#its just frustrating. i wish he was willing to do more

[erzvolnes]

doctor thinks i have hypothyroidism which would make sense (my mum has it and my brother had it) and it would explain some of my symptoms (the tiredness/depression, dry/painful skin, poor appetite, cold sensitivity and joint pain) but typically it doesn't cause the stomach pain & sickness i'm getting.

he's More worried now abt my continued weight loss since hypothyroidism typically causes weight gain, but still can't give me any advice or resources on being able to actually Eat.

They're super understaffed so it takes a long time to get any appointments, which i know isn't his fault, but I wish he could do Something or book Other types of tests while I wait on the blood tests.

i'm just worried that he's going to focus on This and not keep testing for other things that could be causing me to be unwell, esp since every test i book takes Weeks to happen. ik this needs to be fixed but. can we. also check for other things please

[the-winter-spider]

I miss you, I'm sorry

Bucky x Reader AU

Word Count: 10k+

Warnings: Toxic, angst, smut

A/N: I love Gracie, and was like fuck it gonna toss something together based off my fav songs by her

The air feels heavy, even though the room is quiet. You sit cross-legged on your bed, your phone resting beside you, the screen dim and blank. The minutes bleed into each other, but you can’t stop glancing at the clock, as if willing it to rewind to before it all.

It’s been three days. Three days of no texts, no calls, no nothing. That’s how it always goes with Bucky. He’s there, and then he’s not. And every time, you tell yourself it’ll be the last time you wait for him to come back.

It never is.

You hate him for how easy it is to disappear. You hate yourself more for letting him.

The phone rings.

The sharp sound cuts through the haze of your thoughts, and for a moment, your heart skips. You snatch the phone up, seeing his name flash across the screen. The sight of it sends a rush of relief, anger, and something softer, something stupidly hopeful, all at once.

You answer, but don’t say anything.

“Hey.” His voice is quiet, gravelly. Tired.

You swallow the lump in your throat. “Hey.”

The silence stretches, brittle and uncomfortable. You can hear him breathing on the other end, steady and soft. It reminds you of the way his breath felt against your skin the last time he stayed over, the last time he let himself get too close before pulling away again.

“I shouldn’t have called,” he mutters finally, his voice tight. “I just… couldn’t sleep.”

You close your eyes. There it is again, the push and pull. The way he says he shouldn’t but always does. The way he drags you back into his orbit every time, knowing you’ll stay.

“What do you want, Bucky?” you ask, keeping your voice steady. It’s a question you’ve asked a hundred times, and you already know the answer.

He exhales sharply, like he’s frustrated—at you, at himself, you’re not sure. “I don’t know.” Another pause. “You were right, okay? About everything. I just…” His voice trails off, and you can picture him sitting on the edge of his bed, rubbing the back of his neck the way he always does when he’s trying to find the words. “I hate this.”

“Hate what?” you snap, the simmering frustration bubbling to the surface. “Hate that you always come back? Or hate that you can’t figure out what the hell you want?”

He doesn’t answer. He never does when you call him out like this.

The silence makes your chest ache. You shake your head, even though he can’t see you. “You can’t keep doing this, Bucky. You can’t keep pulling me back just to push me away again. It’s not fair.”

“I know,” he whispers. And he sounds so broken, so genuine, that it cracks something inside you. It always does.

You take a shaky breath. “Then why do you do it?”

“I don’t know,” he says again. His voice is quieter now, softer, like he’s afraid of breaking you more than he already has. “Because you’re the only thing that feels real. And I don’t know how to hold onto it without screwing it up.”

Your throat tightens. You wish you didn’t understand. But you do. He’s always been good at giving you just enough to stay, but never enough to feel whole. “Its not enough Buck”

“I know,” he says, his voice breaking slightly. “But it’s all I’ve got, you're all i truly have."

You sighed running your head through your hair “Do you wanna come over?”

“I’m already on my way”

You don't have to wait long. The sound of his motorcycle pulling up to your place makes your stomach do a little flip, even though you're still mad at him. You hear his heavy boots on the stairs, and then a soft knock at your door.

You take a deep breath before opening it. He's standing there, his hair tousled from the ride, his face tight and tired. He looks at you, and for a moment, it's like all the walls come down. He reaches out, cupping your face with his hand, his thumb brushing over your cheekbone.

"I'm sorry," he says, his voice rough. "I'm so fucking sorry."

And just like that, you melt. You lean into his touch, your eyes fluttering closed. His other hand comes up to wrap around your waist, pulling you close. He smells like leather and cigarettes and something uniquely him.

"I missed you," he murmurs, pressing his forehead to yours. "I hate not seeing you."

"I hate it too," you whisper back. "But you can't keep doing this, Bucky. You can't keep hurting me."

He makes a soft, broken sound. "I know. I'm trying, okay? I'm really trying."

The door closes softly behind them, the click of the lock echoing in the charged silence. Bucky's hand is still cupping your face, his thumb tracing the curve of your cheekbone. You lean into his touch, your eyes fluttering closed as you breathe him in. He smells like leather and smoke, like home and danger all rolled into one.

You press yourself against him, feeling the hard planes of his body through his clothes. He's solid and warm and real, and it's been too long since you've felt him like this. His hands slide down to your waist, pulling you flush against him as he claims your mouth in a hungry kiss.

You moan into it, your fingers tangling in his hair. He kisses like your fights- fierce and intense, like he's trying to claim every inch of you. You kiss back just as fiercely, your tongue sliding against his as you lose yourself in the feel of him.

He walks you backwards towards the bed, his hands roaming your body as he goes. He breaks the kiss only to yank your shirt over your head, tossing it aside carelessly. His mouth is back on yours before you can even blink, his hands cupping your breasts through your bra.

You arch into his touch, your nipples hardening under his palms. He groans low in his throat, his hips pressing forward to grind against yours. You can feel his hardness through his jeans, and it makes you ache with need.

He breaks the kiss again, trailing his lips down your neck as his hands work to unclasp your bra. It falls to the floor, joining the growing pile of clothes. He takes a moment to look at you, his eyes dark with desire as they rake over your naked breasts.

"Fuck, you're beautiful," he murmurs, his hands cupping the soft mounds. You gasp as his thumbs brush over your nipples, sending sparks of pleasure shooting through you.

He leans down, taking one of the hardened peaks into his mouth. You cry out, your fingers tangling in his hair as he sucks and licks and nibbles. Your hips buck against his, seeking friction, and he groans around your nipple, the vibrations making you shiver.

He gives the other breast the same attention, lavishing it with kisses and bites until you're writhing beneath him. Only then does he move lower, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses along your stomach as he kneels before you.

His hands hook in the waistband of your jeans, tugging them down along with your panties. You step out of them, kicking them aside as he looks up at you from his knees. The sight of him there, kneeling before you like you're a goddess to be worshipped, makes your knees weak.

"Bucky," you breathe, and it's half plea, half prayer.

He grins up at you, a devilish glint in his eyes. "Patience, baby. I'm going to take my time with you."

And then his mouth is on you, his tongue delving between your folds to taste you. You cry out, your head falling back as pleasure crashes over you. He licks and sucks and teases, his hands gripping your hips to hold you in place as he devours you.

Your fingers tangle in his hair, holding him to you as he drives you closer and closer to the edge. Just when you think you can't take anymore, he pulls back, leaving you gasping and empty.

"Bucky, please," you whimper, and he chuckles darkly.

"Please what, baby? Tell me what you want."

"I want you," you pant, looking down at him with desperation in your eyes. "I want you inside me."

He stands up, pulling you flush against him as he captures your mouth in a searing kiss. You can taste yourself on his lips, and it makes you even more aroused. His hands grip your ass, kneading the flesh as he grinds his hardness against your bare core.

"Bed," he growls against your lips, and you nod frantically, tugging him towards the mattress.

You tumble onto the bed together, a tangle of limbs and desire. He breaks the kiss to sit up, yanking his shirt over his head and tossing it aside. You take a moment to admire the hard planes of his chest, the scars that crisscross his skin like a roadmap of his past.

He crawls back over you, his hips settling between your thighs as he reaches for his belt. You watch, transfixed, as he unbuckles it and shoves his jeans and boxers down, freeing him.

He settles back over you, his head brushing against your entrance. You shudder at the contact, your hips lifting to try and draw him in.

"Tell me you want this," he whispers, his voice rough with need. "Tell me you want me."

"I want you," you breathe, wrapping your legs around his waist. "I want all of you."

And with that, he thrusts into you, burying himself to the hilt in one smooth motion. You cry out at the sudden fullness, your nails digging into his shoulders as you adjust to the stretch.

He pauses for a moment, letting you get used to him. Then he starts to move, pulling out slowly before slamming back in. You meet him thrust for thrust, your hips rising to take him deeper.

The bed creaks beneath you as he sets a relentless pace, driving into you again and again. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, mingling with your moans and his grunts of pleasure.

"Fuck, you feel so good," he groans, burying his face in your neck. "So perfect."

You clench around him in response, and he curses, his hips snapping forward harder.

"I'm gonna come," you gasp, your body tensing beneath him. "Bucky, I'm gonna-"

But he cuts off your words with a kiss, swallowing your cries of pleasure as you come undone beneath him. Your body spasms around him, milking him as he follows you over the edge with a hoarse shout of your name.

He collapses on top of you, both of you gasping for breath as the aftershocks of your orgasms roll through you. He presses soft kisses to your neck, your jawline, your lips as you bask in the afterglow.

"I love you," he murmurs against your skin, and you hope it's just not the sex talking.

Later that week, you’re sitting at a bar with Natasha. She watches you nurse your drink, her sharp green eyes narrowing as you tell her what happened.

“He called,” you say, staring down at the condensation on your glass. “And like an idiot, I picked up, and he came over, we had sex and he was gone in the morning”

Natasha doesn’t say anything at first. She just leans back, crossing her arms. “What do you want me to say?” she asks finally. “That he’s going to change? That this time will be different?”

You shake your head. “No. I just…” You trail off, struggling to put the feeling into words. “I just wish I didn’t miss him so much. I wish I could stop.”

She sighs, leaning forward. “Listen to me,” she says, her voice soft but firm. “He’s not going to fix this. You know that, right? He’s not going to wake up one day and suddenly figure out how to love you the way you deserve. That’s not who he is, you have to know that babe…"

“I know,” you whisper. But the ache in your chest doesn’t go away.

Natasha exhales deeply, tilting her head as if trying to decide whether to push further. Finally, she sets her drink down and leans across the table, her voice quieter but no less serious. “So, what’s the plan? You gonna keep answering when he calls? Keep letting him come over, screw you and your head, and leave like nothing happened?”

You don’t answer, just trace the edge of your glass with your finger. The truth is, you don’t have a plan. You’re not even sure you want one. “He said he loves me, he's never said that before”

Natasha leans back in her chair, crossing her arms as she studies you. Her sharp green eyes narrow slightly, but there’s no satisfaction in her expression. She doesn’t look impressed, doesn’t look relieved, like you’d hoped she might. Instead, her face softens, just slightly, in that way that means she’s about to say something you don’t want to hear.

“Okay,” she says slowly, her voice calm but pointed. “And what does that change?”

Her question hits like a bucket of cold water, and you blink at her, your fingers freezing mid-trace on the rim of your glass. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, so what?” Natasha continues, leaning forward now, her elbows on the table. “He said the words. Great. But what does that actually mean to you? Did it make you feel better? Did it fix anything?”

You open your mouth to reply, but no words come out. The truth sits heavy in your chest.

“It’s not enough just to say it,” Natasha presses, her tone still steady but with an edge of frustration. “Love isn’t just words. It’s showing up. It’s consistency. It’s choosing someone, not just when it’s convenient, but every single day. Did he do that? Or did he just say what you’ve been waiting to hear and then disappear again?”

The ache in your chest tightens, and you look down, your fingers clutching the glass like it might hold the answers you’re searching for. “He—he’s trying,” you say weakly, but even you don’t sound convinced.

Natasha lets out a breath, her voice softening again. “Babe… I know you want to believe him. I know you love him. But this?” She gestures vaguely, as if to encompass all of it—your tears, the late-night calls, the endless cycle. “This isn’t what love is supposed to feel like. Love doesn’t leave you questioning your worth every time the sun comes up.”

The words settle over you like a weight, and you swallow hard, blinking back the tears that threaten to spill. You don’t want her to see you cry. Not here. Not like this.

“Nat…” you start, your voice barely above a whisper. But she shakes her head, her expression soft but unyielding.

“I’m not saying this to hurt you,” she says gently. “I just… I want you to be happy. And you’re not happy right now. You haven’t been for a long time.”

Before you can respond, the stool next to her screeches, and Sam slides into it, his energy a stark contrast to the heavy atmosphere between you and Nat. He plunks his beer on the table and gives you a once-over.

“Well, you look like someone stole your puppy,” he says, his tone light but his eyes sharp.

Natasha shoots him a look. “Not the time, Sam.”

“I’m just saying,” he replies, leaning back and gesturing to you. “She’s been sitting here all night, looking like a sad indie song, and you’re just gonna let her wallow?”

You glare at him, the frustration bubbling to the surface. “Do you have something to say, or are you just here to make jokes?”

“Both,” Sam says, taking a sip of his beer before setting it down. “Look, I love you, but this thing with Bucky? It’s killing you, and everyone can see it. Hell, you can see it, but you’re still pretending like it’s gonna work itself out.”

“Sam,” Natasha warns, but he holds up a hand.

“No, let me finish,” he says, his voice more serious now. “I’ve been where you are, okay? Hanging onto something that’s breaking you because you’re scared to let it go. But you know what happens if you keep holding on?” He pauses, meeting your eyes. “You lose yourself. And I don’t want that for you.”

His words hit harder than you expect, and for a moment, all you can do is sit there, blinking back the tears threatening to spill.

“I don’t know how to let him go,” you admit finally, your voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t even know who I am without him.”

Sam leans forward, resting his elbows on the table. “Then it’s time to figure that out. Because you deserve better than waiting around for someone who doesn’t see how amazing you are—not someone who only comes around when it’s convenient for him.”

After Sam and Natasha head home, you find yourself walking through the quiet streets, your hands shoved into your coat pockets. The city hums around you, but you feel untethered, like you’re floating between who you are and who you want to be.

Before you realize it, your feet take you to Bucky’s building. You stop at the corner, staring up at the windows. The lights in his apartment are off, but you know he’s there. He’s always there.

Your phone buzzes in your pocket. You pull it out, your heart sinking when you see his name.

Bucky: You up?

The message is simple, familiar, and infuriatingly tempting. Your thumb hovers over the screen.

You: Yes, just leaving the bar.

Bucky: Ill see you in 20.

You see his light flick on.

You: Okay.

You’re sitting in your apartment with Steve. He’d shown up unexpectedly, a bag of bagels in one hand and a concerned look on his face. Now, he’s watching you carefully as you pick at your food, the silence between you growing heavier by the minute.

“I heard about last night,” he says eventually, breaking the stillness.

You glance up, narrowing your eyes. “Natasha?”

“Sam,” he admits with a small smile, but his expression stays serious. “He’s worried about you. We all are.”

You sigh, leaning back against the couch. “I’m fine, Steve.”

“You’re not fine,” he says gently, setting his coffee down on the table. “And it’s okay to not be fine. But you need to stop punishing yourself for wanting more than what Bucky can give you.”

Your chest tightens, and you look away, your voice barely audible. “He’s not a bad person, Steve. He’s just… broken.”

“I know he is,” Steve says softly, his tone patient but firm. “And I know he cares about you, even if he’s too scared to show it. But that doesn’t mean you have to keep hurting yourself to save him.”

You open your mouth to respond, but the words get stuck in your throat. Instead, you ask the question that’s been clawing at you for days. “Is he seeing anyone else?”

Steve freezes mid-bite, his jaw tightening. “Yes.”

