenly crystal clear and his awareness sharp. He blew out a strong breath and tossed the wedge in the compost disposal, licking the last of the sour taste from his lips.

As he went back to stirring the oat milk, everything that had transpired over the past hour suddenly seemed so much less critical. Why had he been worried that Virgil no longer loved him? Of course he did! And Patton really was proud that Virgil had seemingly moved past the separation anxiety. It had proven to be less than ideal whenever Patton needed to go to the bathroom or make food, and any indication that his little stormcloud would suffer less from anxiety was positive.

Plus, seeing Virgil take to Logan so readily, and seeing Logan so comfortable in displaying affection was uplifting after the two’s awkward, rocky start when Logan had first become a caregiver. And Roman spending hours on fixing Meeko and adding the rattle to make his baby brother happy? That truly made Patton’s heart burst with love and pride for his little prince.

Ready to be back with his favourite people in the world, Patton returned to the living room with everyone’s drinks and the honey on a tray. Logan had evidently been reading to Virgil again as the regressor was slumped against his chest and blinking sleepily. Both Meeko and Piglet were huddled close to him as Logan’s soft voice filled the room.

It was a soothing image. Though it was tainted by Roman’s figure curled up on the other side of the couch, leaning away from the other two. The creative side was hunched over, resting his chin on his knees with a pout. 

‘Are you okay, Roman?’ Patton asked, walking carefully across to the coffee table where he placed the tray.

‘He wanted to play with Vee,’ Logan spoke for him, closing the board book once more. He continued despite the look of betrayal Patton could see crossing Roman’s face. ‘And I explained that Virgil is too young to bounce with him.’

‘But it’s a Winnie the Pooh party!’ Roman argued. ‘Tigger does loads of bouncing with Roo and Roo is really small.’

Patton smiled a little. The intention behind Roman’s suggestion was worthy of praise at least. ‘That’s very true. You’re so sweet to think of Virgil, honey.’

‘See!’ Roman stuck his tongue out at Logan.

‘But -’ Patton added, hating how Roman’s smile fell at the word, ‘- Piglet is very small too. And does Piglet like bouncing?’

After a few seconds of stubborn silence, Roman mumbled, ‘No.’

‘People don’t always like the same things, little prince. I’m sure you can think of something else you and Vee can do together.’

‘Of course he can,’ Logan agreed quietly, smoothing out a lock of Virgil’s hair that had stuck up from rubbing his head on Logan’s shoulder. ‘Roman is very creative and considerate, aren’t you, sweetheart?’

Roman absolutely beamed at the praise and lowered his legs back to the ground, sitting more upright. ‘Yeah, um, we can play with stuffies instead, Vee!’

The younger little raised his head at the suggestion seeming interested, but then he looked over at the coffee table and whined. The stuffies in his arms were hugged tighter.

‘I think we should have our drinks first,’ Patton said, understanding that Virgil wanted his bottle. ‘Can you be a big boy and come stir in everyone’s honey?’

Roman rushed over and, with Patton’s guidance, squeezed a good helping of honey into both Patton and Logan’s mugs and his sippy cup. When he reached for Virgil’s bottle to do the same, Patton quickly tugged his hand back. ‘No, sweetie, no honey for Vee.’

It was met with another whine from Virgil and a confused, ‘Why not?’ from Roman.

‘Babies can’t have honey,’ Patton explained easily with a hint of pride. He had done his research! ‘I read it online. It can make them sick and since Vee is a bit younger today, I thought just in case -’

‘Patton, my love,’ Logan’s voice interrupted him, much more low and gravelly than usual. It was probably because of his sore throat, but Patton couldn’t help but wish it made an appearance more often.

Did Logan even realise he had called Patton his love? The cool calmness of his features suggested otherwise. Patton himself could barely breathe at the term of endearment. He couldn’t imagine Logan consciously doing that and remaining completely calm.

‘Yes?’ Patton prompted, wishing Logan would repeat those words again.

‘Virgil may be a baby,’ Logan whispered his next words, ‘but he is not biologically infantile.’

Realisation slowly ebbed into Patton and he blushed. Perhaps he had gotten a little carried away in his baby research.

‘Give the poor boy some honey,’ Logan finished with an amused smile.

‘Sorry, I kind of forget.’ Patton giggled a bit at himself, unscrewing the lid of Virgil’s bottle to allow Roman to squeeze some honey into it.

‘Now we all match!’ Roman cried with a face splitting grin.

Swiping the honey bottle from his hand and squeezing a dab onto his fingertip, Patton replied, ‘We all match, my sweet little honeycomb.’ He poked the honey onto Roman’s nose and chuckled at his dramatic gasp.

‘Yuck, yuck, yuck,’ Roman muttered and wiped his nose on his sleeve with a sniffle.

The lids of the sippy cups and bottle were replaced quickly and Patton got Roman to shake them up while he passed Logan his mug.

As Logan had shifted to take his drink, Virgil’s diaper crinkled from beneath his onesie. The regressor sat more upright and made grabby hands at Patton, ‘Baba. Baba.’

‘Yes, baby, I’m just getting your bottle.’

His shirt was tugged from behind him and Patton stepped back to stop it from pulling so tightly against his neck, ignoring Logan’s quiet tut. The logical side had been trying to get Roman to stop tugging and poking the caregivers when he wanted attention, but Patton didn’t see that much harm in it. Virgil was allowed to whine and point at things, so why shouldn’t Roman be allowed to nudge them? It was one of the only things they could not agree on when it came to rules for their littles.

