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sorcerous-caress · 1 year ago

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Hi! No rush or anything, but do you know when requests will reopen?

Short answer: no I don't know.

Long answer:

I closed them because I was getting overwhelmed, I would get more than 10 requests per day and if I replay to one another one immediately gets sent and takes its place.

And at first it was fine yk? I love writing and I love talking, I answered as much as I can of them per day and gave up hours of my life just to write some drabbles or fanfics.

But then it became apparent that they requests are just there for the requester to talk about their own stuff, not to have a discussion with me, not because they value my work and not because they plan on listening to what I have to say.

Even then, no matter how many I posted or replied to, I would be lucky to get a small thank you from someone. A nice comment or reblog was like a fever dream that happens once a week.

Instead I just get more requests, with total disregard to the work I just posted, just asking for more without any tact or politeness. And If I didn't reply the way they wanted? They would complain to me afterwards or send me a long anon ask explaining how I misunderstood their request and here is everything I did wrong.

And those same people would never send a similar long anon ask of what i did right, of if they even appreciated the work I've put in.

I felt taken for granted, both the rude people and the silent people who would just ask for stuff or come talking about their own ideas and never mine were just as horrible in my eyes. I felt not appreciated and just used.

Like I said before, why am I doing free work to people who aren't nice to me? We are not friends, no matter how friendly I am to any requester. We will never be friends, that's a parasocial relationship if you think we are. And I'm not a content creator either! This isn't content I'm posting because I'm literally gaining nothing from it. No money, no coms, not nothing and that's how I want it to be.

I share my writing because I want to, and it's a hobby, I never plan on opening commissions or using monetization. The least someone could do is appreciate the time and work i put for free to the thing they request of me, but no one does that, do they?

There is a different between being a nice person and a decent person, juet because you were decent to me and didn't demand or insult me during the 10 requests in a row you've sent without even leaving a comment on any of them then you're definitely not a nice person.

And fuck I hate talking about this, I hate having to explain myself or my feelings or why I closed requests as if I owe anyone in here an explanation, as if I'm not already taking time from my life for this blog. Time that I could've spent playing videogames or doing something else equally as fun as writing but this time at least I get appreciation back in form of in-game rewards.

I hate seemingly needy and this effected by something as meaningless as comments. But those same needy feelings are what impacted my writing the most, you don't get to enjoy my writing then turn around and condem the same traits that made me write this way in the first place just because those traits started affecting my creativtly negatively.

I'm just tired and fed up, I'm not replying to asks that have nothing to do with me or my writing, I'm not doing any requests when I'll just be met with radio silence. If people who read my work are planning on ignoring me either way and just leave likes then i might as well write what I want and be as self indulgent as much as I want.

And if you think "oh this isn't about me, we are on good terms right?" Then I promise it's definitely about you, it's about each and every single one of you who sent a request and barely sent any appreciation back.

I thought if I was nice and gave everyone the benfits of the doubt, then they'd appreciate me back. Clearly, if I just worked harder, I'll get recognition and love, right? Fuck no, all I got was more work from the same selfish people.

And it stings so much more when it comes from fellow artists and writers you know? You fucking clearly know how this feels like so why are you treating me the same way?

And if you're asking "so what you expect me to always write a comment on the work I requested? I don't wanna spam you and wouldn't it just get redundant."

Then go re-read the fact that we are not friends. I am a stranger to you. You only treat your friends with this level of familiarity and take their nice treatment for granted. I expect you to always be polite, even if it's redundant.

What fucking irks me more is when I go to their profile and see how many fanarts they reblog and leave nice comments under, how it clearly shows how little they value writing in comparison to art.

I posted my writing almost every single day for almost three months and not once did someone acknowledge how hard it is to keep my creativity from drying for this long, how annoying it must have been to cut my own free time in half just to answer a request or post a new work.

I'm not gonna pretend fanartists have it any better, I've seen firsthand how the thousands of likes get 10 or 20 comments at most, and half of these comments are jokes while the other half is asking for permission to repost or use their work.

God, you people have zero tact, and you'll only witness the domino effect of your actions when everything is behind a paywall or on exclusive discord servers that you need to jumpt through hoops to get into.

I'm really fed up. If you think that "well I'm just one person" then you're part of the problem too.

This rant, essay or whatever won't change shit. No matter how many times I keep re-explaining this. It won't change people's minds or views and even when it does, it will only last for a day or two where everyone is suddenly nice to me and walking on eggshells then it's back to the same silent treatment as if this is a tantrum I'm throwing for attention rather than a serious problem that's killing my blog and writing.

It's only you who can change your own mind. You have to sit with yourself and activity change your mindset, you have to keep your own self accountable when you read something and never leave a comment or when you send a request and never send anything nice after it.

And most of you won't, it's sad and hurtful but true. Because you're losing nothing by taking artists for granted, you lose nothing by being selfish and rude, you lose nothing by always asking for stuff and never giving anything back.

Except when you eventually lose the artist or the right to freely request from then, all of the sudden this is effecting you so much and you need an explanation on when the request will be open again. Gosh writer why are you being so selfish and keeping us from demanding free work from you? Aren't you done yet? Instead of actually motivating you by appreciating your work or sending a sweet ask, I'm going to directly ask you when the requests will be open! But it's fine and totally not rude because I said it's not rude!

Of it wasn't for that single anon sweet ask on the Gale interactive story I would've just stopped posting it. A single person single handedly is responsible for motivating me to finish the story while the remaining 50 something voters in it did jack shit and just sat on their ass. You all should be grateful for that one person who sent the ask for giving you the story, I was fully planning on not posting any new part this day.

A single person can make a difference. I remember everyone who left a sweet message after their request, I remember everyone who didn't. I remember everyone who comments or leaves a reaction.

And I remember when a seemingly nice person stops being nice after leaving one nice ask then start spamming requests and never leave anything anymore. It happens more often than not, especially when I make exceptions for them since they were so nice and they take it as free permission to go ham.

I don't know what's causing this, is it my bpd? Is it just December making my depression hit rock bottom? I don't fucking know.

But what I know is that requests won't be open. Not until I decide to.

Drabbles too, i was too latent and expected people to behave better. Instead they started requesting full works but add the word drabble at the end as if it will make it any better.

If your ask isn't related to my work I'm not answering it.

If you don't like this, or think I'm being mean or too demanding, that's fine. Just leave.

Because that what most requestors do after you answer 10 of their asks, they leave to the new shiny artist they find. Not a thank you not anything.

My work has been dying since I closed requests, much less interactions. And that's fine that's okay, I rather be forgotten than used.

Also hello! No rush or anything, but do you know when you're going to start treating me like a human person instead of a fic bot? Do you know when the ability to comment or give feedback is finally unlocked? Do you know when people will understand that a request is a one per person rule until your old request is done, so don't spam me with them?

You don't know? That's fine, have a great day anon! This wasn't meant to be rude or anything because i said it wasn't so that makes it valid right? It makes it okay since I can claim I didn't know better right?

#please don't talk to me about this again #I'm not a teacher and I don't want to preach about anything or tell you how to behave #i want to give honest work and be given appreciation in return that's all

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personasintro · 4 years ago

Text

drunk over sober | ksj drabble

⇢ 𝒔𝒚𝒏𝒐𝒑𝒔𝒊𝒔; getting through the evening in his presence calls for help and that's why you decide to reach for one thing that could possibly get you through it, or maybe it helps you in a whole another way

⇢ 𝒈𝒆𝒏𝒓𝒆: angst (?), fluff, enemies to lovers au

⇢ 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔: explicit language

⇢ 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕: 4.5k+

𝒂/𝒏: commissioned by @xxxjkxux, hope you like this! x

drunk over sober | sober now

𝒎.𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 | ☕️ | © 𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒐𝒏𝒂𝒔𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒓𝒐 (𝒏𝒐 𝒓𝒆𝒑𝒐𝒔𝒕𝒔 𝒐𝒓 𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒔𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒐𝒘𝒆𝒅)

What did you do in your past life to deserve this? To deserve such an overly confident, snarky, cocky bastard to be in your life. Why couldn't your friends find a nice human being that is polite, friendly and modest? Not… him.

And the fact everyone is so okay with him acting like he owns everything just makes your blood boil even more. Why the hell did you even agree to come here in the first place? Oh yeah, because one of your friends Jimin, assured you he won't be here. But rather than be mad at Jimin for lying to you because well, your worst enemy – the epitome of evil is right here, you're actually more mad at his presence.

Or maybe because he's enjoying this night to the fullest, even has the decency to lift up his glass of wine at you as he cockily quirks up one of his brows and sends a smirk your way. You gape at him like a fish, features twisting to a deep scowl and a glare. But he looks even more amused at your obvious anger, living for it.

“Y'know, this glaring at him won't do anything.”

The melodic voice resounds next to you, your eyes moving from the devil himself to your friend who's looking at Seokjin amusingly before he looks at you with the same amused eyes. That's great! Even he's enjoying this. Are you the only one being miserable? Maybe you should leave this bar, leave the group of your friends to maybe open a bottle of wine for yourself.

“Don't talk to me,” you grit, trying to appear intimidating but it only makes Jimin chuckle which makes your brow twitch in irritation. “You lied to me. You told me he won't be here tonight.”

“I didn't lie,” Jimin clarifies, “He wasn't supposed to come but decided to tag along at the last minute.”

“Of course, he did,” you roll your eyes. “He likes to make my life miserable.”

Now it's Jimin's turn to roll his eyes, finding the hatred between you two pathetic and childish. You don't even know how it started. Seokjin always made you irritated from the moment you met him. You don't like overly confident men, thinking they can do anything and act however they like. Then he started to make fun of you, throwing snarky remarks your way ever since he noticed the way you clearly wasn't very fond of his presence. And it quickly turns into bickering whenever the two of you are in the same room.

He has already managed to comment on your outfit the second he saw you.

“This is not your grandma's funeral, Y/N.”

How dare he bring your poor grandma into this? You know he did that just to annoy you, that doesn't make it okay.

To be fair, you did tell him something back. “Oh really? Says the man who's wearing his dad's clothes.”

It's certain you made your friends laugh, both of you did. They always have fun whenever it comes down to your bickering. Seokjin didn't even look offended by your comment, just smirked your way as he gulped down more wine. That pisses you even more. He barely shows annoyance or any negative reaction. He always remains calm, amused and cocky. It pisses you off.

And of course, he doesn't look as if he's wearing his dad's clothes. He looks far from it. He might be close to his thirties, but he looks amazing. But surely, he knows that. Everyone knows that – even you. But you'd rather have your arm cut off than to admit it out loud.

“You both are freaking stubborn. Whatever the two of you have going on, you need to sort it out.”

“Sort it out,” you scoff, “As if that's possible.”

“It is,” Jimin says, a grin making its way to his lips. “I feel a certain tension here.” He wiggles his eyebrows at you while you frown, glaring at him for a moment before you let his words sink in and you realize what he's hinting at.

“Oh, fuck no!” you exclaim, wanting nothing else than to punch him for even mentioning that but you know you'd feel awful later. “Y'know what? I won't let him get to me. I'm gonna have fun.” you say lightly, your tone awfully fake but you go along with it as you gulp the rest of your wine.

“Now, I'm gonna get some more.” you inform him, Jimin's mouth is opening.

“That's not what I--”

But you're already gone, making your way towards the bar to order more wine but not before you brush past Seokjin giving him the nastiest glare. However, it only makes him chuckle, turning around for a moment to look at you amusingly as he's met with your back and swaying ass.

You usually make good decisions.

You always think through things because usually, you're a responsible person.

Usually – that's the key word because you're certainly not proving yourself to make good decisions. As much as you'd like to blame it on Suckjin (yes, because he really sucks), it's your own fault for deciding that drinking might be the best idea for how to get through the night. Part of you wanted to leave as soon as you saw his dumb and handsome face but you haven't seen your friends for two weeks and you wouldn't give him that satisfaction to show him how much his presence affects you. Or more like it annoys you.

Who are you kidding. He certainly affects you more than you'd like to admit, if he didn't – you wouldn't keep ordering wine (and probably going bankrupt because you'd save a lot of money by buying a whole bottle of wine, rather than buying one glass every ten to fifteen minutes). However, you're in a bar and it's quite obvious you pay more than you'd if you just bottle an alcohol from a convenience store.

Also, if he wouldn't affect you that much you'd listen to your friends' worries and advice to slow down. You did the right opposite. You feel like you started ordering even more frequently.

But most importantly, if he wasn't affecting you, you certainly wouldn't throw up into the toilet of the ladies restroom.

And the fact you embarrassed yourself in front of (not just your friends) but also everyone in a bar while running to the ladies with a hand over your mouth, to keep the vomit inside until you're free to let it out.

Oh, fuck so fucking embarrassing.

Your knees ache as you hug the toilet, not caring about possible bacterias laying on the toilet seat. If you were sober, you'd actually be so disgusting.

When one of your female friends comes to check on you, you rasp out that you're okay and will be out in a few minutes. You weren't.

You've been here for god knows how long but considering how many women already went to use the restroom, you must've been here for quite some time. Luckily, you stayed quiet and didn't throw up while anyone else was here.

Your stomach is uncomfortably clenched reminding you that you're about to have a wild awakening in the morning full of regret, you know you emptied everything in your stomach. You've a weird sour taste in your mouth, causing you to groan disgustedly at yourself. Once you flush the toilet for like the fifth time by now, you get the courage to walk out and check your appearance in the mirror.

You look awful. You also feel like it.

You rinse your mouth a few times, feeling lucky that no one has decided to come here to see your head in a sink while spitting out the water to get rid of that awful taste of vomits in your mouth. Your make-up is slightly smudged but it's actually not that awful once you wipe your undereyes and the smudged mascara there.

Once you're ready, knowing you've to walk out of those doors to face the others (and by that, you don't just mean your friends but also everyone that witnessed you clearly ready to throw up), you brace yourself and open the door.

You're startled to be met with Seokjin leaning against the wall, standing there just on the opposite side of you as your eyes meet right away. He sighs, awfully similar to sighing in relief, as he takes your appearance and eyes you up and down.

“How are you feeling?” he asks, straightening himself.

“Like shit,” you answer honestly, grabbing the side of your throbbing head. “I think I'm still drunk.” you tell him, stumbling when a woman makes her way towards the restroom and you've to move to let her in since you've been standing right in front of the door.

Seokjin stretches his arms towards you, getting a faint hold of your wrists. HIs brows are furrowed while he stares at you.

“Come on, let's get you home.” he says, taking a few steps closer to you as you glare at him.

“You?” Is the only thing you let out of your mouth, ready to resist but Seokjin holds you close since you seem to have barely any balance.

You might've thrown up everything in your stomach, but your head throbs and you're still very much drunk.

“Yes,” he answers simply, “Everyone else went home. I told them I'd get you home safely.”

You scoff, not believing your friends. So, they just left you here? With him? They know you don't like him! The hell, you hate him! They know all of it and yet, they left you here with him.

Little do you know, Seokjin promised to take care of you. He was met with a few skeptical stares from your friends but Jimin assured them it's okay. The smirk Jimin gave Seokjin just as he was walking out of the bar didn't go unnoticed by him.

And here he is. Has been waiting for half an hour for you. He did get worried, wondering if you hadn't passed out on the floor or something and had this urge to just walk into the ladies restroom, knowing that might've got him kicked out of this bar.

Luckily, you walked out of there before he really decided to do it.

As much as you hate Seokjin, and doing a stupid decision, you know the smartest option for you is to just go with him. It's dangerous to go alone and even though you want to prove to him you don't need him or his help, you kind of do and it definitely helps to get you home safely, just like he promised to you and his friends.

So you huff under your breath, brushing past him but saying nothing in return but you know he's right behind you, feeling his presence following you out of a bar.

“Oh shit, I haven't paid for my drinks.” you exclaim once you make it outside.

Thank god, no one stared at you while walking out of a bar. You already feel embarrassed as it is.

“I took care of it,” Seokjin tells you, phone attached to his ear as he ignores your suspicious eyes and calls a cab for the two of you.

You groan, feeling your legs getting weak so you sit on a curb, hugging your arms as you feel a chilly breeze on your exposed arms.

After he makes the call, hanging up with a polite “Thank you, we'll be waiting”, he's joining you and sitting beside you as you eye him suspiciously again.

He probably feels your eyes on him, but he stares ahead watching cars passing by.

“Why would you pay for me?” you ask, voice drowsy as you keep your tired eyes on him.

He turns his head to you, staring at you for a moment as he lets out a chuckle. “I expect you to pay me back. I'm no charity.” he scoffs causing you to scoff back.

“Don't worry,” you murmur, feeling angry for some reason even though of course, you'd pay him back. You wouldn't let him pay for such an expensive wine, or even if it was a cheap one, just so he could use it one day against you. You don't need his money.

But deep down, you're glad he took care of it so you could just walk out of the bar and not spend any longer in it than necessarily. What you're angry about is the way he reacted. And here you thought he's being weird by the whole taking care of you thing. He's still the same idiot.

Your thoughts are cut off by him taking off his suit and throwing it over your small figure. You instantly feel the heat from it, knowing it's his body that made it warm. You open your mouth, staring at him surprisingly as he chuckles at your reaction.

“Well, don't look at me so surprised.”

“I am surprised,” you point out, “Thanks though.”

“What? I didn't hear you?”

You look at him again, opening your mouth but once you see the corner of his mouth twitching, you know he heard you and is just making you say it again.

“Your mistake.” you huff.

You don't know for how long you sit there waiting for the cab, but you feel yourself getting more and more tired, looking for a place to lean your head against which happens to be Seokjin's shoulder. You're too out of it to check out his reaction or realize what you just did.

His shoulder feels nice. The one you kept making fun of him, actually you made fun of both of his shoulders. Suddenly, you start feeling guilty for it and you blame you being drunk for it because you're already opening your mouth.

“I'm sorry for making fun of your shoulders,” you mutter, yawning sleepily. “They feel nice.”

Seokjin laughs, actually it's something between a laugh and a chuckle but he finds your confession and apology funny nevertheless.

“I know you secretly love them.” he teases you, causing you to groan in response. Oh god, you're so out of it.

“I hate you secretly.” you inform him, causing him to snicker.

“It's not that big of a secret.” he points out, making you chuckle for some reason. He's right. It's quite obvious.

“You hate me too, don't make me feel guilty.”

“I don't hate you,” he tells you, sounding serious for a second before he chuckles. “You just can't take some teasing.”

You lift your head up quickly, groaning when you feel it spin as your vision gets blurry. You glare at Seokjin, seeing double – two Seokjins – but you glare at him nevertheless.

“Teasing?” you exclaim, “That's not teasing! That's pissing me off and you know it.” you snap but lay your head back when it starts to hurt even more. He lets you, scoffing a little.

And he stays quiet, letting the distant sounds of cars and people chatting that walk past you be the only sound between you two. You're on a verge of actually falling asleep, closing your eyes for the first time since fighting the urge to close them since you laid your head on Seokjin's shoulder.

But yet again, Seokjin manages to open his mouth again and for some reason, you're not as annoyed as you'd normally be.

“Do you believe in soulmates?”

It's so random, you don't get why he's asking you this but you're also very drunk to put too much thought into it.

You let his question linger in the air and in your mind, pursing your lips slightly in a silent thought before you come up with a quite sober answer. “I think everyone is in your life for a reason.”

“Oh, so I'm in your life for a reason.” he teases you and if you looked up at him, you'd see him wiggling his brows.

“Yeah, to piss me off apparently.” you tell him, getting to hear a breathy laugh from him.

“You piss me off too,” he says, sounding both amusing and accusing at the same time. Maybe even offended too. “But I like you.” he admits.

It's like a slap to your face and thanks to your drunkenness, it takes a while to fully understand his words but once you do, you whip your head in his direction while looking at him like a deer caught in the headlights.

“You what?”

“Come on, isn't it obvious?” he laughs almost bitterly, but keeps his tone light and even when he looks at you with his dark brown eyes, you see nothing but softness in them.

Okay, you're really drunk.

“Do you think I'd take care of you, borrowed you my suit to keep you warm and waited in front of the restroom for half an hour just because I hate you?”

You're speechless, not fully realizing that Kim Seokjin, the Kim Seokjin that makes fun of you whenever you're around, just confessed that he doesn't hate you. And admitted verbally and loudly what he's done for you so far. Even though you didn't ask for it, you know deep down you appreciate it.

“I don't understand…” you mumble, “What about all the teasing and annoying me?”

“It's just teasing, it's not my fault you can't take a joke.” he snorts, causing you to send him a glare. It's just a small confirmation that yes, he still acts like a dick but the difference is, that you're not overly mad over it and don't want to slap his handsome face.

“You and I have a different concept of a joke,” you scoff, “I don't like those jokes.”

“Alright, no more teasing and jokes,” he says, causing you to raise your brows at him lazily. You don't believe him. “Don't look at me like that, I'm serious. And just a reminder, you haven't been going easy on me too. I'm just lucky I have thick skin and can take a joke.”

You want to have some smartass response, to say something back about how he's making it seem like you're some kind of a prude that can't joke around, because you can. You're quite a fun person to be around. He just doesn't know that side of you because you just straightass go into an attack mode whenever he is around.

And as your drunk mind thinks about it, you do feel an obvious guilt slowly building but you're too drunk to fully tell him what you think. But you try your best, muttering the first thing that comes to your mind.

“I'm sorry to joke about your shoulders,” you almost whisper, pouting. “I like them. They're comfy. At least this left is.”

That's right, you've been leaning on his left shoulder only.

Seokjin snorts at that before he erupts laughing, causing you to cringe at the loud sound close to your ear but you find yourself smiling. He catches the sight of your smile, his laugh slowly dying as he keeps his lips stretched into a similar one.

“I can assure you my right shoulder is just as comfortable,” he remarks, causing you to snort as you nod at him. “I don't know what's up with you and my shoulders. You said far more mean things about my own personality than my appearance.”

You cringe at that, feeling the guilt even more. Perhaps it's the tone in his voice that makes you think that you making fun of his personality rather than appearance somehow affected him too.

“I'm sorry,” you murmur, hiding your face back in his shoulder once he looks at you, chuckling as you not so sneakily hide your shy face. “You said mean things to me too.”

“I'm sorry,” he says back, louder and more confident than when you said it. “I think we both have something to feel guilty about.”

You just nod, muttering something about how long it's taking for the cab to arrive. Seokjin is not sure if you did it to change the topic purposely, or you're just so drunk that you mind drifts elsewhere. Nevertheless, he coaxes you to stand up as he helps you, not minding the way your body practically stumbles into his in the middle of it. He has a tight grip on you, tucking a few restless strands of your hair behind your ear. Yeah, he commented that too. Something about how having your hair in a bun makes you look like you're in a job meeting rather than hanging out with your friends in a bar.

He cringes at that, having the need to apologize for that but you seem distracted by something else and that something else happens to be his lips. You're shameless, maybe you don't realize that you're staring and that he obviously sees you… but you just keep staring.

“I'm sure I made fun of your lips too.” you drunkenly murmur, causing Seokjin to breathe out a chuckle.

“You did.” he confirms your suspicion, causing you to sigh.

“I like them.” you tell him honestly, eyes lazily closing and smile stretching to the same lazy and drunk smile. And you bluntly reach towards them, your point finger tracing the bottom lip.

Seokjin feels the tip of his ears heating up, wondering how it must look like to someone that just walks by. You're in front of a bar with you drunk while tracing his lips as if it's the most normal and common thing ever.

“You know,” Seokjin starts, your finger no longer in front of his mouth. “I think I prefer you drunk over sober.”