You nod slowly, your hands trembling as you set your plate down on the coffee table. “Are they�� are they having sex?”

Steve’s shoulders sag slightly, and he shakes his head. “No.”

The relief you feel is fleeting, quickly replaced by another ache—something deeper, sharper. “He told me he loves me, y’know,” you whisper, your voice cracking.

That makes Steve freeze completely. He sets his bagel down, staring at you with wide, startled eyes. “He said that?”

You nod, the words pouring out of you now, unfiltered and raw. “He’s never said it before. And I didn’t know what to do. Because it felt… real. For a second, it felt like maybe this time was different. But then he was gone the next morning, like always.”

Steve leans back in his chair, his brow furrowed, like he’s trying to process what you’ve just said. “Did he mean it?” he asks finally, his voice cautious.

You let out a bitter laugh, wiping at your eyes. “I don’t know, Steve. Does it matter? He says one thing, but everything else he does just…” You trail off, shaking your head.

“It matters,” Steve says firmly, leaning forward. “If he loves you, that’s something. But love isn’t enough if he can’t show it, if he can’t make you feel it.” Steve is quiet for a long moment, his expression pained. “You deserve more than that,” he says finally. “You deserve someone who’s not afraid to fight for you. Someone who doesn’t make you feel like you’re asking for too much just by being yourself.”

-----------

The music is loud, pulsing through the crowded bar in a steady rhythm that matches the pounding in your chest. You're friends are off dancing their cares away, while you sit at a small table near the corner, nursing your drink, half-hidden in the dim lighting. The condensation from the glass drips onto your hand, but you barely notice.

Your eyes keep drifting to him.

Bucky is across the room, his arm slung casually around another woman’s shoulders. She’s laughing, tilting her head toward him like he’s just told her the funniest joke in the world. He looks… relaxed. At ease in a way you haven’t seen in a long time, and it’s like someone’s taken a knife to your chest, twisting it deeper with every passing second.

You force yourself to look away, staring into the amber liquid in your glass like it holds answers to questions you’re too scared to ask. But it doesn’t work. Your gaze flickers back to him, almost involuntarily.

They’re dancing now, swaying to a song you don’t recognize. His hand rests lightly on her hip, his fingers brushing against the fabric of her dress in a way that feels too intimate, too familiar.

And then he kisses her.

Not on the lips, but on her head, his lips lingering against her hair as she leans into him. It’s tender, effortless, the kind of gesture that feels natural, like it belongs to someone who knows how to love without hesitation.

Your chest tightens, and you swallow the lump forming in your throat, forcing yourself to take another sip of your drink. The bitterness burns your tongue, but it’s nothing compared to the ache spreading through you.

You tell yourself you don’t care. That this doesn’t matter. That he’s made his choice, and it isn’t you.

But the truth is, it matters too much.

You drain the rest of your drink, the cold liquid going down in one sharp swallow. You set the glass down harder than you mean to, the dull thud lost in the noise of the bar.

You glance over at him one last time, just to confirm what you already know. He’s still there, his attention focused on her.

But then his eyes shift.

He sees you.

For a split second, your gazes lock across the room, and the weight of his stare pins you in place. His hand pauses on her back, and something flickers in his expression—guilt, maybe, or regret.

You can’t tell, and you’re not sure you want to.

The heat of his gaze follows you as you stand, slipping your bag over your shoulder and making your way toward the door. The noise of the bar fades into the background as you weave through the crowd, your footsteps quick and purposeful.

You don’t look back, but you can feel him watching you, his eyes lingering like a phantom touch that burns even after you’re gone.

The cold night air hits your face as you step outside, and you inhale deeply, trying to push the ache in your chest away.

But it stays. It always stays.

That night, you’re curled up on your couch, a blanket wrapped around you as the city lights flicker through the window. Your phone sits on the coffee table, dark and silent.

Until it’s not.

The screen lights up, and Bucky’s name appears. The voicemail notification lingers like a ghost, and your hand trembles as you reach for it.

You press play, his voice cracking through the silence.

“I know I’ve screwed this up. I know I don’t deserve another chance. But I miss you, and I don’t know how to do this without you. Please… just call me, I’m sorry”

-------

You find him outside on the balcony, leaning heavily against the railing, his shoulders hunched like the weight of the world is pressing down on him. The cold night air bites at your skin, and the faint glow of the streetlights below casts shadows that dance across his face. He doesn’t turn when you step out. He never does. That’s the thing about Bucky—he always knows you’re there, but he’s mastered the art of pretending not to.

The sound of the sliding door closing behind you feels final, like you’ve just stepped into a space you won’t come back from. Your arms wrap around yourself, a weak defense against the cold—or maybe against him—and you take a hesitant step forward.

“I thought you left,” you say, breaking the fragile quiet. Your voice wavers, as unsure as the ground you’re standing on.

He finally looks over his shoulder, his eyes heavy and rimmed with shadows. He looks wrecked. Tired in a way that no amount of sleep could fix. “Almost did,” he says softly, his voice barely audible over the distant hum of the city.

You step closer, your chest tightening at his words, at the way he doesn’t move, doesn’t shift to let you in. “Why didn’t you?”

He shrugs, turning back to the skyline, his fingers gripping the railing. “I haven’t heard from you all week.”

The ache in your chest sharpens at his tone, a flicker of hope you hate sneaking in despite yourself. It’s always like this: just enough vulnerability to keep you tethered. You stop a few feet away, the space between you feeling like a canyon, impossible to bridge.

“This isn’t working,” you say, finally voicing the thought that’s been clawing at you for weeks. “Whatever this is. It’s not working, Bucky.”

He doesn’t react at first, just keeps staring out at the city, like it holds an answer he’s too afraid to look for. When he finally speaks, his voice is low and rough. “I know.”

The simplicity of his admission steals your breath. It’s not that you didn’t expect it. You did. You’ve been here before, standing on the edge of this same cliff, waiting for the inevitable fall.

“So why are we still here?” you ask, your voice trembling, tinged with a desperation you wish you could hide.

He exhales, dragging a hand through his hair. The motion is frustrated, exhausted, like he’s tired of his own indecision. “Because I don’t know how to stop,” he admits, his words cutting through the night air with brutal honesty.

You take another step closer, close enough to see the tension in his jaw, the way his knuckles turn white as he grips the railing. “Bucky,” you say, your voice soft but breaking. “I need more than this. I need to know if you’re ever going to stop running every time things get hard. Because I can’t keep waiting for you to figure it out.”

He turns to face you then, his blue eyes locking onto yours. There’s something in them—something raw and fragile and so heartbreakingly familiar. For a fleeting second, you think this is it. The moment he’ll finally tell you what you’ve been waiting to hear.

But then he looks away, his jaw tightening. “I don’t know if I can.”

The nausea hits you like a punch, twisting your stomach into knots. You take a shaky step back, wrapping your arms around yourself like it might keep you from falling apart. “Do you even want to try?”

His silence is deafening, an answer in itself.

You let out a bitter laugh, the sound hollow and sharp. “You’re unbelievable,” you whisper, more to yourself than to him. “I’m standing here, practically begging you to tell me you care, and you can’t even do that.”

“I care,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. “You know I care.”

“Do I?” Your voice rises, anger bubbling to the surface, breaking through the pain. “Because it sure as hell doesn’t feel like it. You say you care, but you act like I’m something you can pick up and put down whenever it’s convenient for you.”

“Stop,” he says, his voice suddenly firm, his eyes snapping back to yours. There’s something desperate in his tone, something pleading that makes your breath hitch. “I don’t… I don’t know how to do this.”

“No, Bucky.” You shake your head, your voice trembling with fury and heartbreak. “You just don’t want to. And there’s a difference.”

The words hang between you, heavy and suffocating. He opens his mouth, like he’s about to say something, but then he stops. His eyes dart back to the city skyline, and you see it—the war he’s waging with himself, the battle between what he wants and what he’s too scared to reach for.

“Say something,” you whisper, your voice cracking under the weight of the moment. “Say anything.”

“I’m seeing someone,” he says suddenly, his hands gripping the railing so tightly you half expect it to snap. The words hit like a freight train, knocking the air from your lungs.

The world around you tilts. Your hands tremble as you take a step back. “Of course you are,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. The bitter laugh that follows feels like it belongs to someone else. “I’m done.”

You turn toward the sliding door, your heart pounding so hard it feels like it might shatter. Your hand trembles as you reach for the handle, pausing for just a second, hoping—praying—he’ll stop you. That he’ll fight.

But the silence stretches on, heavier and colder than the night air.

When you glance over your shoulder, he’s still standing there, staring down at the city like he’s already let you go.

Your throat tightens, but you force yourself to slide the door open and step back inside. The warmth of the apartment hits you like a slap, but it does nothing to ease the chill in your chest.

The door slides shut with a quiet thud.

And Bucky doesn’t follow.

You’d just moved into a new apartment, one that wasn't tainted with all the places he'd touched, places he'd been. It made things easier it wasn't the reason for your move but it helped. Natasha had decided you were both done unpacking for the night so naturally she had dragged you to a party. Steve’s place, of course. The apartment was alive with the energy of too many people crammed into too little space. Natasha had disappeared into a circle of friends near the kitchen, leaving you to nurse your drink in a corner. That’s when you noticed him.

Bucky.

He was leaning against the wall, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else. Dark hair falling into his eyes, a leather jacket slung over his shoulder despite the heat of the crowded room. He didn’t see you at first, but when he did, his gaze lingered just long enough to make your pulse race.

You told yourself you wouldn’t approach him, but an hour later, you were pressed against the wall in Steve’s hallway, his lips trailing down your neck, his hands gripping your hips like he couldn’t get close enough. It was messy, impulsive, and thrilling.

“We probably shouldn’t,” you’d whispered, your breath catching as his mouth moved against your collarbone.

He’d laughed softly, his voice low and rough. “Yeah. Probably not.”

Neither of you stopped.

There were moments after that—moments that felt like everything you’d ever wanted. Late nights in his apartment, the room dimly lit by the glow of the city outside. He’d lie next to you, his fingers tracing absent patterns on your arm as you talked about everything and nothing.

He’d tell you about his childhood, the things he rarely told anyone. The weight of his past. And you’d listen, feeling like you were peeling back layers of him that no one else had ever seen.

“You don’t have to fix me,” he’d murmured once, his voice barely above a whisper. “I just… I like being around you.”

You’d smiled, brushing his hair back from his face. “I’m not trying to fix you, Bucky.”

And in those moments, you weren’t lying.

But then there were the other moments. The ones where he pulled away so fast it left you reeling.

You remember the first time he didn’t text you back. It wasn’t just hours—it was days. Days of overanalyzing every word you’d said to him the last time you saw him. Days of your stomach twisting every time your phone buzzed, only for it to not be him.

When he finally did text, it was so casual it made you want to scream.

“Hey. You good?”

No apology. No explanation. Just like that, he was back. And you let him back in because you didn’t know how not to.

And then there was the jealousy. The way you’d catch him talking to someone else at a party, his body language so open and inviting in a way it rarely was with you. You hated how it made you feel, the bitterness that bubbled up, the way you wanted to pull him aside and demand to know if he cared about you at all.

But you didn’t. You never did.

“Do you even want to move on?” Wanda asks, her tone soft but pointed. “Or is this just who you are now?”

You blink at her, her words cutting through the haze of your thoughts. “I don’t know,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper.

She sighs, leaning forward to rest her elbows on her knees. “You deserve better, you know that, right?”

The door swings open, and Natasha walks in, dropping her bag on the counter. She gives you a look, one that’s equal parts sympathetic and exasperated.

“Let me guess,” she says, crossing her arms. “You’re thinking about him again.”

You don’t answer, but the way your jaw tightens is enough for her to roll her eyes. “You know he’s not good for you. Why do you keep doing this to yourself?”

“I don’t know,” you snap, harsher than you mean to. “Maybe because it’s not that simple.”

“Actually, it is,” Natasha retorts, her voice sharp. “You stop calling him. You stop answering when he calls. You stop letting him treat you like an afterthought.”

“Nat—” Wanda starts, her tone soothing, but Natasha holds up a hand.

“No, she needs to hear this.” She looks at you again, her expression softening just slightly. “I know you care about him. But caring about him isn’t enough if he doesn’t care about you the same way. At some point, you have to start putting yourself first.”

You glance away, her words hitting too close to home.

“I don’t get you,” you’d once said your voice trembling with frustration. “One minute you’re here, and it feels like—like maybe this could be something. And the next, you’re gone.”

He’d run a hand through his hair, pacing the room. “It’s not that simple.”

“Yes, it is, Bucky,” you’d said, your voice rising. “You either want me, or you don’t. So which is it?”

He’d stopped then, turning to look at you. And the look on his face—it wasn’t anger or indifference. It was fear.

“I don’t know,” he’d said finally, his voice breaking.

And that was the worst part.

“You’re spiraling,” Sam said. He wasn’t harsh about it, but he didn’t sugarcoat it either. “This isn’t love. It’s self-destruction.”

Even as you think it, your phone buzzes on the coffee table. The sound feels too loud in the quiet room, pulling everyone’s attention. You glance at the screen, and your heart skips when you see his name. Just his name—no message preview, no context, just him.

Wanda notices, her brow furrowing as she leans forward. “Don’t,” she says softly, but there’s a weight behind the word, a plea. “You’ll just end up back where you started.”

You stare at the screen, your thumb hovering over the notification. The silence in the room grows heavier, charged with unspoken tension. Your chest tightens as your mind races. It would be so easy. Just one tap, and he’d be there again. One tap, and you’d hear his voice, feel the pull that always brings you back.

“I just…” Your voice falters, your eyes flickering to Wanda and then to Sam, who watches you with a mix of concern and frustration. “What if this time it’s different?”

Sam lets out a bitter laugh, running a hand over his face. “You think this time is different? Come on. What’s he going to say that he hasn’t already said a hundred times before?”

“It’s not about what he says,” Wanda interjects, her voice gentle but firm. “It’s about what he does. And what has he done, really, except hurt you?”

You look back at the screen. The notification is still there, a glaring reminder of the mess you can’t seem to escape. Your thumb presses down slightly, not enough to open it but enough to feel the weight of the choice.

“But I love him,” you whisper. The words tumble out before you can stop them, raw and unfiltered.

Sam exhales sharply, standing up from the chair and pacing across the room. “Yeah, we know. Everyone knows. But does he love you? Because if he does, he’s got a real shitty way of showing it.”

You flinch at his tone, the harshness cutting through your defenses. “He does love me,” you say quietly, more to yourself than to him.

“Then where is he?” Sam snaps, turning to face you. “Why isn’t he here, fighting for you instead of blowing up your phone every time he feels lonely? Why is it always you doing the heavy lifting?”

Wanda places a hand on Sam’s arm, pulling him back gently. “Sam…”

“No, I need to say it,” he says, his voice softer now but still firm. “Love isn’t supposed to feel like this. It’s not supposed to feel like you’re drowning every damn day just to keep him afloat.”

The bar is too loud, too crowded, and too filled with memories of Bucky for you to feel at ease. But you’re here because it’s Steve’s birthday, and Natasha had insisted. And of course you came it was Steve.

You’re leaning against the bar, talking to a man you barely know. His smile is easy, his laugh smooth, and even though you’re trying to focus on him, you can feel Bucky’s eyes on you. From across the room, his gaze burns into your back, searing through your dress like a brand.

You glance over your shoulder, meeting his eyes for a split second. The tension in his jaw, the way his drink sits untouched in his hand—it’s the most emotion he’s shown all night. But it’s not enough to stop you.

If he wants to act like he doesn’t care, you’ll give him something to not care about.

The man beside you leans in, his hand brushing against your arm as he says something you don’t quite catch over the noise. You laugh, even though you barely hear the joke. You laugh because you know Bucky is watching.

It doesn’t take long for him to snap.