‘It’s fine,’ Patton insisted to Logan, then looked back to Roman, ‘What’s up, kiddo?’

Roman, already sipping at his milk, forewent any words and held Virgil’s bottle out to Patton.

After sparing a moment to stroke Roman’s cheek in thanks, Patton turned back to the couch, ready to sit down and take his baby into his arms and feed him as he had done so many times before.

Bottle-feeding had become a quintessential caregiving task for Patton since he had first done it all those weeks ago. It was initially done to calm Virgil down after a nightmare, but Patton had soon craved the feeling of immense tranquillity and love that had overwhelmed him as he held his baby and nursed his bottle. And so it became routine. It was enjoyable and comforting. It was important to him.

But seeing the way Logan’s arms tightened a little around the boy in his lap made Patton reconsider his eagerness to split them apart. Then, quite generously in his opinion, Patton offered, ‘Do you want to do it, Lo?’

The way Logan’s face brightened with a muted excitement chased away most of Patton’s disappointment.

‘If you do not mind,’ Logan whispered, clearly unwilling to betray how eager he was. He was sitting much more upright, at attention.

Patton smiled, passing the bottle into Logan’s hand and kneeling down to be closer to Virgil.

‘Hello, tiny stormcloud.’ Patton stroked his knuckle over Virgil’s cheek. ‘Mama is gonna give you your bottle this time, okay?’

Virgil closed his eyes and leaned into the caress of Patton’s finger. It took an awful lot of willpower, but Patton managed to pull his hand back and stand up again, leaving his baby in Logan’s responsibility. No, not his baby, Patton thought as he watched Logan take Virgil’s pacifier out and quickly replace it with the bottle with ease (he had probably been paying close attention whenever he had watched Patton doing the exact same). Not his baby. Their baby.

‘Dad?’

With a twinge of guilt, Patton realised he had been stood watching the bottle-feeding for a while and had forgotten that he had another little one to look after. Turning around, he saw that same timidity that he had seen a few minutes previously sully Roman’s expression.

‘I’m bored,’ Roman mumbled, his lips pressed up against the mouthpiece of his sippy cup.

Of course, sitting quietly while a baby was bottle-fed was probably not the most engaging activity for an older kiddo. Taking note of the jealousy that was clearly affecting Roman, Patton remembered reading that parents should spend some time bonding with an older sibling when the baby was busy. The advice was obviously intended for actual children, though that didn’t mean it couldn’t be effective with his little prince.

‘How about we bake some Winnie the Pooh cookies?’ Patton suggested with a big smile.

His enthusiasm was not reflected by Roman, who simply shrugged and said, ‘Okay.’

So Patton added, ‘Only big kids are allowed to bake, so this will be our special thing! Just you and me, little prince.’

‘Okay!’ Roman’s smile could have lit up the whole house. He bounced on his toes. ‘We can - we, um, we can make honeypot shaped ones and we can make the - the - the - the “haycorn” shaped ones too!’

‘That sounds wonderful, sweetie,’ Patton said, sure that it was past the point of trying to get Roman to be quiet around Virgil. The younger side didn’t seem bothered by it, at least. When Patton looked back at the pair on the couch, he was quite happily suckling at the bottle that Logan held for him. ‘Will you two be all right, Lo?’

The named side was focussing entirely on the baby in his arms and did not even look up to Patton when he muttered, ‘Uh, yes, sounds wonderful, Roman.’

Patton giggled as he was tugged out of the room by a very eager little prince. He had nothing to be anxious about. Logan was more than capable of looking after their baby.

With a rekindled sense of purpose, Patton stepped (or rather was dragged) into the kitchen, ready to devote his entire supply of fatherly attention to Roman.

oOo

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[inspired-by-the-music]

For You: Stand By Me

Taglist: @jineunwootrash @angels-from-california @jayjaydawn

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Recommended Reading: For You: 4 O’Clock; these works have separate, independent, but deeply interwoven timelines.

Chapter 11: The Girl Who Held My Heart

Sehun’s POV

Apparently, Manager Kim hosted an annual Christmas party attended only by Super Junior and whatever group she managed through debut or comeback. I only learned about it when EXO was invited. 

It had been over a year since Lei’s birthday party, where I learned that I had somehow fallen face-first in love with her. In that time, I figured that there was no escaping her— not when we worked at the same places, not when she was scattered through many of my memories, not when I had developed the habit of holding my breath until the next moment I saw her. In that time, I busied myself with the almost impossible task of telling her about the feelings that I couldn’t understand. In that time, I decided that maybe feelings aren’t meant to be analyzed and forced to abide by strict logic. 

So I walked into her house a year and a half after running from the fire in her touch with her gift in the pocket of my black blazer and three heartfelt words on the tip of my tongue. Those words had been dancing precariously on the edge, threatening to dive whenever I saw her backstage at Music Bank, whenever I saw her at company parties, whenever I saw her picture on social media, whenever I scrolled past our most recent text conversation. 

From the moment that I walked through the door and saw her— heard her singing some song with Yesung in the middle of the living room— I knew that I wouldn’t be able to bite them back again. Luckily, I arrived prepared to tell her anyway. 