That makes you snort, chuckling slightly as you lean towards him and bump your forehead into his chest. Wow, it's hard. You stay like that, trying to ignore the throb in your head.

“I think I prefer you when I'm drunk than when I'm sober.” you admit, causing him to laugh, hands respectfully on your back as you keep swaying slightly.

Suddenly, you've this urge to look at him because god knows if you'll ever have that opportunity. So you do, finding him already looking at you.

“But I wish you were sober now, though.” he admits too, your brows furrowing in a confusion for a moment.

“Why?”

“So I could kiss you.” he bluntly responds, your eyes widening and for a moment, you feel like you sobered up. That's not true, though. You just feel like it.

“You--you want to kiss… me?” you point at yourself, wondering if this is some kind of sick joke of his, so he can laugh about it later.

But he looks honest, staring at you with a deep glance. It makes you swallow dryly.

“Yeah,” he nods, “But you're drunk. And I don't want to take advantage of that.”

You stare at him cutely, your lips pouting without you even realizing and your pupils are big and waiting, causing him to grab your face gently. He traces his thumb over your lips, similar to what you did just a few minutes ago while tracing his own plush lips.

You called him Kylie Jenner look-alike if you remember correctly. God, you were such a bitch.

You like his lips.

“I'm not that drunk,” you stupidly protest, causing Seokjin's brows to raise in shock from your sudden interest in him kissing you. But he quickly shakes himself out of it and chuckles at your eagerness.

“How about a compromise?” he asks, catching your interest as you nod without thinking of it.

It's until he leans towards you, face just a few inches from yours. You can feel the heat coming off his breath, warming your face while your heart seems to be the only thing sober and awake.

His lips are so close, he is so close. You can smell his incredible and expensive cologne making you almost whimper in his direction but before he can take another inch closer to you, you realize something and panic.

“Wait, wait!” you exclaim, catching him off guard as he stares at you surprised while pulling away slightly, giving you some space as your hand is already on your mouth.

Are you about to throw up? Oh fuck, he'd be so embarrassed if you throw up at the idea of him kissing you.

“I threw up!” you inform him which makes him snort because he obviously knows that.

He heard weird noises that undoubtedly came from you while he was waiting for you.

But he doesn't tell you that to not make you embarrassed. He's not that big of a dick, even if you think he maybe is.

“But I rinsed my mouth!” you quickly jump to say, not wanting him to think like you stink or something. You made sure your mouth doesn't smell like vomits. The thought of him kissing you while you threw up just twenty minutes ago makes you want to throw up again. In your defense, you did rinse your mouth a lot and you no longer can smell or taste vomits in your mouth.

He chuckles, eyes scrunched as he inches closer to you and you almost protest (because just in case, you'd die of embarrassment) but you're taken aback when his lips find your forehead instead of your lips. He gives you a soft kiss there, smiling down at you as you gape at him with an open mouth.

This is the compromise he talked about, but you're too drunk to realize that.

“Come on, the cab is here.” he says, taking your hand in his as he leads you to a cab.

Once you both sit there, you give the cab driver your address before you allow yourself to finally relax and feel something soft under your butt rather than a hard pavement. You're not too shy to scoot closer to Seokjin, even though you've been glued to him from the moment you made it into the cab. You let your head rest over his right shoulder this time, commenting that it's comfortable too that makes him laugh.

It's the last thing he hears from you because he soon realizes you fell asleep, cuddling up to him. He's not sure if he'll be able to wake you up once you make it to your apartment building and he has no plans trying to get into your purse, so he sighs and tells the driver to drive you to his apartment instead. It's not far from yours anyway and the cab driver is more than happy to charge him for it.

But he doesn't care about money. If he did, he wouldn't pay that much money over the wine you drank and threw up all of it in the same day.

He wasn't joking when he said he wants you to pay back, but maybe now, he'll live without you paying him back. He can think of it as if it's redemption by burying the hatchet.

And as he glances at your peaceful sleeping figure that still is very much glued to his warm body, he knows it might be just worth it.

He just hopes you won't kill him in the morning once you find out you're at his place. And maybe, just maybe, he hopes a lot that you'll remember everything in the morning.

#networkbangtan #ficswithluv #bts smut #bts au #bts angst #bts fluff #seokjin x reader #bts enemies to lovers #seokjin scenario #seokjin fanfic #personasintro

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salemwritesxx · 3 years ago

Text

𝓽𝓼𝓾𝓫𝓪𝓼𝓪.

𝕋 𝕒 𝕜 𝕒 𝕞 𝕚 𝕂 𝕖 𝕚 𝕘 𝕠 | ℍ 𝕒 𝕨 𝕜 𝕤

⇴ male reader [25, Vigilantes, quirkless] ⇴ all characters are depicted as [18]+

↳ request: Add on to the ask my bad! {Vigilante reader instead of hero-: When hawks found out he was expecting a baby he immediately kept it a secret from the reader and his friends. Since he doesn't want the hero commission/the public to catch wind of it cause it'll put both of their lives at risk also the public wouldn't be happy to know that their hero is in a relationship with someone who isn't a female- {{Angst!- The hero commission isn't supportive of hawks love life and unborn child_ if they found out about it, they'll probably blackmail the reader into doing their dirty work in exchange for hawks life.) But,, he soon tells the reader after being confronted about his change of behavior and appearance. About 3-4 months into the pregnancy. Time skip to where the kid is born- happy ending🤙🏾

↣ rating: general audiences ↣ warnings: mpreg, size / height difference, lil’ bit of angst with happy ending, discussion of abortion

｡☆✼★━━━━━━━━━━━━★✼☆｡

“No… No, no, no. Fuck!”, he cursed quietly.

Staring in disbelief at the little plastic strip, he put it besides two others. All three of them were positive. There was no doubt. Hawks was… pregnant.

Falling back onto the closed toilet seat, he sighed deeply as tears welled up in his eyes. Keigo wasn’t one to cry easily, but right now everything broke apart. How would everyone react? How would the HPSC react? How would you react? Right now, it seemed like his past was catching up to him, what if everything turned out the same? What if history repeated itself? Would his unborn child have to endure so much as well? Wouldn’t it be better, if it was never born-

“Keigo?”, your voice made him snap out of his dark thoughts.

“[Your.name]?”, hastily wiping his tears and pushing the pregnancy tests into the trash, he tried his best to sound calm.

“So you’re here! I was worried, Kei! You ignored my calls.”, when he came out, you stood there leaning against the wall, a worried expression on your face.

“Ah, no. I was just busy, you know? HPSC needed me again today.”, Kei tried his best to lie and put on his best fake smile.

But you still found it suspicious.

“Are you okay, Baby?”, taking a step towards him, your big hand cupped his cheek and your thumb gently wiped over his red, swollen undereye.

Had he been crying? Keigo? That’s rare.

“I am fine, [Your.name], I am fine. What about you though?”, he kept smiling when he pushed away your hand and walked past you into the kitchen.

“I haven’t heard from you in a while, too, ya know?”

“Ah…”, was the only sound you made as you shyly scratched your neck.

“That’s true. I’m sorry if I worried you, Kei. It’s just… I had to hide for a few days. The police were especially pesky and I couldn’t risk being caught.”

“It’s okay, it’s okay.”, he waved aside, “It’s not like I was worried. I know you can handle yourself just fine.”

This was the last thing you thought you would hear from him, leaving you confused and maybe a little… hurt? Sure, you chose to be a Vigilantes and go out at night to take care of some things your own, but to think your boyfriend wasn’t even worried about you while doing so? Maybe he really did despise what you did and he just never said so out loud. Until now, he had never commented on the illegal things you did, because ultimately, you never destroyed anything and just helped the less unfortunate people, but maybe…

After all, you worried about him constantly and he was a licensed pro-hero, still – many things could happen. Like that, you had a weird feeling that Hawks was not fine at all despite him claiming he was.

And while normally, your little reunion would have been much different, Kei just couldn’t think about anything at that point. All he was thinking about was the baby growing inside of him and what he should do about it…

As weeks went by, you noticed Hawks was changing. His excuse of being “bloated” was weird and got old quickly. Furthermore had your relationship taken a big hit. Few kisses and almost no touching. It almost seemed like he was uncomfortable constantly. You wondered what it all was about. Was it just over? Did your relationship just slip right through your fingers and you couldn’t do anything about it?

Usually, when you were both home, the apartment was filled with dumb laughter. It was so nice being around you, but all Keigo was in the past few weeks was anxious, quiet and easily agitated. His home was his safe place, it’s where he could forget everything and relax. Not think about his work, about the HPSC, but with your child growing consistently, it was harder and harder to relax. In just a few weeks, someone who had a keen eye could probably tell that he wasn’t “bloated” anymore. Instead, he didn’t know what to do anymore.

Then, one day, it must have been around the fourth month of his pregnancy, someone rang the doorbell in the middle of the night. First, Keigo wanted to ignore it, however, as they kept ringing, a thought popped into his head. He hadn’t seen you in about a week, which wasn’t unusual per se as you had to hide from time to time, but for you to not contact him at all was a little… odd. Were you in trouble? Did they find about your connection to him?

Hence, with his own feather in his hand, he was ready to defend himself as he made his way to the door. The rain was drumming against the windows mercilessly. Perfect distraction if someone wanted to raid him.

Though, when he swung open the door, ready to cut anyone and anything, it all came differently. A large body was leaning against the side of the door.

“[Your.name]!”, his golden eyes widened as your own [eye.color] ones looked quite lifeless.

Before Hawks could do anything, you couldn’t hold yourself upright anymore, thus falling through the opened door. Quickly reacting, he caught you, but being so much smaller than you, his feathers had to help lift you and get you inside his apartment. Only then, when he pulled his hands back did he realize what was on his hands and what he had thought to be water, was actually blood.

His heart dropped into the pit of his stomach. Rushing to your side, he literally ripped open your black coat and what was underneath, revealing a gaping wound on your side.

“Kei…”, you suddenly croaked, trying to reach out your hand, which he immediately grabbed and squeezed tightly.

“Don’t talk, [Your.name]! Everything will be alright, okay?!”, he visibly panicked.

He could hide his feelings very well. At least usually. But not this time. Maybe it was because he was hormonal due to the pregnancy, but just the thought of losing you made him cry. Hastily standing back up, he rushed into the bathroom to grab some towels and into the bedroom to get his phone.

“I… I didn’t know… where else to go… Kei…”, you coughed up a bit of blood, even though he had told you to not talk anymore.

“I know, I know. It’s okay, Baby.”, hugging you against his chest, all he could do was sob, “Everything will be alright, okay?!”

With a thumping heart, Hawks stood in front of the door for a few moments, before he knocked and entered eventually.

“Oh! Kei!”, you were just eating your pudding.

“[Your.name]!”, without holding back, he rushed towards your bed and jumped you.

However, hearing your painful whimper due to the ecstatic hug, he immediately pulled back with a small “I’m sorry.”

You, however, just shook your head and put the pudding and spoon away before gesturing him to come closer again.

“No, it’s okay, come here.”, you said with a soft smile as you pulled him in again.

Keigo just following your movement, scooching closer and in the end, hugging you again when you wrapped your own bandaged arms around him. You were so much more beat up than he initially thought…

“Thank you for saving me, Baby. I’m sorry if I scared you.”

“You did!”, sitting back up, his golden eyes were shimmering, “I was so worried about you.”

“Ehh? Didn’t you say you weren’t worried about me a few months ago?”, you just teased him, but Keigo was hormonal and highly stressed, so he reacted way too violently when tears welled up in his eyes.

“I know… But you know I like to talk big sometimes.”, he sniffled.

Quickly, you reached out to softly cup his face and wipe away the tears.

“I know. Hey… Kei. Tell me what’s going on, hm?”

“Huh?”, his golden eyes widened a bit as he stared at you.

“Baby… I know something’s going on. Things haven’t been normal lately and you act different, too. Tell me, if it’s something I did, I can change. I will do anything, but please be honest with me already… Last night, I thought, that’s it. I thought I’d die with things being so weird between us. It was horrible to think about it…”

Looking around for a moment, you were the only one in this room and even if it wasn’t the best location to finally say it out loud, Keigo just couldn’t continue to lie. He had wanted to get an abortion three times and canceled every time because he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Clearly, he wanted this baby. And he wanted you to know, it was just all so… complicated.

“Kei…”, you squeezed his hand one more time.

“Okay…”, sitting down on the bed properly, his other hand reached out as well, needing every bit of comfort and support he could get.

“I…”, biting his lip, he hesitated for a moment before looking up and straight into your eyes, “I am pregnant.”

Your eyes widened and for a second, you just stared at him in disbelief.

“Wait… you…? Really?”

“Yeah…”

“Oh my God… that explains a lot.”, you kind of laughed while shaking your head, but then you realized something.

“Wait… How long...?”

“17th week… Do you not understand, [Your.name]? I am pregnant.”

“Yes, I understand quite well and I think that’s amazing.”, you squeezed his hands again, a big smile on your lips.

“No, no! You don’t get it, [Your.name]!”, Hawks then suddenly stood up, “This is not amazing. Do you know what that means?”, he sighed and rubbed his eyes.

“Kei…”

“We are fucked, [Your.name]. Do you know what happens when the HPSC or the public finds out? Let alone who the father is? What if… What if our baby has to endure everything I had to endure? What if… I become like them? Or what if the HPSC finds out and takes them away from us?”, his voice broke a little at the end, just imagining it…

“Keigo, hey.”, you turned around and placed your feet onto the ground, sitting on the edge of the bed, hence why you could take his hands again and pull him closer.

“You will never become like them.”, you cupped his face, gently wiping the tears away from the corner of his eyes.

“And, Kei, you already made a decision, no? You want to keep the baby – our baby – right? It’s already the fourth month…”

“I do… But… I don’t know what I should do. I am not myself, [Your.name]. I keep crying over stupid things, I can't concentrate when I’m doing my work and I am always scared someone finds out.”, eventually, you pulled him onto your lap, though he was careful not to hurt your side.

“I know you’re scared, Baby. I am too, but we can do it. Together. I will be with you every step. I will protect you.”

“[Your.name]…”, wrapping his arms around you, he buried his face in the nook of your neck, his small frame shaking.

“It’s okay. I’m here, Kei. And I won’t go, ever. We will do it together. And I promise… I promise I will stop going out during the night.”, you whispered this promise into his ear, earning his small sniffles as he clung to you.

“Our baby doesn’t have to grow up in isolation because of my recklessness. I will become a good father. They will have a great life, okay, Kei? We can do it. Whatever the HPSC throws at us, we will deal with it, together. I promise they won’t grow up like you had to.”

The last thing surely broke him as Hawks barely whispered a “Mhm.” back. But at the same time he was smiling, so grateful he was finally able to let you know as the last few months were really straining.

---

“I wish you were never born! You are a nuisance! You keep me from being free!”

“Why did I not get an abortion? Why did I do this to myself? You good for nothing!”

“-go! -igo! Keigo!”, his golden eyes opened at last.

Breathing heavily and with beads of sweat running down his temple, Hawks stared at you for a moment. Still not really sure what just happened the realization sank in little by little. A dream.

“[Your.name]…”

“Hey, I’m here. It’s okay now.”, you whispered and gently kissed him, before hugging him tightly.

Melting into your arms instantly, he buried his face at your chest as one hand reached down to his growing belly. He would probably pop soon.

“It’s weird… I haven’t thought or dreamt about them in over ten years and now… ever since I found out I’m pregnant… I …”, he mumbled more than anything, glad you were there to hold him.

“I know.”, was the only thing you whispered back while gently caressing his back.

When the HPSC trained him, he forgot, or rather suppressed most of his abusive and traumatic childhood. Maybe it was because he worried so much about your little baby that it all came crashing down on him eventually. But he would never become like them.

“Oh-“, both of you felt a little kick, making you giggle.

“Seems like our little baby girl wants to cheer you up as well.”, you whispered and nuzzled his head with your own while your hand reached out to his belly as well, softly caressing it.

“Seems like it.”, Keigo finally smiled a little.

“We will protect her.”, he quietly said after stealing a soft kiss from you.

“We will. And hey, the public took it really well when we outed us. The HPSC can’t do shit to hurt us anymore.”

“Yeah, I know. Thank God.”, cupping your cheek, Kei pulled you down again, before whispering against your lips, “Thank you.”

“Mhmh, for what?”, you chuckled and kissed him again, making him also giggle.

“Just… for everything. I love you, [Your.name].”

Smiling softly at him, you pecked his lips again and whispered an, “I love you too.”

For a few moments, it was quiet as you just cuddled and tried to calm down the excited little girl who was kicking and punching Hawks.

“Say… how do you feel, though? You haven’t been out in-“, but another kiss stopped him from continuing.

“I am perfectly fine, Shortcake. It… was hard, but it was the right decision. You are more important than anything or anyone else, and now with our little nugget growing… what we have is just so much more important to me than vigilante justice.”

The smile that spread across his face was truly warming your heart. It was the right decision and you wouldn’t regret it. You knew how hard his childhood was and you didn’t want that for your baby girl. She should be able to proudly say who her parents were and for that reason, you couldn’t continue your former lifestyle.

After sharing a few more kisses, Hawks then asked for cuddles, which you happily agreed to. Hence letting him shift positions and turn around, careful not to hit you with his wings, he hugged his pregnancy pillow. And then, you slipped your own arms around him, hugging him carefully and littering small kisses onto his neck.

He was so small in your arms, but that’s what he had loved from day one on. Keigo felt protected and loved when he was in your arms.

Calling out for you, Keigo carried the groceries into the kitchen, just to bite his lip instantly when he saw you laying on the sofa. Your little baby girl sprawled out on top of your broad chest, sleeping. Once Hawks came a little closer, he realized you were sleeping as well, thus with a soft smile he just kneeled down in front of the sofa.

“What would I do without you, [Your.name]? You two are seriously the light of my life.”, he thought with a big smile on his lips.

To think he was so incredibly sad when he found out, he couldn’t be more happier now. Everything turned out alright after all, just like you said. Leaning in, Hawks gently kissed his baby girl’s forehead before standing up again, leaving you and Tsubasa alone – at least that was his intention.

However, a soft tug on his clothes made him stop. And a glance back made him smile and turn once more, following your movement and laying down beside you, softly tucked under your arm, just where he belonged.

There were no words needed as you softly kissed him before your head fell back into the pillow. Your arm securely holding him and Tsubasa and just like that, you were able to hold the whole world in your arms.

And it certainly wasn’t any different for Keigo.

｡☆✼★━━━━━━━━━━━━★✼☆｡

@salemwritesxx || do not repost, edit, modify or translate my works

⇻ salem.talks: I think I repeat myself every time I write for him but… KEIGO IS SO TINY ovo probably cuz I absolutely adore the EndHawk ship and their size difference gives me life? so I cannot help but make it happen when I write x reader with kei. like I can just dream of being as tall and buff as endeavor lmao but yeah this was nice I love preggo hawks!

#salemswriting.#hawks #takami keigo #hawks x reader #hawks x male reader #bnha x male reader #bottom hawks #pregnant hawks #mpreg #bnha x reader

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echo-of-sounds · 4 years ago

Text

who cares if it’s cliche?

-Aizawa x gn!reader-

cute gif

This was a commission for @seraphicghost! They asked for a fluffy/sweet scenario with the reader confessing in the rain plus a kiss. Thank you so much for the commission! This was super cute to write!

“Here’s your beer, boys!” Nemuri set the bottles down for Hizashi and Aizawa. She scooted in beside you, chirping, “And here’s your Sex in the Driveway.”

“Thanks,” you droned, choosing to ignore her suggestive eyebrow wiggle. She wasn’t one to let anyone live anything down, and now that she noticed, it has only gotten worse.

Hizashi chugged his beer, then slammed it rather loudly. “Alright! Sho, I’ve shown up at work high, I’ve had a one-night stand with Nemuri, and I’ve never been on a rollercoaster.”

“The former.”

“What? How’d you figure that out so quickly?!”

“Hizashi,” both you and Aizawa said, telling him to control his volume. Aizawa finished flatly, “You can’t not talk about everything you do. You’d tell me something like that. Not to mention how useless you are high. The entire school would’ve noticed.”

You hid your smile behind your drink. The faint smirk that lifted Aizawa’s lips fluttered your chest, spinning into your stomach. If only he let himself smile more, experience happiness more, then you could see his handsome smile more. Dark eyes flicked to yours, flustering your heated heart further.

You had to look away and drink some water. You were an adult. He shouldn’t be making you flashback to high school crushes and wistful, young romance.

The game continued for a few more rounds, eventually petering out. Nemuri leaned against you. Alcohol swarmed from her sigh. Pink flushed her cheeks, sticking hair to skin. She mumbled into her glass before finishing it, “I think it’s time to head home.”

“I’ll get a ride.” You clicked on your phone, and it wasn’t long till it beeped: “Car’s here.”

Sooner than you could even move a leg, Hizashi jumped up, swooping an arm around Nemuri’s waist. “I’ll bring her home. You two have fun.”

“Hizashi,” you called after him. He didn’t acknowledge you as he escorted her outside.

They just abandoned you with Aizawa, who was already looking at you when you glanced over. You went to take a drink. The empty glass prevented that. Lemon slices and ice taunted you, laughing that your last barrier between you two was gone. You set the cup down with a sigh.

Shouta nodded at it, “Want another drink?”

“Sure.”

You were once again beaten to your feet; He stood and took the glass. “Same thing?”

“Yeah, another Sex-” Your voice flatlined upon meeting his eyes. Despite the shadow under them, the red in them, and the heavy brow above, their sudden sharpness took your breath, completely unlike their usual dull and dry tone. The change nailed your brain useless.

“More sex?” His lips lifted ever so slightly. When no sound escaped your hanging mouth, he goaded, “More sex then.”

You slumped in the chair, holding your too-fast heart, replaying the bumbling. Saying ‘sex’ while being within two feet of his face, able to discern the bristles of his beard, a crack in his bottom lip, how attractive- Stop. If you couldn’t grow up and say something to him, then don’t bother thinking it.

A blue drink was placed in front of you. It was only your second, yet combined with the tickling in your neck and the bite in your chest, it felt like you were four or five in.

Shouta retook his seat across from you. Whatever you were feeling, anxiety or infatuation, that weighed your heart, lightened with his soft smile. It reached up to a soar when he asked about your most recent patrol.

Thankfully, the conversation from there flowed smoothly. You could keep up with no fumbling and simply enjoy your time with him. And you even got to see a couple more smiles, though they were faint. Every single one made thoughts echo inside: Just ask. It’s not that hard. Just ask! It made it difficult to focus on his words.

Once you finished your drink, your body, while light, lagged tired. You spoke through a yawn, “I’m gonna head out, Sho.”

“Need a cab?”

“No. I actually think I’m going to walk. It’s a pleasant night.” You stood and zipped up your sweatshirt.

He mirrored you and fixed his scarf. It wasn’t his Hero one, just a simple dark gray one, still allowing him ample room to nuzzle into it. Plus, it made him look reasonably fashionable compared to how he typically dressed. He grabbed your wallet from the table, holding it out for you, “I paid for the drink upfront.”

“Shouta, you didn’t need to do that.”

“No big deal,” he shrugged it off.

Yes, it was. If the others were here, you doubted- No. You knew he wouldn’t have done that.

You accepted your wallet and his kindness, muttering on the way out, “Thank you.”

The stroll home started quietly. Gusts blew your hood around. Shouta maneuvered to the outside of the sidewalk, so he was between you and traffic. Your elbows bumped every few steps. Neither of you commented or changed positions, letting it keep happening. If anything, you wanted to step closer to feel the emitting from his body.