Before you realize what’s happening, his hand is on your wrist. Firm but not rough, his grip sends a jolt through you. “Let’s go,” he says, his voice low and clipped.

“Excuse me?” You pull back, glaring at him, but his grip doesn’t loosen.

“We’re leaving,” he says, not looking at you, not giving the man beside you so much as a glance.

“Bucky—” you start, but he’s already pulling you through the crowd, weaving between bodies with single-minded determination.

By the time you reach his apartment, you’re seething. He slams the door shut behind you, the sound echoing through the dimly lit space.

“What the hell is your problem?” you snap, crossing your arms.

“My problem?” he fires back, pacing across the room like a caged animal. “My problem is you acting like that guy meant anything to you!”

“Oh, and you would know what means something to me, right?” You take a step closer, your voice rising. “Because you’re so good at showing me how much I mean to you.”

He stops, his eyes narrowing. “Don’t turn this on me.”

“Why not? It’s always about you, isn’t it, Bucky? What you want, what you feel. You drag me into your mess every time, and I let you, because I—”

You stop yourself, your breath catching.

“Because you what?” he demands, his voice sharp.

“Because I care about you!” you yell, your chest heaving. “And all you ever do is hurt me for it.”

His face twists, like your words hit him somewhere deep. For a moment, you think he’s going to say something, that he’s going to explain or apologize or do something, but instead, he grabs a plate from the counter and hurls it against the wall. The sharp crash reverberates through the room, the pieces scattering across the floor like jagged confessions neither of you are ready to face.

You flinch at the sound, but the fire in your chest burns brighter, fueled by the chaos. “Oh, real mature, Bucky. Breaking dishes? That’s your solution? Just break things until you don’t have to feel anything anymore?”

He grabs another plate, his hand trembling as he grips it, his knuckles white. His voice breaks as he yells, “You think this is easy for me? You think I don’t know I’m screwing this up? That I don’t hate myself for it?”

“Then stop!” you shout back, your voice raw and cracking under the weight of it all. “Stop hurting me, stop dragging me back, stop—just stop!”

The plate shakes in his hand, and for a second, you think he’s going to throw it again. Instead, he slams it down on the counter with a hollow thud. His shoulders slump as he leans over it, his head bowed like he’s trying to hold himself together. His breathing is ragged, his hands gripping the edge of the counter so tightly you think it might break under the strain.

“I don’t know how,” he whispers finally, his voice so soft you almost don’t hear it. “I don’t know how to be what you need.”

The vulnerability in his voice slices through you, but it’s not enough. Not this time. The ache in your chest is unbearable, your heart breaking as you look at the man you love and realize he’ll never love you the way you need him to.

“Then let me go, Bucky,” you say, your voice trembling but resolute. “If you can’t give me what I need, let me go.”

He finally turns to face you, his eyes shining with unshed tears. “I can’t,” he says, his voice breaking like the plates he just shattered. “I don’t want to let you go.”

Your chest tightens, the pain twisting deeper with every word. “Aren’t you seeing someone?” you ask, your voice sharper than you intended.

He shakes his head, his jaw clenching. “She’s not you,” he says, his voice trembling. “They’re never you.”

The admission stuns you into silence for a moment. The tears you’ve been holding back spill over, hot and heavy. “Then why can’t you give me that, Bucky?” you whisper, your voice shaking with anger and grief. “Why can you give it to them but not to me? Why is it always me who’s left bleeding for you? It’s not fair—I give you everything! And you just take, take, take! What’s left of me after this?”

Your words hang between you, raw and unfiltered, and for a moment, he doesn’t respond. He doesn’t try to defend himself, doesn’t even try to apologize. He just stares at you, his eyes wide and desperate, like he’s drowning in the mess he’s made.

Then, without warning, he steps forward, grabbing your face in his hands. His touch is rough, almost frantic, his fingers trembling against your skin. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, his voice breaking. “I’m so sorry.”

And before you can say anything, before you can even catch your breath, his lips crash into yours.

The kiss is desperate and messy, his tears mixing with yours as he pulls you closer like he’s afraid to let go. His hands shake as they cup your face, his lips pressing against yours with a fierceness that makes your knees weak.

You hate how easily you give in, how quickly your hands find their way to his chest, clutching at the fabric of his shirt like it’s the only thing keeping you upright. The anger and pain and longing all bleed together in that kiss, every unspoken word, every broken promise, every piece of you he’s taken without giving anything back.

When he pulls away, his forehead rests against yours, his breath warm and ragged against your skin. “But I can’t lose you. Please… don’t leave me.” He whispers his voice trembling

Your heart shatters all over again. “Okay”

Bucky’s hands tighten on your arms, his breath warm and uneven against your face. His lips hover just above yours, his eyes searching yours for something—permission, maybe, or forgiveness he doesn’t deserve. You don’t give it to him, but you don’t pull away either.

Instead, your hands move on their own, sliding up his chest and curling into the fabric of his shirt. The tension between you snaps like a live wire as he closes the distance again, his mouth crashing against yours with a desperation that leaves no room for hesitation.

The kiss deepens, his lips parting yours, his tongue brushing against yours in a way that sends heat pooling low in your belly. His hands roam down your sides, fingers gripping your hips like he’s afraid you’ll slip away. You press closer, your body molding to his as the frustration and anger between you melt into something darker, hotter, and infinitely more consuming.

Bucky backs you up until your hips hit the edge of the counter, the cool surface biting into your skin through the thin fabric of your dress. His hands slide up your thighs, his touch firm and deliberate as he lifts you onto the counter. You gasp against his mouth, your hands tangling in his hair as he steps between your legs, his body pressing against yours in all the right ways.

“Tell me to stop,” he murmurs against your lips, his voice rough and breathless. “If this isn’t what you want, tell me now.”

You pull back just enough to look at him, your chest heaving as you meet his gaze. His blue eyes are dark, filled with a mix of longing and uncertainty that tugs at something deep inside you. “Don’t stop,” you whisper, your voice trembling with need.

That’s all it takes. He grips the hem of your dress and pulls it up, his hands sliding over your thighs, rough and calloused against your skin. His lips trail down your neck, his stubble scraping lightly against you as he kisses the sensitive spot just below your ear. Your head tilts back, a soft moan escaping your lips as his hands and mouth make you forget every argument, every broken moment that led you here.

His fingers find the edge of your underwear, his touch teasing as he looks up at you, waiting. You nod, your breath hitching as he slides them aside, his fingers exploring with a skill that leaves you trembling. He watches you intently, his gaze locked on your face as he learns every reaction, every sound you make.

When his name slips from your lips, low and needy, it’s like something inside him snaps. He lifts you effortlessly, carrying you to the couch with a strength that leaves you dizzy. The world blurs around you, your focus narrowing to the feel of his body against yours, the weight of his hands, the intensity of his gaze.

“You’re all I think about,” he says, his voice raw as he settles over you. “Every damn day.”

You don’t answer. You can’t. The only response you can give is the way you arch into him, the way you pull him closer, needing him as much as he needs you. And when he finally joins you, it’s slow and deliberate, every movement designed to pull you deeper into the storm of him.

The morning light seeps through the curtains as you stand by his window, fully dressed, the quiet hum of the city below serving as your only company. Bucky is still asleep in the bed, his arm draped across the pillow where you had been just hours ago. You glance at him one last time, your heart clenching in your chest. For a fleeting moment, you consider crawling back into bed, letting yourself believe in the softness of this moment.

But you can’t.

You quietly grab your things and slip out the door, the sound of it clicking shut behind you feeling heavier than it should.

By mid-morning, you’ve buried yourself in mundane errands—anything to keep your mind from circling back to him. You’re at the farmer’s market now, weaving through the stalls of fresh produce and flowers, the air filled with the faint scent of lavender and bread. You clutch a tote bag tightly in your hand, trying to focus on the vibrant colors of the fruit in front of you.

You pick up an apple, turning it over in your hand absently. It’s almost enough to distract you from the ache still lodged in your chest. Almost.

Until you see him.

You freeze, the apple slipping from your grasp and thudding softly onto the wooden table in front of you. Your breath catches, and the world seems to narrow until it’s just him, standing only a few stalls away.

His dark hair catches the sunlight, and for a moment, it feels like nothing has changed, like the night before never ended. His eyes are locked on yours, wide and filled with a mix of emotions you can’t quite place—shock, guilt, something softer that makes your chest tighten painfully.

For a moment, it’s just the two of you, suspended in time. Everyone else around you fades into nothing, their chatter and laughter muffled like the background of a dream.

But then your gaze shifts.

To her.

The woman standing beside him.

Her hand is clasped firmly in his, their fingers intertwined in a way that feels too familiar, too intimate. She’s beautiful, her expression warm and open as she looks up at him, clearly unaware of the storm brewing between his gaze and yours.

Your stomach twists violently, and the apple you’d forgotten about rolls off the edge of the table and hits the ground.

Bucky’s face changes when he sees you notice her, his eyes softening with guilt, his mouth parting as if he wants to say something, anything. But he doesn’t.

He just stands there, holding her hand, while your chest caves in.

You swallow hard, your throat tight as you force yourself to look away, your vision blurring with unshed tears. You clutch your tote bag tighter and turn, walking away without another word.

You barely make it out of the market before the tears spill over. You wipe them away furiously, your hands trembling as you duck into a side street, out of view from the crowds.

The weight of his gaze lingers on your back, like a hand reaching out but never quite touching you. You can feel him watching you, but you don’t dare turn around. You can’t.

You stop for a moment, your chest heaving as you lean against the wall of a brick building. The morning sun feels too bright, the world too loud despite the hollow silence pounding in your ears.

He didn’t follow.

You told yourself you didn’t want him to, but the ache in your chest says otherwise.

When you glance back toward the market, just for a second, you see him standing at the edge of the stalls, his hand no longer in hers, his face etched with something that looks like regret.

But he doesn’t move.

And neither do you.

With a deep breath, you wipe your face one last time, adjust the strap of your tote bag, and walk away. The weight in your chest feels unbearable, but your feet keep moving anyway.

The apartment is quiet that night, the silence pressing down on you as you sit by the window, staring out at the city lights. You tell yourself you’re not waiting for him, but your phone sits beside you on the windowsill, the screen dark but heavy with possibilities.

It’s almost midnight when the buzz breaks the silence. You glance at the screen, your heart stopping when you see his name.

The message is simple. “Please, can we talk? I miss you…I’m sorry”

[zaczenemiji]

absolutely no rush if you're occupied with other asks :D!! I love your writing so so much your descriptions and dialogue are so good 😭💓 could I possibly request a scenario where the reader (working alongside kenji as ultraman/on the sidelines as a civilian, whatever you desire!!) unexpectedly throws herself in front of kenji and takes a hit for him (bonus points of they had unresolved tension before [argument, interrupted confession, one character was sick and rejecting help etc etc; no pressure at all and pls write whatever you'd like i'm just throwing out random suggestions!!]) + the hurt/comfort to follow after? thank you so much! ☺️ i wish you the best!

In the Heart of Danger

Kenji Sato x Reader

Synopsis: As tensions between Kenji and the KDF rise, you become entangled in the conflict, leading to a dangerous confrontation that puts your life at risk.

Word Count: 2,710

Genre/Warning: Action, Angst, Drama, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Sacrifice, Violence

Author’s Note: Slight mention of themes from Too Good, Too True

MASTERLIST

For many years, Ultraman and the Kaiju Defense Force worked in harmony. But as KDF evolved under different leadership, so did its philosophy. Their arsenal grew more lethal, their strategies more aggressive. Dr. Onda's vision was clear: the complete eradication of all kaiju was the only path to true safety.

Ultraman held a different perspective. Those magnificent creatures had their own place in the natural order. He believed in protecting life; only fending them off to prevent destruction, not to annihilate them.

KDF’s methods became increasingly ruthless. Where Ultraman sought balance, KDF saw only the necessity of total elimination. The final straw came when KDF started viewing Ultraman's reluctance to kill as a liability, a hindrance to their ultimate goal of eradication.

Thus, the Kaiju Defense Force turned their attention to identifying Ultraman's human form, intent on neutralizing this perceived threat.

"Kenji, you can't keep dismissing this," you said, frustration lacing your voice. "The KDF is closing in on you. They know something's up, and they're not going to stop until they confirm you're Ultraman."

The evening air was thick with tension as you and Kenji sat across from each other in his house. It started with a simple disagreement but it had escalated so quickly.

Kenji ran a hand through his hair, his expression one of exasperation. "I know the risks, (y/n),” he replied. “But I can handle it. I've been doing this for a while now."

"Handling it?" you echoed, incredulous. "You've barely been able to stay one step ahead of them. They've got advanced technology, Kenji. They're not just going to give up."

You remember the incidents with Gigantron, how KDF was willing to get rid of Ultraman, so as to obtain Emi. And for what reasons? To use a frikking baby to lead them to Kaiju Island—to massacre, for the mass murder of those misunderstood creatures.

Kenji sighed heavily, his eyes meeting yours with a mix of determination and fatigue. "I can't stop,” he said. “If I don't transform, people will die."

"I'm not asking you to stop," you said, your voice softening. "I'm asking you to be more careful—to consider the danger you're putting yourself in."

Kenji's jaw tightened and he looked away, the weight of your words settling heavily on his shoulders, “I know you're worried about me. But I can't just sit back and do nothing."

"Then let me help," you pleaded, reaching out to touch his arm. "We're a team, remember? You don't have to do this alone."

"I can't put you in danger, too,” he pulled away slightly, his expression hardening. “It's bad enough that I have to deal with this. I don't want you getting hurt because of me."

"Kenji," you said, your voice firm. "I'm already involved. Whether you like it or not, I'm in this with you. And I'm not just going to stand by and watch you risk your life without doing anything."

He shook his head, his frustration evident. "You don't understand,” he said. “If something happened to you... I wouldn't be able to live with myself."

"And what about me?" You shot back, your eyes filling with tears. "Do you think I could live with myself if something happened to you, and I did nothing to stop it?"

There came a long silence.

He never asked for any of this—you know that firsthand. You didn’t want this either. Only a fool would want to throw away the peaceful life they had in LA, away from the chaos, the danger, and the constant fear of losing their beloved.

But when Emi came and when Kenji reconnected with his dad, you both understood. Ultraman is a vital element, the pinnacle of balance, the one that would keep the world in its equilibrium.

He who holds the scale holds the lives of many. He who carries the burden also carries fear. And with it, the sacrifices to ensure the collective safety of humanity.

Your tears spilled over, and you wiped them away angrily. "You're an idiot, Kenji,” you said. “A noble, self-sacrificing idiot. But I'm not going to let you do this alone. Whether you like it or not, I'm going to help you. And you're just going to have to deal with that."

"No. You don't get it,” Kenji's expression hardened again. “This isn't about what you want. It's about keeping you safe."

"And what if I don't want to be safe?” You demanded, your voice breaking. “What if I want to be there for you?"

"That's not your choice to make!" Kenji shouted, his frustration boiling over. "I can't lose you, (y/n)!”

"And I can't lose you either!" you screamed back. "Why can't you see that?"

Kenji's eyes flashed with anger. "You should have just stayed in LA!" he snapped, his voice cutting through the night. "You're becoming too nosy, and it's dangerous. I can't have you getting involved in this.”

You stared at him, stunned. Kenji never hurt you in any way, especially not physically. But the weight of his words hit you like a punch to the gut.

Without another word, you turned and stormed off, your heart pounding in your chest. You didn't look back, even as the tears blurred your vision.

Kenji stood to follow. But with the way you ran away, he knew you didn’t need him at the moment. Still, he worried for your safety. Quickly, he rode his motorcycle and followed you quietly from a distance to ensure you reached home safely.

Everything that unfolded hurt Kenji as much as it did you, if not more. This was the time he finally truly understood his father—why he let them move to LA, why he had to endure the pain of being separated—all because he wanted them safe.