I guess you could say that I had a one-track mind focused solely on speaking to Lei. Being new to the world of complex intimate emotions, I was hesitant to discuss them where anyone else could overhear. 

Finding a moment alone with Lei at that Christmas party proved even more challenging than securing her attention at the pool party. In the uncommon event that she wasn’t goofing around with Yesung, who must have been her favorite member of Super Junior, she was whispering something to Lucas, who was invited to the party even though he wasn’t a member of Super Junior or EXO. If she wasn’t with Lucas, then she was engrossed in conversation with Donghae, or she was drinking tea in the corner with Ryeowook, or she was helping Leeteuk and Shindong with their gingerbread village. 

An opportunity to speak with her privately presented itself when she walked into the kitchen, at Leeteuk’s request, to retrieve more gingerbread cookies from the oven. Forgetting to appear cool or somehow indifferent, I left Junmyeon, Baekhyun, and Chanyeol by the punch bowl in the dining room to follow after her. 

I filled the doorway, gasping when she hissed as she gripped the tray. I watched her jump away as the tray clattered to the ground with a metallic clank. Disappointment flickered through her eyes as they lowered to count the ruined cookies sprawled across the dark tiled floor. 

While she threatened to spill tears over a batch of cookies, I could only think about the burn to her fingers. As if it were a life-and-death matter, I ran to her, kicked the tray aside because it stood in my way, and took her hand into mine. 

“What are you doing?” Lei eyed me curiously as I tossed her red oven mitt onto the counter to assess the faint, almost non-existent blisters on her fingertips. 

Knowing that the glove had absorbed most of the oven’s heat, I still turned the sink’s faucet and guided her hand under the stream of cold water. “It’s called first aid, Lei.” I avoided looking at her because everything in me screamed that this wasn’t the time to confess, and meeting her eyes would force the words out involuntarily. “You’re hurt, and I’m trying to make you feel better.” 

“It doesn’t really hurt, though,” she said. “It only burned for, like, half a second, but I guess that’s all it took for me to ruin Leeteuk’s and Shindong’s cookies.” I could hear her frown even when I couldn’t see it. 

Despite her insistence that she didn’t need my help, Lei didn’t pull her hand out of my grasp under the water when it would have been all too easy. I held her gently, afraid to prod the injury. She didn’t flinch away from my touch even when I brought her fingertips to my lips. Her breathing hitched, but I didn’t recognize that sound as an expression of pain (maybe) because I was inclined to believe that she felt as I did— that she came to life when we touched. 

I hated to let her go, to feel that distance between us again, but there was no excuse to cling to her once she pulled her hand away from mine. I glanced at her for the briefest second, hoping for some sign that she wasn’t rejecting my affection, and I was disappointed to find that her gaze was already fixed on the floor. 

She dropped to her knees in her white dress, apparently unafraid of soiling it. She used her hands to sweep the gingerbread men back onto the tray, I assumed, to later drop them into the bin in the corner of the room. I lowered to help, and— unable to shake the thought that she looked like an angel in her white dress and golden halo headband— I blurted into the deafening silence, “You look beautiful.” 

Tray in hand, Lei rose to her feet first. In the moments before I towered over her again, she stared down at me in utter astonishment. I guess I can’t blame her. That was the first time I had ever been so direct in complimenting her, and I had done so without warning. I hadn’t even meant to say anything; it was just too true to leave unsaid. 

In a small voice, she asked, “Why are you saying that?” I wondered if she was blushing under her makeup. I wondered if she fought to press her ruby red lips into a frown. 

I hadn’t expected her to swoon at my every word or anything, but— 

No. Maybe I had come to expect that sort of reaction. I expected her to brighten at my compliments not because they defined her or because I thought so highly of my own opinion, but because— because that’s what she had always done. The frown that stared down at me was so far from what I anticipated or dared to dream about that I know my face burned a humiliated shade of crimson. 

Lei hadn’t rejected me— at least not outright— yet I hesitated to find my footing. Like a fool, I couldn’t look away from her long enough to make my way to the garbage can, so I dropped my handful of cookies onto the marble countertop. 

When Lei raised her eyebrows, and I realized that she expected me to answer her question, I stuttered, “I— because—” I couldn’t tell her that I loved her when she was looking at me like that. I bit down on my tongue. 

I don’t know what I would have said if Chanyeol hadn’t sauntered over to us, nearly tripping over his own two feet. 

“Isn’t this just adorable?” His words slurred together. Because he spent the entire night drinking from the punch bowl that Baekhyun spiked, Chanyeol reeked of alcohol. “Why don’t you two just kiss already?” 

From his place between us, Chanyeol slung one giant arm around me and the other around Lei, and he tried to force us together. I don’t think I have to tell you that I didn’t want Chanyeol to be the catalyst or witness of our first kiss even if he was too drunk to remember the details. Still, I didn’t resist his efforts with half as much frantic energy as Lei did. She writhed and frowned as she swatted Chanyeol away. 

Breathless from her aversion to kissing me, I fixed my gaze on the fragmented cookies on the counter. “Cut it out, Chanyeol.” I didn’t know that my voice could get so quiet. 