Water dripped down the back of your sweatshirt, startling you. The single droplet increased to a steady rain in seconds. You hugged your hood and yourself. He nudged your arm and nodded to a nearby drugstore. It wasn’t much. But it was shelter.

Inside, Shouta slicked his hair back. Pale fingers combed through thick black, unveiling a sharp jaw and lovely scruff; too stunning to always hide under a mess of hair. The wet strands struggled to fit into an elastic. With enough finagling, they finally pulled into place, leaving room for the darkened line on his cheekbone to stick out. Just like his eyes did…

Which were staring at you. Dammit. You turned into an aisle, searching for anything interesting that wasn’t him. All it would take was a handful of sentences then he would know. If he reciprocated, all would be grand; your worry was for naught. However, if he didn’t, the plague of dread that’s accompanied the crush would crash. Never knowing felt like the better option.

You walked the main aisle. There were pool toys, makeup, hygiene, sex toys that you vehemently avoided, fearing Shouta would see the smallest glance towards them. A pair of fleece socks got your attention. The inside was incredibly fluffy and thick. The outside had kitty pawprints designed all over them.

“These are cute,” you smiled and showed them to the approaching Shouta.

He grunted and continued. It didn’t hide the fact you knew he thought them cute as well. Cats were the only things he gave into.

You combed the rest of the rows of items. Not one thing piqued your interest enough to buy. You searched for Shouta, finding him at the checkout, buying a pack of gum and some migraine relief pills. He lifted his brow.

You answered the silent question, “Didn’t see anything special.”

“Not even the cat socks?”

“If I’m still thinking about them in a few days, I’ll come back for them,” you smiled.

After thanking the cashier, your walk home resumed. The rain had stopped, leaving everything glossy and smelling of the earth. It lifted the air between yours and his shoulders.

Thick fingers extended a piece of gum. His eyes remained on the sidewalk when you took it and thanked him. The fresh mint sent a little chill down your back, frosting your mouth as you watched him, thinking, ‘Now was a perfect time. No one’s around. You just need to say it. A few sentences and you’re done.’

The instant your mouth opened, rain poured, loud and heavy. Your hood provided sparse protection.

Shouta grumbled into his scarf, “So much for a nice night.”

“Sorry… But you didn’t have to walk with me, you know? You could’ve called for a ride.”

His eyebrows scrunched with a groan.

“Here’s your turn, anyway. Get home fast,” you called over the pattering, nodding towards the left turnoff. The top of his apartment peaked out over the smaller buildings.

“It’s late. I’ll walk you home,” he grumbled again. His voice carried much less complaint this time and more concern.

Both of you picked up the pace, fast-walking down the sidewalks and hustling across the streets.

Only at your door did you face Shouta, not caring about being soaking wet anymore. He was closer than you expected, nearly bumping into his chest. You looked to his mouth, unable to make it to his eyes, unsure if you wanted to see them this close. You surprised yourself with how steady your voice sounded, “Do you want to come inside? Drink something warm?”

“I’m alright. Just wanted to make sure you got home alright.”

“I did. Thank you.” Your legs didn’t move. It’d be a whole lot warmer, calmer, dryer inside. “I know Hizashi drags you out to these things, but I still hope you had fun tonight.”

“I did.” His flat face gave you no emotional indicators.

“Good, I’m glad.” You said your goodbyes, yet your feet stayed put. Water soaked through all of your clothing. Goosebumps pricked down your arms. The rain vaguely obscured the handsome features you’ve been ogling at, wishing to call them yours.

He spun and took five steps away before you mustered, “Shouta?”

He faced you, waiting, half scowling, probably, hopefully, due to the rain.

“There’s something I’d like- There’s something I want- I want you to know. It’s okay if you don’t- If you’re not on the same page as me. I just- just…” Just say it. It was only a few words. You sucked in, preparing yourself mentally, emotionally, and physically for the absolute worst outcome, then spoke as confident as you could, “I just think you’re- I wanted to tell you that I’m-” Your heart heated as you finished, “I’m interested in you… more than a friend.”

The downpour built. You could no longer see his face. His mouth mumbled something. Unable to hear, you shuffled close, wiped water from your face, and asked him to repeat himself.

Shouta closed the tiny gap between your chests. You could only look at his mouth. This time though, you wanted to meet his eyes. It was the damn rain preventing that.

A finger lifted your chin. Instinct lowered your eyelids. The rain ceased on your face as lips connected to yours. They pressed unexpectedly sweetly, only to curl into a smirk and pull away.

You matched his smile, struggling to hold in the laugh, “A kiss in the rain, Shouta? Don’t you think it’s kinda cliche?”

“Who cares?” The hold on your chin tightened a bit and guided you back to him. All the anxiety bubbled up, popping and releasing as a giggle. Weight freed from your shoulders. You cupped his cheeks, kissing back with new excitement.

#aizawa shouta #aizawa x reader #aizawa imagine #bnha x reader #bnha imagines #bnha #commission #seraphicghost

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genshin-obsessed · 3 years ago

Text

See You Tomorrow | Xingqiu x Reader

Hello! Sorry for being inactive, I was a little busy! However, I did manage to get this fic out! I was really excited for it, which is why I partially edited it. Enjoy~

Word count: 1.1k

Side note: 😬 be wary <3

“Hyah!” Xingqiu cried out as his blade sliced through the last of the slimes. A smile formed on his lips as he took deep breaths when he heard clapping behind him.

“That was amazing Xingqiu!” You cheered, waving at him from your spot on the nearby rock. He returned the gesture as he approached you, his sword disappearing and reappearing behind him.

“Thank you, thank you. I’m available all week folks.” He joked, allowing him to hear his favorite sound in the world: your laughter. You hopped up and ran to meet him halfway.

“You’re so talented, Xingqiu! I’m jealous!”

“What for? You're stronger than me,” he commented as you hugged his arm, both of you walking towards Liyue, “you certainly don’t need my protection.”

“Hmm true,” you admitted, “but you’re such a good boyfriend! Finishing up my commissions.”

“Ah, I know. You’ve got me completely wrapped around your finger.” Xingqiu feigned exasperation as he spoke. “Probably this little one.” He said taking your hand and grabbing your pinky.

“Well, whatever shall I do with such a perfect boyfriend?” Xingqiu stopped and gazed into your eyes, signaling an incoming kiss. Both of you leaned it, however he pulled away before your lips could touch.

“Maybe you could appreciate me more.” He teased, making you scoff and smack his arm.

“I do!! I appreciate you more than anyone in this whole world!” His laughter melded with yours so well. Your sounds of happiness echoed in the nearby forest and they were enough to make anyone jealous. You two were so young and in love.

After a few moments of random conversation, Xingqiu looked at you excitedly.

“Are you ready for our date? I hope you haven’t forgotten!”

“How can I? You’ve been talking about it for the last week. It’s my special day and you’re the one who’s so energetic.” You huffed with a little pout.

“Well that’s why I’m so energetic. It’s… your day.” He commented, his golden eyes meeting yours. You smiled softly before leaning in to kiss his cheek. Xingqiu was so thoughtful and caring, you always wondered how you managed to get so lucky. Little did you know, Xingqiu thought and felt the exact same.

***

“Hey, Xingqiu! Heading out already?” Chongyun asked, as he came across his friend. Xingqiu was headed towards your meeting location with two things in his hands. He had a basket of food and drinks in one hand and a bouquet of flowers in the other. Chongyun recognized them as your favorites.

“Yep, don’t want it to get too late. Or keep (y/n) waiting.” Chongyun nodded with a smile, patting his shoulder. Your love really did make everyone jealous. You two were just so perfect for each other.

“Of course! Enjoy yourselves. And don’t stay out too late again.” Xingqiu nodded and quickly went on his way, while Chongyun waved at him. The exorcist watched his friend disappear before ultimately turning around and heading further into the city.

***

“Finally! All done!” Xingqiu exclaimed with a bright smile as he looked down at his work. Right at the edge of the cliff, where you could sit and watch the sunset, he was able to lay down his picnic. He’d set the food up nicely, along with two bottles of your favorite drink. Everything looked perfect and while he was inspecting his handy work, he failed to hear you calling to him.

Xingqiu did eventually catch your fingers in the corner of his eyes, making him gasp. He quickly picked up the bouquet and hid it behind him.

Cheerful as ever, you skipped over to him before hopping up and sitting on a piece of stone. Xingqiu quickly walked up to you, trying his best to contain his excitement- and nerves.

“My sweet, (y/n), I have a present for you! Guess what it is!” You pretended to think before meeting his eyes, as if you’d just figured it out.

“Flowers?”

“Wow! Right on the nose! What kind of flowers?”

“Hmm… they must be (fav flower)! Right?” He nodded again, with a laugh.

“You’re on a roll!” Something crossed Xingqiu’s eyes as he slowly got down on one knee.

Your bright smile melted into a soft one, as you met his gaze. Xingqiu took a deep breath before speaking. His voice wavered as his eyes pooled with tears.

“You know… we’ve been together for a long time. And I never thought this day would come. Honestly, I never thought I would fall in love. Life just seemed to take me somewhere far away from it, yet you found me there anyway. You’re amazing, (y/n). You make the difficult days easy to get through, you make the painful memories easier to handle, and you make the happy days the best I’ve ever experienced. Every time I look into your eyes, I fall in love all over again. It’s the best feeling and I wouldn’t give it up for anything. So… (y/f/n)… will you marry me?” A soft laugh escaped your lips as the words settled in his mind. You took a deep breath to ease your own emotions, not wanting to become a mess in front of him- especially at this very moment.

“Of course I will. I couldn’t imagine my life with anyone but you.” Xingqiu chuckled and sniffled as the tears spilled down his cheeks.

“Too slow.” He commented with a wink as he moved the bouquet towards you. However, instead of handing it to you, he placed it on the stone you sat on.

Here lies (y/f/n), beloved child and partner. One of the best adventures to ever walk Teyvat.

Xingqiu’s shaky hands touched the cold headstone, his fingers brushing against the letters. Why? Why did you have to leave him? How long could he continue like this?

“Don’t cry, Xingqiu.” You mumbled as he shook his head.

“Sometimes I wonder…”

“What?”

“If this is what you looked like.” Your eyes met once more and you could only offer a sympathetic smile.

That’s right, today was the anniversary of your death. Six years ago, you’d left this world. Although Xingqiu had picked up a nasty habit of imagining you, none of his friends had the heart to force him to break it.

After all, this image of you that he had created kept him going. It made it easier to wake up and face the day, it kept him from breaking down every few minutes, and it gave his life purpose. So they went along with it.

Maybe one day, Xingqiu could finally let go of you. But that wasn’t today nor would it be tomorrow.

“See you tomorrow, (n/n).”

“See you tomorrow, Xingqiu.” You smiled and waved as he walked away. He’d left the food and drinks that he’d laid out untouched, just like he did every year prior.

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin xingqiu #xingqiu x y/n #xingqiu x reader #xingqiu #genshin impact imagines

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joontier · 3 years ago

Text

Subliminal in Scrubs | V2; report xiii

pairings: dr. jeon jungkook x female reader

chapter rating: NC-17 | genre: humor, workplace relationships

warnings: swearing

word count: 1.8k

g/n: decided on a bit of a filler for this one as a sort of prelude to future scenes 👀👀 ((likewise manifesting my plan to post another chapter this week))

[taglist]: @nottodayjjk @ditttiii @zeharilisharaban @btsbunny07 @turquoiseandplaidinautumn @aamxxrii @codeinebelle @btsmakesmehappy @stargukkie @moonchild1

Subliminal in Scrubs (the records) | navi. | m.list

Jungkook locks his apartment door behind him, jiggling the doorknob afterwards for ‘double security’ as one would usually call it. He grabs his backpack from the floor and places one of the straps on his shoulders and heads on his way. As he passes by two of his neighbors who live in the same floor, he nods at them, adding a brief hum in greeting.

“Hey man!” One of the men, Jikwang (as what Jungkook believes this man’s name was), calls out just before Jungkook reaches the elevator. “There was this hot girl asking about you last night.”

Jungkook raises a brow. He hadn’t really met anyone recently, besides that one cute law student who was looking for a new tenant - and eventually turned out to be your neighbor this whole time. She was cute and all, but she didn’t seem like the type that was ‘hot’ to these types of people.

Jungkook racks his brain for anything, trying to remember the very few number of his one night stands.Surely,none of them would have gotten pregnant with protection on….surely? On top of that, he hadn’t really disclosed his address to a lot of people too, so there was no way someone would be looking for him, all the more a “hot” woman,as these two would claim.

“Did she say what her name was?”

The one beside Jikwang shakes his head, adjusting his beanie. He’d seen this dude a couple of times hanging around, but he never actually got his name. “Nah bro, I don’t think you’re the commitment type of dude…” he comments, dark eyes looking at Jungkook from his head down to his toe. Who was this guy anyways and who was he to judge whether Jungkook was the type to enter a committed relationship or not?

“She just...looked rich, rich. She had a driver... who helped her come down from a nice Benz.”

Jungkook feels his heart drop to the ground. No way in hell.

“I think her name was Hee something...Junghwa? I dunno man, I’m not good with names. But it sounds similar to that…”

“Was it Junghee?”

“Yeah I think that’s it…” bonnet-dude replies, tapping a finger against his chin as he approaches Jungkook. “You think maybe you can set me up? With you know…”

Jikwang knocks the back of bonnet-man’s head. “I got dibs first, shithead. “If she’s not already yours though,” he adds, delivering a wink aimed at Jungkook. “Her friends will do.”

Jungkook squints his eyes at the duo. “No. She’s my sister. And she doesn’t have any friends.” A chill courses through his spine as he replies, wondering how she managed to find out where he lived, and why would she even reach out? Why now, when she had so many years to do so?

Beanie guy simply laughs at him - if it was even considered laughing, when he was practically splitting his sides with laughter - like the thought of having a sister was hilarious to him. “You’re real funny, man. There is no...way...in hell… that that lady was your sister.”

Ah yes, this man is a health vice personified. Jungkook notes the discoloration of his teeth, the god-awful odor coming from his mouth, and they both reek of alcohol and drugs combined. From a safe distance, Jungkook watches their amusement over the subject that is his sister, thinking about why he even indulged these two in the first place. For all he knows, they might have been shitting on him the whole time.

“Sorry man. I mean...she’s rich and hot… and you?” Jikwang shrugs his shoulders.

‘And he?’ What about him?

What the hell was that supposed to mean?

Jungkook clicks his tongue silently, clearly taking full offense with Jikwang’s statement. Did they just imply he didn’t look rich and hot too? Well, compared to them though, they’ll obviously have way longer to go.

Jungkook blinks before equally returning their level of disbelief. “For real, bro?” These men diss him, won’t believe he has a sister whose aura dwarfs his by a million percent, and now they want him to set up a date with her? He shakes his head. Only crooks like these would say insane shit like this.

If only this wasn’t the cheapest and most convenient apartment he could find to accommodate his daily hustle, Jungkook would have moved out of this crap excuse of an apartment building a long time ago.

“Keep dreaming man.”

“Hey, this is what I get for selling you my bike for a good price?” Jikwang eyes Jungkook, taunting him.

“I owe you nothing. I paid for it ages ago.” Jungkook turns on his heel, leaving the two in the crusty ass corridor of their apartment building. He needs to get a new place. Quickly.

With a sigh, he pulls on his down jacket, keeping himself warm as he walks to the garage.

‘King Auto’

There’s a certain warmth that envelops Jungkook whenever he sees the garage, a place he’d rather call home than his terrible apartment building. It sits right at the corner of two busy streets, just six blocks away from his apartment.

Funnily enough, it wasn’t him who first found out about the garage but the other way around. Well, technically, the owner did. Lee Dongmin, owner and manager of ‘King Auto’ repairs and restores almost all types of cars and bikes alike, occasionally servicing high-end cars on lucky days.

Dongmin would usually see Jungkook pass by the garage in the morning on his way to the university or his part-time job.Well, being located at a busy street in the city of Seoul, there would normally be a lot of passersby but Dongmin knew these people either worked or lived around the area; Jungkook, however, always lingered when he walks past the garage.

It had come to Dongmin’s knowledge a few months later that Jungkook purposefully used a longer route on his way, walking two extra blocks just so that he could pass by the garage. Dongmin hadn’t initially done anything about it, as he thought Jungkook simply took interest in cars - especially when the shop had its fair share of servicing cars from the western market.

There was this particular day though one summer, that their paths would finally cross. Jungkook’s bike, the same bike he bought from sketchy Jikwang, broke down. Coincidentally just in front of King Auto too. Funnily enough, no one in the garage was familiar with fixing up bikes, but Jungkook simply asked if he could borrow a few tools and he’d fix his bike himself.

Ultimately, Jungkook became part of the King Auto family. He’d spend his spare time in the garage when he’s not busy with his part-time jobs and on occasion, Jungkook gets to keep a tiny commission whenever he helps out with the repairs.

Jungkook goes through the front door greeting the new receptionist, Clark, a good morning before heading straight to the garage. Jungkook spots a familiar shade of blue peeking through the scissor lifts, just by the end row. He practically dashes to the car in excitement, too thrilled to greet his favorite car he had worked on previously.

“My baby!” The boy exclaims as he rests his chin on the Porsche Panamera’s roof. “Kook! Get your hands off that! I just had it cleaned!” gruffs Mansik from the other side of the car, flinging his towel at Jungkook who mumbles a sorry but continues to cradle the car, a little more gently this time.

“If you continue doing that, you know a towel isn’t the only thing Mansik is going to throw at you.” Lee Dongmin’s voice is low, careful that the man he’s referring to won’t hear his words. “I’m glad he hasn’t resorted to tools yet...just a couple of smelly socks and a t-shirt that smells like it hasn’t been washed for months... “

“Fuckers.” True to Jungkook’s foreboding, Mansik does throw a sock ball from out of nowhere, one which barely misses Jungkook’s face. Dongmin simply shakes his head at his workers, who he has considered family at this point, Jungkook included. “I’m just glad none of that fell into my first coffee of the day.” Dongmin observes, drawing himself father from the Porsche and any flying objects later on.

“By the way, the owner is actually here to pick up the car. I may or may not have mentioned your infatuation with it.”

Jungkook almost instantly jumps to his feet, searching for the owner inside the garage, but disappointingly ending up with all the familiar faces at the garage. “Chill, kid. He just grabbed some coffee down the street,” Dongmin mentions as he takes a sip of his own. “Ah, speaking of the devil,” the latter states, nodding his head towards someone behind Jungkook.

“Seokjin-sunbaenim?”

“Oh hey! Wasn’t expecting to see you here...Jungkook, right?”

“Yes sir!” Jungkook’s pupils shake, animatedly looking back and forth between the garage owner and his upper-level resident. “So...you’re the one who owns this Porsche?” Seokjin raises his cup, adding a small nod in Jungkook’s direction. He internalizes his excitement, before confessing his love for Seokjin’s Panamera.

“And so, Dongmin here mentioned. Also said you were the one who fixed her up. Thanks man!”

Dongmin looks at the two of them, eyebrows creased in the middle. “You two know each other?”

“Seokjin-sunbaenim is a senior of mine at Woocheon.” Seemingly shellshocked at the new piece of information, Dongmin turns to Seokjin, “You’re a doctor?” The owner of the Porsche rolls his eyes fondly, “Yes, Dongmin. We can have lives outside the hospital too, you know.”

“Anyways, ‘Mera’s ready to go yeah?”

“Of course. Kook fixed it up just fine.”

“Alright. Got a shift today man? Need a ride to the hospital?”

Jungkook is tempted to give in, but merely fixing Seokjin’s car is enough honor for him and he can’t take advantage of his generosity. “No thank you, sunbae. I’ve already got a ride to work today.” Jungkook points to his bike on the other side of the garage.

Seokjin tuts his disbelief. “You’re kidding me right? In this weather?” The older doctor points outside, then rubs his palm against his down coat. “No way in hell, kid. Get in the car.”

“Really?” Jungkook mumbles, dimple on display as his lips form a thin line. Seokjin makes a hum of approval as he takes off his jacket while Jungkook dashes back to where he’d left his backpack. “He’s a good kid, Jungkook. Can be a bit of a delinquent sometimes, but he’s good. Take care of him, yeah?”

“Huh,” Seokjin smirks, “this handsome face got nothing he can’t handle.” Dongmin rolls his eyes this time, “Seriously doubt we’re the same age honestly.”

Jungkook returns to where the Porsche is parked, and Seokjin gets a spur-of-the-moment idea. The surgical resident throws his keys to Jungkook before settling inside the passenger seat. Jungkook, surprised as ever, simply stands there in surprise. “Well?” Seokjin asks, ducking towards the dashboard so he could take a look at Jungkook, “We’re gonna be late!”

#jungkook x reader #btswritingcafe #bangtanarmynet #btsghostie #jeon jungkook #bts aus #bts fic #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook fluff #doctors au

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palbabor-writes · 4 years ago

Note

Shigaraki noncon fic when 👀

oh. well, how about now?

Culmination

Pairing: Shigaraki Tomura x Fem!OC

Warnings: this is an example of a DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, seriously, this thing has full on tw.non-consensual sex, verbal and physical abuse, fingering, cunnilingus, stalking, breaking and entering, and a terrible no good very bad shigaraki, like for real - this is a DARK FIC - so shoo if that isn’t your thing, tw.noncon, tw.physcial abuse, tw.head trauma, tw.degradation, tw.stalking, tw.blood

just, you know, all of the warnings - take all of them

Word Count: 5041

That skirt looks good on you.

The shortness makes his eyes narrow, sharp vermillion glinting in the moonlight, but he can’t deny that he likes the way it hugs your hips and temptingly hikes as you bend to collect your mail from the brass box by your entryway. The silhouette that’s illuminated by the dull light of the streetlamp is nothing short of breathtaking and he hungrily licks at his battered lips, tongue tracing over the scar that splits his skin.

Notes: This is a commissioned fic for @kugutsuu! While it is pretty close to a reader insert, I did take the liberty of using her OC in this & because of that the descriptions are little more honed in and less neutral, plus, uh, she has a name. Shout out to @libiraki for the beta edit & all of her comments *smooches*

Culmination cul·mi·na·tion /ˌkəlməˈnāSH(ə)n/ noun the highest or climactic point of something

“This is not wise,” Kurogiri warns, voice steady, low, “it is also not something that he would want for you.”

“Mmmph, what the fuck do you know? You always like to act like you know him better, like you’ve got some kind of upper hand on his thoughts, his plans. You’re not fooling anyone, I know he tells you fuck all too, Kurogiri, you just like to pretend you’re superior to me. Well, too fucking bad. I’m sensei’s successor. I’m the one who he trusts and no one, not even you, Kurogiri, knows him better than I do. Got that?”

“I apologize. I do not mean to offend you Shigaraki Tomura, I only seek to warn–” Kurogiri pauses, mist like form shivering as he debates his next move. Tomura is still young after all and has much to learn. His inexperience and sheltered upbringing are likely directly to blame for this situation. It’s not his fault that this has happened. They should have been prepared for it. He, himself should have known better, should have planned some stratagem, something to counter this burst of... hormones... from his charge. “If you are caught, if she reports you to the authorities, or if she knows a hero, then all will be for naught. We’ve got much to do, and our master would not be pleased with this distraction, successor or not. You know this Shigaraki Tomura, I know you do.”

“She won’t,” Tomura drawls, a wicked grin curling his lips upward, baring a sharp row of gleaming teeth. It hurts his skin when he smiles like this, but he can’t help it. He’s too excited, too piqued. Fuck, he’s even half hard, picturing just how your face will fall, how the swell of your lips will quiver, shake, when you see him at last. You’ll know what’s going to happen, you’ll have to, and if you don’t, well, he’ll make you put it all together.