Kenji loves you more than anything, more than you ever knew. He loved you enough to have the resolve to let you go if you finally wanted to be out of all this. You deserved the best, better than a complicated life with him.

When he had seen to it that you’re home safely, he stayed in front of your house a little longer, wanting to be there in case you needed him.

You knew what he was doing. You knew that he was following you. And you were grateful, truly grateful, that he didn’t let you be out here alone. He understood the space you needed and he respected it. This was just one of the infinite reasons you love him so much.

When you arrived home, you sat by the door, leaning on it as you let your tears flow freely down your cheeks. Kenji is a hero, and heroes need saving, too. You wanted to be the one to do that.

Little did you know, you were already doing so. You didn’t know how much you were saving him by being there for him. You have been doing so since day one—since meeting you in LA, losing his mom, coming back to Japan, raising Emi, and fully accepting his role as Ultraman.

Your eyelids became so heavy from all the tears that you didn’t notice that you’d drifted off to a nap. You were awakened by the sound of Kenji’s motorcycle engine as he started it.

You stood to take a peek through your window, careful not to let him see you. He looked your way one last time before driving off into the night.

When he was out of sight, you decided to head on over to your bed but before you could do so, you heard the mechanical sounds of drones.

Your eyes widened as you quickly looked back to see KDF’s drones heading in the direction Kenji went to. With a gasp, you hurriedly slammed the door open and ran out, forgetting about the identical watch you had with Kenji that was repeatedly beeping with an alert of a kaiju attack.

You ran as fast as you could, following the drones as you were sure that they were after Kenji. Suddenly, you heard familiar screams in the distance as the neighborhood awoke to a mundane scene of a kaiju attack.

You looked to your hand only to see an empty wrist. You groaned to yourself, of all the times you could forget it, why now?

Despite being unaware of what was happening or which kaiju was it this time, still you followed the drones. Upon turning the corner, you saw Kenji parking his motorcycle aside so he could transform.

However, this time, KDF came prepared. A squadron of heavily armed soldiers arrived, their weapons calibrated to disrupt his transformation sequence.

As the soldiers closed in on Kenji, one of them set up a cannon, aiming it directly at him. Realizing the gravity of the situation, you sprinted toward the scene, your heart pounding in your chest.

The targeting system locked onto Kenji's energy signature, and the barrel began to glow with a blue hue, signaling the impending shot. Just as the operator pulled the trigger, you threw yourself in front of Kenji.

The concentrated beam of energy hit you with full force, sending a searing pain through your body. You screamed as it disrupted your bio-energy field, causing immediate paralysis and intense agony. You collapsed to the ground, feeling your strength drain away.

The soldiers, momentarily stunned by your intervention, hesitated as Kenji caught you in his arms. "No, (y/n)!" Kenji's voice was filled with anguish as he held you close.

The effects of the cannon had taken their toll on you, but your selfless act had given Kenji the precious seconds he needed. He transformed into Ultraman with a flash of light, creating a barrier to protect you from further harm.

With the kaiju approaching the city, Ultraman's form loomed large, and the soldiers were forced to retreat, their weapons ineffective against his fully transformed state.

Although hesitant he had to make a heart-wrenching decision to choose between being your lover and being Ultraman.

He carried you as gently as he could. In the palm of his hand, your fragile body lay unconscious. He quickly ran back home where Mina awaited him.

Upon arriving, he carefully placed you in the bed Mina took out of the house. “Mina! Emergency analysis, please!” He begged. “Call my dad, do everything to save her! I’ll be back as soon as I can!”

With that, he dashed off to the scene of the kaiju attack. His mind was a mess as he fended it off as quickly as he could, even if it meant hurting it unintentionally, and even if it caused more infrastructural damage.

Ultraman’s heart pounded as he rushed home, the streets blurring past him in a haze of worry and exhaustion. As he reached the familiar door, he transformed back to his human form.

Kenji burst into the house. The scene before him made his heart ache even more. You lay unconscious on the couch, pale and still, with Mina and his father sitting beside you, their faces etched with concern.

Hayao looked up as his son entered. "Kenji," he said, his voice a mix of relief and sorrow. "You're back."

Kenji dropped to his knees beside you, his hand gently brushing a strand of hair from your face. "What happened? How is she?" he asked, his voice breaking.

Mina spoke up. “KDF used a new weapon, something we haven't seen before,” she started. “It emits a high-frequency pulse that disrupts the transformation process. When (y/n) threw herself in front of you, she took the full brunt of the attack."

Hayao nodded solemnly. "It's designed to incapacitate Ultraman before he can fully transform,” he said. “But on a human... it's much more dangerous. It's a miracle she's still alive."

Kenji's hands trembled as he held yours, his eyes never leaving your face. "Is there anything we can do?” He asked, tears racing their way out of his eyes. “Anything at all?"

"We've done what we can for now," Mina said softly. "She needs rest and time to recover. We'll monitor her closely. But Kenji... it's serious. The weapon has caused significant internal damage."

Hayao placed a reassuring hand on Kenji’s shoulder. "You did what you had to do, son. You saved countless lives tonight,” he said. “But we need to be prepared for what comes next. The KDF won't stop now that they know you're Ultraman."

Kenji nodded, his resolve hardening. "I'll protect her. I'll protect all of us,” he said through small sobs. “But right now... I need her to wake up. I need to know she's okay.”

As the night wore on, Kenji stayed by your side, holding your hand and whispering words of encouragement. He thought about all the times you had supported him, how you had insisted on helping despite the danger. The argument from earlier seemed trivial now, overshadowed by the reality of your sacrifice.

"Please wake up," Kenji murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "I'm so sorry. I should've listened to you. I should've protected you better."

The room was filled with the soft hum of medical equipment and Kenji’s quiet sobs that refused to give up on the person he cared about the most.

As the first light of dawn began to filter through the windows, Kenji felt a slight movement in your hand. His heart leaped, and he leaned closer, his eyes searching your face for any sign of awakening.

"(Y/n)?" he whispered, his voice trembling with hope. "Can you hear me?"

Your eyelids fluttered, and a faint groan escaped your lips. Slowly, you opened your eyes, blinking against the light. When you saw Kenji's worried face, a weak smile crossed your lips.

"Kenji..." you murmured, your voice barely audible. "You're okay..."

Kenji's eyes once again filled with tears as he nodded, his grip on your hand tightening, "Yeah, I'm okay. Thanks to you. You saved me, (y/n)."

You tried to sit up, but pain shot through your body, and you winced. “What... what happened?” You asked.

Mina quickly intervened, gently pushing you back down with mechanical hands that protruded out of her spherical body. "Don't try to move too much,” she said. “You were hit by a weapon KDF used. It was meant for Ultraman, but you took the hit instead."

Hayao added, "You were incredibly brave, (y/n). You saved Kenji's life."

You looked at Kenji, your eyes filled with concern. "I couldn't let them hurt you,” you said softly. “I had to do something."

Kenji leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. "And I promise, I'll never let anything happen to you again,” he said, his tears falling down on your face.

The days that followed were a blur of pain, recovery, and quiet moments shared between you and Kenji. True to his word, he never left your side, his worry and guilt evident in every action he took to ensure your comfort and healing.

Each morning, you woke to the smell of freshly brewed tea and the sight of Kenji bustling around the kitchen, preparing breakfast. Despite his own exhaustion, he insisted on doing everything himself.

"Good morning," he greeted softly one morning, bringing a tray of food to your bedside. "How are you feeling today?"

You offered a weak smile, propping yourself up on the pillows. "A little better, I think,” you answered. “Thanks, Kenji."

He set the tray down carefully. "You need to eat,” he said. “You've got to get your strength back."

In the afternoons, when you felt strong enough, Kenji would help you sit up and move around. He'd guide you outside to the lawn, where the sun's warmth and the gentle breeze seemed to hasten your healing. He'd support you with a gentle but firm grip.

"I don't want you to overdo it," he'd say, worry etched on his brow. "Just take it slow."

As the days turned into weeks, your strength gradually returned. The pain lessened, and the color began to return to your cheeks.

The days of your recovery were not just about healing physically but also about rebuilding and strengthening the trust and love between you and Kenji.

You had faced danger and come out stronger, more united. With each passing day, you became more sure than ever that together, your love could overcome anything.

Taglist is open! Comment if u wanna be tagged on future Kenji oneshots

@eternallyvenus @puppyminnnie @wattpadsuckssohard @sakura-onesan @reggies-eyeliner @buggs-1 @miffysoo @spencerrxids @stupidbutsmart @marimargirlies @mixvchelle @lannnu @lailuv21 @christiinee @abracarabbit @youngbananamilkshake @flutterfly365 @o-schist @brazilsho @arrozyfrijoles23 @finestflora @mmeerraa @mianbaobaoo @skyeliteratures @themourningfox @despacito-uwu16 @crimson-mage-02 @vinegarjello @btszn

[potatomountain]

Puppy Play Time

2024 Kinktober piece! Masterlist

The request by @bethelighthalazia Soo, I'd have a request for your kinktober if you're comfortable with such 🥺👉👈 I'd like to request petplay with collars and leash and stuff :3 for fem reader with Yunho and Mingi. It's up to you, if her being their pet is everyday roleplay between them (meaning reader behaving like their pet 24/7) or if it's just for their sex/bdsm sessions <3 And @mingsolo requested: Mingi catching Yunho in the act with reader and either Yunho knows and invites him in or he just watches

Pairing: Yunho/Mingi x fem reader WC: 1k AU: sugar daddy's Yungi! non-idol Summary: More of a sugar pet than baby, YunGi adore their sweet puppy- especially when they take out their frustrations out on you anytime they wish. Event Kink list: Voyeurism, threesome, pet play, bondage, free use Warnings/smut (cont): DP, anal, mxm, collar/leash, adult toys AN: I know its two requests but i figured I could make them work together (its also easier on me lol) Honorable tags: @mirohs-aurora-society for the Kinktober event list! Banner and dividers made by me

The sounds of moans, grunts, and the bed hitting the wall was what greeted Mingi when he got home. Considering it was upstairs, and he heard it all loud and clear from the front door, he knew Yunho was being rough on you.

Which either meant he would get punished for interrupting, or you were being punished and he could join in. On the chance it was the latter he found himself heading upstairs and loosening his clothes.

“Such a good pet you are, taking my cock so well.” Yunho’s grunts were followed by the slap of skin and a mangled cry of yours. “That's it, take it puppy.”

Mingi's breath hitched at the sight of you, tears running down your cheeks and drool on your chin. Yunho had your arms pulled back, holding them by the wrists as he pounded relentlessly into you. The collar around your throat was being tugged harshly by the leash wrapped around one of Yunho's hands, the veins prominent from the strain. You were completely immobilized by him, taking his cock like the good puppy you were.

Their puppy.

He found himself palming at his crotch, eager to go in there and use your pretty mouth; see you choking on his size. But Yunho was in a mood, and Mingi knew better than to join without permission. If he was frustrated enough, which judging by the growing bruises on your hips and ass he was, then he'd let him join. Mingi was sure of it.

Must have had a hard day at work. Mingi mused to himself as he pulled out his hard cock, gripping the base with the strength he imagined your pussy would be gripping Yunho. As if willing it, Yunho's head rolled back as he let out a low groan. You had gone quiet, mouth hanging open and eyes rolled back telling Mingi you really did just cum on his cock.

Yunho pulled out before he would cum, cock angry and red; the sight made Mingi's mouth water.

Slapping your ass, Yunho roughly let you go as your body shook from your orgasm. “Bad puppy, I didn't say you could cum. Now you don't get your milk.”

You whined pathetically, which had Mingi stroking his cock now. He hoped to be noticed, or maybe he could settle with just his hand until Yunho calmed down. No- no he wanted to join.

Your eyes flickered over to his direction at the moan he purposely let fall. Yunho was deliberately slow in turning, a wicked grin on his face. “Husband, are you watching us? Naughty. She's your pet too.” He harshly slapped your thigh, but you didn't care at all, whining up at him in response.

Mingi slowly stepped in, meeting your fucked out gaze and taking in the sight of you. Aside from the tear streaks and drool on your chin, the ears on your head were messed up and the tail protruding from your ass was wet and sticking to your soaked inner thighs. Having you as their pet, as theirs to use at any time, making a mess of you was one of their favorite things to do.

Yunho pulled him close once he was in range, still in his work slacks and his shirt unbuttoned but still on. Hell, even his tie hung loosely from him. “Yun- you should undress properly before fucking our Puppy.” Mingi started to undress him, not at all bothered by the hard stare the other fixed him with.

“Speak for yourself.” Yunho's lips crashed to his, tugging at his clothes as he pushed his tongue in to mingle with his.

You could only watch as the two devoured each other, equals while you were their pretty pet.

Soon enough Mingi was naked and hovering above you, Yunho behind him with his hand stroking his cock and biting along his shoulder. “What do you say? Her pretty ass should be plenty prepped… and if it's not-” He shrugged, twisting Mingi's cock roughly to show he didn't care.

You were getting more turned on by the second. Despite Yunho already fucking you nonstop for what felt like an hour, making you cum, making a mess out of you, you were eager for them both. Mingi was just as eager, answering his husband’s question by roughly pulling the tail out of your ass and tossing it aside. They kept a waterproof blanket on top with one of many extra sheets over it for this reason.

“Do you want her ass?” Mingi groaned out as Yunho rubbed his cock against his ass; he wouldn’t mind that either. “Mmm, yes. Lay down Min.” Yunho pulled away, watching with a hard look as Mingi was quick to do as he was told. You were being manhandled before he was even comfortable, Yunho roughly pulling you onto Mingi’s lap and lining him up at your entrance. 

Both of you cried out as Yunho forced you down fully on his cock, taking in the expressions both of you made. He could watch you two fuck, that was enough for him sometimes, but not today. 

Handing Mingi your leash, the man beneath you began to buck his hips so you were bouncing on his cock, being used like a toy- just how you liked it. You could hear Yunho behind you, the next second feeling a bit more lube, before Mingi yanked you forward and gripped one of your ass cheeks to spread you further for him.

There was no warning before you were stretched out to accommodate Yunho’s large size. No time to adjust before he had your arms pulled back again and both slamming their full lengths into your twin holes ruthlessly. Your mind went numb with the intense mixture of pleasure and pain, drool falling from your open mouth down onto Mingi. With the tight hold he had on the leash, and Yunho’s rough hand holding both of your wrists while pressing down on the small of your back, your muscles were pulled in all sorts of directions that just intensified it all.

But this was just the start of their play time with their favorite puppy, and it wasn’t over until you were too fucked dumb to continue, and even then they might just have you watch them fuck each other.

Taglist (continued in reblogs):

@crispybaguettes | @sugarnspice630 | @mingsolo | @isiloiale | @candypop1611 |

| @lavishloving | @thesafecafe | @meepsters-world | @mysticfire0435 | @heihaneul |

| @cloudysannie | @sanhwalvr | @plutoneu |  @sousydive | @staytinyinmybpack |

| @vannabanana1995  | @piratequeen-queenofgames | @starstruckforyou | @minheeskitten | @amphiroxx  |

| @yothangie | @fatalt | @venn-ie | @ddaeing | @therealcuppicake |

[emmyrosee]

Im sorry, I have to bother Osamu

——

“I swear to god I’m going to lock you in the bedroom.”

For whatever reason, Osamu decided that this was the night out he was going to dress down, usually sticking with jeans and a sweatshirt for most of the nights with the boys. Tonight however, he looks damn intoxicating, he looks like a bad mistake you’re more than willing to make: muscles jammed in a compression shirt that slightly cinches his waist, settled over the band of his grey sweats that cuff at his ankles. They sit low on his hips and good lord if he doesn’t hide the band of his boxers, you’re going to lose your mind.

“I look bad or somethin?”

“You think you’re gonna leave the house looking that fine! No. You look way too good to be sitting at Bokuto’s house. What do you think this is?”