“No!” Chanyeol shook his head wildly. He must have made himself dizzy; when I glanced at him, his eyes were crossed. Leaning against Lei and nearly knocking her over, he rambled, “I don’t think he’s ever gonna tell you, so lemme just do it. Ya know, he’s been keeping us all up at the dorm, rehearsing his speech about love and rain and cotton candy—”

Suffice it to say that I hadn’t expected anyone to have overheard the confession I spent months preparing. Considering how much time, effort, and genuine emotion I had poured into putting my thoughts into words, it was insulting to hear Chanyeol summarize them in his drunken state. To tell you the truth, I would have been humiliated had Chanyeol— or anyone, for that matter— spoken about my feelings in a sober well-intentioned state. They were my feelings, and I had gone to great lengths to embrace them, and for somebody else to try to speak about them with authority and ease—

I dug my elbow into his ribs, and Chanyeol burped. “And I just knew that he was talking about you because he’s always had a thing for you even though I don’t know what he sees in you—”

As annoyed or upset or furious as I was that Chanyeol had once again diminished my love for Lei to the phrase ‘a thing,’ my concern deepened when he acted on his habit of insulting her. Although Lei didn’t so much as blat an eyelash or show any sign that she was affected by Chanyeol’s monologue— her frown had leveled into an apathetic line— I pried him off of her. 

Chanyeol laughed, I assumed, at having pushed my buttons. “That’s not true.” He smiled at Lei for the first time. That’s when her stone exterior started to crumble. Brow furrowing as a dimple formed in her chin, she took a step away from him. That meant she also took a step away from me as Chanyeol claimed, “I never really hated you.” 

Lei didn’t believe him. I could tell from the way she blinked and swallowed some lump in her throat before training a hardened glare on him. She looked so angry at a glance that I almost expected her to yell at him or at least say something. Upon closer inspection, however, I realized that she was chewing on the inside of her cheek and tears were welling in her eyes. 

I caught the briefest glimpse of her tears before she piled all of the cookies onto the tray and carried them over to the garbage can. While her back was turned, I took the opportunity to haul Chanyeol out of the kitchen, up the stairs, and through a door marked with an Avengers poster— Lucas’s room. 

Despite his claims that he wasn’t that drunk, Chanyeol collapsed onto the bed. As if he was without a care in the world, he folded his hands behind his head atop Lucas’s pillow. Something about that sight sickened my stomach. 

“I don’t really care if you’re drunk,” I seethed, knowing well that he was at least tipsy. I closed the door in the hope that none of our conversation would flood into the party below. “You couldn’t have picked a worse time to fill Lei’s head with a bunch of crap.” 

Waving a dismissive hand, Chanyeol argued, “Everything I said was true.” 

“That’s not the point!” Chanyeol flinched at my roar not because he felt any degree of guilt, but because he probably had the beginning stages of an alcohol-induced headache. Pinching the bridge of my nose as I pressed my back against the wall, I stuttered, “I— just— is everything a joke to you or something? I get it. You hate her—”

Again, Chanyeol said, “I never hated her.” 

“Right, whatever.” I rolled my eyes. “If you’ve known all along how much I love her— if you knew that I was planning to confess, then why would you step in and ruin everything? Why did you have to make everything so— so—” I didn’t know the right word to say, so I decided to ask, “Why did you make everything so awkward?” 

Chanyeol said, “You should be thanking me! It was already awkward! I was just trying to take some of the heat for you!”

I couldn’t even argue because Chanyeol was right about at least one thing: the conversation leading into the confession was not going well before he inserted himself. I had no idea what I was doing. Maybe, by some bizarre logic, I should have been grateful or somehow relieved that somebody else had addressed my feelings first, but I wasn’t. 

I don’t usually consider myself a perfectionist, but it was clear to me that all hopes of having an ideal romantic moment with Lei were lost. Maybe they were lost before Chanyeol meddled, but it was easier to blame him than to acknowledge that maybe— tragically— Lei and I were out of step again. It was easier to glare at Chanyeol than to imagine that maybe Lei had finally outgrown me now that I was so desperate for her. 

My hand closed around the doorknob, prepared to slam the door closed behind me, when Chanyeol spoke up. “Wait a minute. I want to give you something.” Because I didn’t turn around to accept it, he threw the poorly wrapped box at my head. 

“Ow.” I rubbed at the injury as I picked the box up from the floor. Now sitting up, Chanyeol dodged the wad of wrapping paper that I launched at him. I rolled my eyes at the box’s contents. “Really, Chanyeol? Mistletoe?”

“Yeah,” he smirked, “to help you with your confession!”

As I shook my head, I think that my frown deepened, but my growing sense of annoyance didn’t stop me from carefully tucking the mistletoe into the pocket that also housed Lei’s cotton candy charm. 

“Hey!” Chanyeol shrieked when I launched the mistletoe’s box at his head. “You’re so ungrateful!” My hand closed around the doorknob again, and Chanyeol jested, “Think of me when you’re kissing your little girlfriend, punk!”

Gagging, knowing well that Chanyeol would be the last thing on my mind if ever I got around to kissing Lei, I closed the door and left him to fall asleep in Lucas’s bed. Kissing Lei was not a part of my confession plan when I arrived at the party, and it seemed like less of a viable option when she hadn’t even reacted well to a compliment. Still, I had to smile when my fingers brushed against the mistletoe in my pocket. I had to smile at the daydream even if I didn’t know how to make it a reality. 