Kurogiri is muttering something about propriety and consequences, but Tomura isn’t listening. He’s too busy scooting closer to the edge of the bar, hips pressing against the wood until the ache that rests within his bulging pants has lessened.

“I can see that you are not listening.”

“Oh? What the fuck gave that away?”

He’s thought about how he’ll go about it.

Should he sneak behind you on the train? Or carefully shadow you home; weaving his way in and out of the alleyways, padding over wet pavement, breath hot under his dark hood, hands flexing in his pockets, cock throbbing behind the pinch of his zipper, until you’re at the sanctity of your door?

No.

That one sounds like something out of a thriller. Besides, you’re a woman; you’re skittish. He’s seen how you look behind you when you hop up onto the street, the way your neck strains, twisting, leaning forward, peering into the gloom. No doubt your ears will be pricked, wholly attuned to the smallest sound. Besides, if he opts to grab you outside of your apartment, what if you scream?

He’d do his best to clap a sweaty palm over your curled lips, avoiding the threat of your teeth, smearing that alluring shade of lip gloss, that you always insist on applying as you leave the office, all over your face as he muffles the gasp and shrill cry you’ll let out. But it’s risky. Something might eke out, might bleed over to the ground units, or he might just lower all five fingers. It wouldn’t be on purpose and he’d hate to see you splattered all over the ground, your too hot blood leaking through his fingertips, flecking skin and pretty white bone painting the crime scene he’d leave behind a vibrant red. Your red.

There’s also the added worry of your height.

You’re taller than him. Not by too much, he reasons, sucking his teeth as his cock twitches within the confines of his dark jeans again, picturing your statuesque form. Just enough. High enough that he’d need to strain his arms a little more. However, he doubts that he’d underestimate the difference. He’s stood next to you on the platform of the train, too often to count now, and he’s got the image of you engrained upon his psyche. Even now, if he shutters his twitching eyelids, he can see your outline, knows just where you’d fall, where he’d be able to press, to grab.

It’s almost nightfall, and it’s a Friday. That means you’ll be out a little later tonight. The risk of the doorway, while tempting, will need to be ruled out. Too likely someone else will stumble into the complex, will see him pushing you up the stairs, see his hands sinking into those soft waves of brown hair, his fingers sliding over your neck, plucking at your skin, forcing you to comply.

Besides, your window will be easier.

That skirt looks good on you.

The shortness makes his eyes narrow, sharp vermillion glinting in the moonlight, but he can’t deny that he likes the way it hugs your hips and temptingly hikes as you bend to collect your mail from the brass box by your entryway. The silhouette that’s illuminated by the dull light of the streetlamp is nothing short of breathtaking, and he hungrily licks at his battered lips, tongue tracing over the scar that splits his skin.

Should he let you get undressed? Let you take a shower? Brush out those silken locks and slip into something that’s easier for him to slide off of you? How long does that take? Ugh.

He’d like to ram you into the wall, jerk that plaid tartan up and dance his fingers under the sweep of your ass, exulting in each sound you gift him. You’ve got a nice voice after all. He’s heard it, once or twice, as you chat with your coworkers, or friends, on your phone. He’d like to see how sharp he can make it, or maybe it will drop even lower, rasping out shallow breaths as he drags each moan from you, or squealing as he sinks one long finger into that soft, petal pink, that he imagines your cunt looks like.

His dick feels like it’s going to burst. One hand drops to the tent it’s created and strokes a soothing rhythm along its length. He’s not worried about not lasting. He’s fucked himself to completion too many times today for that. He’d slink into his darkened room, he’d picture you, your porcelain skin, the cut of your jawline and the tremble of your lips as he worked himself into you. It always clears too fast, as he makes it through the levels of your arousal too quickly and all too soon he’s splashing thick ropes of his release over the dark material of his shirt and the bunched fabric of his boxers.

It had eased the itch, had gotten him through the day, gotten him to this cold balcony, but it’s not enough. Not anymore.

Ah. You took a shower.

Your hair is damp, and it clings to your shoulders, pooling moisture around the dip of your collarbone, staining the front of that shirt you’re wearing. It’s white and he can see the tips of your nipples as the wetness seeps downward, aided by the tug of gravity and the shaking strands of your hair.

Fuck. He’s not gonna make it much longer.

He wants you to hop in bed, to curl into the sheets, tuck yourself in, let your heartbeat slow. Relax, relax, relax echoes through his mind as he watches you pull your downy comforter back, hands patting at the ache, teeth biting, leaving indentations, half moons of strain and impatience. Not long now, he reasons, not long now.

Your light snaps off and he lunges forward, bracing himself against the slippery brick, fingers carefully scrabbling over the ledge of your window sill. The panes groan when he applies that jerk of pressure to them. Part of him wants to just decay the fucking thing, but he’s not sure he can control it, not when he’s like this. Drool froths at the sides of his lips and he flecks the droplets against his hands and the smooth glass, steadily jimmying the warped wood upwards, ignoring the pinch in his shoulder and the pounding spasms that are racing down his clawed fingers.

There! Finally!

The hinges splinter, and he topples inside, hitting the rough flooring of your apartment with a thud. His feet are already under him, bracing his fall, and he allows himself to hunch forward, frigid breath streaming into a fine mist as he looks up, searching for you.

The noise of his entrance had startled you. Your wide eyes and clutch of the soft duvet between your fingers give that much away. Good. That’ll make this first step easier.

He’s on the bed in a heartbeat and, for a brief instant, all you can see is red. His eyes are bright, glossy, feverish, glazed over with some kind of manic fervor, and that shimmering vermillion makes your gut twist. You need to move; now.

It takes a second for your body to catch up with your brain. You weren’t groggy, or sleep fogged. Shit, you’d barely fluffed your pillow before you heard the window smattering to bits, but this whole situation is a heady mixture of confusion and pulse thumping terror for you. What the fuck–no... who the fuck is this? Your first thoughts drift to plausible reasons. Is this a robbery? Some kind of misguided hit? Maybe it’s a villain who’s fleeing from a hero. Maybe... maybe it’s... a mistake? Please, let it be a mistake. You can feel your fingers shaking as you scrabble away from the lean jumble of dark limbs that’s doing its utmost to corner you. Each time you kick your feet out he’s already there and you can hear his unsteady breaths as he looms closer.

“W-what are you... who the-wha-... what do you w-w-want?” you stammer, tongue clumsy behind your chattering teeth. Adrenaline is coursing through your veins and it’s making you shake and slur your words. Your eyes snap downward and you scan your bedside table, looking for something, anything, that will get this creep the fuck away from you.

“Shhhh–” the strange man whispers, ducking his head from his dark hood and shaking out his chin length white hair. You don’t want to look at him, so you push yourself against the headboard, bare feet bracing against his bent knees. “You look so much prettier up close.”

“What t-the fuck?” you spit out, throat clenching with fresh horror. He’s seen you before? Is he crazy? Is he some kind of stalker? “If you don’t get away from me... right... right now... I’ll... I’ll call the cops. Don’t!” you shriek out, voice cracking as one of his hands wraps around your upper arm. His touch is cold, clammy and you flinch, body jerking so sporadically that you fall onto your bedroom floor.

Your bottom skitters across the wood, but you don’t waste any time on the pain, instead you surge to a distorted crawl, nails grabbing, feet wobbling as you make for your bedroom door. He’s on you in an instant and his weedy body is trapping you under him, mouth close to your ear, his warnings a gnarled stream of hot air. His fingers wrap around your throat and you gag as he yanks you backwards, knocking what little wind remained in your lungs out.

“Do something like that again and I’ll kill you,” he hisses, long nails pinching into the tender flesh of your neck. “I don’t know why you want to be on the floor for this, but I’ll play along. Now, be a good girl and keep still.”

His free hand laces its way up the thin material of your sleep shirt and he hastily gropes at your breast, pinching and pulling on your nipple until it distends prettily into his chilled touch. You bite back a cry when he twists the bud, thumb swiping over the hurt until it blends into a potent mingling of startled pleasure. “Mmm, perky–” he gasps out, licking his sloppy tongue over your pulse. The hand that’s holding the pressure against your throat loosens and you jolt forward, squirming against his grip.

“You- you disgusting pig!” you grit through clenched teeth, shaking your head and straining your thighs upward until they’re burning from the effort. “Let go of me! Right now!”

“You sound even better than I imagined…” he muses, nose poking against the side of your face, unperturbed by your distraught movements. “Smell good too. Did you wear that scent just for me? Mmm, I bet you did. It smells even better on your skin. I had Kurogiri get me some, so I could put it on those panties of yours. You left them in your bag, at the gym. Bet you didn’t even notice they were gone, did you? I was too quick for you. Ahh, but they smell just like you! Aahaha... ahh, I did such a good job with that find. Bet it’ll be even better when it’s fresh...”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” It comes out sharply, likely way too abrasive and challenging, at least for this situation, and the second the question leaves your lips, another burst of adrenaline lances through you. It’s honestly not helpful. All of those fucking things you hear about it, how it’s supposed to give you this superhuman strength, or the will to push your way out of danger. Yeah, no. It just makes you jittery and makes his steady gropes against the small mounds of your breasts spark an extra dose of tender sensitivity, something that pools into your gut and radiates outward. Shit.

“Ooh, you like that, don’t you?”

It’s not an exaggeration. You’d let out the breathiest whine when he trailed his steadily warming fingertips away from your peaked nipple, horrifyingly bleating out against its loss. He chuckles as he moves onto the twin, prodding and plucking disjointedly at the pebbled tip, shifting backwards, off of you, spreading his legs and resting his knees on either side of your shaking thighs, easing up on your throat and letting you gulp down a few hungry pulls of air. You can hear his mirth increasing as you brace your hands against the floor, steadying you within his loosening grasp.

“See? It’s so much easier when you don’t struggle. Although... I think I would like to hear you scream, at least once... maybe later… hmm?”

You shift your head and glance back at him. He’s watching you through hooded eyelids, that blazing red muffled by the fall of his dark lashes. The smile that’s lingering on his cracked lips is keen and he wets his skin with a swift lick, pink tongue pausing against a sharp canine. Your stomach drops when he tilts his chin upward, silently motioning for you to turn around.

He scoots back, giving your long legs room to maneuver underneath you, but he keeps one hand braced against your heaving chest, lazily popping from one tender breast to the other. “Get up,” he rasps out, eyes hungrily roving over your crumpled shirt and tear-streaked face. You bat your fist against your cheek, mind whirring, trying to see some way out of this.

“You don’t have to do this,” you bargain as you stand, teeth snagging on your lower lip and pulling, fingers curling into your palms, jabbing until you can feel the skin breaking. “I won’t tell anyone... I won’t... I won’t report you...I... I–”

“You finished?” the man sighs, visibly rolling his eyes at your garbled pleas. “I’ve waited for this long enough, you know... way too long. And I don’t wait for anything. Now get on the bed and shut your mouth, before I shut it for you.”

Your knee hits the side of your bed and your eyes drift to that broken window, eyeing the shards of glass that lay gleaming, like diamonds in the moonlight. He’s quick; but is he that quick? He’s not off the floor yet and he’s turned his head, satisfied that he’s broken you...that he’s got the upper hand...if you...no...don’t think...just go!

Legs are tense as they race forward and your hands are already outstretched, grabbing, snatching, lacing into the glass and gathering the pricking fragments into your palm. It hurts, but you ignore the pain, wheeling toward the window, to the crisp freedom that the night air promises. To...to…

The world shifts again and a bright burst of white streaks across your vision. It shimmers, hanging for an instant, dazzling you with all the colors that exist in the spectrum; soft blues, vibrant purples, hazy oranges, cheerful yellows, and then they all flicker out, swallowed up by the voracious pull of black.

You can’t move your hands, or your legs, and everything is awash in deep, mottled splashes of consciousness. The plush softness of the bed makes you feel dizzy and you try to shift, but something isn’t right. There are pins and needles in your hand. Why are you holding them? That’s a stupid thing to do... what if you bleed? What if... oh... oh God…

That man is still here. Who is he? Did he even say?

“Who... who are you?” you ask, voice dreamy, eyes falling over the pale dip of his unclothed ribs, wandering up the curve of his face, pausing on each imperfect splintering of his skin.

“I’m Tomura,” he answers simply, that eerie grin spreading over his lips. The false safety of your confusion flutters and there’s a pounding at the back of your head. You twist your neck, tongue too heavy in your mouth, lapping over the traces of old copper that rest between your gums. There’s something on your stomach. Red. It’s red. It looks pretty in the moonlight and you sigh, curious why your legs are spread like that; it’s lewd. To be sitting in front of Tomura with your legs wide open, naked cunt clenching and pulsing against the cold.

“I’m Lydia,” you say blankly, eyes blearily looking for that vibrant rust that’s watching you so closely.

“I know,” Tomura laughs, gleefully barking into the stillness of the night. “Fuck. You really don’t remember, do you?”

“Remember?” you echo, brows furrowing, arms trying to pull down again. Something’s holding them. Strange.

“Hmm, I told you not to struggle. Not my fault you didn’t listen.” His fingers snap in front of your face, refocusing your wandering attention, and you groan at the noise, wincing away from him.

“Stop,” you whine, shaking your head, knees touching as your back arches. Why can’t you move? And...and why...why are you naked? Questions keep drifting across your mind and as Tomura slides closer, a chill shakes its way up to your skull. “Don’t!” you gasp out, suddenly horrified he’s prying your legs apart.

“Shut up,” he grunts, one hand applying a pressure to your neck as the other dips between your hips, easily parting the folds of your slit and poking haphazardly over you. Your whole spine curves upward, sinking that questing digit lower, his finger pad brushing across your entrance. “Ah! Look at you, what a greedy little bitch. Acting like you don’t want me...fuck...you’re soaking…”

His voice drops to a hush as he leans back, eyes following the steady in and out motions his index fingers are creating within you. His nails are sharp but you kinda like how it scrapes and pulls, enjoying the drag down your sticky walls as he works more of your arousal into his hand. With a hiss he shifts his hold, rotating the digit and cupping his palm under the swell of your ass, holding you up as he pushes deeper.

“Shit, Lydia,” he growls, leaning over your prone form and sinking his nose against your neck. “You’re so warm and wet for me. Look at you!” He’s fully gloating now, and he pulls out of your cunt with a slick pop, lazily passing the gossamer strands between his splayed fingers. “Such a little slut… I wanna see what it tastes like!”

Something warns you to move and you wriggle backwards as he plants himself directly above your slippery pussy, scooting along the sheets until he has to grab you. His fingers are rough, sure to leave bruises and that tingling sense of danger returns as his damp breath fans over you. The slither of his rough tongue makes a strangled gasp escape your clamped lips and your hands flail again, working more of that tingling pain down your arms.

He’s clumsy, but fuck, he’s eager and that makes all the difference. As soon as he finds the quivering button of your clit, you’re too far gone to think anymore. Even that nagging worry fades away as he suckles and presses those uneven lips to the bud. The stick of his dry skin creates this breathless sensation and you buck upwards, feet working past the roped stockings he’s... wait... what? Stockings? Why... why are those there? What’s going on? Wait. When did you take off your clothes? When did... oh... oh no...

Your hips crash back to the mattress, and it dislodges his grip on your thighs. Some lingering instinct makes you bring them together, trapping his pale head and fixing him with a flushed stare. For a breath, he’s still, but you can practically feel his rage and impatience, bubbling away, just beneath the surface.

“Bitch,” he snaps, head lifting, wavy hair scratching against your sensitive skin. “Why can’t you fucking listen? Or just sit fucking still? Such a goddamn cunt. You know what? You know what you’ve done? Huh? Do you? Lydia? I’m fucking done. Thought I’d at least let you get something out of this, try to keep you happy, to see if it was fucking worth it. Kurogiri’s always going on about how I need to grow up, to calm down, well, fuck that and fuck you!”

That’s right. He broke in.

That’s why he’s here. That’s why...he hit you...no...he knocked you out...fuck, he’s going to kill you...he’s going to…

His hands are like a steel vice and he clamps his fingers against you so tight you’re worried he’ll come back to you with his palms covered in your blood. Wait. The glass. Are you bleeding? Your eyes fall back to that streaked stain on your stomach and your blood goes cold. With a shudder, you look up at your clasped hands, finally taking in the strap of his dark belt and the bloom of copper that’s dried between your curled fingers. It must...it has to be from the glass.

Tomura punches the headboard, and the reverberation makes you startle, a high-pitched squeak falling from your lips. “Look at me Lydia,” he demands, cold digits curling under your chin and forcing your head upward. “Look at me while I ruin this pussy of yours.”

As soon as the words leave him, he’s impaling you on his cock and you’re staggered by the sheer girth of him. Your legs slip and convulse, heels grinding into the sheets until you hear the fabric rip. The stretch is too much...it’s too much... it hurts…

You think you say something along those lines, but Tomura ignores you, too engrossed in the sheer heat and pull of your cunt. He throbs when he finally bottoms out and you feel a fresh burst of tears stream down your cheeks, hot in the night's chill air.

He doesn’t give you time to adjust, already pulling back as soon as your breath slips back into your lungs. The cants and ruts are shallow at first and he sucks on his thumb before he applies it to the cherry red of your clit, fiddling with you inexpertly. “Easy, you dumb slut, you’ll take my dick off if you do that again. Fucking relax…”

Relax? Who the fuck is this brat? All he’s doing is jolting into you and complaining with each stroke. What a whiny, good for fucking nothing baby. No. Incel’s a better word for what he is.

“What- what’s the matter?” you snarl, eyes narrowing up at his pink tinted cheeks. “Just fucking cum, you pathetic little bitch. Bet you can’t last, bet you can’t...ah…”

That ass! He swiveled his hips and somehow managed to hit that spongy patch of nerves that sits toward the back of your cunt. A dark leer splits his face when he notices your reaction and he carefully lines himself up again, hips jutting forward until he sees your eyes roll back. “Not so mouthy anymore, huh?” he gloats, index finger joining his thumb, pinching at your clit.

He keeps up a teeth chattering pace, but each time you gasp he purses his lips and scowls down at you. Finally, when he’d actually sent a scattering of stars across your vision, he pulls away, leaning back on his haunches, eyes following the steady in and out progression of his dick. “You’re too wet,” he grumbles, sucking his teeth and fixing you with a disgruntled glare.

“Wh-what the hell does that mean?” you bite out, vainly trying to swallow down another series of moans. This fucker, he’s actually building you up to an orgasam.

“Need you to be tighter,” he grouches, hands pulling away from your dripping pussy and working on the ties that hold your ankles. As soon as he’s got the sheer fabric off, he looms back over you, reaching for your clasped wrists. The belt has cut off your blood flow and your arms inelegantly flop to your sides when he frees them. You almost want to try to make a run for it again, but he’s still keeping that steady push and pull of his cock going. That dedication and perseverance to his own enjoyment, it’s kinda impressive, if you wanted to look at it that way that is.

“Get on your stomach,” he imperiously commands, voice falling to a low hush, closer to a rasp. You balk, but he doesn’t give you the time to move, yanking himself out of your cunt, flipping you over and shoving you down. “Lift your ass. No. Higher. Yes. Keep still, or I’ll miss, and if I miss more than once, well, let’s just say you won’t like me much then.”

“Don’t like you now,” you mumble, words muffled by the bundled sheets that are under your lips.

You must have arched your hips enough because he slides in cleanly. The swell of his length makes you gasp out a long moan and you can hear his giggles, sharp and jangling behind your head. “Such a fucking slut! Ahhh, this already feels better.”

The trusts he’s giving you are shallower in this position, but you can feel every vein that races along his length as they pulse and throb against your over sensitized walls. He’s ramming into that sweet spot at an alarming rate and you can feel your cheeks heating up. You want to grind back but the hump of your ass prevents you from moving much, instead, Tomura makes up for your lack of movement with each cant, grinding his bony hips into you with a low crunch.

There’s something slick that’s falling over your shoulder blades and you crane your head around, peering through the umber haze of your hair. Ugh, gross, he’s drooling. The line of saliva is perfectly connected to your back and you watch it gleam in the low light. When Tomura notices your gaze he licks his tongue across the strand, shattering the connection as he brings a hand to the back of your head, pressing you down into the mattress.

“It’s not enough,” he groans, leaning back and examining your prone backside. “Cross your legs.” It’s not a request, but you’re genuinely confused by his demand and you shake your head under the blanket of his four fingers. “Tch, dumb bitch. Here.” He shifts upward and you almost fall to pieces at the stimulation. The tip of his cock is tapping and pressing at the ring of your cervix, and you can feel every fiber of your being quaking as he sinks past that last barrier. “There we go,” Tomura gloats, threading your legs over each other and leaning into you.

He’s heavy and the spidery trail of his leftover saliva makes him stick to you uncomfortably, but you don’t care. As terrible as this is, you want him to keep going, you’re too close for him not to. This whole thing is a fucking travesty, but you’ll be damned if you don’t end up getting something out of it. The grunts and whines he’s giving you must mean that he likes it too and you do your best to hold on as he picks his way back to those steady pounds and thrusts.

“Tighter! Keep your legs together! I’m almost there. Come on! Fuck you, tighter!”

You do as he says and clench your thighs as tightly as you can, squeezing until you’re shaking. Finally, finally, he rams back into that spot, the tip of him forcing its way to that intimate part of you and hurtling you into a release that leaves you absolutely breathless under him. It must have been enough for him too, you think, feeling the telltale pulses of his cock and that rush of cum as it splatters into your waiting cunt.

Tomura collapses over you and you groan at the added sting of his full weight. Lazily, his lips fall to your ear and his stuttered breaths pass over you as he pulls back, tugging his softening length from your battered pussy. Once he’s out, he shoves your partially lifted head back down, laughing at the sight of you, clearly delighting in his success.

“Keep still Lydia,” he begins, nails scratching over your tingling scalp. “I’m not done yet.”

#hehehe #dark content #on this blog?#pal and friends #kugutsuu #palbabor-writes commissions #tw: noncon #tw: blood #tw: head trauma #tw: violence #tw: physical assault #tw: physical abuse #tw: stalking #tw: degradation #tw: triggers #shigaraki tomura #tomura shigaraki

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redgillan · 5 years ago

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Under Pastel Skies - 5

Sugar daddy!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Modern!AU Bucky doesn’t need anyone, especially not a sugar baby. He isn’t that desperate… but she smiles so sweetly and she’s endearingly awkward, and he’s so lonely. She’s an artist, a painter, the type of person who always puts others before herself. Throwing caution to the wind Bucky offers her a place to live, a place where she can finally paint whatever her heart desires. He doesn’t need much in return; a friend, a muse.

Word Count: 4,569

Warnings: none

A/N: Let me just thank you for your support, it’s so heartwarming and I love you so much. I’m sorry this chapter is so long, I have no idea how that happened. I hope you enjoy this :’)

Wannabe sugar daddies, don’t interact with this post.

After you agreed to move in with Bucky and become a full time artist, everything started to move incredibly fast. The dinner went well, you worked out the details of your contract with Sam and Nat who didn’t seem surprised that this was happening.

You left your job almost overnight, only giving them two weeks’ notice. They easily found a new breakfast attendant and you even trained your replacement. You emptied your locker, returned your name tag and your master key, and went on your merry way.

Now you were on your way to Bucky’s apartment, a suitcase full of clothes between your legs and another full of administrative papers, beauty products and whatnot between Natasha’s legs. She had insisted on coming with you to help you get settled. You didn’t own furniture or anything that required her help so you figured she just wanted to make sure Bucky was treating you right.