He snickers as he ties his shoes, “baby, its just the boys-“

“I don’t trust you with that Sunarin. Don’t make me fight him off with a stick.”

He shakes his head and licks his lips, and you groan in frustration as he looks somehow even more fine looking.

He shakes his head and gently reaches up to rub his neck, “I'm so used to you being the eye candy, it's hard to think I could compete-"

“This is not about me,” you say breathlessly, and he gives you a quiet ‘sorry,’ before letting his shy, smiling face turn away. “You, Miya Osamu, are a god amongst mere maggots, and I shouldn’t have the permission to gaze upon you.”

He snorts and shakes his head, “you literally popped a black head on my nose yesterday, shut up.”

“That doesn’t stop you from being an absolute heartthrob.” Your swooning only makes his cheeks heat up more, and he chokes out a shy “stop,” before licking his teeth to try and break the smile on his now sore cheeks.

Quickly, you toss your arms around his neck and plant more than a few kisses to his jawline, noisy and wet, and it has him snorting.

“You’re so pretty,” you whine.

“Thank you, baby.”

“Literally going to wifey you up- you’re so handsome.”

“Shut up!” He titters.

You groan and gently cup his cheeks, “just a few more kisses, shut up and take them.” His lips are pursed out from the squishing of his cheeks as you plant a few kisses around his face, littering his nose and above his eyebrows. When you pass a kiss over his lips, he pushes out to chase the affection.

"You're so handsome." Kiss. "Truly ruining my life." Kiss. "I'd sacrifice my own left foot just to be in the same space as you." Your kiss moves up to his forehead, "literally let me be obsessed with you."

Kiss.

Kiss.

One long kiss.

You go to kiss him again, but you stop quickly as the consequences of your affection glares back at you. Instantly, your hands cover your mouth in shock, and he gives you a small chuckle as he quirks a brow at you, “what’re you lookin’ at?”

“Igaveyouahickey.”

“Huh?”

“Igaveyouahickey,” you repeat, your voice now pitched higher and more frantic. He chuckles again, this time a little more nervous before adjusting the tight cuff of his compression sleeve.

“Very funny, babe.”

You shake your head, “I wish I had those comedic capabilities, Osamu.”

With a gnaw of his lip, he gives you a deep inhale through his nose, “you gave me a hickey… on my forehead?”

“I’m so sorry-“

“how… did you give me a hickey on my forehead?”

“When… when-when I was kissing you,” you begin, now trying to hide your laughter because damn, this is pretty funny- “I think I kissed you too hard.”

“I don’t think this was a kiss, I think it’s when you sucked my face,” he says in exhaustion, working up the courage to look in the camera of his phone. He tucks his lips in to fight off his own smile, and that causes you to finally break out in laughter. Your arms clutch your sides as he stares at himself; he doesn’t blink. He doesn’t flinch. Just a close-smile stare.

“And what exactly do you plan to do to help me with this?” He asks, full knowing you don’t have a plan. You beam up innocently, and he knows that this is not going work and he’s going to walk into Bokuto’s house with bags of food and a damned purple hickey above his eyebrow.

You stalk over to him and reach your hand up and into his hair, dragging out the not-so neat locks to have some longer chunks in the center of his forehead and just above his brow, “here. Now no one will know!”

“Really?”

“Yeah!”

“Are your pants on fire, you LIAR?”

You snicker and pull back, admiring him and the pretty purple mark on his head. "It brings out your eye color."

"Oh, thank God, I was worried."

You laugh and make your way back into his arms, and he embraces you happily. "At least I don't have to worry about anyone taking you from me tonight,” you tease.

He smiles and kisses your lips, nipping at them to make you squeak, "never have to worry about that ever, baby."

"Except with Sunarin."

"Not true-“

"And Akaashi-san."

He smirks, "you may lose me to Akaashi-san."

"That's very fair."

[frenchkisstheabyss]

♥︎ The Way I Am ♥︎

♥︎ Pairing ♥︎ fiance!seonghwa x gn!makeup artist!reader

♥︎ Genre ♥︎ fluff/angst

♥︎ Summary ♥︎ Your fiance's been successfully keeping his love of makeup hidden from you. That is until you come home early from a trip and find him using your things. Your reaction is (of course ♥︎) the exact opposite of what he feared.

♥︎ Word Count ♥︎ 1.6kish

♥︎ Warnings ♥︎ Hwa does express his worries about being vulnerable with his identity so if that's sensitive to you that's super important to note. Other than that, nothing. Just fluff and reassurance ♥︎

♥︎ A/N ♥︎ I hope that if you're reading this and you feel nervous about expressing your gender identity out of fear that people won't accept you, you know that you're totally worthy of love and acceptance no matter what. Love you ♥︎

"'Cause I love you more than I could ever promise and you take me the way I am" - Ingrid Michaelson (The Way I Am)

Seonghwa hopes that you don’t notice. A few drops of foundation here. A swipe or two of eyeliner there. Maybe some lipstick or blush if he’s feeling adventurous. He wishes he had the courage to ask you to do this for him. You’re the most talented makeup artist he’s ever met. Watching you work is like art. How wonderful it’d be to bare the most vulnerable part of himself to you. To be your lover and your canvas. But every time he tries to open up the fear creeps in and the words won’t come out.

So this is the way it is—the way it’ll always have to be. Your wedding’s less than a month away and the thought that he might lose you makes his soul ache. He can’t risk losing you. He won’t risk losing you. 

Tonight he’s raided your makeup supplies for everything necessary to create the soft, romantic look of his dreams. With the warm air of a summer night blowing through the bedroom window and Spotify’s best Taylor Swift mix blasting in his over-ear headphones, the vibe couldn't be more perfect.

He’s been like this for at least an hour, seated at your vanity trying to get his foundation to match. You have every shade imaginable but none are what he wants. And mixing them? Well—

“Fuck” Seonghwa huffs, staring at his reflection, frustration and two pale layers of foundation painted all over his face. He scans the meticulously organized desk for the makeup wipes and gets to work cleaning it off. It takes everything in him not to throw something but he manages to suppress his violent urges long enough to pick up a brush again.

Thank god he has all night to do this. You won’t be home from your trip until tomorrow afternoon. By then he’ll have put everything back in its place and you’ll never know a thing. At least that’s the way things were meant to go but the unexpected glimmer of your reflection lingering by the bedroom door destroys that in an instant.

You thought it’d be sweet to surprise Seonghwa by coming home early. The event you were hired for had been canceled and you always missed each other so much. You figured it only made sense to come back home. You even stopped at his favorite takeout spot on the way from the airport to pick up dinner.

No one’s ever come close to treating you with as much love and care as Seonghwa has. Everything he does makes you feel warm and fuzzy inside. Just glancing down at the sparkly ring on your finger is enough to make your face light up. Any chance you have to make him feel the same way isn’t one you’re willing to pass up.

But, for the first time since you met, his face doesn’t light up at the sight of you. It darkens as if the world has ended and you can’t help but feel like you’re the one who ended it. 

“Hwa—” you sigh softly, approaching the vanity where he sits nearly catatonic. Tears collect in the corner of his deep brown eyes, his fingers beginning to shake around the makeup brush. “It’s okay” you promise, gently resting a hand on his shoulder. Seonghwa pulls away from you, tearing the headphones off of his head. His dark hair hangs in his face giving him a safe place to hide from the disappointment he knows is waiting for him if he dares meet your gaze.

Only there isn’t any...

This isn’t what you expected to come home to but it’s far from a surprise for you. One of the things you always loved about Seonghwa was how comfortable he seemed to be in his own skin. While other guys saw every little thing as a threat to their masculinity, he treated femininity as something beautiful. You can’t even count the amount of times you’ve wanted to do his makeup. Those eyes. Those lips. That killer bone structure. He’s perfect for that kind of thing. You wish now more than ever that you’d said something.

“I’m really sorry. I didn’t—I’m just—I’m so sorry” he mumbles, choking back tears. You outstretch your arms to wrap him in a hug but he slips away again, rushing to the closet to grab his gym bag. “Hwa, what are you doing? Can you stop for a second? Please?” you beg, following him around the room as he blindly tosses things into the bag.

You’ve never felt more invisible. Your words fall on deaf ears and each time you reach out to touch him he recoils. Seonghwa grabs his phone from the dresser, snatching free of the grip you have on the sleeve of his shirt. This is his worst nightmare. In the blink of an eye he lost everything, he’s convinced of that. He doesn’t know what to say or what to do. All he can think to do is run. 

“You can’t do this!” you shout, trailing him down the hallway, “You have to talk to me!”

Seonghwa breathes in, beyond pissed off at the few tears that manage to escape. “I have to leave. I have to—to protect you.”

Hearing the pain in his voice, you nearly trip on your luggage to throw yourself in front of the door. “Is it to protect me? Or to protect yourself?”

That stops him in his tracks, his foot already halfway into a pair of sneakers. Who’s he running away for really? It’s a question that only makes the pounding in his head worse. He knows that you love him. You tell him every morning, even when you’re apart, how special he is to you. You’re begging him to stay but he can’t. He can’t. Why can’t he?

“Move please” he asks, his hand tight around the doorknob. 

You fold your arms across your chest, back pressed to the door, “No.” 

“Move…please” his voice is deeper this time, the request sounding more like a demand. 

Slipping your hands beneath the curtain of jade hair, you rest them on cheeks that burn hot enough to heat your palms. Your fingers are stained with tears and what makeup remains on his cheeks. “I love you so much” you whisper, refusing to let him get away this time, “I need you to look at me.”

You hold your breath in the silence that follows, exhaling only when his mascara smeared eyes meet yours. “I. Love. You. So. Much” you say but slower this time, putting emphasis on every word. Your heart breaks for him, for how terrified you can tell he’s been of this happening.

You raise one of your hands to show him the makeup covering it. “I don’t care about this, Hwa. I care about you.” The faint smile on your face speaks of comfort, a truly safe place for him to be if he wants it. His hand falls away from the doorknob as he lets the gym bag hit the floor with a thud.

“I would’ve told you before but I…” he pauses to summon the courage to go on, “I was afraid you wouldn’t want me anymore.” You let out a sigh of relief at the sensation of his arms easing around your waist. He holds you so tightly that you’d swear you were the one trying to run away. 

“Oh, my love. I wish you could meet yourself so you’d know how amazing you are” you sniffle, only now noticing the trickling of your own tears. “I want to be with you—all of you—whatever that looks like.”

Seonghwa uses his hands to wipe away your tears, leaving them tinted in the light makeup you threw on before your flight. “And see, we’re twins now” you giggle, desperate to lighten the mood. Seonghwa stares at you longingly, the light gradually reigniting behind his eyes. “I love you too” he smiles, his lips brushing yours, “So much.”

He kisses you in the most innocent way and it’s like your first kiss all over again. Packed with nerves and excitement that melt away the longer you linger here. It’ll take some time to fade—the fear of being vulnerable—but it will fade and you’ll be there for it all. 

“Will you help me fix it?” he asks, nervously fidgeting with the waist of your paints, “You don’t have to but I have a picture on my phone and—” You cover his mouth with your hand before he can say anything more, “Of course I’ll help you. Shower first though?” Seonghwa suddenly becomes hyper aware of the slight mess on his hands—in his hair—on both of your clothes. “I’d really like that.” 

Kissing him on the forehead, you push his hair back to get a good look at him, “We’re doing dreamy summer vibes? Something soft?” 

“How’d you know that?”

“I don’t know” you shrug, “Maybe I’m just that good. You were also going super hard on the Taylor Swift so I kinda assumed. Just blasting. I didn’t know it was that real for you.” 

“Shut up” he laughs, squeezing you so tight you can’t breathe. 

“Okay, okay. I’m sorry!” you giggle, trying to get away. But he won’t let you. Instead he lays his head on your shoulder, willing to tolerate being a total mess for a bit longer if it means holding you. The way that things have been...it doesn’t have to be like that now.

And it never will be again.

[amomentsescape]

I'm dead, its finals for the semester at my school. Could you do a different slashers x reader were the reader has finals and is burnt out, emotional, and overwhelmed and they hate to see the reader that way and maybe some even get mad at the school for causing this and do somthing about it like making it shut down for a while?

Slashers with Stressed! Reader During Finals Week

A/N: Thank you so much for the request! Please, make sure to take care of yourself during this time. I wish you the best of luck on your finals! :)

Freddy Krueger

Anything but smiling is basically a no-go in his book

The fact that he also hasn't seen you in a while only makes him more frustrated

He's aware of the all-nighters you've been pulling recently

Your head buried in numerous books and pages

He decides enough is enough and shows up in your world instead

Your desk is a mess, and he can see the slight puffiness under your eyes from your most recent breakdown

Yeah, he needs to end this

He gives you a reassuring hug and disappears again

He finally comes back about an hour later, a smile on his face

"There won't be school for a while"

You look at him confused

However, all the lack of sleep was catching up with you, so you don't argue as he leads you to bed, tucking yourself under the sheets

The next morning, you wake up to several notifications on your phone, all of them saying that several students were found dead in their beds last night

The whole school was going to be shut down for a while as an investigation ensues

You could practically hear Freddy's laugh echo in your mind

Michael Myers

He doesn't understand why you're so stressed out

It's just a few tests

If they're bothering you so much, just skip them

But as he watches your desperate attempt to explain why you have to take them and everything that's on the line if you don't, he finally gives up

He hates seeing you so upset about something so trivial

So he heads out that night while you're snoozing on the desk, having passed out on accident

You finally wake up a couple hours later, you eyes slowly adjusting to Michael in front of you

He's changing out of his dirty clothes, trying carefully not to wake you

However, when he notices you looking at him confused, he just walks over to you

In his hands, the bloody school ID's from every single one of your professors

Jason Voorhees

Jason has been practically begging you to go to sleep or eat SOMETHING

But you keep refusing him, too overwhelmed at the amount of studying you have to do

You are hoping that by using every possible minute you have, you'll be able to at least pass these finals

But Jason feels like you're just torturing yourself

So while you're drowning out the world with your headphones, Jason is slipping out to your school

He somehow manages to destroy most of the campus's electrical supply

This gives you a couple extra days to prepare and actually take care of yourself

When you find out the news, you can't help but jump onto Jason

He's just happy to finally see a smile on your face

Thomas Hewitt

You had to explain just what a final was and how it affects you by not passing

He understands why you're so stressed now, but it doesn't make the situation any better in his opinion

He tries to tend to you as much as possible

Drinks, food, back rubs, blankets, etc.

Literally anything that he feels would make you comfortable in the moment, he brings to you

Will stay up with you too, waiting for the minute you need something

He really enjoys taking care of you too, so none of it feels like a chore

As much as he would like to make dinner out of your professors for overwhelming you this much, he knows that it would only stress you out more

Plus, he's confident you'll do well on your finals!

You are the smartest person he knows, honestly

Bubba Sawyer

He's also completely at your beck and call

He doesn't feel comfortable leaving home on his own, so he doesn't know how to help get rid of the source of your stress

But he's very much willing to alleviate it as much as he can

He makes you dinner, prepares some warm tea, and even gets the fireplace going for you

He also tries to clean and tidy up the area around you, hoping it will help you focus more

He's never taken an exam before, but he definitely knows it's important to you

And what matters to you, matters to him

He shushes everyone who walks by just a little too loud, earning a couple laughs from you

He does pull you away from the desk every once in a while though, making you lie down with him and cuddle

He assures you that taking breaks is good for you, but you're starting to think the cuddles are more for him than you

Brahms Heelshire

Grades were pretty important to his parents growing up, so he understands the pressure

But taking 5 huge exams in the span of a week?