Downstairs, the party thrived as if I had never been humiliated by Chanyeol’s loose tongue. By the punchbowl, Baekhyun convinced Lucas to down one glass after another, and (apparently) Jongdae considered it some kind of competition that Jongin moderated in mild disgust. Yesung and Ryeowook were the centers of attention as they claimed the karaoke machine for a duet. Siwon was helping Leeteuk and Shindong with the finishing details of their gingerbread village before Kyuhyun snuck up to pluck mints and gumdrops from the buildings undetected. In a corner of the room, concealed by the bright blinking Christmas tree, Donghae watched as Manager Kim and Heechul threw their heads back in laughter before sipping from their matching red mugs of hot chocolate. 

I think I would have approached Donghae a.) had I known what to say to distract him from his jealousy or pain or whatever emotion etched those lines in his forehead, and b.) had I not remained devoted to speaking to Lei, who was not in the kitchen, living room, or dining room. 

The way I found her can only be described as a happy accident. Under the excited chatter played an unfamiliar piano melody that beckoned me into a den whose entrance was mostly obscured by the Christmas tree. Frowning and alone, looking quite small in comparison to such a large instrument, Lei sat at the grand piano. Even when I eased into the space next to her on the bench, she remained focused on the keys. 

I was almost hesitant to break the silence to say, “I didn’t know you played the piano,” as I watched her slender fingers create music without hesitation. Whatever she was playing— she knew it by heart. 

“I’ve played since I was a child.” She sounded very much like all adults do when they place distance between their present and past selves. “Donghae taught me to play the piano and the guitar.”

“I didn’t know,” I repeated, frowning. I guess I was bitter at being clueless about a fact that was likely common trivia for fans— people who hadn’t even met her. I guess I was uncomfortable with the thought that there was more to Lei than what I had always known. 

Lei shrugged. “It’s not really common knowledge or anything. I’ve never produced my own ballad or played the piano live, so I guess this is a hidden talent.”

“Why?” Noticing the frown weighing on her lips, I frowned too. “Why would you want to keep this—” I nodded to the piano— “hidden?”

Even when she broke her concentration to glance up at me through her eyelashes, Lei didn’t hit a sour note. I don’t think she was capable of doing that. “I don’t,” she argued shortly. “The agency thinks that upbeat dance songs suit my image. My job is to perform what they write for me.” 

Suddenly, I understood why her melody was so unique. “You write songs,” I said not as a question but as a general statement. 

I don’t know why my mouth fell open in surprise. Lei was poetic— artistic— and it only made sense that she would pour her soul into something as beautiful as music. 

She muttered,” I wouldn’t want to perform them anyway.” Her gaze fell back onto the piano keys, but her hands stilled. Although I hadn’t expressed any confusion or disbelief, she explained, “It’s one thing for people to hate me for music that I’m not emotionally attached to, but what am I supposed to do if people misunderstand the things that truly reflect me?”

In some ways, Lei and I were very different people, and in moments like that, our differences were obvious. Don’t misunderstand— I loved performing, but it wasn’t an emotional outlet for me. I didn’t have as much to say as she did, I guess, so I didn’t feel like I sacrificed much to be who the agency wanted. There was probably no shortage of criticisms of me to be found on the internet, but I had never been the kind to seek them out. I guess I was lucky enough to have never cared who liked me. 

Because I couldn’t force my mind to work the way Lei’s did, I didn’t know what to say to make her feel better. I squirmed under the weight of her sadness. “Well, what if somebody loves the things that truly reflect you?”

She removed her hands from the cold keys, pressed them flat in her lap, and stared down at them. “I don’t know, Sehun. To tell you the truth, I can’t really imagine that.”

I opened my mouth to tell her that she didn’t have to imagine being loved, but I didn’t get the chance to say anything. Brow furrowing, she studied me through narrowed eyes. “I’m sorry— are we just going to act like that— that stuff— that happened in the kitchen didn’t happen?”

“Could we?” I laughed at the tingling embarrassment swelling in my gut. Lei didn’t so much as crack the tiniest forced grin, so I tried to adopt a more serious expression. “Look, Chanyeol says stupid shit even when he’s sober, so—”

“Yeah.” Lei agreed instantly with the nod of her head. “Yeah, I would have to be stupid or delusional to believe that you could ever like—” She choked on her words and blinked, wincing as if I had struck her. “Well, I’d have to be the biggest fool to ever take Chanyeol or any other boy to heart, huh?” Her lips trembled as she forced them into a smile. 

I knew that Lei was on the verge of tears, so why didn’t I explain that Chanyeol hadn’t been lying or even exaggerating to laugh at our expense when he said that I liked her? I don’t know. 

Probably because I didn’t know what to say, because I didn’t trust my voice to improve the situation, because I wanted to skip ahead to her next sincere smile, I pulled her gift out of my pocket. It wasn’t wrapped as neatly as her birthday gift because I hadn’t sought Junmyeon’s help. Still, the glittering snowflake pattern on the white paper was pretty. 

Lei accepted it, and her thumbs traced over the snowflakes. They must have been pretty to her too. Her eyes, which were already glossy with tears, widened as she lifted the small cotton candy charm out of the box. 

“I promised I would get you another one,” I reminded her, suddenly unable to stand the silence even if it was safer than conversation. “Remember when you almost cried at Puroland because your cotton candy melted in the rain, and I had to throw it away?” She said nothing until I nudged her. “Remember?”

“Yes.” She smiled this sad sort of smile that made me wish I hadn’t said anything at all. “I remember. I told you, I remember everything you’ve ever said to me.”