He had already transferred your monthly allowance to your bank account, which prompted your bank to call you. They wanted to know where the 5 thousand dollars came from and you told them it was a gift. “If your friend’s looking for new friends give them my number, yeah?” the man on the phone told you.

The rocking motion of the train had a soothing effect on you, almost lulling you to sleep. You let your head fall against the window and played one of your favourite game –people watching.

There was a man reading a newspaper, standing with his feet apart as if the cart was one giant skateboard. A woman was putting on makeup, another was playing a game on her phone. The woman sitting next to you was wrestling with her toddler who wanted to snatch your scarf. It was a quiet day.

“Are we going to talk about it?” Natasha asked, her face as cold as stone.

“’Bout what?” you replied in a sleepy voice.

“About your crush on James.”

“I don’t have a crush on Bucky.”

As soon as the words passed your lips, a tiny, sticky hand landed on your jaw, making a wet slapping sound. You blinked hard, your eyes trained on Natasha who was now openly smiling at the toddler next to you.

“See? Even the baby knows you’re a liar,” she said, singing the last word.

You turned your head to look at the baby and saw him put his fist in his mouth, his eyes bright and wide. With a happy squeal he launched himself at you again, smacking you in the face. The mother apologized and held her child against her chest, softly admonishing him to stop throwing himself at strangers. You felt that. He spent the rest of the ride looking at you.

“So, really, you’re going to move in with a man you have a massive crush on, and we’re not even going to talk about it,” she pressed on.

You huffed, wiping baby goo from your cheek with your sleeve. “You’re like a dog with a bone.”

“And you’re the bone.”

You got off the train and walked to Bucky’s apartment, your suitcase rolling behind you. Natasha was silent next to you, something that almost never happened. You counted your steps in your head, waiting for her to speak.

“You didn’t have to move out of my apartment.”

22 steps. That’s how long Natasha managed to stay quiet for. “Of course, I had to. I’m not going to do Brooklyn-Chelsea every day.”

When Bucky had offered his guest bedroom, your first reaction had been to politely refuse. Bucky seemed like a nice guy, but what if he had a glass cage in his basement? What if he trapped you there and commissioned paintings to you? Psycho killer, qu'est ce que c'est.

Then he opened up about his past, his insecurities, and it made you long to hold him. There was a vulnerability in his eyes, the kind that only come from an unprotected heart. You realized there was more chance of you hurting him than the opposite.

“You’re the one who organized this whole thing,” you reminded Natasha.

“Yeah, but I didn’t know you had a crush on him. And if someone tells Okoye this was my idea, she’ll kill me.”

You turned to her with a not-sorry smile. “Yup.”

Your big sister was like most big sisters: extremely protective. When your mother had to work late, she was in charge and she took her role very seriously. You were nine when she finally got her driver’s licence, and that day she graduated from sister to mother. Eat your vegetables. Did you do your homework? I know you didn’t brush your teeth.

Okoye was loyal, protective, intimidating, and never afraid to speak her mind. When she decided to join the Dora Milaje, you thought the job was perfect for her –the king’s bodyguard, now that’s something you’d like to put on your resume.

“Do you want me to stay tonight?” Natasha asked as you got inside the elevator.

“Why are you so worried?”

“I don’t know.” She pressed her back against the wall and shrugged. “It’s always been you and me. Since first grade.”

You returned her sad smile with one of your own. “Heckle and Jeckle.”

She barked out a laugh at the memory. It was the nickname her father had for the two of you. It used to be a popular animated cartoon in the 50s. It was the story of two talking magpies who were always getting into some kind of trouble.

You stepped out of the elevator, still arguing about which one of you got to be Jeckle, the less problematic of the two, when you noticed that Bucky was patiently waiting for you by the front door. He didn’t say anything but there was an amused smile on his face.

He let you put your suitcases in the guest room near the kitchen and told you that he had to run a few errands, giving you a little privacy. Natasha hung up your clothes in the wardrobe while you unpacked your other stuff and put them away in the drawers of your dresser.

It didn’t take you long to unpack. When you were done, you threw yourself onto the bed, watching Natasha. You were excited to sleep in a real bed, you couldn’t stop running your hands up and down the comforter.

“Jeckle,” Natasha said, looking at the mostly empty wardrobe. “You need new clothes.”

“Ugh, yes,” you groaned from the bed.

When you were a teenager, you used to spend every weekend at the mall with your sisters and Natasha. Your wardrobe wasn’t big enough to fit all your clothes and your mother often asked you to get rid of the things you didn’t wear anymore. You never did.

Then life happened, and you didn’t have the energy or money to go shopping anymore.

You went to the kitchen to grab something to drink. Bucky’s fridge was even bigger than the one you had at work, and it was full of food in neatly labelled rows of Tupperware containers. The one in front of you was labelled ‘baby carrots’.

“Neat freak alert,” Natasha commented, peering over your shoulder into the refrigerator.

“Stop it.”

You took a bottle of water and sat at the kitchen island while Natasha continued investigating his kitchen. Bucky had several gadgets that few people had in their kitchen like a cutting board with suction cups on the bottom and nails on top to hold the food in place while slicing.

It was obvious that he liked to cook, and for some reason it made you smile. You pictured him cooking for one and your heart squeezed painfully in your chest. It was a sad mental image and you shook your head to get rid of it.

The front door opened and you lifted your head to see what Natasha was doing. She was holding Bucky’s meal plan, perusing it intensely. Bucky entered the room and greeted you with a smile before he made his way over to the fridge.

“Can I help you with anything?” he asked.

Natasha waved the meal plan in your direction mouthing ‘it’s laminated’ while Bucky retrieved a bottle of water for himself. You gestured wildly at her to put it back down.

“No, I’m good,” you replied with a slightly crazed smile. He looked between you and Natasha with a frown. “Natasha was about to leave.”

“Was I?” she replied, tilting her head.

“Yeah, you have stuff to do, remember?” You gave her a pointed stare.

“No.”

You widened your eyes at her and moved your head in the direction of the hallway that led to the front door. You tried to be discreet but you knew you weren’t fooling anyone. She watched you, unfazed.

Luckily, Bucky came to your rescue.

“Thank you for coming all the way out here, Natasha. Do you want me to call you a cab?” His tone left no room for discussion. You hid your grin behind your glass.

“That won’t be necessary,” she replied without looking at him.

You walked Natasha back to the front door and opened it. She glared at something over your shoulder and you turned to see if Bucky was there. He wasn’t.

“Wait, I forgot to tell him that if he hurts you I’ll kill him.”

You grabbed her by the shoulders when she tried to move past you. “I think he got the message. Thanks for coming with me. I’ll call you tonight.”

“You’d better,” she warned with a slow nod.

When you returned to the kitchen, it really dawned on you that you were alone with Bucky. He glanced up at you while he was going through his mail. You took your seat and nervously looked around the room. It was too quiet, you didn’t like it.

“I like your friend,” he said, grinning. “She seems very protective of you.”

“She is,” you sighed.

An uncomfortable and strangely melancholic silence hung between you. You were both afraid to say or do the wrong thing. You felt like you didn’t belong there; like a patch sewed on a worn out pair of jeans, mending holes.

“You ok?”

You looked up at him. “Yeah, I just feel a little awkward. I’m... not sure what you want me to do now.”

“Nothing,” he said, rounding the kitchen island to sit on the stool next to you. His eyebrows were pulled together in concern. “This is your home. You can do whatever you want.”

“It doesn’t really feel like my home.” You shrugged one shoulder. “It kinda feels like I just unloaded my crap in your guest room, which is exactly what happened.”

He observed you a moment. “Well, make it your home. I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable here.”

“So,” you glanced at him sideways. “If I bought a few things to make this place more... homey, you wouldn’t be mad?”

The corners of his eyes crinkled up as his smile grew. “I’m begging you to make this place more homey. It’s really boring, isn’t it?” he said, looking around the kitchen with a comical frown.

You chuckled. “No, it’s not. Well, maybe a little.”

“Thank you for your honesty,” he said with a laugh.

Bucky watched you with his cheek in the palm of his hand. Your eyes were moving around the room, making mental notes of the things you wanted to add. He smiled, the sparkle was back in your eyes.

“Oh, I almost forgot,” he said, straightening up.

He left the room for a second and came back with his hand hidden behind his back. You looked at him with a playfully suspicious frown as he approached you. You followed his movements closely, your frown deepening when he placed a little white box on the kitchen counter.

“Open it.”

You removed the lid and pulled out a set of keys, undoubtedly the keys to his apartment. The keychain was gleaming the light; a small silver angel that fit snugly in the palm of your hand.

You barely managed to croak out a thank you before you threw yourself at him, hugging him tight. His body tensed instantly and you were about to apologize when you felt his arm wrap around you.

You felt pressure build in your throat, a tingling sensation in your nose, and tried to hide your face in the crook of his neck. The last thing you wanted was for him to catch you crying over a set of keys. Though deep down it wasn’t about the keys, it was the accumulation of pent-up emotions and the realization that you were now completely free to follow your dreams.

You released him but he was still hanging on to you. Tight. His heart was beating fast against your chest. He was a lonely man craving human interaction. So you closed your eyes and rubbed your hands up and down his back –gently and out of sync. After a few long minutes, he untangled himself from you.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, avoiding your eyes. “C’mon, there’s something else I want to show you.”

“Another gift?” You sighed his name when you noted the guilty expression on his face. “It’s too much.”

“It’s a practical gift, hardly a gift at all.”

He took you upstairs to the room that was now your studio. The room hadn’t changed since your last visit, except for the easel placed in the centre. You entered slowly as if you were approaching a frightened mythological creature. You ran your fingers along the wood, your chest tight with the heft of your emotions.

You hadn’t seen one in a while, and now it was right in front of you, beckoning. “Show me how you feel,” the easel said. “Show the world what you’re made of.”

“Thank you so much,” you said, your voice soft.

“I thought it was the perfect housewarming gift for you.”

You turned to him and smiled. “It is. I already bought everything I need. Paint, knives, brushes, canvases... an easel. Sorry, I didn’t know you were going to buy me one. It’s good to have more than one though. Online shops are a bit impersonal.” You walked toward the door where he was waiting. “I miss the smell of art supply stores. It’s so intoxicating, it really gets the creative juices flowing.”

“What does it smell like?”

You closed your eyes and tried to concentrate. “It’s a mix of paint and paper, a woody pencil-sharpening smell mixed with chemicals and ash.”

“Sounds relaxing.”

“It’s heaven,” you said with a dreamy sigh.

Bucky gave you a fond smile and glanced at the keychain still in your hand. “So that’s where angels come from, uh?”

You laughed and pushed his good shoulder playfully. Ever since that fateful day when Bucky asked you out for coffee and you mistook his business date for a romantic date, you learned not to take the things he said too seriously. Bucky was a nice guy, a bit of a flirt sometimes, but his intentions were clear. He wanted a companion, not a girlfriend.

The rest of the afternoon went by in a flash, you went to your room and rearranged a few things while Bucky stayed in his office. At dinnertime you set the table while he finished cooking. You sat in front of a bowl of homemade soup and a grilled cheese sandwich.

After you had practically licked your bowl clean, Bucky leaned back in his chair and watched you with a grin. You felt a little embarrassed. You wiped your mouth with your napkin, trying to look a bit more well-mannered.

“It was really good,” you said.

“Thank you. I gotta say, I was tired of cooking for one. It’s not fun.” He put your empty bowl in his and carried them to the sink. You gathered up plates and utensils and followed him. “You’ll have to tell me what you don’t like.”

“As long as you don’t make me eat broccoli ice cream, I’m good.”

He laughed, remembering your conversation from a couple of week ago. “I don’t think I can stomach it either.” He handed you two small plates and two forks. “I bought a cake. I thought we could celebrate our first day together. Is it creepy? I can’t tell.”

“No, that’s a great idea!” you laughed. “You’re making me feel like it’s my birthday.”

You carried everything to the table while he opened the fridge and retrieved a large pink cardboard box. He balanced the box in his hand, a sharp knife sitting on top. “I’m surprised you didn’t bake it yourself,” you said, picking up the knife.

“Dessert isn’t my forte.” He opened the cardboard box, revealing a three-layer red velvet cake. “I’m too much of a perfectionist. I can make pretty decent pies but sponge cakes are hard to control when you only have one hand.”

“We can bake cakes together if you want. I’m clumsy as hell but I’m willing to learn.”

“That’d be nice,” he replied with a smile.

It was, without a doubt, the best cake you’d ever had in your life. It was incredibly light. The chocolate and vanilla burst in your mouth, mixing perfectly with the bitterness of the buttermilk.

“Red velvet is my favorite,” Bucky said, licking his fork. “Blueberry cheesecakes are good too. And Blackout cakes, umm, so good. Except fruitcakes,” he said, his mouth twisted into a downturned grimace. “Fruitcakes are the devil.”

“You’ve got quite the sweet tooth.”

“You have no idea,” he said, shaking his head like he couldn’t quite believe it himself.

After a minute of silence, you said, “The last time I ate red velvet cake, my sister had put too much white vinegar. It was disgusting but we didn’t want to hurt her feelings so we ate all of it.”

Bucky chuckled. “How many siblings do you have?”

It was a standard get-to-know-you question and you knew he would ask it at some point. Yet, it made your guts twist in pain. It was a question you always dreaded because you didn’t have a clear answer to it. Should you leave Pietro out? He was gone but he was still your brother.

“I, uh,” you mumbled, staring down at your half-eaten slice of cake. “I’m not sure what the answer is.” He frowned at you, confused. “Do you... do you count the ones you lost?”

Understanding flashed in his eyes and he gave you a patient smile. “Yes, I do.”

You met his eyes and tried to smile, though you were pretty sure it looked more like a grimace. “I have four siblings then.” You took a forkful of cake and chewed slowly, allowing yourself a few seconds to clear your thoughts. Without success.

“I was adopted,” you revealed. His eyebrows rose in surprise but he let you continue. “We were all adopted. My mom lost her husband when she was young. They wanted to have a big family but they were too busy working. They both had very demanding jobs.”

“What did they do?”

“He was in the military, and she was the co-founder of an extra-governmental military counter-terrorism and intelligence agency.”

“That’s a mouthful,” Bucky chuckled.

“You should hear their name.” He gave you a ‘go ahead’ look. “It’s the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division.”

You watched Bucky process the name, waiting for the moment realization would dawn on him. Then his eyes widened to the size of dinner plates, and you couldn’t help but chuckle.

“S.H.I.E.L.D.? Your mom’s the co-founder of S.H.I.E.L.D.” He stared at you, his mouth wide open. “Your mom’s Peggy Carter!? Jesus Christ,” he sighed, shaking himself out of his stupor. “When we were kids, me, Stevie and a couple of other kids pretended to be secret agents working for S.H.I.E.L.D. We even had a name: the Howling Commandos.”

You screwed your eyes shut, a smile breaking across your face. “That’s the cutest thing I’ve ever heard!”

“Yeah, yeah,” he grumbled, embarrassment colouring his face. “I dunno why I’m telling you this. Please, don’t tell your mom.”

Your laughter died down, and you continued smiling at him. He was cute when he was flustered. You smothered that thought as soon as it materialized.

“I didn’t know she had adopted five kids.”

“Yeah, I guess her job as the co-founder of one the most important secret agency gave her the freedom to adopt without having to wait.”

“Do you get along with your siblings?”

“Yeah,” you said. “I mean, kinda. Scott, my older brother, is a few years younger than you. He’s really smart but he’s a big goof. He left for San Francisco when I was a kid. My sister, Okoye, left when I was 19. She’s King T’Chaka’s bodyguard.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah,” you chucked. “The twins are only three years older than me. We were really close, but then Pietro,” you took a small pause, “he, um, he died and, Wanda, she couldn’t stay anymore. It was too much, y’know. She went to Sokovia -where they were born- and she never came home. Last I heard, she was backpacking through Europe.”

“You still have your mom though,” Bucky said with a warm smile.

“She’s in London,” you said, smiling even though you had to dig your nails into your palm to keep yourself from crying. “She’s in a nursing home. She was diagnosed with a form of dementia, something similar to Alzheimer. She has no idea who I am.”

You tried to speak in a normal, detached tone but your voice wavered and you fought not to cry. Bucky reached for your hand, your nails had left half-moon indentations in your palm. Wordlessly, he smoothed his thumb over your palm, inspecting the damage.

“I’m here,” he said, his voice soft.

Until now it had never occurred to you that you had never said those things out loud before. Natasha knew because she’d been with you through all of it. She was your best friend, the only person who hadn’t abandoned you yet.

You couldn’t remember the last time you’d met someone new, someone you felt comfortable enough to talk to about your family.

You didn’t want to end the day on a sad note, so you pulled yourself together. You straightened up, wiped your eyes and sniffed back the tingling feeling in your nose. Bucky seemed to notice that you wanted to change the subject because he let go of your hand and picked up his fork again.

“So,” you said after clearing your throat. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Of course.”

“It’s a serious question and it’s important that you tell me the truth.”

Bucky flinched, his throat working as he swallowed past the lump in his throat. “I promise.”

You took a deep breath and rotated your head left and right, working the kinks out of your neck and back. Then you levelled him with a direct stare.

“What’s your favourite colour?”

Bucky recoiled as if he had misheard you. He looked momentarily startled by your question before he burst into laughter. When your face remained stoic, he realized you weren’t joking. “Oh? Umm, I don’t know.”

“That’s not an answer.”

He seemed lost in thought for a second. “I like blue.”

“Which blue? Navy? Tiffany blue? Sapphire? Baby blue? Teal? Duck-egg? Turquoise?” you enumerated them quickly.

“Just...blue?” he replied carefully. You took a deep breath and released it slowly, shaking your head. “No, wait,” he added in a hurry. His eyebrows pinched together in concentration while he was trying to come up with a better answer. “The color of the sky when a storm is brewing. That’s my favorite color.”

You smirked. “Poetic.”

“Well, I’m a writer,” he replied with a lopsided grin. “What’s your favorite color?”

“Oh no, you can’t ask me that. I’m a painter, it’s like asking a parent who their favourite child is.”

“Fair enough,” he conceded, waving his hand to dismiss the question. “Let me ask you an equally important question.”

“Oh, boy,” you laughed.

The warmth of his laughter was reassuring. It made you feel at ease, calm. What you hadn’t realized yet was that you weren’t trying to change your personality to please him. You were yourself, flaws and all.

“When you read a book, how do you keep track of your reading?” he asked. “Do you use a bookmark? Receipts? Candy wrappers? Book ribbon? Do you fold the corner of the page? Do you leave the book face down or memorize the page number? I need to know.”

You didn’t have to think about it. “Dog ears.”

“Oh, God, you’re a folder.” He stared up at the ceiling and sighed heavily. “I think I got you all wrong. You’re not an angel, you’re a little demon.” He pressed his lips together in a thin line to hide a smile.

He quickly gathered up the dirty plates and carried them to the sink while you remained seated at the table, laughing. You turned in your chair and saw him fill the sink with hot water and suds. What kind of millionaire doesn’t own a dishwasher?

“I bet you also write in ‘em,” he said, the corner of his mouth quirking up into a hint of a smirk.

“No, I would never,” you said, joining him at the sink. “I like books that look old though. Cracked spines, folded corners, tea or coffee stains.”

“Please, stop I’m going to hyperventilate,” he joked.

You chuckled. “Do you a have a towel?” you asked, giving him a little tap with your hip so he would scoot sideways.

He let go of the knife he was washing and pulled out a towel from the cabinet under the sink. You were a bit in awe of the way he cleaned everything with only one hand but you didn’t want to sound condescending so you kept it to yourself.

“What’s the point of having books if they look like nobody’s ever opened them?” you said. “I want to know my books had a good life before I bought them. I want to know they were loved. Sometimes when you love something, you mess it up a little.” He rinsed a plate and handed it to you. “I bet you have one of those sentence pointer bookmarks.”

He stayed quiet for a moment and you cursed yourself, thinking you might have hurt his feelings with your little teasing. His meal plan was fucking laminated, of course he had a sentence pointer bookmark. When he spoke, you felt like you could breathe again.

“I do have a bookmark. My niece made it for me at school. It’s pink and it has a braided pink and purple ribbon. No sentence pointer.”

His rueful smile and slightly red cheeks made your chest warm. You had to remind yourself that Bucky wasn’t flirting with you. He was just being nice.

“I’m jealous,” you said. “I wish I had one.”

“That can be arranged,” he nodded, his bottom lip jutting out in a pensive pout.

You wondered what this would look like if someone were to enter the room right now. They’d see you and Bucky, standing side by side at the sink as though you were the protagonists of a Norman Rockwell painting called ‘Domestic Bliss’. You wanted more days like this one.

“Yeah?” you breathed out. “You sure?”

“Anything for you, angel.”

Part 6

#bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #marvel #marvel fanfiction #marvel imagines #bucky barnes imagines #bucky barnes fanfiction #marvel imagine #bucky barnes imagine #redgillan #redgillanwrites

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katyspersonal · 3 years ago

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In retrospective being punched hard in the guts about how undesirable my art was ended up only helping me.

I remember I had commissions open for a while that were like, $30 for full body full colored/shaded drawing (no big reason, I just dislike leaving art uncolored or cropped) and got only one commission - and that was from a friend, clearly doing it out of pity. And I had 'might do art requests' line in my blog desc for a year or so, only got one request over all time, did full background and coloring and idea but they did not even like that drawing enough to reblog it. Remember doing 'I am accepting drawing requests' post and only getting a joke request, from a friend again, over hours.

Like... It just became apparent that my art is worthless. Not bad, far be it, but worthless. Something people don't want for free, let alone half price. My art is like glass shards and other people's art is like gemstones - both are pretty and come in many colors and glisten in sun rays, but only one of these is considered valuable. You have to like me as a person to enjoy my art, which is a very bad thing for an artist because art sells person, not person sells art. Artists should be followed for their skill and appeal of their drawings, not for who they are or their bio, and otherwise just turns creativity into a twisted social tool and devalues the talent.

But in retrospective it only helped me? That sorta brought me to inner piece of only drawing for myself. I had to learn to enjoy the process itself, ended up loving my art regardless of amount of notes or comments just because /I/ think it is nice; but it is something not even every popular artist can accomplish. More like I realized what creativity really is for me.

Like... in the end, I feel in the luck? There is just something liberating in not having to meet anyone's expectations or not feeling urge to chase Twitter trends or not having to hurry to 'finish something already'? Because if I can't win - I can't lose either!

#nobody artists high-five!#personal #art

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cassiabaggins · 4 years ago

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Wedding

A/N: Part/day six! Thank you all so much for your support! Please leave a comment/reblog if you enjoy this!

Wordcount: 2k

First Next Masterlist

Tags: @anjhope1 @deathlikessodaandpizza @guardianofrivendell @myrin1234 @wettomatodude @lothloriien @annkdarar @artsywaterlily @hmmm-what-am-i-doing @drowingintheempty @estethell @claraofthepen @kilielweek

Warnings: mention of miscarriage

Summary: Kili and Tauriel are finally wed

Kili has been quiet all day. That's unusual. Tauriel carefully combs her fingers through his hair and rests her chin on his shoulder. He's staring into the fire.

"You seem distressed," she says gently.

He grunts wordlessly, so she gives him a kiss on the cheek and strokes his hair. "Kili. Talk to me. What ails you?"

Kili is quiet for a little bit longer, putting his hand over hers, before letting out a long sigh. “They want me to get married,” He says.

“Who is ‘they’?” She asks gently.