That's actually ridiculous

Will play some classical music for you, telling you that it always helped him focus when he was younger

Will be a little more lenient about you following the rules

But he still expects you to give him attention

If he feels you haven't given him enough affection in the past hour, he will be all up in your business like a neglected cat

He isn't helping your focus much unfortunately

But he eventually makes a deal with you to help you study

This way, you're still using your time wisely, and Brahms is still receiving your attention

Will ask you questions from flashcards to see if you're answering them correctly

Gives you a kiss every time you get one right

He honestly has full faith that you'll do great on your finals

Norman Bates

Norman is trying his best to relax you, holding you tight while you explain your worries and frustrations

But the moment he hears your voice break and sees the tears running from your eyes, his memory goes blank

All he remembers is feeling an intense rage settle into his body

Not at you, but at your school for making you feel this way

He finally comes to a few hours later

It's already dark out, and he's standing over your sleeping form lying on the couch

He tucks you in quietly and helps tidy up your papers a bit

When you wake up the next morning, you have different notifications from your school and fellow classmates

You pull up a news report stating that the school was basically in shambles, and they even found a body of one of the professors in an empty classroom

This meant that your tests were going to be pushed off for a while until they sorted everything out

Norman looks just as confused as you do

"It's okay, dear. You should go back to sleep, okay?"

You simply nod and tuck yourself back in, thankful that you have some time to finally rest

Billy Loomis

Billy has thought this through for a while

Because he's also needing to take finals with you

He kind of just shrugs them off, being fortunate enough to ace every test he's ever taken, with or without studying

But you on the other hand, were barely holding yourself together

You were basically surviving on just caffeine and adrenaline, the fear of failing being enough to keep you awake late into the night

Now, as much as Billy would love to kill off half the school's population, he knew better

Graduating was important to you, and he didn't want to risk prolonging that

So he went with plan B

He threatened the school

He did the second best thing he knew how to do, and that was making a phone call and telling the school that if professors or students showed up during the next two days, they were going to end up killed

This was enough to put everything in lockdown for a few days

How he managed to not get traced was unbeknownst to you

But you were still incredibly thankful, finally relaxing in his arms for the first time in days

Stu Macher

Now Stu didn't really think this through like Billy had

He just went in for plan A

He didn't want to take these tests either!

But he also didn't want to put in a lot of work to prevent them

He just wanted to stay by your side as much as possible, hating to see you so worked up over these finals

So he did the "bare minimum" in his words

He went to school, killed a couple teachers, cut the phone lines and major electrical units, and went on his merry way

And of course, the school was immediately shut down as a huge investigation ensued

But Stu was happy with his decision

Now, he could spend the next few days with you AND see you relaxed for once

It was a win-win

Although murder may not have been your first option, you still gave him a big kiss as compensation

Eric Draven

Of course Eric being Eric, murder is not the first solution in his book

He's taken plenty of finals in his day

He knows the pressure and the stress

And as much as he hated seeing you this way, he knew that the storm would blow over soon

But that's not to say he can't make you as comfortable as possible during it

He dug out an old heating pad and gave it to you, happy to see the wide smile you showed him once you grabbed it

He also lit a few of your favorite candles, trying to keep the atmosphere as relaxing as possible

He ordered take out for you both, got you your favorite drink, and even played some good studying music for you

He knew he wasn't going to be able to prevent you from pulling an all-nighter, so it only made sense for him to join you!

He ended up turning the whole night into one big study sleepover

He even helped you stay organized and provided a few study techniques that always worked for him

He's truly the perfect man to have by your side during this time

[domreader-headcannon-scenarios]

If you’re willing could you maybe write a little thing (idk the word for it sorry 😭) about replaced God MC getting annoyed with Gabriel and choosing to get energy from Michellel instead??

Yes! I love this, I was thinking of cucking em with lower demons but it would get their heads turning if you chose one of them!

(I really hope you like it I feel like I messed it up!)

Wrong Move (Gabriel)

Cw: technically c*cking?, pining, one sided relationship, angel energy exchange, slight edge play,

-

Gabriel knew you wouldn’t forgive him easily for…branding you…killing your best friend and charging a war against Hell, then kidnapping you…

Gabriel sighs as he watches you tremble as Michael Carrie’s you to your room for some…angel energy….he wished you’d give him a chance! He’s gotta be better! No angel has done…such activities until you came around so they all have the same experience level…

It hurt since it wasn’t just once…this is the with time…it irked him to know you chose the cry baby to him…he could hear his whimpers and moans…it made his heart ache…

He thought about the brand marking he left on you, it hurt to know…he scared your perfect vessel. But…you gave him no chance to make it up, he could heal it! But…you ordered him to deal with and live with the scars there…

He whimpers as he hears Michael moaning loudly, enjoying himself with you…Gabriel had gotten so upset he even tried peeking in in you two a few times.

Each time Michael just…was so obedient, only doing as you say…even letting you edge him.

“A-aah! M-my Lord…I’m close! Please have mercy!”

Gabriel paused, he’s never heard Michael sound like that, he’s never seen him look like that…

Gabriel’s own body heated up at the thought often of you doing this to him…he can feel his cock throbbing in its cage and as he glances towards the other angels groin, he notices…the lack of a chastity cage….

His eyes widen realizing you took off Michael’s cage.

He sobs in frustration quietly, leaving, trembling in a mix of embarrassment and frustration. He needs to make this up to you…

~

The next day you wake up to Gabriel having made you breakfast. He has your clothes laid out and is smiling to you. “My Lord, I’m sorry…I’ve been very…dare I say inappropriate.”

Gabriel sighs and looks away trying to think of what to say.

“Have I said before? That I love you, I deeply value you and will do all I can to protect my Lord…” Gabriel leans forwards and rest his forehead on yours. “Please, please Master…let me heal the wound I have you, I’m sorry…I regret it.”

You barely seem bothered, making him feel wounded, his smile falters but he gets his hopes up when you brush his hair to the side so you can look in his eyes.

“Gabriel. I knew you were watching.”

Gabriel freezes and lowers his gaze. “I-I’m sorr-“

You interrupt him. “Don’t be a brat, I’m not going to chose you next time because your pride wants it…”

You grab his halo and yank it so he flops on the bed, landing beside you. Gabriel looks to you in surprise but since you don’t key go of his halo he decides to behave and stay down. He looks up to you nervously.

“Maybe next time I’ll let you sit in the room, gagged and tied up so you can sit back and enjoy the sight without bothering us.” You coldly tease, leaning over you pluck a feather from Gabriel’s wings. “Get Michael. I need some more energy.”

Gabriel whimpered as you let go of his halo.

“M-Master please give me a chance! I will prove myself to you! I’ll do anything you want! My entire being is just for your pleasure!” He pleaded…you hated his desperate tantrums whenever you decline him something like this. “Once chance is all I’m asking for please…”

As you sit up on the bed he gets on the ground on your side of the bed and gets on his knees and bow, his head on the ground as he bows to you. You know it’s a sign of respect but you grin and place a foot on his head, pushing his face against the ground.

“What a whiny bitch you are…now get Michael and I’ll let you watch.”

Gabriel held back a whimper and hurried away, trying to hid the tears in his eyes from your rejection…he’s sure he can make it up later…just not now…

[hannieehaee]

18+ / mdi

content: friends to lovers, sub!seungkwan, sub!reader (but not as much as him lbr), smut, f reader, non penetrative sex, grinding, too many run on sentences, etc.

wc: 1521

masterlist

bestfriend!seungkwan and you, who have insane underlying sexual tension that neither of you is willing to talk about but everyone else can see.

the way you two jokingly argue with each other, constantly scolding the other one second, and cuddling chest-to-chest the next.

kwannie who envies any type of attention you give his members because you're HIS best friend and you should be doting to him only.

kwannie who gets annoyed at the sight of you giggling endlessly at chan's jokes and unknowingly flirting with vernon, who doesnt realize his best friend is in love with you and is wishing him a very inconvenient evening for even daring to steal you away in his presence.

kwannie who gets fed up of watching you go to yet another member and strike up conversation (flirting with mingyu ?? seriously ?) from afar and drags you away under the vice of 'why are you hogging my friends? get your own!' and leads you to a more secluded area.

you, annoyed (but not really) at his antics, start to pick a fight with him, enjoying the unserious back and forth you tend to have with each other.

it's all going as usual; both of you still in denial about the tension between you and the reason for your constant discomfort at seeing the other in near proximity to anyone else. that is, until things take a shift.

the atmosphere seems different somehow. this time, kwannie seems to be taking your lighthearted flirting with his members to heart; something that you had never encountered in your years of friendship.

"why are you always flirting with them?", he whines. "do you think its fun watching MY best friend ditch me the moment she sees a pretty boy walk by? what about me??"

this is now a good ten minutes into the argument. one that is usually light-hearted enough to take place in front of the other members and ends in the members teasing seungkwan about his dependency on your attention. this time, however, seemed different.

"what about you, kwannie? you know it doesnt mean anything. theyre my friends too, they know its not serious," you argue back, feeling nervous at the serious tone of his complaints.

"its not that, its just..." he cuts himself off. "even they see it, but you dont. why is it always them? .. why wont you look my way?"

that last sentence stops you in your tracks. whatever rebuttal you had in your mind suddenly going away, not knowing how to respond.

unsure as to whether that was a confession or simple frustration at having to share his best friend, you stare blankly at him, breathing heavier than ever.

"kwannie .. of course i look at you. i love you, you're my best friend," you try to salvage the situation in the most ambiguous way you can, not knowing where this is going.

he lets out a heavy sigh, looking down at your shoes, unwilling to make eye contact with you, something very unlike the seungkwan you know.

"kwannie .. ?", you inquire and step towards him.

"we'll always be friends, right?", you nod at his question, urging him to continue "so it's okay if i talk freely? we'll always be there for each other, right?", he asks rhetorically, nodding at his own question to reassure himself.

he takes a deep breath as he walks towards you. "you know .. jeonghan hyung told me over and over to just tell you, that you would love me regardless and that i'd never lose you. but i guess you might already have some sort of idea, don't you?", he smiles sadly at you, timidly extending his hands towards yours.

you accept the embrace of his hands and nod back; head down, feeling vulnerable at the situation.

seeing as he's already put his cards on the table (kind of), you decide to walk the rest of the way for him.

you step forward and run your hands from his hands to his arms to his shoulders, closing any distance between you. he seems slightly surprised at what seems to be your reciprocation, but quickly recovers, not wanting to ruin the tender moment.

like in any teenage movie, you both stare down at each other's lips, breathing heavily at the thought of finally getting something you've wanted for years.

you make the first move and softly press your lips against his, causing you both to instantly moan against each other's mouths. it escalates quickly after that. with mouths open, and tongues desperate to get a taste of one another. your hands moving from his shoulders to his hair, pulling him as close as possible. his landing on your waist, finding their way under your shirt softly but desperately scratching at your skin.

your kiss becomes so needy and desperate it's almost impossible to call it a kiss anymore. incessant moaning into each other's mouths and spit covering both your lips. your resolve breaks first, causing you to push him into the nearest surface, which takes form of a sofa bed located behind seungkwan. you push him down, readily straddling his waist and pressing yourself even closer to him.

if seungkwan had any thoughts in his mind prior to you kissing him, theyre even further gone now. he has no control of himself as he runs his hands all over your back, wanting to remain respectful of any boundaries you may have, but going insane at your lips on his and your crotch laying so so closely to his.

you take notice of his desperation and pull off your shirt, making sure to take your bra off with it. you receive a reaction you had only ever dreamed of before.

seungkwan's desire and desperation are clear in his eyes, with his eyebrows furrowed and a whine escaping his mouth at the view of his best friend's chest bare in front of him.

"p-please, god. fuck. can i- please. please let me ..." he whines nonsensically, hands and mouth nearing your tits but not quite touching them before getting your permission.

with no verbal answer you grab his hands and fondle your own breasts with them, moaning at his whines and pleas to get his mouth on them; something which he does soon after.

grinding your crotch against the very obvious bulge in his navy shorts, you whine at the stimulation from his mouth desperately licking your tits, teeth softly pulling at the sensitive buds as he whines at the taste of your skin.

"kwannie .. fuck kwannie dont stop fuck please ..." you breathe out, shoving his face closer to your chest, grinding even faster.

despite your frustration at wanting even more pleasure from seungkwan's body, you disconnect yourself from him to remove your pants and instruct him to remove the rest of his clothes. he whines at the sudden interruption, but hurries to undress himself as soon as he sees you expectantly watch him with just your panties on, wanting you back on him as soon as humanly possible.

with now only two thin layers separating you and seungkwan, you feel the pressure of his dick against your clit even more, causing you to whine into his open mouth.

you know your grinding may be more pleasurable for you than for him, but the pleasure makes you so delirious you cant bring yourself to stop, grinding even faster and shoving your tongue in his mouth, hands harshly grabbing onto his shoulders for better accuracy in the rutting of your hips.

"kwannie- fuck please i promise i- shit. i'll do whatever you want, just let me- please let me finish. it feels so fucking good," you cry, speeding up even more, completely drunk in the feeling of your clit deliciously grinding against his pulsing length.

he seems to not mind it, even helping you meet your undoing by grabbing onto your hips and pushing them against his crotch in order to optimize your pleasure. his mouth is open, letting out whines at the thought of all the pleasure he's causing you by just sitting there.

unbeknownst to you, seungkwan is also nearing his end, felling insane pleasure at the friction caused from the canting of your hips against his. he's the first to find his high, whining into your neck as your never ending grinding continues its course atop his sensitive dick.

it's soon after that you also reach your high and deflate against his warm chest, weakly running your hands into his hair, pulling him for an uncharacteristically sweet peck.

"thank you," you breathe against his cheek. "i wasnt sure where that argument was going, but im glad it ended here," you giggle as you feel his chest shake from his own chuckle.

"sorry i was so dramatic, but i guess it worked in both of our favours so .. you're welcome," he jokes, running his hands up and down your back soothingly.

after a few more teasing comments back and forth, you help clean each other up with whatever wipes and tissues are at your disposal and dress yourselves back up.

it was safe to say that after this, flirting with his members was strictly prohibited.

a/n: i love seungkwan more than life itself which is why i feel kinda bad writing such filth abt him but i also want him so bad so .. anyways this was not proofread bc im too lazy to reread this many words over again. pls lmk if theres anything that makes zero sense that i should change tho <3

[dadsbongos]

Heyyy (ノ^∇^)

Idk if you write for him, since I barely see any other writers write for him😔, but would you be willing to write for Toshiro? 🙏🙏🙏

I love that man soooooo so fucking much but there barely any concent of him where it's not about his fight with Laios and it's frustrating ngl-😭😭

A thought that has been in my brain for quite some time now, is like— sorta like an arrange marriage type of situation where they started off awkward but then one of them (in this case, Toshiro) started to have fallen head over heels for his spouse who has been secretly falling for him first

Just the thought of him, barely touching his spouse on their wedding night because they just got married to some stranger (probably, or maybe they knew each other but not necessarily close?) to then sharing a passionate night with them❤❤

I'm feral somebody hold me down-

i wanted this to be longer but lately i've been... funky so its some bland honeymoon shiz before i scare the hoes with toshiro bugfucker truthery

1.2 k words / warnings - reader has a pussoi, honestly this is more fluff than explicit but smut is the setting frame, not super proofread ~~~

“Do you…” Toshiro clears his throat, “Would you want to share a bed tonight?”

You paused, blinking up at your new husband stupidly before jerking your head to the side, “I’m not sure…”

“I’ll make a separate place for myself again, then.”

“Well, no, that’s not necessary…”

Black brows furrow down at you, “I’m a little confused.”

“As am I,” you confess, eyes tracing the hardwood floors with a soft sigh, “I’m just concerned with what you’ll think of me after I’m honest with myself.”

For a long while, Toshiro is perfectly still. Then his heart squeezes, blinking at you numbly, “I’m sorry?”

“What if I humiliate myself? Or I’m too eager?”

Oh? 

“How could you be too eager?”

Gaze stuttering from his framing baby hairs to his gentle eyes to his slim waist to his legs. Tender flesh obscured by a jade yogi. Black hair cascades over his shoulders, shining beneath flickering candle light. Cheeks flush and lashes fluttery.