I hoped that the things I said— the things that she remembered in vivid detail— were worthwhile. I hoped that I was more than a memory, but more than that, I hoped that the me of the past was as good in hindsight as I planned to be in the present and future. Because I didn’t know how to express those hopes with words, I reached for her hand and fastened the new charm to her bracelet. 

Determined to create a moment worth remembering, I forced my voice into a light whisper. It wasn’t as hard as I imagined it would be. “You know, this one will never melt. You can keep it forever. Now, that day can be a happy memory.” 

Lei pulled her hand out of my grasp to wipe at her eyes. “Thank you, Sehun. This is so thoughtful. I wish I had something to give you.” 

Lei was never really content to just receive a gift. She had this idea that every favor had to be repaid and every kindness had to be reciprocated. Somebody needed to tell her that love is giving without expecting anything in return, but I didn’t know that well enough to say it back then. 

I don’t know why she stood from the piano bench, but I followed, likely stirred by the fear that she would run to someplace that I couldn’t follow or hide in someplace that I couldn't find or couldn’t quite reach. 

“I don’t need anything,” I told her as I reached for her hand again, desperate for some kind of contact— for some guarantee that she wouldn’t leave even if it was just temporary. “But I know something that I want.”

Lei tilted her head to look up at me, lips puckered as if she read my mind, knew my every wish, and decided to grant them. “What is it?” 

The idea flooded my mind so quickly that I didn’t have time to consider whether it was good. I fished Chanyeol’s mistletoe out of my pocket and dangled it over our heads. 

Lei admired it with round eyes, and her jaw dropped, and she gasped, “Is this real?”

She was adorable. All apprehension melted from her eyes, and she looked at me like she used to: like I hung the moon she loved so much. It didn’t matter that I knew I never once stood among the stars because she made me believe with one glance that I had. For maybe a fraction of a second that might as well have lasted forever, the fear of being a source of heartbreak or disappointment faded next to the blinding desire to be everything she ever dreamed of. I know desires like that don’t last forever and that no plan to completely restructure oneself for another is ever successful, but I felt it, and maybe that counts for something. 

While counting the stars in her eyes, melting at the wild imagination that I put them there, I wondered which of our many moments she remembered most clearly then. Was it the first— when she called me handsome without hesitation as only a child can? Was it the rain at Puroland since I had just revived that memory with a gift? Was it the time I told her to stop following me? I hoped not. Was it the heart I had imprinted on her hand?

I never asked, so I don’t know. 

As for me: every moment blurred together to paint the portrait of this person who was the most precious to me as I took the first step in filling the distance between us. 

Should I be embarrassed to admit that she was my first kiss? I’m not. As I told you, I was wary of everything romantic, and— although she made my heart jump and ache— Lei was the first girl I ever trusted to affect me. To move me. Maybe she will be the only one. Of course, you can never be certain about these things, but I cannot imagine that anyone else will ever hold the heart that she cradled in her hands for those moments that our lips touched— the heart that followed her even if it could only do so in the quietest shadows. 

I’m lucky that nobody in Super Junior caught us because I swear I kissed her for an eternity, forgetting as my heart hammered in my chest that we were never really alone. A miracle happened. I forgot that somebody is always watching, and I never quite remembered again. Or maybe I didn’t care who saw my admiration. Maybe it wouldn't have been the worst thing for somebody to see who truly mattered to me. 

When the moment ended, I didn’t want to let it go. That’s foolish, I know, but that’s a mistake everyone seems to make at least once: clinging to time whose only instinct is to flee. Ever evasive time. Ever fleeting time. Why do we try to cling to things that were never ours? It’s foolish, selfish, futile, but I understand why. It’s one of those things that you can’t explain; it’s the kind of knowledge that you only have after experience. I hope you never understand why. 

I opened my eyes first. I couldn’t bite back joyous laughter at the sight of her. She wasn’t even doing anything. She was just standing there, hands balled into fists at her sides, eyes closed. 

Her eyes snapped open at the sound of my laughter. I was too embarrassed by my outburst to meet her gaze. The silence was deafening and deepening my burning blush, so, dropping the mistletoe back into my pocket, I tried to make conversation. 

“So, was that your first kiss?”

She didn’t respond, but the answer was all too obvious. 

“It was, wasn’t it?” My cheeks hurt from smiling. 

She still didn’t respond, and I still couldn’t look at her. 

“Don’t be shy.” Like I was some expert in romance and affection, I told her, “You were good at it.” 

By then, her silence was making my stomach tighten in knots, but I wouldn’t ruin the moment by expressing anything other than happiness. I tried to joke or flirt or say anything to fill the silence. “You should be proud of yourself.” 

I finally looked at her. I think I winked. Then, I really couldn’t face her. “You just kissed the handsomest person you’ve ever seen.” 

At that, Lei didn’t even giggle. When I glanced down at her, she didn’t spare the tiniest smile. She must have been in shock. 

“I bet you wanna forget all about your dating ban, huh?” I asked, entirely too hopeful that she would break her silence to say ‘yes.’ “Just for me?”

I never got to hear Lei’s response— if she even held one behind her blank facial expression— because Minseok beckoned me to his side in the doorway. He said, “We have to leave.” 

“What?” I frowned. Having no intentions to leave when the night was young just because Minseok said so, I asked, “Why?” 