“The Council.”

“All of them?"

“No, not all of them, but those that do are quite loud.” He draws his knees up to his chest and rests his chin on them. “They want me to produce an heir.”

“What about your brother? He’s already married!”

“They think his child won’t be ‘pure’ enough.” He puts quotations with his fingers around the word ‘pure’. “First they tried to get him to annul his marriage, then they tried to get him to take a mistress, but he’d rather die than disrespect his wife like that, so they gave up and focused on me.” He clenches his fist. “It makes me so angry! Arranged marriages go against everything I’ve ever been taught about how dwarrow love. All of this does! It goes against our nature!”

Tauriel moves so she’s no longer sitting behind him, but beside him, taking his hand.

“What do you mean by that, meleth nin?”

“I mean dwarrow don’t arrange marriages! We only love once, and only one person. Mahal, most of us don’t even experience sexual desires until we meet our One!”

“What if you don’t find the One? Or what if they don’t feel the same?”

“Then we don’t marry. We dedicate our lives to our crafts!”

“Is that what you would have done if I hadn’t come back?”

“Yes. Of course I would have.” He notices the sadness on her face and squeezes her hand. “Don’t look like that, amrâlimê, it’s not so bad. You don’t need love to be happy.”

She leans forward and kisses him. “There’s something awful romantic about that, loving only one person your entire life.”

“Aye, it is.” Kili frowns. “But now they want me to go against that and marry some lass from Rhun. She’s nice enough, I suppose, her name is Mhaite, but—”

“But you don’t love her.”

“But she’s not you.”

Tauriel smiles gently at him.

“I don’t want to marry anyone but you,” Kili says, flopping down into her lap. She strokes her hand through his hair.

“And I don’t want you to marry anybody but me.”

He sighs melancholically, taking her hand and kissing her wrist. She continues stroking his hair with her free hand when suddenly she is struck by an idea.

“What if we eloped?”

Kili sits right up and stares at her. “What?”

“What if,” she repeats, “we eloped. If we got married, they couldn’t make you marry her, right?”

“They could try to get me to divorce you.”

“But you can refuse them, correct?”

“Well, yes. They cannot force an annulment if both parties refuse. Especially if Fili doesn’t approve, since only a king or queen can annul marriages.”

"So your brother is behind us, who else?"

"I'm sure I could get Dwalin to represent you," Kili says, excitement leaking into his voice and gestures, "he likes you, though he won't admit it. Ori can draft up marriage documents, Dori can make us wedding clothes, and Bombur and Cassia can cook and—"

She stops him with a finger over his lips, laughing softly. "This is becoming less of a secret elopement and more of a wedding the longer you talk," she teases.

Kili shrugs and kisses her fingers. "I can't help that I want to get my friends involved."

"Too many people and the secret will leak," she cautions. "The Council will put a stop to it before it can even begin."

He sighs. "Yes, I suppose you're right."

In the end, they limit it to just Kili's family, Balin, and Dwalin. The sons of Fundin agree to represent Tauriel's family surprisingly easily, and Kili's mother and younger sister will represent him. Fili will officiate and his wife will be a witness. The wedding will take place in the council chamber of Erebor in two months time, long enough that the wedding beads can be made, but soon enough that the council members who are against the union do not have the time to put a stop to it.

King Fili is looking over a trade agreement in King Bard’s office, the end of his quill in his mouth and his face all scrunched up with concentration in a way that makes him look unnervingly like his younger brother. Tauriel sidles up to him and taps him on the shoulder. She really shouldn't be distracting him, but she needs his advice. Fili scratches out some letters and looks up at her, dipping his quill back in ink. "Hullo, Tauriel," he says with a smile. "What can I do for you?"

"I need help," she declares and the smile vanishes for a worried frown.

"Is something wrong?"

"Not in the way you think," she says. Fili gives her a baffled look and Tauriel twiddles her thumbs awkwardly. "Dwalin mentioned I was meant to make beads for when I marry Kili," she explains, "only… I've not the slightest idea how!"

"Is that all?" Fili asks with relief.

"...Yes."

The king slides the paper he's been looking at out of his way. "Well, you came to the right dwarf. Do you have a material you're planning on using?"

She shakes her head.

"Do you have a design?"

Another shake of the head. Fili sighs. "Oh dear."

"I don't even know where to begin! I've no idea how to craft jewelry!"

"Well, don't panic, there's no rule saying you have to make them. You just have to design them. It's common enough for a dwarf to commission a close friend to help create their wedding beads."

Tauriel lets out a relieved sigh. "Oh, good." Then she frowns. “Kili will be making mine, though, won’t he?”

“Aye, most likely. His craft is jeweling after all.”

“Then I want to make his,” She declares.

“It won’t be easy,” Fili cautions.

“I don’t care. I want to try.”

"If you do, then far be it from me to try and stop you. Now, let's talk about materials. The most common are stone or metal, but wood or some sort of gemstone isn't unheard of. Any of those catch your attention?"

Tauriel shakes her head. "I feel as if I need to hold the materials to see what I think."

Fili nods. "Next time I visit Dale, I'll bring you some examples."

She grins. "Oh, good! Oh, thank you!"

"Think nothing of it."

The next day, Fili arrives at her home as promised with the materials. He's brought some silver and gold and jewels, but what really catches Taurile’s eye is a beautiful piece of wood. She picks it up and turns it over in her hands. Fili sees her interest.

“That’s walnut wood,” he says.

“It’s lovely.”

“Is that what you want to use?”

Tauriel turns the wood over in her hands. “Yes.”

“Good choice.”

“Only…” she frowns. “I can see why a material like metal or stone would be used, that can last for centuries, but wood? How do you keep the beads from wearing out?”

“We have charms for that,” Fili says, “to make them last. Don’t worry about that.”

“Oh, good.”

He begins to tie his hair back, pulling out tools from his bag, along with a sketchbook. “All right, let’s get to work.” He flips through his sketchbook to a fresh page and picks up a charcoal stick to draw with. “Any design ideas?”

Tauriel frowns, tapping thoughtfully on the wood. “Well… no.”

“Well, what makes you think about him? When I was designing beads for my wife, I thought of all the things that made me think of her and used those for my design. So, what makes you think of Kili?”

Tauriel thinks. “Uh, stars, and the moon, and mountains, mostly.”

“That’s a good start!” Fili says, passing the sketchbook and drawing stick to Tauriel. “Just… start drawing.”

She frowns and takes them gingerly. “I’m not much of an artist.”

“We can clean up the sketch later, just put down some ideas,” he says reassuringly.

In the end, she decides on an image of the Mountain with the moon rising behind it and a star above the moon. It’s simple and pretty, and Fili gives his stamp of approval. Then, the carving lessons begin. Woodworking is not something Tauriel has ever done and it’s not Fili’s craft, but he's a patient teacher and she’s a quick learner. She doesn’t expect to become such close friends with her future brother in law, but she and Fili end up having much more in common than they initially think, including but not limited to their affections for knives and Kili.

It takes time, and lots of practice, but by the day of the wedding, the final beads are done. They’re wide and flat beads with the pattern she came up with carved on one side and their names on the other.

“Just promise me something?” Fili asks as he looks over the beads one final time.

“What is it?” She queries. He looks up at her.

“Please don’t leave him again. I don’t think he could bear it.”

Tauriel wants to tell him she hasn’t the slightest intention of doing that, that she came back for Kili and only for Kili, that not even wild horses could keep her away from him… but she doesn’t. “I won’t. I promise.”

There’s no fancy decorations or clothes for the wedding, no festive lights or stars or firemoons, just the dim torches illuminating the council chamber, and Kili’s smile illuminating her heart as they walk to stand together before Fili to be wed.

Tauriel takes Kili’s hand and he smiles up at her. “You look like a dream, amrâlimê,” he murmurs.

“A good dream?”

“Yes. A fantastic dream.” He turns her hand over and kisses the inside of her wrist. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Together, they turn towards Fili and the wedding begins.

Their vows are in Khuzdul, the traditional words, so no dwarf can say the wedding is invalid. The words are foreign on her tongue, but she knows them and their meaning even in her sleep.

Bone of my bone, flesh of my flesh, we are two bodies but one soul and my heart is tied to yours. I vow to walk with you and treasure you like the finest of jewels, through this life and the next.

With those words, they weave the braids and beads into each other’s hair, Tauriel bites her lip as she does so, worried her wooden beads look shabby and silly next to the fine diamond-flecked beads he’s made her. But then, he smiles up at her, and looks at the beads like they’re pure mithril, and she knows he thinks they’re beyond precious. Fili says a few more words in Khuzdul, declaring the marriage complete and valid and handing them each a quill to sign the marriage document. As soon as that is over, Kili swings Tauriel into his arms and kisses her like she's water in the desert and she kisses back just as passionately. She can hear the family, no, her family now, laughing around them. She cups his face in her hands and nuzzles her nose to his. “I love you,” she whispers.

“I love you, too,” he responds, wrapping his arms around her waist. “My wife.”

“My hus—"

Before she can fully respond, the door to the council chamber slams open. Lord Khar is standing in the doorway. "What is the meaning of this?!" He shouts, "why is that elf in the mountain?!"

"This," Fili says, picking up his quill and signing the marriage document, sealing the wedding as complete, "is a wedding."

"A wedding?! What?! Between who?!"

"Between my brother, Prince Kili, and Captain Tauriel of Dale, formerly of Mirkwood."

"No! Never! I will not accept it!"

"You don't have to accept it, you simply have to be quiet," Fili says. "I wear the crown, not you. And I have signed this document and officiated this marriage. It is done."

Khar looks positively apoplectic, his face turning an impressive shade of red. Kili squeezes Tauriel's hand reassuringly and looks up at her. She knows he won't let anything tear them apart, and she feels the same, responding to his look with a soft smile.

Lord Khar lets out a wordless, angry noise at the sight of their joined hands and storms toward them, arms outstretched as if he will try to force them apart with pure physical strength alone. Tauriel acts on instinct, swinging Kili behind her (as if a warrior prince of the Line of Durin would need protection) and halting Khar with a harsh blow to the shoulder. "Do not lay your hands on us," she spits.

The dwarf lord goes purple, holding his shoulder. "You cannot—"

"I suggest you listen to her, Khar," Kili says smugly, "my wife is rather deadly when she is angry." He says the words ‘my wife’ with utter relish, rubbing it in the older dwarf’s face, who snarls angrily and steps away from the two of them. "My Lord King," he turns to Fili, attempting a different tactic, "surely you cannot condone this! This elf has bewitched you, can you not see it?"

"I have bewitched no one!" Tauriel cries indignantly. "I'm no wizard, I wouldn't even know where to begin!"

Cassia, peeking around Fili, lets out a little titter of laughter. Kili laughs as well, but the dwarf is well warned away from him. He turns his blazing eyes on the Hobbit Queen. "Don't think you are any better, halfling! You who would put weak, sickly halfbreeds on the Throne of Erebor, if you could only manage to carry one long enough for it to live."

The uproar is instantaneous. Cassia makes a soft, pained little whimper, placing her hand over her abdomen, Dwalin reaches for a weapon, Balin exclaims condemningly, Dis and the princess cry out in indignation, Kili and Tauriel both step forward, either to protect their friend or hurt the dwarf lord, they don't know. They don't make it far enough to find out.

Fili punches Khar in the nose, knocking him to the ground. Khar howls with pain, holding his face.

"You've said enough," Fili spits, his eyes blazing with something feral and unhinged. It's an expression Tauriel has never seen on any face, especially not kind, gentle Fili. "Shut your mouth before I shut it permanently."

Cassia gently takes his arm and he takes a deep, steadying breath. “Khar, son of Zodar, as King of Erebor, I am relieving you of your position on the council of Erebor!"

"On what grounds?!"

"Disrespect of your queen, constant undermining of your king, and," Fili crouches down and reaches into the dwarf's pocket, pulling out a golden seal, "unlawful possession and use of the council seal."

“You cannot just---!”

“I can, actually.” Fili turns to Kili, "I believe you two have a wedding night to get to. I can handle this here."

“Are you sure?” Kili asks. His brother nods. “All right.” He takes Tauriel’s hand and draws her toward the door. “Yasith, let’s go.”

She looks down at him. “Will they be---”

“Fili can handle it.”

They leave the mountain together, returning to Dale, to Tauriel’s home on the outskirts of the city. No one stops them in Erebor at Kili’s command, and no one stops them in Dale at hers. “I have something to show you,” she says, shutting the door behind them. Kili takes her waist and draws her near him.

“Is it you?” he asks cheekily, standing up on his toes to kiss her. She kisses back, laughing a little.

“No,” she says, and then hums, “well, yes, but not yet, just… come with me.” She gives him one last kiss and draws away, taking his hand. He weaves his fingers through hers and lets her lead him through the house to the very top floor, and from there, up another flight of stairs and through a door into the open air.

“You lead me around all secretly to show me the roof?” Kili asks, “Amrâlimê, I’ve been here before.”

She laughs and pulls him forward. Set up in the center of the open space is a mattress and a huge pile of pillows and blankets, surrounded by many candles and lanterns (as yet unlit), a basket of food, and several bottles of wine. “It’s tradition for the marriage to be consummated under the stars,” she says softly, looking down at him. “We don’t have to, but---”

Kili swings her into his arms for a kiss. “This wedding has been all about my traditions,” he murmurs when they come up for air, “I would be honored to partake in some of yours.” And, hand in hand, he leads her toward the bed.

The next morning as Tauriel awakens to birdsong, wrapped in Kili’s arms beneath the open sky, she knows this is where she is supposed to be, and she will fight for it with everything she has.

#kiliel week #kiliel #kilielweek #kilielweek2021 #kiliel week 2021 #kili #tauriel #my writing #the hobbit #fanfic #the hobbit fanfic #fili #hobbit oc #cassia baggins #fili x oc #fili x cassia #kili x tauriel

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dandelionflower · 4 years ago

Text

Felinette Month Day 2

Call out

“...and so I had to try again. She just liked the stuffed dragon so much.”

“How much money did you end up spending again?” Felix glared at his lovesick cousin.

“...”

“Adrien.”

“Seventy dollars.”

“Adrien!”

“She kept staring at it! She needed that dragon, Felix. So I gave it to her.”

“You probably could have just bought the dragon; you didn’t need to spend seventy dollars to-“

“It’s the principal of the thing, Felix! Don’t you act so high and mighty, I know how much money you spend on Marinette every week.”

“I- Ah.” He was at a loss for words.

“Yeah.” Adrien sat back with a smug grin. “So don’t talk.”

Felix glanced at Adrien; not breaking eye contact as he pulled out his phone and opened his social media app.

“Hello, followers. As you likely know, I don’t often make these videos, but Adrien claims that I spend more money treating my girlfriend than he does his.”

“Felix, what are you-“

“So I’d like to list all that he has bought his girlfriend.” He took a deep breath. “An entire line of dresses, property on the moon, a McDonald’s, a private spot at not one, but seven cat cafés, and spent seventy dollars trying to win her a dragon plush. This was all in the past week alone.”

“Oh you can’t just call me out like this and not mention your guilt!” Adrien leaned over him and grabbed the phone. “He bought Marinette ten rolls of fabric just because she mentioned that she liked the color, or thought the texture was nice.” He turned to look at Felix. “You bought her stocks in some fashion company!”

“Adrien... did you just...”

“I’m sorry if you don’t want me telling the truth, but it had to be said-“

“Adrien.” Felix gave him a look and he saw him frantically trying to figure out what went so horribly wrong. “Who did you say I was buying things for?”

“I said you were buying them for-“ his eyes widened. “Oh... Felix I’m so sorry. Maybe they didn’t catch it?”

Felix checked the live comments filtering in.

“Somehow I doubt it.”

—

The next couple of weeks were a paparazzi nightmare.

Every magazine, website, and newspaper had headings such as Felix Culpa’s Girlfriend Revealed! Or Upcoming Designer Tugs on Famed Model’s Heartstrings. Adrien and Felix had to avoid all social media religiously, and any interviews were a definite no.

Marinette got the worst of it. Hate emails, people trying to break into the bakery, strangers accosting her on the street. If Felix heard one more person insulting her on the street, he was going to snap.

“I’m really sorry Marinette,” Adrien said yet again as they were all leaving school,

“I wasn’t thinking.”

“It’s fine, Adrien.” She smiled. “They’ll give up on it eventually.”

“Still, if there’s any way I can fix this...”

“Adrien. Stop.” She placed a hand on his arm. “Felix and I are still dating and no one got hurt, you’re fine.”

“Okay...” he gave a weary smile. “I’m gonna go meet up with... you know.” He lowered his voice, glancing around for paparazzi in disguise.

“Have fun.” Felix threw an arm over Marinette’s shoulder, simultaneously tugging her to the park and lifting a hand to wave to Adrien who was already one foot into the limo.

They made it to the park without any strife; possibly because Marc and Nathaniel agreed to dress up as them as decoys. All they asked for in exchange was twenty dollars. They were also wearing comically large sunglasses.

Marinette settled in next to him, pulling out a piece of cloth she was embroidering.

“Chloe commissioned me for it,” she explained, “not sure she knows it’s me.”

Felix huffed a little laugh, about to make a comment when their phones buzzed simultaneously.

Alya📱: have you two seen this

Attached was a link to an online livestream. They glanced at each other and clicked the link without a word.

Adriens face filled their screens.

“...so like I was saying, I’m not really sure why everyone is so keen on bothering my cousin and friend, but you need to stop.”

“Darling, please.” A collected, familiar voice came from offscreen. “We started this for a reason.”

“Right!” He lit up. “Anyway, I figure if you know who Felix is dating, you should know who I’m dating.”

Kagami walked in, leaning into Adrien’s side. “Hello. My name is Kagami. I am a fencing prodigy and will not take kindly to anyone attempting to harass me for being in a relationship.”

The two continued to talk about how they met, fell in love, and how happy they were. The whole time Marinette was gaping at her phone, then at Felix, then back at her phone.

“He- he- he didn’t- I told him he didn’t need to do anything!” She shouted, arms flailing.

“I know Netta.” Felix pulled her closer.

“And he did anyway!”

“I know Netta. But think about it. Adrien is far more popular than I am, and Kagami is far better suited for the break-ins and harassment you are facing.”

“I take offense to that.” She growled at him.

“I’m sorry, dear.”

“And next time you make a call-out post about Adrien, leave me out of it.”

@felinettenovember

#felinette #ml felix #felix agreste #felix culpa #marinette dupain cheng #ml marinette #adrien agreste #ml adrien #Felinette month #felinettemonth #ml kagami #kagami tsuguri #adrigami

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personasintro · 4 years ago

Text

how love works | myg drabble

⏤𝘴𝘺𝘯𝘰𝘱𝘴𝘪𝘴; your new colleague who ends up showing you around in your new job, finds his way to your broken heart

⏤𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨; yoongi x reader

⏤𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘳𝘦: fluff, nurse!yoongi, single mom!reader

⏤𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵: 5.5k

⏤𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴: strong language, making out, mentions of sex

𝘢/𝘯: commissioned by @hyacinthgrrls, thank you for being so patient about this one! I'm sorry if this one seems to be messy, but I really tried to squeeze everything you wanted here!

...I'd be more than happy to show you around, but unfortunately, my shift already started and I need to be there before Dr. Jung throws a fit,” His words are unclear, barely audible as he rushes through a long hallway, greeting a few patients along the way.

It feels like all hospitals look the same – white walls with a little bit of different, but still nonchalant colors popping every now and then. This one is matched with beige color, visible thanks to the intensive white lightening. The omnipresent smell of antiseptic caries through the whole hospital.

“Yoongi is going to show you around.” Namjoon, as you've learned his name just five minutes ago, says and briefly looks over the shoulder to check up on you, making sure you're catching up with him.

It's tough, his long legs move quickly and you barely get to catch up with him, ushering behind him. He finally stops in front of the white door, the same ones like all those tens you've just passed by, before he pushes it open and walks in. Following him, you close the door with a soft thud as you try to get a glimpse behind Namjoon's tall figure. He moves away, allowing you to see the whole room. It's medium sized room with two wooden tables next to the windows, a small kitchen unit on the left side with a white fridge.

It must be a break room, but before you can look around, your attention is caught by Namjoon's voice and another person in the room.

“Great, you're here!” Namjoon calls out enthusiastically, smacking his hands together as the young man with dark hair stares at him. “You're going to show Y/N around.”

His eyes widen, before he frowns with his puffed cheeks as he holds a sandwich in his hands. “I'm on my lunch break!” he exclaims with his full mouth, visibly annoyed by the sudden interruption of his chance to finally eat and take a break.

“I know, but Jung needs me and you're the only one free.”

Namjoon doesn't seem to be surprised by the man's grumpy attitude, not even when he grunts in annoyance at him. You watch the dark haired man swallow, putting down his sandwich before he opens his mouth.

“I'm not free, I'm on my lunch break.” he reminds him, dusting off his blue scrubs that nicely contrasts with his pale skin.

Understandably, you get his reaction of having to show someone around when it's his time to finally eat. You don't take it personally, but it still leaves you awkwardly standing next to Namjoon with tongue poking the inside of your cheek.

“I can wait.” you speak up, their eyes snapping to you as the man opens his mouth before he can, Namjoon already interjects.

“No, someone needs to show you around. It's your first day but you need to get to work as soon as possible.” he dismisses your idea immediately, glancing at his colleague that fumbles with his eyes before he sighs.

“Fine.” he mutters, tossing his almost untouched sandwich down onto the table.

“Great!” Namjoon exclaims in excitement and claps his hands again. “See you guys later!”

Not even waiting for you response, he's already out of the room and leaves the two of you alone. You wonder if the man hates you for not being able to finish his sandwich, which doesn't even look like a proper lunch, because of you. He sighs, leaving you standing awkwardly in the middle of the room with your handbag clutched in your hands.

“It's okay if you want to finish that,” you speak up, feeling like you need to do something rather than just staying in silence with awkward atmosphere in the air. “I can wait.”

You've heard Namjoon, so did he, but you just need to say something and you feel bad for being a burden to him. The man looks up, meeting your eyes properly this time, and you expect him to glare at you or at least show kind of irritation, but his gaze is soft.

“No, it's okay I can finish it later,” he says, speaking to you for the first time with much more relaxed tone than he spoke with to Namjoon. “It's your first day here, huh?” he chuckles, packing his sandwich and places it into the fridge.

“Yeah,” you answer with a mere smile, noticing the untouched cup of coffee on the counter which makes you feel even more bad.

“I'm Yoongi,” he tells you, stretching his arm towards you. You take it, glancing into his dark orbs as you tell him your name.

Something about him makes you want to observe him, maybe it's his interesting personality you got to see and even though you don't know him, he doesn't look as intimidating as you first thought now that you think about it.

“Very well then, let's go before Namjoon bursts through those door again,” he jokes, causing you to laugh at that, remembering how in rush he's been ever since he introduced himself to you. “Come on.” he walks up to the door and opens it, motioning for you to go first as you thank him, ushering back to the busy hallway.

If Yoongi ever felt annoyed by the sudden interruption of his lunch break, he definitely doesn't seem to be in a bad mood at all. He's very polite, showing you each floor and explains how it works there, answering your every question with friendliness and even briefly talks about himself when you ask how long he's been working here.

For some reason, you're surprised when a 'four years' as an answer resounds from his mouth, you don't even know why but it makes sense, judging how much he knows about their work ethic and other employees. He makes you chuckle couple of times, whispering about some of the older nurses, warning you to stay away from them because they're grumpy all the time. You're pleasantly surprised by his humor and thanks to him, the nerves you've been feeling the whole morning are eased up. He doesn't know it, nor you acknowledge it loudly but you're grateful for him being the one who shows you around.