“You couldn’t imagine.”

Oh! 

Toshiro smothers his shock with a hand over his rising mouth, looking away from you, “I don’t think that’s true.”

“You don’t?”

“Not at all,” Toshiro clenches his eyes, even the wrinkle in his forehead captivates you, “I didn’t want to scare or intimidate you by seeming too eager.”

Scandalized, you gasp, “Toshiro!”

“I know… I’m sorry if that’s unsettling to hear.”

“But is it true? You aren’t saying this for flattery’s sake, are you?”

“I’m not.”

“Then we’re both eager.”

“We are,” he confirms, clearing his throat before gesturing to the futon you’re designated to share, “Do you want to share the bed tonight?”

Just asking twice makes him feel uncomfortable, though he supposes the entirety of your engagement has been uncomfortable.

(“I insisted to my father, I’d find my own partner…”

“Sorry, if I’m disappointing.”

“No, no. I just… would have wished to not drag people into our lives.”)

You’re a bit more outgoing than himself. He prefers you to take charge, but suddenly you’re shy. Clamming up and awkwardly shuffling onto the mat. Legs pin straight and boring holes through his skull with a wide-eyed stare.

“Would you mind showing me?” he murmurs, “I feel you’re more… experienced in these matters.”

“Does it bother you that I am?” you frown suddenly, “Maizuru seems to hate it…”

If he hadn’t rushed to tuck his head down, you would’ve caught his vicious eye roll, “Maizuru doesn’t know what I want.”

“So, it doesn’t bother you?”

“Not at all. I find you just as pretty.”

Thankfully, his stammered and jumbled admission appears to soothe the tension in your shoulders. Rocking forward onto your knees before apprehensively tugging open the part of his thick robing.

“You might be the pretty one in this marriage.”

He’s forced to choke on his retort as you’re kissing up his freshly exposed thigh. Wandering hands shirking the thick material off his shoulders and combing through silky hair. Uneven pants lace the air, chapped lips parting to wheeze your name. Warm palms cup your cheeks, fingers toying around the bone of your jaw and thumbs rubbing beneath your lashes.

Coaxing you onto your feet, Toshiro cups your cheeks fully and he’s muttering. You’re not sure if he’s meaning to whisper sweet romantics for you, and you’re tempted to ask for clarity when he abruptly snaps you onto your back.

Nose digging into the junction of your neck as Toshiro folds your legs to cradle his waist. 

“Can I speak plainly?” he requests, fingers digging into the fat of your thighs before scaling up your tummy to peel off your own sleepwear.

Jolting shoulders and arms up to make the disrobing easier, you nod rapidly, “Of course!”

Still, his eyes are closed to avoid catching sight of your potential horror or displeasure, “There are many things I want for us to do, but tonight I’d like to stay this way.”

“Look at me,” you pet through his hair, kissing the corners of his downturned mouth and the bunched skin between his eyebrows, “Won’t my husband look at me?”

Slowly, he heeds your command. Long lashes batting your thumb pad. He squeezes the round of your thighs circling his bare waist to strangle the urge to run. To flip himself over and let you do as you please. To not put himself out there and let you see him any less proper.

“I’ve been fond of you since we met,” you crane up to smooch his forehead, the heat from his face searing your lips. You rather like the sensation.

“So long?”

“How couldn’t I be? I like men shy and reserved, though I think I’d like you more if you could break out of your shell when we’re alone.”

Toshiro returns his face into your neck, hips snapping to impress his hardening cock against you. Breath hitching when he’s embraced by wetness, shoulders tensing -- so this is happening.

Loneliness plagued Toshiro his entire life, even following reconciliation with the Toudens -- it isn’t as though he lives in Melini, after all. Instead he’s occupying his father’s place in their family, on Wa. 

Your engagement was his only respite from the gnawing solitude, and now you’re dedicating yourself to sides of him you haven’t even seen yet.

His slow thrusts are stiff and mildly pleasant until you coo and snag fingers into the divot of his tailbone. Pushing his hips to roll into yours, black pubes brushing your clit and curling a real whimper from your lips. Toshiro stares down at you at the sound, fumbling a moment to snare your thighs tighter around him before eagerly repeating the motion.

Canting up to meet Toshiro’s efforts rewards you with a warm stretch and soft squelch as your hole adjusts around him. Huffy pants escape the man above you, chest dying red and hands bruising your hips. 

He’d never liked someone as much as he liked Falin, but he’s thinking -- even through delirium and heat and lust -- that maybe he could love you.

Pitching up on your elbows, you whine quietly into his cheek with more lavish kisses. Toshiro greedily turns his head to capture your lips with his, praying to drown his rhythm-less, virgin embarrassment in your saliva.

You don’t finish. You say you’re okay with that. Toshiro isn’t, it feels selfish.

“Please, let me…” his fingers skim over your stomach before dipping between your thighs and tracing the sloppy, soaked seam of your cunt, “I want to.”

“Do you insist?”

Toshiro feels unnaturally bold, swallowing around syrupy desire. He nods, “I do.”

.

.

.

days prior.

Hands swept tightly behind your back, you carefully observe the way a common copper beetle is ticking around the hanging tree leaves. Fascination blazes your eyes wide, and lips coiled upward.

Toshiro hadn’t meant to actually see you. He wasn’t even aware you were still on the premises, certain that having his fiance so close before their wedding night was some strain of scandal. 

Nonetheless, you’re here. And you’re admiring the fuzzy legs of a mere beetle.

As far as he was aware, people were not fond of beetles. Butterflies or moths, maybe. Not beetles. Hien would squish them instantly, and even Inutade tried maintaining distance. 

You smile upon the creature, paying no mind to the outside world.