Flatly, Minseok answered, “Because Junmyeon said so.” He likely assumed that I would say nothing to challenge our leader. 

“Junmyeon?” My frown twitched. “I saw him earlier, and it looked like he was having a pretty good—”

“Stop arguing, Sehun!” Minseok rarely lost his temper, but his outbursts were always terrifying. 

I glanced back at the piano to see if Lei was watching him berate me as if I were a child, but she was nowhere to be found. Within seconds, she vanished. My heart sank. I had taken for granted that she would wait for me as she always had. Reasoning that the kiss was perfect, I never seriously considered the possibility that I had done anything wrong. 

Remembering that I spent much of my life running from my feelings, I figured that Lei was similarly afraid. Then, because I didn’t want to scare her or push her too far, I left with Minseok after dragging Chanyeol out of Lucas’s bed. For some reason, I clung to the belief that everything would work out in time even after Minseok tried to correct me. 

On the drive back to our dorm, he said, “The kiss was cute,” and I was still too ecstatic to be embarrassed that there had been a witness to such an intimate moment. 

I was still too numb with joy to care when Chanyeol, who had been laying on his back in the backseat, sat up to yell, “You kissed her?” I wasn’t even annoyed by the smirk that he must have donned when asking, “You used my mistletoe, didn’t you?”

I was still smiling like an idiot, tracing my fingers over my lips, when Minseok continued, “But everything you said afterward—”

As I finally caught on to his harsh tone, my smile started to falter. It started to crumble around the edges. I looked at Minseok and shrank under his piercing glare when he broke his gaze from the darkened road before us. I think it must have been raining. I remember turning away to watch raindrops race down the window. 

Minseok tried to speak softly, but his anger/disappointment was still all-too-audible. “I get that you’re new to romance and all, but you can’t just make fun of Lei whenever you get embarrassed.” 

“Embarrassed?” My eyes narrowed in confusion. “I wasn’t embarrassed! Well, maybe I was a little embarrassed when I laughed—”

“You laughed?” I could hear Chanyeol’s frown. Looking back, I think that’s when I should have considered Minseok’s point more carefully. 

Instead, I jumped to my defense. “It wasn’t like that! I was just happy, and—”

“Ah, I got it!” Chanyeol clapped his hands on the back of Minseok’s chair. “You were just being a big dweeb again! Relax, Minseok. Sehun just turns into a big giggling dork whenever he’s around his little girlfriend.”

Shrilly, reaching a pitch that made me and Chanyeol cringe, Minseok argued, “I will not relax!” Minseok cleared his throat with a sigh. “Whatever your intentions were, Sehun, you really hurt Lei’s feelings. I watched her eyes get watery, and—”

Because I didn’t want to believe him, I wouldn’t even let Minseok finish the sentence. “I was just kidding around.” 

Minseok nodded. “Right. Well, I’m telling you that Lei doesn’t know that. I called you away from the piano because I knew that she was about to cry, and—”

“What?” My eyes cut away from the window to dig into Minseok. “You said that Junmyeon wanted us to go home. You lied to me?” 

Minseok’s face turned pink in the moonlight. He repeated, “Lei was about to cry!”

Chanyeol gasped, “You came between Sehun and his girlfriend?” 

Minseok tried to explain to my furious blush and scorching glare, “I didn’t want to discuss this where anyone at the party could hear! I’ll take you back to the party, Sehun, if you promise to apologize, and—”

“Apologize?” I gaped at Minseok, almost laughing although nothing was funny. “Why should I apologize? I’m not sorry for kissing Lei, and I’m not sorry for flirting afterward, and—”

“You’re not sorry?” Minseok’s brow furrowed. Something about the way he looked at me took my breath and voice away. “Even though you hurt Lei?” 

Speechless, I shook my head, determined to believe that I hadn’t hurt Lei— that I hadn’t ruined what should have been a happy memory. The problem is: in hindsight, I can admit that Minseok understood Lei’s feelings better than I ever did. 

[bts-story]

hi there a one shot with jimin..your an idol and you faint at your own concert because of overworking. thank you love

Don’t Worry — Jimin 

You were intrigued.

Your brain was fussy, your mouth was dry, and you weren’t sure to see clear enough to be aware of your surroundings. What you could distinguish though, despite the blur and the imminent want to fall asleep, was how smooth the skin of Jimin’s face seemed like. It was not quite clear, there might be one or two pimples adoring his cheek and chin, but it looked nice either way. His black hair was messy due to do much dancing, it was falling on his eyes, but it didn’t seem to bother him that much. His eyebrows raised for one second only until they frowned back down. Jimin’s eyes were a dull black, a dark ocean right in the middle of his irises and they kept on blinking, trying to focus and to brush away the tiredness. They were lined from blinking into too many suns and owned a querulous stare for people that dared to look at him for too long.

His nose was like a button, not large but not small either that led to a charming cupid bow. His lips were pursed in a natural pout, parting ever so slightly whenever he was speaking and there was a brush of his tongue at some point, but you tried not to think about that. Jimin shook his head and for a moment, it got your eyes to wander down Jimin’s neck and well, this was a nice view. It was long, light and so, so inviting that you found yourself tempted to reach for it, just to feel the smooth skin under your fingertips.