When he tells you it's your time to get changed to your work attire, you can't help but feel disappointed over the fact that it's over. His presence is weirdly pleasing and nice, and you wonder if the rest of your colleagues are such nice people as him.

He leads you through the hallway which you recognize as the same where the break room is, before he stops in front of the identical door, just with the different sign next to it.

“This is the dressing room, obviously, women and men have separated rooms.” he informs you, opening the door as he lets you to walk inside first before he follows after you.

You don't expect anyone to be there, especially not a woman wearing jeans with a bra covering her breasts as she looks at the both of you. Your cheeks heat up, not at the sight of her not covered chest, but from the situation. She doesn't seem to be phased, and her smile spreads into a huge grin as she cocks her brow at Yoongi.

“If you wanted to see me naked, Yoongi, you know all you need to do is just tell me.” she speaks up, lips curving into a smirk as she pulls out a shirt out of the opened locker, putting it on.

“Well, see, I'm not here for you.” he says nonchalantly, not phased by her flirtatious attitude which makes her grin even more.

“Ah, what a shame,” she sings out, closing her locker with a loud thud as she collects her handbag. “And who's this?”

“Y/N, our new colleague.” Yoongi answers before you can even open your mouth, and somehow, you're grateful for that.

Maybe it's the way she eyes you, wiggling her brow at Yoongi which you don't miss. She's not an introvert, for sure.

“Oh, nice to meet you. I'm Mishil but you can call me Misha.” she smiles, showing you a set of her white teeth in confident and cheerful smile.

You notice the dimple in her cheek and her sharp eyeliner, wondering if you might possibly look this good after the whole shift. She's beautiful, her strawberry blonde complimenting her soft skin and even though you can't see her mascara slightly smudged under her eyes, she can still pull it off.

“It's nice meeting you.” you smile at her.

“As much as I'd love to talk to you guys, I gotta go. The whole night shift was a nightmare,” she complains, rolling her eyes in exhaustion as she makes her way to the door. “Bye, bye!” she sings out, not waiting for the two of you to react, identical to the way Namjoon did it.

“...and she's gone.” Yoongi mutters, chuckling when he sees your widened eyes.

“She's... quite something.” you comment with a similar mutter.

“Yeah, you'll get used to her, it just takes some time.” he waves off his hand, assuring you.

“She's flirty.” you voice out your thoughts, causing him to chuckle once again.

You're not sure whether you said something funny, but once he opens his mouth it causes your mouth to drop open.

“She's married.” he tells you, laughing when he sees your opened mouth and bulged out eyes.

You're mesmerized by his smile, it instantly catches your attention as the way he shows his gums and his eyes crinkle in the ends. No, no, stop! This is your colleague, you remind yourself.

Gulping, you find words to ripple out of your throat. “Her husband doesn't mind it?”

“Wife,” Yoongi says, “She has a wife.”

“Oh,” you let out, “Doesn't her wife mind it?” you ask again, chuckling at your correction as he shrugs in response.

“I think she's used to her personality,”

You're not sure if you 'd liked it if your partner would flirt with other people, most likely not.

“Love works in a weird way.” he shrugs, opening one of the drawers besides the lockers as he pulls out the same blue scrubs as the ones he's wearing.

You thank him once he hands it to you, smiling lightly. “The size should be right, if not just pull out the correct one. I'll leave you to it, I'll be waiting outside.”

“Waiting?” you ask in confusion, watching him walking towards the door.

“It looks like your first shift is with me.” he smirks, opening the door as he leaves without any other word.

You stand there for a few minutes, surprised how fast your heart beats just from the single exchange of a few words and looks. This hasn't happened for a long time, it feels almost new and never experienced. Unfortunately, you've felt this way before and it brings nothing but sadness and anger.

Looking at the fresh clothes in your hands, your smile spreads into a wide grin before you even realize.

He got the right size.

“I'm scared,” The little boy murmurs, staring with wide eyes at the needle in your hand.

His eyes averts to his mother who's standing just a few meters behind you, giving you the space to work, while her son stares at her in a hope she'll take him away before the needle can even go through his skin.

“You don't have to be,” you tell him, eyes filled with sympathy as his bottom lip trembles. “It's probably going to be a little bit uncomfortable, but you're a big guy. I'm sure you can handle it.”

You search his eyes in question, which dance between the needle in your hand and your eyes. He thinks it through, wondering what his response will be before he inhales shakily.

“I'm a big guy.” he assures you, straightening himself to prove his point.

It makes you smile, looking over your shoulder to call his mother to hold his hand. Stitches aren't comfortable, he's lucky enough to end up with only two of them instead of more. He cries out as soon as you pierce the needle through the skin of his forehead, trying to work fast but precise. It breaks your heart, even though you're helping him by sewing his wound. He whines and cries, even when you're done and he looks almost mad.

“We're done, you did so good!” you cheer him up, ruffling his curly hair as he looks up at you with a mere glare but you don't take it personally. “Now you know it's better if you listen to your mom not to run on stairs.”

His mother chuckles, ruffling his hair the same way you did as she praises him for holding still. You fish out a lollipop which you hid into the pocket of your scrubs as soon as you've heard about an emergency with a kid and bleeding forehead. Candy always helps and you just happen to carry them in your bags ever since Em was little.

The boy's eyes shine as soon as he sees the lollipop in your hands, reaching for it almost immediately as he takes it from you.

“What do you say?” His mother chimes in, caressing the dark skin of his soft skin as he mumbles a cute 'thank you'. “Thank you so much.” she turns to you, a gratitude shining in her eyes as you give her a smile in return.

When they both leave, it's just you and Yoongi in the room, who made sure you're doing your job right. Instead of breathing down your neck, he started to sanitize equipment as soon as you started to take care of the poor boy.

It's your first day working as a nurse and thanks to your colleague, it's not as stressful as you thought it would be. He seems to be very chill and laid back, yet precise and skilled. You're glad he's the one training you.

“You're good with kids.” he comments, putting the disinfection back on its place, glancing at you.

“Yeah, I have a--”

“Hey, slackers. We need you here.” Namjoon walks into the room, rushing the two of you out of it before you can even response to Yoongi.

Sighing, you both follow Namjoon who keeps telling you to hurry.

Yeah, Yoongi is definitely much more chill than Namjoon is.

Two months in and you think everyone hates you.

Maybe it's just the sixth sense inside of you, or you're completely overthinking everyone's reaction. You wouldn't expect them to understand, nor you're shocked by the glares you receive on daily basis. In other situations, you wouldn't care about it that much, even though it's uncomfortable and some part of you feels bad. But what really bothers you is none other than your colleague, one of the first people you've met on your first day and was kind enough to show you around.

From what started as a great relationship between two colleagues, turned into brief greeting where he wouldn't even meet your eyes. It affects you more than you'd like to admit, especially when you started to cook more food, just to pack it and bring it to him during your shifts together. Those sandwiches from the vending machine are unhealthy, and just as Yoongi said, there's nothing which compares to the home-cooked meal.

It became a routine, you packing him a soup and meal every time you both had shift, no matter how many times he told you, you shouldn't bother. Everything went well, after you had to run home whenever you got a call from the babysitter or school, which led to someone else taking all of your shifts.

It ended up with almost every colleague glaring at you, for not coming into the hospital and not doing your job. Little did you know, it was mostly Yoongi who ended up taking most of your shifts causing him to sport a dark bags underneath his eyes.

If you haven't been through so much, you would probably cry somewhere in the corner at the thought of everyone hating you. But you don't. However, one particular person bothers your mind more often than it should. Deciding you're over with the cold shoulder he's been giving you, you ignore everyone's stares once you walk into the break room. The chatter quiets down as soon as they notice you. Without doubt, they were talking about you behind your back but you could care less about that.

Although, one pair of particular set of eyes catches your attention in the corner of the room, munching on that distasteful sandwich. If he weren't so stubborn, declining your lunch and attempt of feeding him with a home-cooked meal, he could have eat much better food now. It was just another sign of Yoongi's friendship fading away.

Their lunch break ends as most of them just go back to work, making you stare at the floor with a frown settled on your face. Do they hate you so much?

As if Namjoon could hear your thoughts, you met his soft smile but he doesn't say anything as he walks away. You watch Yoongi tossing the plastic package into the bin as he starts to clean the mess on the table, completely ignoring you.

With a sigh, you walk up to him feeling almost awkward that you're practically standing right next to him and he doesn't even spare you a glance. Once he's done he turns around but you don't allow him to walk away, standing right in front of him with a raised brow.

“Can we talk?” you ask softly, praying he's just going to drop this act full of ignorance.

When his eyes meet yours, for the first time in weeks from such a close proximity, you hate how fast your heart starts to hummer against your ribcage. Those dark orbs glaring at you seems to soften at the pleading look you give him, and you feel some kind of weird hope before he shutters it in a second.

“I gotta work.” he murmurs, shoulder slightly bumping into yours as he tries to make a way towards the door.

You don't move, watching his back as he leaves out of the room, with a pain in your chest.

You're done.

You're done sitting around, trying to catch Yoongi's attention who somehow always manages to avoid you before you can even open your mouth.

When you see him walking through the hallway, completely oblivious to your focused gaze, staring at him as if he was your prey, you won't let him get away. Not anymore. Before he can react, or even properly meet your eyes, you're pulling him into the room which happens to be janitor's closet. It's small, but it'll do.

His stutters of confusion are ignored, as you flick the light open and stare at him.

“What the hell?” he asks, confused that you just grabbed him and pulled him into the janitor's closet.

“We need to talk.” you tell him with a persistent tone, brows furrowed in concentration.

“What? Now? You can't just pull me here--” he looks around, glancing around before he continues. “I've a lot of work to do.”

It's just another attempt of avoiding you, which makes you want to loose your mind by this man. Before he can reach towards the door, dangerously stepping closer to you, your mind works on its own and you lock it. The doorknob digs into your lower back but you don't care, you're just trying to make him stay and talk. With your back pressed against the door, he looks at you in confusion before he sighs. It's clear he has no intentions talking to you, simply staring at you with a raised brow. The same look of ignorance he's been giving you for weeks.

“What's your problem? Why are you so distant and avoiding me all of a sudden?”

He chuckles bitterly, shaking his head at you before he looks down with a cold glare. “My problem? My problem is that I've been covering your shifts, saving your ass every time you haven't had the decency to come to work and do your actual job.”

Okay, you didn't expect him to be so vocal and straight forward. His tone is cold and bitter, surprising you which is evident on your face before you frown in hurt.

“No,” he deadpans, “don't look at me like that. I'm not a bad guy in this. I'm fucking exhausted, overworking myself because of--” he stops himself, and you almost push him to finish his sentence but you just dryly gulp.

“My daughter kept getting sick, and I had to be at home with her, there's nothing I could do. Her babysitter wouldn't look after her if she's sick and she couldn't go to kindergarten either. And you know what? If I got a call from her babysitter or her kindergarten saying she's sick again, I'll drop everything and go and take care of my daughter. So hate me all you want, but I'm a mother before I'm a nurse.”

The frustration has been built inside of you for so long, that you finally snap at the one person who made your shifts always more fun and bright. He seems to be caught off guard by the new information, slowly processing it as he widens his eyes.

“You've a daughter?” he breathes out.

“Yes.” you hold yourself back from exclaiming loudly.

“You've never told me that.” he murmurs, almost expression of hurt crossing his soft features.

It's not like you kept Em as a secret, but before you could talk about your private life in more depth and how her father cowardly left you before she was even born, you barely got enough time to go back to work and talk to him. You're surprised you haven't got fired yet. You can't get fired, you've got a family you need to support and Em relies on you.

“I was going to.” you admit, looking down at your feet with a puzzled look.

Who knows what would've happened if you just told him sooner. Would he be more acceptable? Isn't he saying it right now because he's trying to put a blame on you?

You almost jump when he cups your face, holding up your head so he can stare right into your eyes with the same look you've. They're filled with apology that spark in his dark orbs, slowly caressing your cheek.

“I'm sorry,” he whispers, “I'm sorry for being so hard on you. I thought you just don't care about this job, or us.” he admits shamefully.

“It's okay.” you assure him with a soft voice, but he shakes his head in response.

“I was an asshole to you, I'm so sorry,” he says right back, still holding your face as his eyes drops down to your lips, eyeing your face. “I really want to kiss you.”

Your heart jumps, not that uncomfortable way whenever he would straight avoid you or glare at you. It's different this time and you react almost immediately.

“Then kiss me.”

Expect him to do it slow, he surprises you with his lips right on your own, not wasting a second as he starts kissing you. He deepens it, a touch of his lips full of emotions and regret and it's almost unbelievable how you can feel it just from the single kiss. Your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him closer as he hungrily kisses you, too stubborn to pull away for some oxygen. It's needy and you moan into his lips when he squeezes your ass in his palms. But you still need to pull away, lips attaching from one another but your foreheads stay leaned against each other as you both breathe heavily.

“Let me take you out.” he whispers, thumb tracing your cheekbone as he admires your make-up free face.

“A date?” you sound surprised, wondering if you've heard him right.

Is it too soon to jump with joy?

“Of course, I've been meaning to ask you since that time I saw you with that little boy, stitching him up.” he admits, causing you to giggle in shock.

“Really?”

He delivers a soft peck onto your nose, biting into his lower lip. “Uhm, you're an amazing woman. I wanna get to know you, and your daughter.”

He seems to be nervous, patiently waiting for your response but he doesn't move away from you, still wrapped in your embrace even though your frame is smaller.

He's the first man who doesn't run away knowing you've a daughter, but not just that. Yoongi is the first man who managed to make your heart flutter with the simplest acts. It's too soon to talk about him fixing your broken heart or him being the love of your life, but time with him seems nice. The thought of spending it outside of the hospital, trying to get to know him as something more makes you want to yell in excitement.

For now, you hold back your happiness and smile at him.

“I'd be more than happy to get to know you as well.” you admit, enough for him to envelope you even in a tighter hug that makes you squeak in surprise again, but you squeeze him back.

“Stop it,” you chuckle, sitting up from your bed as you watch your boyfriend trying to find his clothes that are scattered all around your room.

You thought sex would help him relax and it did, for twenty minutes that you were sucking him off and then bouncing on his cock. But now that you both reached your high, he's back to his quiet self with tensed muscles. As much as he tries to hide his nervousness and fear, he's doing an awful job with it and it's nothing than amusing to you.

“You're about to meet a four year old, not a monster that's gonna eat your head.” you joke, meeting his glare in response silently telling you he's not in the mood for joking.

“What if she doesn't like me?” he asks, setting on the edge of your bed completely naked, forgetting to find his clothes.

“She will. I told her about you so much, she's excited to meet you.” you assure him, slowly crawling to him as you hug him closer to you.

Both of your bodies are coated with sweat, and you could use a shower, but you can't let this go. He's been tensed from the moment you made plans on introducing Em to him. Of course, he wants to meet her. He was the one who kept being persistent, asking about her all the time and show him the pictures of her on your phone. The truth is, you were waiting for him to naturally set what's the right time to meet your daughter. You've been dating for the past two months, barely making any plans outside of the hospital since you've a child at home.

Your babysitter, which happens to be your neighbor, was kind enough to look after her in late nights while you went on a couple of dates with Yoongi. It's been tearing your heart apart knowing you've your little girl at home, but you still wanted to spend some time with Yoongi. It feels like the right time for them to meet.

“Now come on, let's shower before we have to pick her up,” you nudge him, kissing his cheek before you stand up. “If we're quick enough, we might have a round two.” you suggest, causing him to stand up abruptly, ushering you into your bathroom while you both start to laugh at his eagerness.

When it's the right time to pick up your daughter, Yoongi decides to stay in the car while he tries to occupy himself by playing some games on his phone. His knee bounces even when you open the door to put Em into her car seat. She notices the stranger in your car right away, her words slowly fading away as she went off about her day.

Yoongi slowly turns around, his scared eyes meeting hers as he tries his best to muster a proper smile. You've never seen him being so nervous. This must be more important to him than it's to you. You know Em is going to love him, that's why you're not worried about it too much.

“Em, this is Yoongi. You remember him? I was telling you about him.” you tell her, putting on her seat belt as she slowly nods.

“Yoongs?” she asks, her eyes looking up at you as you nod with a smile.

When you make sure everything is secured, you go and sit in the driver's seat while Yoongi looks at you. “Yoongs?” he asks confusingly.

“Yeah, she made you a nickname.” you shrug, causing him to slowly nod and for the first time, you see one honest smile lightening up his face.

“Hey, Em, I brought you something.” Yoongi says, gaining her attention right away which causes him to chuckle.

“You did?” she asks, her eyes widening as he pulls out a pony plushie, the very one she has been begging you to buy her for a few weeks now. “Pony! Yes!” she starts to bounce in her car seat, already reaching for the toy that Yoongi gladly gives her.

“What do you say, Em?” you speak up, your eyes solely on the road, although you wish you could see their exchange better.

“Thank you, Yoongs! I love you!” she almost yells, the both of you erupting in laughter as your four year old daughter keeps happily squealing for the rest of the ride.

“See? She loves you.” you tell him quietly, a huge smile stretching on your lips as Yoongi joins you, looking back at Em to admire her and her happiness.

“So, he's just your friend, right?”

You hide your smile, slowly cutting the vegetable as you hear Em letting out a frustrated sigh.

“Yes, dad!” she whines for the hundredth time, your heart tingling at the sound of the name leaving her mouth.

It's been almost a year since Yoongi officially adopted her and became her father, filled that empty spot that her heart was craving for. She wanted to have a father for so long and now she has to put up with overprotective Yoongi almost every day.

“Okay, okay. I'll be here while the two of you play.” he reminds her, causing her to groan but she doesn't say anything in response, coloring her drawings in silence.

Yoongi walks up to you, hugging you from the back while his chin is propped on your shoulder.

“She's seven years old. Don't you think it's too soon to worry about her dating life?” you tease him, giggling when he slightly bites onto your shoulder.

“I don't want someone to break her small heart. Have you seen those heart eyes whenever she talks about him? That is not just friend.” he informs you, causing you to laugh at him as he groans in annoyance at you.

You put all the vegetables into the pot and turns the stove on, as you turn to him. He takes your hand, twisting the wedding ring in his hold as he smiles down at it.

“I love you.” he tells you, your heart warming once again as if it's the first time he said it.

“I love you.” you tell him, kissing him on his small and plump lips.

You turn around, glancing at your daughter that stares at you with disgust on her face.

“See? You don't have to worry about her dating anytime soon.” you point out, causing him to roll his eyes at you before he's kissing you again, this time accompanied with your daughter's fake coughing in the background.

Indeed, love works in a weird way.

#networkbangtan #bts smut #bts fluff #bts au #bts drabble #yoongi x reader #yoongi drabble #yoongi scenario #kpop fanfic #kpop scenarios #personasintro

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beelsnack · 3 years ago

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Let's Continue This Elsewhere - Commission for mc-reborn (NSFW)

Alright, first batch of commissions is done! This one is for mc-reborn (who Tumblr isn't letting me tag for some reason) featuring their adorable MC Stiina. They wanted an NSFW continuation of the Devilgram "Buffing Up Belphie." They were amazingly patient with me because it took me 84 years to get this done, so thank you so much for commissioning me!! ^^

I'm still open for commissions, if anyone is interested! You can check out all of my info here!

-----

“...Please say it.”

Stiina could feel the roughness of the tree bark through her cardigan as Belphegor backed her against it. The demon’s hands settled next to her head, and she could faintly hear his almost-claws digging into the tree as he leaned in closer. His breath fanned out across her face, and she could smell the mint of his toothpaste combined with the chocolate she had snuck him while Beel let them take a quick break.

“...I want a kiss.” he muttered, eyes flicking down to her lips.

It wasn’t like Belphie hadn’t been obvious about what he wanted the whole time they were making their way through the forest. There had been a few times when Stiina thought he was going to pounce on her, but he waited until they were far enough into the forest that Beel wouldn’t be able to track them down. Sometimes she just needed the confirmation that she wasn’t imagining things, that Belphie wasn’t just humoring her.

He made a soft sound of surprise in the back of his throat when Stiina cupped his jaw and brought their lips together. It was chaste, and probably not what Belphie had been after. Her suspicions were confirmed when she pulled away to see the childish pout on his face.

“Hey,” he huffed. “I was going to kiss you first.”

Stiina giggled. “Sorry.”

Belphie bumped their noses together affectionately. “Fine, it’s my turn now.”

One of his hands slipped behind her head, preventing her from smacking it against the tree as he kissed her. Just like everything else about the demon, Belphie’s kisses were full of quiet intensity. It was hard to imagine the Avatar of Sloth doing anything passionately, but Stiina couldn’t think of another way to describe the way his mouth moved against hers. He kissed her like she was the air he needed to breathe.

“Mm…” he mumbled as they broke apart, licking his lips. “I’m taking the driver’s seat today...you better be ready for a wild ride.”

“You don’t usually take the initiative.” Stiina raised an eyebrow at him, but he just shrugged before leaning down to mouth at the sensitive spot where her neck and shoulder met. A shiver ran up her spine, and she could feel him smirk against her skin.

“We’ll call this a thank you for sticking with me all day,” he nosed at her jaw, urging her to tilt her neck to give him more room. “I think the only one who actually wanted to be there was Beel.”

“He did seem to be enjoying himself.”

“If it was anyone other than him I would think they were trying to torture me.”

Belphie’s hands dropped from their position on either side of her head to squeeze her waist. She squirmed, making a noise that was somewhere between uncomfortable and surprised. She knew she wasn’t exactly a supermodel, and she kept waiting for a snide comment about her weight. It wouldn’t be the first time.

“If you overthink any harder, smoke will come out of your ears.”

She jumped. “Sorry…!”

“I’ve told you already,” Belphie murmured, lips hot against her neck as he pulled her closer by the hips. “Whatever hangups those silly little humans had about your body don’t bother me in the slightest.”

He broke away from her throat to kiss her properly, and she forced herself to relax as he softly ran the tips of his nails against the dip of her hips. Old habits died hard.

“Don’t worry,” Belphie smirked, backing away just enough to speak. “You won’t be thinking of anything besides me for a while.”

Stiina pouted. “You’re not allowed to be that smooth.”

“Why not?”

“Because I can’t be, so it gives you an unfair advantage!”

He laughed softly, gently dragging the tips of his nails along the dip of her waist. “A demon taking advantage of a poor, innocent human. Tale as old as time.”

“True as it can be~”

“I’m not singing Beauty and the Beast with you.”

“Boo,” she giggled, squirming around as his hands traveled up beneath her shirt. “Knock it off, that tickles.”

“Hm, that’s not quite the sensation I’m going for.” His voice had got husky. “The shirt’s in the way.”

It took a minute for Stiina to realize what he was implying. “Whoa, whoa, wait a minute.”

“What?” Belphie wasn’t the most patient demon, so she wasn’t surprised when he got a little huffy with her. “You were all in a second ago.”

“Well, for one, we just spent the day working out with your beast of a twin, so both of us are sweaty and gross.”

“As opposed to how squeaky clean we’re going to be afterwards?”

“Belphegor!”

“Fine, fine,” he backed up to let her push herself off of the tree, but almost immediately laced their fingers together. “But we’re going to your room. I don’t want Beel bursting in.”

The hot water felt good on Stiina’s sore muscles. After the adrenaline had worn off, she felt like she had been hit by a truck. Even her hair hurt.

...And there were leaves in it. Courtesy of Belphie being an impatient bastard.