It was then, and then only, that you snapped back out of your thoughts. You cleared your throat and obliged your eyes to look anywhere but Jimin’s face. You’re not in your right mind, it’s probably due to the exhaustion.

You felt drowsy a few moments ago, but now that you thought about it, your eyes felt less sleepy and your muscles didn’t ache as much as before. “Feeling better yet?” Your head snapped to the second man in the room, and your wondered how you didn’t even take the time to really acknowledge his presence until now. He was wearing a white blouse, glasses on his nose and a file in his hands.

Once more, you cleared your throat, focusing on the question you were just asked. “Yes, yes, much better. Thanks.”

You were never a fan of needles, so it clearly wasn’t your intention on coming to the hospital to get a freaking vitamin shot. Or a full check-up for all it mattered. Screw your muscles for getting tired so easily and also screw your entire body for giving up on you like that. But in the middle of that, screw your manager for obliging you to go see a doctor. It was not the first time you passed out, it happened once or twice in your life before, so it shouldn’t be as scary as it seemed. You weren’t scared, no, but your team was, kind of.

It was just the amount of stress, lack of sleep and maybe yes, maybe the lack of eating had something to do as well. But you’re a grown-up, you know how to take care of yourself, and you know until which extent to push your body. Well, so you thought. Because, you were just so concentrated on getting the dances moves right that you didn’t even stop for one moment. That was scary to anyone witnessing the scene, and that was probably – definitely – why Jimin was here, right at this moment.

Long story short, one minute you were there, on that stage, singing, dancing, maybe crying a little bit too because seeing that stadium full of people chanting your name might have been overwhelming for one moment; and then the second, total blackness, like the void suddenly swallowed you whole. Your head had been dizzy, legs heavy and breath short and next thing, something cool and cold had been forced on your forehead, a fan was blowing in your direction and it wasn’t so hot anymore.

But now, stuck in this small white room of the nearest hospital seems so dull and too far away from where you were moments before. It felt like the echoes of the crowd singing your name, chanting your songs and waving in your direction just to try and provoke a chance you might cross gaze with one of them were still ringing loud around. But actually, only the dull sound of a flickering neon light above your head was ringing, and you missed the stage more than anything already.

“Well, your blood pressure looks good, so you’re clear to go. Don’t forget to eat and drink a lot of water. The weather is getting warm so stay hydrated.” You lost yourself in your thoughts again but were quickly able to regain your focus on the two people in front of you.

You gave a pleased smile to the doctor, said your thanks to the man, and with a nod of his head, the man exited the room. Once the door shut close behind him, Jimin turned his fairly face, however, something odd about it made your stomach twirl on itself. Frowned brows, pinched lips and scrunched nose stared back at you in a disturbing way.

Jimin said nothing. And what’s worse than an angry Jimin is probably when he lets silence engulf the atmosphere, surrounding the emptiness around like a black hole swallowing light out of the universe. He’s worried, not only but disappointed. “How are you feeling?” he finally asks a moment after, once his hands found yours and he took a place right beside you on that hard hospital bed.

It wasn’t the exact question the doctor asked moments before, it was much more personal and deeper. Jimin was asking about the worries inside your head, about the crease between your two brows and with a squeeze of his hands, he let his fingers gently caress the skin of your hands.

“I’m fine, just tired,” you tried to assure with a strong smile however, there was no point in lying. Jimin had developed something, along the time you started dating, so long ago. Something like a super-power, some might say, others might describe this only as growing knowledge. Either way, he knew. Jimin seemed to always know when you were hiding the truth. Not like a whole lie, concrete and unbalanced, but more like deforming the truth, twisting in your interest. And it only ever happened when it meant not to worry him.

Jimin said nothing. He didn’t even shrug his shoulders, didn’t hum to even hint that he heard you. He stayed silent, and his gaze didn’t drift for too long. Your eyes felt weak, unable to sustain his gaze for much longer.

“I’m sorry.” Your mouth spoke before your brain could process it, and for a moment, even you wondered why you were apologizing for. The neon lights shined bright on your face and you could feel Jimin’s eyes darting on you, and it took you so much effort to not look back. You kind of felt shitty, yes, because none of you should be here.

You, on one hand, should have been able to end your concert successfully. You should have maybe gone back to your apartment, take a long and hot shower and decide if it was time to go to bed or maybe head to the recording studio to write a few lyrics through the night. On the other hand, Jimin, well Jimin should have been just as well. He was probably in the dance studio, trying and repeating that new dance routine he just couldn’t get right.

“Don’t be sorry,” Jimin stated after a moment and it was as if he delicately chose his words. And carefully, he squeezed his hands around your own again, planting a kiss to your cheek. “I probably passed out more than the entire group united.” He laughed bitterly, because it’s not reassuring for one bit.

It actually is kind of scary, but you know what he means behind those words. You know it only means he understands much very well how hard you both can go. How hard you want to push your body to just be the best. For yourselves, and for those crowds of fans which paid to see you and only you. It means he understands the need to skip meals from time to time, what goes through your brain when you keep on dancing and dancing again when you should just take a break.

It only means he knows, and he’s there. He understands, and he doesn’t judge. He doesn’t get angry, nor does he shout.

Jimin only smiles, plants a kiss right to your lips, this time. He pushes back a strand of hair which fell back to hide your face, and bumping gently his forehead against your own, you know, everything would be alright.  

—————

One down folks, hope you enjoy! 

- Nageoire