After finally detangling the last leaf from her curly brown hair, she sighed, letting her arms drop. She was going to ache for days.

She reached over to load up her wash cloth with strawberry-scented body wash and got to work. The soapy water came away brown from all of the dirt and sweat, and she grimaced. Yeah, a shower had definitely been a good idea.

Suddenly, she heard a noise. It was hard to figure out what it was over the sound of the shower. It happened again, slightly louder this time. She only realized what it was after the locked bathroom door swung open.

“Will you stop picking my locks, please?”

“I didn’t pick the lock,” Belphie’s silhouette appeared on the shower curtain. She couldn’t see, but she would bet any amount of money that he was smirking like a little shit right now. “I opened it was your student id card.”

“Still technically picking it!”

The shower curtain slid open, causing Stiina to yelp and drop her wash cloth. There stood Belphie, completely naked. And smirking, called it.

“Are we going to argue semantics right now?” he stepped into the shower behind her, closing the curtain behind him.

“Seriously, Belphie?”

“I couldn’t wait,” he hummed, sliding his arms around her waist until she was pressed against his chest. “You were taking too long.”

“I’ve only been in here for, like, five minutes.”

“You’re lucky I didn’t jump you on the way here.”

“Absolutely feral.”

She felt his grin against the back of her neck. “You love it.”

Stiina spun around in his grip. There was alway one sure-fire way to get the demon to shut up.

He moaned softly as she cupped the back of his head to bring him in for a kiss. He loosened his grip around her waist to bring his hands around to her ass. He used his grip to bring their bodies flush together, and she gasped into his mouth.

“I’m really worked up,” Belphie murmured. “Maybe it’s the adrenaline.”

“Or it could be that your totally naked girlfriend is making out with you in the shower.” Stiina shot back.

“I guess that might have something to do with it.” he laughed, dragging the knuckles of one hand down the side of her face in a surprisingly sweet gesture. “You do make me feel strange things, after all.”

“Like what?”

“Warm and fuzzy things,” his hand continued to trace itself down her body, grazing over the sensitive spot on her neck. She shivered. “Things that demons probably shouldn’t be allowed to feel.”

“Oh, now who has hang-ups - ah!”

His hand had made his way down to her breasts, long thumbnail flicking at one of her nipples. “Don’t ruin the moment.”

“Jerk.” She was smiling.

His hand continued it’s journey south, rubbing a soothing circle against the crease where her hip met thigh. Then, finally, his index finger slipped over to her entrance.

She sighed, eyes fluttering. For all of her talk, she was pretty worked up as well, and Belphie’s words made everything that much sweeter. He could be nice when he wanted to.

“Belphie…” she exhaled, looping her arms around his shoulders like they had been in the forest. Again, they met for a kiss, tongues twisting together as Belphie slid another finger inside of her. Both of them were panting, and she could feel his dick become very interested against her.

He hooked his fingers at just the right angle and she whined into his mouth. He swallowed her noises like they were a sweet drink, pressing against her clit just this shy of too hard. In a vain attempt to get him to hurry up, she rolled her hips against him.

“And you say I’m impatient?” he broke away from her mouth with a wet pop, an impish grin on his face.

“You’re insufferable, is what you are.” she panted. “Please, Belphie, come on.”

“Well, since you said please…”

He reversed their positions so she was the one pressed up against the shower wall. From this position, the ceiling light shined from behind him, giving him a halo and making him seem like the angel he used to be a few millennia ago. For a moment, she was struck by just how beautiful he was.

“You’re staring.”

“You’re pretty.”

He looked surprised, a blush dusting across the tops of his cheeks. “...hm.”

Belphie leaned down to kiss her again, softly and gently, as he lined himself up with her entrance. He was breathing heavily, and Stiina could feel his core muscles tensing and flexing as he tried to resist the urge to thrust into her with wild abandon

She internally snorted. ‘Demons can’t resist temptations,’ my ass.

Little by little, he inched his way into her until he was buried up to the hilt. Neither of them could tell what was sweat and what was water, but they were both so flushed and turned on that the steam in the bathroom very well could have been coming off of their skin.

“I’m...moving now.”

And that was all the warning she got before he pulled almost completely out and slammed in.

He set a brutal pace from the get go. Turns out that the Avatar of Sloth can be very enthusiastic during certain activities. But, there was one problem that was making itself very apparent: their height difference. Belphie was by no means the tallest of his brothers, but that still made him one of the taller people Stiina had ever met.

“...damn it…” he growled. She whimpered when he pulled out, but there was a method to his madness. He grabbed the backs of her thighs and hoisted her up, pinning her to the wall with his torso. She had no choice but to wrap her legs around his hips, and they were back in business. Looks like the workouts were paying off.

The shift in angle was exactly what they both needed, and Belphie returned to thrusting into her with vigor. “Mm...nngh…!”

“B-Belph--a-ah!” She bit her lip almost hard enough to draw blood, and he dropped his head into the crook of her neck. His hips were stuttering, and each of his breaths was ending on a little moan.

His stomach tensed, and he bit down hard into the junction between her neck and shoulder as he came. She followed not too far behind, fingernails leaving long red scratches on his shoulder blades as she sought something to anchor her. She threw her head back almost hard enough to knock herself out when it hit the wall.

For a few moments, there was nothing but the sound of their labored breaths and the shower. Eventually, the afterglow faded and Belphie pulled out, releasing Stiina’s legs. She slumped back against the wall and the two of them slid down to sit on the floor. Belphie practically melted in her lap.

“...I think you left a mark.” she finally murmured, carding her fingers through his wet hair.

“Good. Show it off.”

“Absolutely not.”

“No fun,” he smirked, before his sense of touch returned and he shivered. “The water’s gone cold.”

“Turn it off, then.”

“You do it.”

“Then get off of me.”

“Don’t wanna.”

“You are such a brat,” Stiina grumbled, just barely managing to stretch over and shut the water off. As soon as it stopped, Belphie stood from her lap.

“Really?”

“Yup.”

She sighed, letting her body rest heavily against the wall as Belphie went rooting around in her cupboards for a clean towel. “You know, I think this endurance training is paying off.”

“Yeah?”

“You never would have been able to hold me up during sex like that before.”

Belphie paused, eyes widening briefly before that familiar sly grin spread over his face.

“Guess I’ll have to keep at it then.”

#commission #obey me shall we date #obey me belphegor #obey me belphie #belphegor x mc #belphie x mc #fem!mc

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ibelieveinahappilyeverafter · 4 years ago

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BNHA - Heartsick

Author Comments: Finally! A finished commission I meant to finish some time ago! All the same, I hope you all enjoy it!

Summary: Aizawa Shouta is more than used to the aches and pains that came from being a pro hero. Even if the pain was a little worse than normal, that didn’t mean it was an emergency. He was fine. He was even sure that, if he told himself that lie enough times, it would be true. After all, he had work to do, and, well… What was the worst that could happen?

Fandom: Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia

Characters: Yamada Hizashi | Present Mic, Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead, Kayama Nemuri | Midnight

Rating: Teen Audiences

Word Count: 3,513

⁂

Check out my writing commission information here! Pledge to my Patreon to get exclusive content! Or buy me a coffee on Ko-Fi!

Read the story on AO3!

⁂

When Aizawa Shouta felt an overwhelming wave of dizziness that had his eyes fluttering shut and his teeth chomping down on his toothbrush hard enough to ache, his first thought was that he was never going to repeat his last patrol route for as long as he lived. His second thought was that if anyone complained about it, then they could deal with the damn patrol route that managed to hold every seedy bar in Japan.

Shouta was used to rougher patrols considering he was an underground hero, but there was a difference between a rough patrol and searching every single bar for a ‘suspicious bar tender.’ Especially so, he figured, when every bar on his route had suspicious bar tenders.

Between all of his running around and then talking with his agency once he had found who he was looking for, he hadn’t been able to get back to his room until seven minutes before his alarm had gone off. The temptation to grab his sleeping bag and crawl into a corner to sleep for a couple of years was overwhelming, but he could already hear his students waking up and arguing through the dorm walls.

The walls were sturdy and well-built, but Shouta could hear Bakugou screaming his typical, “If you wanted breakfast then you should have woken up earlier you shitty extras!”

Spitting out his toothbrush and ignoring the mild chest pain that probably came from some new forming bruise, Shouta rushed to grab his bag and binding cloth. If Bakugou was yelling at his friends for begging for breakfast, then that meant class would start in just over half an hour. That gave Shouta just enough time to grab a cup of coffee, stop by the teacher’s lounge to grab a stack of already graded papers, and, if he was lucky, get just a couple of minutes of sleep in.

Just another day at U.A., Shouta mused to himself, almost annoyed at the familiar mix of exasperation and fondness each morning he got ready to teach. If he were to talk to one of his friends or coworkers about it, then they would no doubt tell him that it was where he was fond of his class. Shouta was more willing to believe he had finally succumbed to some form of Stockholm syndrome.

“Is that my nail polish?!” Ah, that would be Ashido yelling at either Hagakure or Kaminari. “I’m going to kill you, you little electric rat!” Kaminari, then, especially going by Bakugou’s loud laughter.

“Run, Pikachu, run!” Honestly, his kids were going to be the end of- Well. It was either going to be him, U.A., all of villain society, or a combination of the three. Shouta had his money placed on the last option.

Shaking his head and doubling back to his room to get dressed in a clean jumpsuit, a wave of vertigo that shot through his head had Shouta stumbling to catch his balance with a breathless, “What…” As the mild pain in his chest shot up to something heavy and electric, Shouta quickly leaned himself up against the wall before taking a few slow, deep breaths.

The pain was slow to abate, but his focused breathing did what it needed to, Shouta nodding to himself before continuing back to his room to get dressed. He was used to sleep deprivation causing some nasty side-effects, but they were never typically that bad. It was more likely that he had somehow gained an injury that had slipped by both his and his Agency’s notice.

He had thought about visiting Recovery Girl after the day’s classes, just to be safe, but with that amount of pain… he might be better going to speak with her on his lunch break. If he was lucky it was nothing more than a bruised or possibly cracked rib. He didn’t exactly have the time or energy to deal with anything worse, but knowing how his luck often went…

“Sensei!” Loud knocking on the door to his rooms followed the shout before Shouta could answer the call. “Ashido’s trying to melt Kaminari’s face off and Bakugou is cheering her on!” And that, Shouta thought to himself, was why he didn’t have time to be dealing with anything worse than a minor injury.

Taking only the briefest of moments to throw a clean jumpsuit on and slip into his boots, Shouta left his rooms and headed for the common room. He was immediately trailed by Uraraka and Midoriya, the three of them walking onto a scene from what Shouta was sure was one of his nightmares.

Activating his quirk and fighting off a stab of pain that shot through his temples and down into his jaw, Shouta snapped out a sharp, “Enough.” As soon as they all fell silent, which gratifyingly only took a dozen or so seconds, Shouta dropped his quirk and looked at each of the offenders in turn.

“Ashido. If you’re going to kill a student, then do it without notifying the entire campus. Kaminari, don’t steal from the girls. You won’t win and next time I’ll give you detention. Bakugou.” Shouta paused, eyeing the explosive brat, who was staring back evenly, before nodding. “Good job on not joining in with your quirk.”

“Wha- How come I’m the only one you threatened?!” Ignoring the yelling and laughter, Shouta sighed and turned to leave. “This is gross injustice, Sensei! Where are my rights?!”

“You’re a student,” Shouta called back dryly. “You don’t have any.” Rolling his eyes at the burst of laughter from all of the brats who were there, Shouta paused when he saw Midoriya watching him with a frown. Lowering his voice, and trying not to let his headache make him sound too snappish, Shouta managed a quiet, “What’s wrong, Midoriya?”

“Ah-! No, it’s nothing, just…” Midoriya trailed off, biting his lip nervously before lowering his voice to the point that Shouta could barely hear a word he said. “Are you alright, Sensei? You seem…” He didn’t finish, but it was clear enough what he was asking.

Shouta took a moment to make peace with the fact that if one of his students noticed something was wrong with him, then his friends were going to notice in a heartbeat. As it was, he gave a single pat to Midoriya’s head, along with a soft, “It’s my job to worry about you brats, not for you to worry about me. I’m fine.” Midoriya, the kid with far too big a heart, didn’t look relieved. Shouta resisted the urge to groan and instead added on a soft, “I’ll be seeing Recovery Girl on my lunch.”

That was enough for the kid to at least perk up, giving him a nod before he was letting himself be dragged into whatever warzone the kids were creating with Shouta’s back turned. Shouta watched them for half a moment, gritting his teeth at another starburst of pain before he was sighing and moving to leave the dorms.

While the pain was annoying, he was relatively sure he’d survive a few more hours. Besides, a bruised chest and a headache was the least of his worries with a class like 1-A to teach.

⁂

“Shouta.” Fighting off the urge to point out that Nemuri still whined his name out like they were first years themselves, Shouta dragged his gaze to where his colleague/self-proclaimed friend was glaring at him. “Have you been listening to a single word I’ve said?”

“Of course,” Shouta lied through his teeth, absently rubbing at his temple as he glared down at Bakugou’s paper for Hero Ethics. It was frustratingly perfect, as usual, and devoid of any swearing. Even after almost a year of grading the boy’s work it was still jarring. “And it’s nothing I care about. I’m also busy, but I don’t expect you to understand what that means since you never seem to be yourself.”

Nemuri whined, loud and annoying and utterly fake, “Shouta, you’re so mean to your best friend! What happened to that close friendship we had when we were students here, hm? We were so close!”

“We were close because you refused to leave me alone no matter how much I yelled at you and I can nullify your quirk before you put me to sleep,” Shouta drawled, glancing up at Nemuri and then the empty staff lounge before letting himself smirk for just a moment. “And Hizashi’s my best friend, not you.”

This time the gasp was genuine, Nemuri looking delighted and offended all at once, “Oh, you just wait until I tell him you said that-!”

“Sure.” Shouta made sure to look Nemuri dead in the eyes. “That’s if he believed you. After all, that doesn’t much sound like something I would say, does it?”

At the ensuing silence, Shouta smirked, returning to grading papers. It was always so nice to win against annoyances like Nemuri and Hizashi. Although, he could do without the sharp stabs of pain that spread from his temple, down into his jaw, and echoed the pain that shot up through his right arm.

“That’s what I was talking about, Shouta.” It was only Nemuri’s voice, soft and genuinely worried, that had Shouta relenting enough to give her his attention. “You’ve been wincing more than when you were wearing multiple casts. You also keep grabbing at your chest. Did you injure a rib or anything?”

“I- What?” Shouta frowned, leaning back in his seat and glancing down at himself. He… hadn’t been aware he was even touching his chest. If Nemuri had noticed, though, then he had to have done it multiple times. “No. I was cleared after patrol after a check over by someone at my agency.”

“And they didn’t notice anything?” Nemuri asked, the frown getting deeper when Shouta felt sharp jolts of pain again. He supposed he was out of breath whenever he felt pain, which might explain the reflexive motion of pressing his hand against his chest; that sharp, desperate attempt to grab for more air. “Shouta-”

“It’s fine,” Shouta sighed, not willing to deal with Nemuri’s crusade of mothering him when he would be taking care of it himself later. “I’ll check in with Recovery Girl on my lunch break. I can last a couple of hours until then.” Homeroom had gone fine, after all, and the kids’ first lesson of the day was almost done. “I have a class to get to, anyways.”

“If you’re sure,” Nemuri sighed and turned away to look at something on her own desk, Shouta extremely thankful since that meant she didn’t notice his sharp inhale as it felt like, for a moment, he couldn’t breathe. “Don’t think I won’t still tell Hizashi what you said, though!”

Shouta was vaguely aware he mumbled something to her but didn’t much care what as he took the chance to leave the room. As soon as he was in the hallway, still empty as everyone attended to their classes, Shouta took the chance to feel along his sides for any broken or damaged ribs.

Headaches were one thing — he was always feeling headaches. Pain in his arm, too, wasn’t so out of the ordinary considering his long history of breaks in fractures in his arms. Being unable to breathe, however? He had never had problems with that when there had been nothing to cause it. He hadn’t even had any hits or anything so much as a touch to his chest or ribs on his last patrol.

His search, too, turned up nothing, everything feeling fine and perfectly like it should. He was still exhausted, of course, but there was no physical damage to him. His breathing, too, had started to even out now that Shouta was conscious and being careful to take slow, even breaths.

Unease prickling at the back of his mind, Shouta bit the inside of his cheek before shuffling his books and papers and heading towards his class. He only had to wait until lunch, after all, and then he could be checked over by a professional. Besides, a couple of aches and pains and a little trouble catching his breath didn’t mean anything dangerous. He was no doubt simply… tired.

That didn’t explain why the pain kept getting worse, though.

If it remained at a low, constant level then that would have been easy to pass off. Shouta could barely remember a day when he wasn’t in some type of pain, after all.

Having his pain escalate from aches to sharp, lightning strikes of pain that were accompanied by nausea and dizziness, however, wasn’t something easy to pass off. His breathing, as well, had only been getting worse — to the point where multiple of his kids and even All Might had started to notice something was off.

“Aizawa-san, are you certain you’re alright?” Yagi, the former number one hero who half the world over feared, was fluttering around him like a mother hen and acting worse than Nemuri and Hizashi ever could. “Have you been ignoring injuries again?”

“I don’t want to even start to hear that from you,” Shouta managed to reply with a relatively even tone. Apparently, indignation helped with making it seem like he was okay. Yagi, at least, had the shame and decency to flush. “I’m fine. Just a bad day.”

“I see…” Yagi trailed off, studying him with that calculating expression that proved his former title hadn’t been for nothing. “Have you seen-”

“Not. Yet.” Honestly, Shouta worked with children. They couldn’t go running off to Recovery Girl for every scrape and bruise. “I don’t have the time when there are other things that need doing, but if it’ll keep you from butting into my life, I have plans to see her at lunch.” Which might be turning into a lie, Shouta mused.

He had planned to use his lunch to visit Recovery Girl, but it was possible he would need to use it to catch up on the endless work that plagued his life. While he had managed to finish grading all the current papers for his classes, he still needed to put their grades into the system. And that was to say nothing for all the reports he needed to complete for his agency and the police. He still had half a dozen active files to work on and twice as many closed cases with loose ends to tie up. He also desperately needed a nap.

Just the thought of how much he had left to do was making his head swim — although he was sure trying to keep an eye on Uraraka and Sero’s mid-air battle wasn’t helping. He was proud of how far the kids had come in their physical training, especially during sparring sessions, but watching Uraraka and Sero fight always ended up with him feeling mildly nauseous.

“I could watch the students for the rest of this lesson if you want to go by and see her now.” Yagi, ever the annoyance, continued to pry. Shouta would have found it almost nice if he hadn’t found it so annoying. “Save your lunch break for actually eating?”

Shouta ducked his head down into his capture weapon, not sure if he was hiding a scowl or a smile as he snorted, “Yeah? Tell me, All Might, how’s that glass house you live in?” Ah, it was always so fun to see Yagi’s annoyed, sulking look instead of ‘All Might.’ “You know as well as I do the physical pain that comes from being a pro. This is nothing new.”

“You’re shaking.” At the stern voice, Shouta paused and focused on his body because, well… he was shaking. “I know you push yourself, Aizawa-san, but you also know your limits. This isn’t normal. You’re-”

“Fine. I’m fine,” Shouta stressed, hiding a wince as he felt a stab of pain spiral from his temple, down across his jaw, and into his neck. It hurt, but more than that it felt like he couldn’t fucking breathe.

“Aizawa-” Whatever Yagi was attempting to say was suddenly and abruptly drowned out by a dull roar of sound, Shouta sucking in a breath through his teeth that felt like it did nothing as every part of his body suddenly stopped.

The dull roar grew louder before disappearing as fast as it had come, replaced by a high-pitched whistling sound that almost — almost — drowned out the shouts and screams of his kids as they swarmed around him. It took far too long for Shouta to realize he was on the floor of the gym they had been working in, unable to figure out how he had gone from standing to lying on his back with his lungs feeling like they weren’t working.

Fuck, he should’ve gone to Recovery Girl. No doubt he had been hit by some sort of quirk on his patrol without his knowledge — or, possibly even worse, a slow-acting poison that he hadn’t been aware of. God, it had been too long since he had dealt with anything like poison and it fucking hurt, and it wasn’t helping that all of his kids were panicking and worried and-

“Out of my way!” And brilliant. His kids were brilliant because they had no doubt kidnapped Recovery Girl and dragged her all the way there while, undoubtedly, screaming about how Shouta was dying.

The whistling in his ears began to fade out, taking his hearing along with it as he fought to suck in breaths that were doing next-to-nothing. He felt small, cool hands against his neck, and then heard a sharp swear in a familiar voice followed by the muffled words of, “-going into cardiac arrest-!’ and…

⁂

Groaning softly, Shouta forced his eyes to open, blurred vision slowly focusing on a ceiling that was more familiar than he would have liked. The infirmary of U.A. was a place he knew all too well and, considering he last remembered collapsing in the gym and felt like he had been hit by a train, he was no doubt about to be yelled at by Recovery Girl herself. Maybe if he pretended as if he was still unconscious…

An amused giggle interrupted his thoughts, followed by a quiet, “No worries about pretending to be asleep or whatever you were plotting. RG had to go deal with one of Power Loader’s classes. You know how the support kids are.”

“Annoyances from hell and not my problem,” Shouta responded, making a face at the dry rasp of his voice. A hand was holding a spoonful of ice chips out for him, Shouta opening his mouth gratefully as Hizashi gave him a tired smile.

“You know, when I joked about those kids of yours giving you heart problems, this isn’t what I meant.” It took a few seconds for Shouta to parse through the words, remembering how he had collapsed and been unable to breath and Recovery Girl’s words of cardiac arrest.

Shouta took a few seconds to mull over his response, glancing from Hizashi to Nemuri, who was on the other side of his bed and tucked up in a chair with an expression torn between relief and worry. She looked a few seconds away from scolding him, so Shouta made sure to speak up first.

“So.” Shouta looked between the two, unable to stop his lips from twitching, “I had a heart attack.” Nemuri must have noticed his grin because she immediately puffed up.

“Shouta. This isn’t something to joke about! You just had a heart attack from too much stress!” Biting his lip to stop a smile that Nemuri would only yell at him for, Shouta watched as she puffed herself up even more. She really did know him too well. “Shouta!”

“Sorry,” Shouta managed, a laugh slipping out even as he tried to stop it. “It’s just- Well…” Shouta shook his head, unable to help but find the amusement because, “Leave it to me to have a heart attack before my hair even turns gray.”

His friends were absolutely quiet, Nemuri finally slumping back down in her chair with a muttered, “Your kids will probably be to blame for that, too.”

On his other side, Hizashi tugged on Shouta’s blanket before nodding his head towards the doorway. It wasn’t hard to spot the eavesdropping students that were practically radiating worry. “Blew off all their afternoon classes to stay here,” Hizashi explained quietly, soft smile on his face. “Couldn’t stand the thought of something happening to their favorite teacher.”

“Hm,” Shouta hummed, closing his eyes and settling back down, breathing out slowly at the ache in his chest. “I should expel them for that.”

Immediately Nemuri and Hizashi were laughing and half of his kids were yelling and complaining from where they were ‘hiding.’ It was a chaotic mess of noise and sound and people yelling at others to shut up and it was an absolute headache.

Shouta could have done without having to go through the heart attack first, but, well… the moment he was in wasn’t such a bad one, in the end.

#bnha #boku no hero academia #aizawa shouta #eraserhead #mha #my hero academia #heart attack #my writing #original

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