Toshiro wonders if you could smile upon him that way, too.

~~~ yes toshiro starts liking you bc you’re admiring a bug that moment in the manga was so significant to his character and to me and ill be damned if i dont get to add onto it

[bby-bo]

When The Boss Comes Knocking

the following is a CEO!Sakusa fic that landed somewhere between sfw and sorta nsfw, but its kiyoomi and he just makes my brain go buzz in every situation so i just couldn’t help it 

Part 2

Summary: You dated Sakusa in high school but went your separate ways after graduation. Turns out he missed you much more than he let on. 

Warnings: none, just kiyoomi being hot. use of “sweetheart” and “baby”

Sakusa Kiyoomi always has been and will always be the man of your dreams. Tall and broad shouldered, even in his high school years he was the pinnacle of your existence, and all you wanted was to be near him. Your wishes were granted for only a brief period of time when you finally dated in your junior year, but your Kiyoomi was ripped away from you when his family decided he needed to start preparing to take over the business.

The Sakusa Group was well known and respected for their acquisition of many successful start-ups, but details of their business dealings were always very secretive. And the company had only grown and expanded since Kiyoomi became CEO at just a mere 25 years old- not that you were stalking the Sakusa Group’s movements in your free time or anything.

When the two of you broke up he had encouraged you to “follow your own dreams”, and made sure to mention he would be extremely busy in the years after graduating high school.  You had received the underlying message loud and clear. He wanted to be left alone and didn’t want a girl from a regular family ruining his image when he entered the executive world. Your heart was shattered, but that didn’t stop you from missing Kiyoomi dearly even years later. The hugs that completely enveloped your frame and the scent of his light cologne, the one he brought you to pick out for him on his birthday. The rasp of his deep voice and how its sound had burrowed into the back of your brain, the memories of random things he once said to you popping to the forefront of your mind haphazardly throughout your days.

You had done as he said, and moved to the city to become an author as you always dreamed. Actually, you were pretty successful in the romance industry and even though you only had a handful of books published, your fanbase was so dedicated and charismatic. In your single year of dating Kiyoomi you had amassed a lifetime’s worth of romantic material, and between your real life experiences with him and the melancholy fantasies that kept you up at night nowadays, you had lots of inspiration. Although, even you were prone to the classically dreaded writer’s block.

Today was just a regular Tuesday morning in the office, where you preferred to write when you were stuck in a rut. Unfortunately, the coffee mug on your desk was not bringing the inspiration that you wanted and you glared at the last sip, willing some piece of creativity to be hiding inside as you downed it. Nothing. Loosening a sigh, you dropped your head into your hands just as a knock rapped on the door. Without lifting your head you greeted the visitor, already knowing who was on the other side.

“Come in!”

“How’s it coming? Anything I can get you right now?” It was the sweet front desk girl, Josie, checking in on you. Again. 

“Unless you can write in my place, there’s not much you can do for me i'm afraid” Josie meant well, but her insistent interruptions certainly were not helping your workflow, and this was the third time within 30 minutes she’s asked if you needed anything.

“Okie dokie, I’ll check back later then! Keep at it! ” 

“Oh, you don’t have to-” She was off with a wave without hearing your response, the door slamming behind her. With another sigh, your head dropped back into your hands, frustration building. 

Not 5 minutes later, there was another knock at the door. But this time the door opened before you could respond.

“Holy shit, Josie i’m really fine I swear- K-Kiyoomi???” You burst from your seat in surprise, your eyes all but popping out of your head.

And there he was, like a fever dream come to life, standing in the doorframe. His handsome face tilted to the side slightly, a smirk pulling across his lips.

“There you are, I’ve been looking for you” His voice had gotten deeper since the last time you spoke. His hair a little longer, his chest a bit stronger. But his eyes remained the same, that dark gaze enticing you and melting you down with just a look.

“W-what are you doing here? How did you-? What is this??” 

As much as you wanted to cave and run straight into his arms, you vividly recalled your last conversation with Sakusa. Not Kiyoomi. He had corrected you so coldly before parting, saying “you should call me by last name from now on, otherwise people may get confused”. As if it would be bad if people mistakenly thought you were still dating. As if to push you that much further away. Your confusion only grew as you looked at him now, unsure of his motives for being here. 

“Came to scope out a new prospect. I sent an executive to meet with your publishing house’s CEO last week” His smirk widened as he took deliberately slow steps into the room, sleek confidence dripping from him. 

That's right, your boss had mentioned that your little publishing house had been recently approached by a huge parent company with an amazing offer, but as far as you knew nothing had been made official. And you certainly had no clue that said parent company was the Sakusa Group. The realization settled in, and the frustration you felt earlier was starting to bubble up again. 

All of a sudden he was in your space, sleek black button-up shirt in your direct line of sight. What was his goal here? Certainly this has nothing to do with you? Right. Exactly. He claimed he was here for business. Then why..??

Long fingers gripped your chin, thumb tugging your bottom lip from between your teeth where you nervously chewed it. 

“Where did you pick up this bad habit? And when are you planning on acknowledging me properly?” Your heart dropped to your stomach. His firm grip brought your face to look up at his, a little too close for comfort. Kiyoomi’s smirk tilted into a small frown, an admonishing look starting to grow.

“Of course sir, I apologize. Good morning Mr. Sakusa.” Backing out of his hold, you bowed in respect. Of course he was here for just business. 

This only seemed to irritate him further though, and when you rose from your greeting he took another step closer. You may as well have been toe to toe now. 

“Since when do you address me that way?” His eyes were too intense, and you could feel the memories of your past relationship coming up in your mind, emotion nearly overwhelming you before you swallowed it down.

“I’m not sure what you mean sir, it would be improper for me to address you otherwise” 

If he was irritated before, then he was surely pissed off now. 

His hands gripped your shoulders, roughly pushing you back against your desk before planting his palms on either side, caging you in. 

“Why won’t you look at me, hm? It’s disrespectful to ignore your superior sweetheart” Shit. That voice had you in a vice grip and he knew it. He was using it to his advantage. 

“I was unaware you would be my business superior until a minute ago, forgive me sir” How long will your legs hold up before melting completely?

“Seems like something is bothering you. You don’t like the idea of working with me? Or maybe you don’t like the idea of me being your boss? Sweetheart, I hope you realize I know you’ve been writing about me.” 

“No! No thats not-!” Your head shot up in a rush to disagree, or maybe to explain. Either way, you immediately realized your mistake and you were silenced once more. The tip of your nose brushed his, and his breath brushed your lips in an intimate greeting, as if to say “hey, i missed you”. 

His mock irritation melted away, the smirk returning once more. You fell into the trap too easily.

Most people knew Sakusa to be the cool and straightforward man he showed to the world, but when you dated in high school he quickly shattered this image. Though he certainly preferred to stay away from crowds and strangers, he was still human after all, and loved to be in your personal space whenever he got you alone. He had always enjoyed making you blush and stutter, thriving off the knowledge that he could affect you so deeply. Clearly, he still enjoyed that feeling. 

But you were not a toy, and he was interrupting your work day. And how dare he just come back into your life after throwing you aside for so many years?! Absolutely not, you refused to be disrespected this way. Your hands came to his chest, giving him a solid (and completely ineffective) shove.

“No. This is not professional Mr. Sakusa-!” 

Sakusa didn’t back up a single inch. Instead he gripped your face, long fingers pinching into your cheeks slightly. Your breath caught in your throat, previous arguments completely obliterated.

“Stop. Saying. No. Now answer me. Since when do you call me by my last name? You’re purposely not answering my question” 

When you took a breath in you caught the scent of his cologne, and it was the same one you picked out for him in high school. He still wore it. Every single thought emptied out of your head, except for the recognition of how close he was to you, and where he was touching you. 

“Say it.”

“K-Kiyoomi...”

“Say it like you mean it, baby.”

“Kiyoomi.” A smile broke out as his name fell from your mouth a second time.

“That’s my girl, just as pretty as ever. I missed you so bad sweetheart, I’ve been looking for you in the city for some time now. And don't worry, I’ll make up for lost time, so don’t push me away.” 

His second hand came up to the back of your head, tugging you back by your hair and bringing your mouth to his. But he didn’t kiss you, he denied you the pleasure, only speaking against your lips. You let him do as he pleased, no longer able to deny how much you missed him. Missed this. 

“Look at you with your hair so grown out now.”

“Do you like it?”

“I love everything about you.” He moved to plant a firm kiss to both of your cheeks, and to your disappointment he slowly released his hands from your face and hair. 

“The Sakusa Group will officially be in ownership of your publisher by the end of the week. You’ll be seeing a lot more of me, so get used to it sweetheart.” He offered no further explanations or goodbyes, and he left your office with only your disheveled and flustered state to prove that he had really been there at all. 

You made absolutely zero progress on your writing the rest of the morning and afternoon, but when you returned the next day ready for another day of failure, you opened the door to see your office transformed into a florist. 

There were flowers on every single surface, completely covering your desk and the floor. There were roses of every shade, along with tulips, orchids, and other kinds of flowers you had never even seen before. Each bouquet was bursting with color and life, wrapped in silk ribbons and set in gorgeous porcelain vases that looked absolutely priceless.  There was only a small path left open for you to walk to your desk seat, and on your keyboard was a note. 

“A flower for every occasion I missed. And more just because.” 

Your hand came up to your mouth, tears already welling up in your eyes. You looked to the bottom, and saw he signed the note,

“Always Yours, Kiyoomi”

[hyperbali]

This seemed to go over well on r/dragonage, so I will also share it over here!

The question was:

Which DA Romances Do You Think Would Be Open To Having Kids?

DAO

Alistair - if he's got that Strong Theirin Bullshit going on, I think he's having a couple kids regardless of if it's with HoF or Anora. He's a great goofy dad but can't discipline worth a damn.

Leliana - Mmh... she would probably prefer to adopt rather than give birth, I think. Even then, she seems more like an auntie than a mother.

Morrigan - Did not ever foresee or want it for herself, but is a pretty decent mom by virtue of not wanting to be like Flemeth. Not a "cool" mom, but would let her kids have their independence.

Zevran - I can only ever see it being on accident, as beforehand he would have absolutely denied it - but once the possibility is in reach, he can't let the idea go. Ultimate Girl Dad.

DA2

Anders - Nope. Back in Awakening he liked his freedom without fetters too much, and over the course of 2 he gets too focused on becoming a martyr. Ain't ever gonna happen.

Fenris - Not something I think he actively wants, but is willing to take responsibility if it happens. He's the kind of stoic dad that it's hard to get an outward reaction from, but he's definitely protective of his kids.

Isabela - HAHA. That's adorable, kitten! (She probably just ends up kind of semi-adopting a galley kid, but in a way one would adopt a stray outdoor cat - leave it to its business.)

Merrill - Kind of taken aback by the idea, but secretly grows on it. I think she'd probably end up more of a mother figure to refugee elves, though.

DAI

Blackwall - Much as it's cute to think of him as a dad, I think what he did with the mercenary company is going to haunt him too much, even if he goes back to being Thom. He's content with the Inquisitor alone.

Cassandra - So long as she's not Divine, she would be willing to consider it - but would only want just one. Hard disciplinarian, but secretly a softie on some occasions.

Cullen - He's gonna end up having to build an entire farm community just to house all the impending kids and dogs. This man wants a BIG FAMILY.

Dorian - The thought of it is instantly repellant to him just on the basis of it having been expected of him for so long. He'd also be quietly terrified of ending up like his own father, hurting his own child while thinking he's doing his best for them... so no, definitely not happening.

Iron Bull - Hadn't ever really thought about it... ever, but if he's Tal-Vashoth, his heart melts when he sees any of his own babies for the first time. Any kid's got him wrapped around their little finger, and a whole host of aunts and uncles in the Chargers.

Josephine - She wants at least two, but preferably three - it simply wouldn't do for any of her children to grow up lonely. Hilariously, she's one of the strictest parents.

Sera - She sort of just wants to keep the Inquisitor all to herself for as long as she can, but if her wife really, really wanted it, she'd shrug and say why not? An alright mom, especially when they're still little, but I think she'd get really frustrated when they hit their teens.

Solas - He would like to say he doesn't wish it were possible, sometimes. He would like to say that.

DAV

Bellara - She would go nuts tracking down every single child-rearing research material she could and generally get herself anxious about it, but she'd turn out to be one of the best moms of the bunch.

Davrin - Willing to adopt after a while, especially once Assan starts getting older and leaving for longer periods of time as he gains his independence. That kiddo is definitely growing up with the best boy bird-cat-dog protector. Bit of a gruff dad, but he means well and can ease up with help.

Emmrich - Either way you shake it, probably not. Either he's content with Manfred and wouldn't want to chance leaving a young child behind when he eventually passes, or he just can't because he's a lich. For the latter, though, I think he'd be a great dadly mentor for the ages.

Harding - The ultimate in mommy cottagecore. TELL me you can't see her hiking through a forest with a bundled baby on her back, a kidlet skipping at her side, singing together as they head back home for the day. Adorable.

Lucanis - Incredibly unnerved by how much pressure is on him by being The Last Man Standing of the Dellamortes and what that means for their legacy, as well as being terrified over the possibility of what Spite could do to a child... but man, the thought haunts him. He wants to feel part of a close family again so bad. He would cry the first time he held his baby.

Neve - Probably not interested in having any of her own, but definitely ends up being kind of the boss-slash-denmother of a bunch of urchins in Docktown. She (lightly) bullies them into eating and sleeping, and they're her eyes from the shadows.

Taash - Their hang-ups over their mom are way too intense for that. Helping other Qunari and/or Tal-Vashoth adjust to a non-Qun life is about as far as that idea is gonna get.

[her-devils-advocate]

I drag myself like a rug in the rain

pairings: Levi Ackerman x reader

genre: sickfic / fluff

summary: You are sick with the flu, yet refuse to admit it before a certain stern captain. He easily makes you swallow your pride.

The title is taken from The Amazing Devil – Blossoms. It was also a quick drabble written from my own frustrations of being ill!

word count: 1,015

ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/55134844

“You’re not going and that’s final. You look like you’re about to keel over.” Levi’s voice is stern, leaving very little room for argument, but despite his harsh words, his hands are gentle as he pushes you back down on the bed.

"I told you, I'm fine. I'm more than capable of joining the meeting!" Your voice is strained, the words coming out jumbled as you rush to finish the sentence before being overtaken by yet another coughing fit. You weakly glance up at Levi, the man standing before you with crossed arms and a highly unimpressed look on his face.

"Right," he drawls out, moving to the other end of your small bedroom to lean against the door as if you were capable of rushing past him to escape his scrutinising gaze. Part of you is tempted to try, just to cause some amount of annoyance. The more rational part stays still, knowing that in your current state, you would just prove his point faster than you’re willing to.

"If you can walk over to me with ease, then I'll believe you."

You scoff, ignoring the harsh tickle in your throat that the action causes, and slowly rise from the bed. Your body protests, the stiff muscles aching with each movement while your vision blurs. You push it down, refusing to let it show on your face as you slowly place a foot forward, doing everything within your willpower to take a firm step.

"When I make it to you, you promise to let me attend the meeting?"

"If you can make it over here, then sure. It’s not like I want to keep you locked up in here, lazing around all day when we have shit to do.”

“When.” You argue weakly, refusing to back down despite the nausea growing worse with each passing second.

“Besides, you know the meeting is important, especially since it's about the upcoming expedition. We can’t afford to miss a single one now that it's approaching us.”

He rolls his eyes, shifting his position to get comfortable against the cold stone, almost as if he's expecting to be stood there for a while. “Stop stalling. If you want to go to the shitty meeting so much, you know what you have to do.”

You give him your best glare, yet from the way his lips twitch with a concealed smirk, you know you must look like a mess. You have hardly slept, the night spent in a feverish daze, despite retiring to bed earlier than you usually would. The day prior was spent pushing your body beyond its usual limits, wanting to train as much as possible despite the chill air, the change of season growing more noticeable. You groan, regretting the past yet being unable to change a thing.

“You could simply order me to stay in bed, that way we could just avoid this whole song and dance. The fact that you aren’t giving the order proves that you think I’m fine.” You mirror his stance, crossing your arms against your chest with fake confidence and wishing that he doesn’t notice the slight trembling of your hands.

This time Levi lets out a small laugh. The sound is airy and unexpected, and your eyes widen momentarily, convinced that your sickness has finally caused you to hallucinate the rare, but welcomed sight. 

“Nice try. We both know you wouldn’t obey the order, regardless of how sick you are, I’m not going to waste my time giving it. So if you would like to get this ‘song and dance’ over with?” Levi says as his eyes fixate on the way your breathing grows more and more laboured the longer you stand. 

You deflate, knowing he has called your bluff. You give in and place your weight on the extended foot, shakily moving forward. Your bones feel like glass and your chest burns, but you manage to take the first step. You forget to keep up the appearance of health, more focused on actually getting your body to function under his piercing stare, yet you silently celebrate the hollow victory. 

The mental celebration is cut short when you feel your legs give way, you squeeze your eyes shut, preparing to feel your weak body collide with the solid ground. Instead of the unforgiving floor, you are met with strong, firm arms wrapped tightly around you. You slowly open your eyes to be met with his silver glare. Annoyance is painted clear on his face as his lips thin into a straight line.

“This is why you should have stayed in bed, instead of wasting time and arguing with me over it.” Despite the glare, his voice is soft as it reveals his worry. Your health has always been his top priority, even when it's just a common cold making its way through the scouts.

Levi slowly lifts you and brings you back to the warm comforts of your bed. You snuggle against your pillow, letting out a defeated sigh as he brings the blanket up to your chin. He tucks you in tight and you let out a small, slightly delirious giggle, you almost regret it when his hands pause and he stares at you expectantly.

“Are you trying to make it so I’m physically unable to leave this bed?”

His features soften and he continues to help you get comfortable, smoothing out the cover until each crease that dares to mar your blanket retreats, “That’s not the worst idea you’ve had.”

You’re not sure if you want to bask in the compliment or argue that you’ve had better ideas and that he knows it. Your mind is made up the moment he continues to speak.

“That way we can minimise the amount of surfaces you can infect with your germs. We don’t want you infecting the others at the meeting, do we? Now stay put while I bring you some food.”

And with that, he turns to leave the room, a soft smile on his face as your strained shouts of protest and offence follow his retreating form.

[prying-pandora666]

On Ace Attorney and Gay Lawyers

If you know anything at all about Ace Attorney, even only through meme osmosis, then you probably know it’s about two gay lawyers. One blue and one red.

Except it’s not really about that, is it?

Let me preface this with saying that I enjoy WrightWorth as much as the next person and this is in no way against the ship or its fans. Rather, this is more about a wider problem in fandoms when it comes to headcanoning and championing characters as gay when they canonically aren’t, while ignoring actually gay/lesbian/bi/ace characters.

I’ve been frustrated for a while regarding how the most basic and plausibly deniable “queer coding” or “hinting” is taken as highly praised representation for a while. Not only because it teaches entertainment companies that they don’t actually have to give us real representation to make us happy, therefore sticking us with nothing but questionable subtext that can be easily cut out for international releases, but also because it also robs credit from the brave creatives who actually fight for real representation and sometimes pay the price for doing so.

Maybe the “saddled with unnecessary feelings” line from Edgeworth was enough in 2008. After all, gay acceptance still had a long way to go and coding a character was often the best you could get. Both in Japan and the USA.

But it’s well into the 2020s and we have had several Ace Attorney games and spin offs since. So where are all the gay attorneys?

I’m happy to report that we actually did get one!

And then sad to report that he was immediately abandoned and the fandom let it happen with nary a whimper.

It frustrates and depressed me that for a series known for having “gay lawyers”, we only actually got ONE attorney that even approaches actually canonically being same sex attracted and he got practically written away.

It’s Klavier.

For all of the implications and suspiciously-worded subtext with Phoenix and Miles, Phoenix only ever shows interest in women and Miles never shows interest in anyone.

Klavier is the only attorney on either side of the aisle to show canonical queer inclinations (hitting on both Apollo and Ema).

There’s something really disheartening to me about fandom obsessing so hard over two characters who are not canonically gay or in a relationship (not to say there’s anything wrong with shipping them! Just in context with this next part), only to not respond when we finally get a queer prosecutor.

I wish the fandom had reacted more to Klavier being de-emphasized. He really deserved to be fleshed out and explored as much as Miles.

It’s especially upsetting after DD made it clear that Capcom has no intention of ever canonizing WrightWorth out of questionable subtext that’s up to interpretation. For however much we love Miles as gay, Capcom doesn’t see it that way. And the character Capcom was willing to take that risk with, got shoved aside after his first game and promptly forgotten.

(Unrelated, but you know how Miles in DD said he plans to never marry, and Maya in SOJ showed zero romantic interest in Phoenix once reconnecting with him? And yet Miles still showed up for that wedding and Maya tried so hard to catch the bouquet. Inadvertently it almost seemed like they’re hooking up behind Phoenix’ back and they’re both trying to let Phoenix down gently. 😂 At least that’s what my friend who had never played the original trilogy thought was being implied! Cracked me up!)

[clockwork-ashes]

A Second Shadow

Summary: Lucien forces Eris to spend an entire day with him (one-shot). Read also on Ao3!

Note: Thank you to the lovely anon who requested this one-shot!!! It’s definitely one of the least angsty ones I’ve written :)) Also huge thank you to @avabrynne for bringing the term “velcro child” to my attention, i had never heard it before and i LOVE it <3

Eris closed his eyes, rubbing at them roughly with the heels of his palms. He made a low sound, breathless and tired, kicking off his boots so he could tumble onto his bed. The covers were soft, the mattress sinking under his weight. 

The meeting with the High Lord’s advisers had drained him. His parents’ absence to attend a ball in Montesere had left him with countless responsibilities and obligations. Adding onto his already long list of duties, his day had seemed eternal. 

To make matters worse, Lucien had ultimately decided that he would spend the whole day following after Eris. 

A second shadow. 

Eris had always considered Lucien to be a rather emotionally demanding child, but the Lady of Autumn had been more than happy to cater to his every wish. Some might have thought that the boy was spoiled, but his dimpled grin was hard for even Beron to ignore. 

At breakfast, Lucien had insisted that Eris sit next to him. While that spot was usually reserved for their mother, it was something that pleased the child and was easy to do. 

When Lucien had finished his lessons, he had tapped the door to Eris’s study until he had been let inside. He had climbed onto the armchair and looked at the various reports Eris had flipped though, obviously unable to understand staying there for hours. 

Eris had managed to escape for a moment to grab a snack from the kitchen, but Lucien had been all too eager to share. He’d placed a demanding little hand out, asking without using words for an apple slice with sprinkles of cinnamon. 

Even at the meeting, Lucien had refused to let go of Eris, clinging to his leg until he simply abandoned all efforts. The most feared prince in the Autumn Court had resorted to offering a tax proposal with a giggling child attached to him. 

“Fuck,” he mumbled, the word muffled by the pillows, remembering the horrified looks the aristocrats had cast him. He could hardly remember the last time he’d gotten a good night’s sleep, exhaustion creeping over his bones. It had him feeling ancient and heavy, so he vowed to deal with the problems that might arise from his moment of weakness when he could keep his eyes open. 

Eris was still fully dressed, but he couldn’t be bothered to care. The laces at his throat were tight and his collar cut into the skin of his neck uncomfortably. He stayed laying there, sprawled inelegantly, despite knowing he would most likely regret wrinkling the expensive fabric of his jacket in the morning. 

Embers crackled in the fireplace, the rhythm almost like a lullaby. Eris found it comforting, how the Forest House was never silent. He could hardly bear it when everything was quiet, much preferring when soft sounds lingered. 

He had left one of his windows open, and a cool breeze danced into his chambers. He felt its familiar chill, the gentlest of kisses. 

Sleep came quickly, and in the space of a few breaths, Eris knew he was in between worlds. Reality and dreams twisted together, just until the darkness could claim him completely. 

Hinges creaking and graceless footsteps barely registered, even as Eris belatedly realised he’d forgotten to lock his doors. 

“Eris?” His name was whispered, the question soft. There was a small pause as his younger brother waited. 

In response, the High Lord’s heir pulled a pillow over his face. Small hands grabbed onto his arm, fingers tight, not willing to let go. 

“Eris,” Lucien said once again. “I think there’s a monster under my bed.” 

With an annoyed huff, Eris replied. “There isn’t.” 

“There is,” Lucien clipped, slight frustration leaking into his tone. “Can you come?” 

“I cannot,” Eris mumbled, hugging the pillow and tucking it under his chin. He opened his eyes only to raise a brow at his brother. Lucien was dressed in cotton sleeping clothes, his hair a tangled mess of auburn curls. His two front teeth were missing, and there was something about it that Eris found endlessly amusing. “Trust me, nothing can get in and out of this house without father knowing.”  

“I think it’s the naga,” Lucien continued, nodding once as if to confirm his own suspicions. He looked absolutely certain. 

Eris couldn’t help but allow his lips to quirk up at the corners. “Definitely not, they like to torment villages in Spring.” He wondered who might have told him about the dreadful creatures. 

Lucien was still holding onto his arm, fingers gripping onto his sleeve. He tugged once. “Please, Eris. I won’t be able to sleep if you don’t check.” 

With a sigh, Eris shifted on his bed. There was something about the trusting look on Lucien’s face that made his chest ache. “How about you stay here for now, and I’ll look when the sun is up.” 

Lucien did not need to be told twice. He grinned openly, dimples appearing and a flash of gold sparking to life in his russet eyes. He crawled under the covers hastily, tucking himself close to his eldest brother’s side. “Thanks, ‘Ris,” he murmured, yawning as he pressed his face against the pillows. 

When Eris was completely certain that Lucien had fallen asleep, soft snores falling from the boy’s parted lips, he placed a gentle kiss on the crown of his little brother’s head. 

“Good night, Lucien.” He said into the silence, not really minding that they had spent the whole day together. Flames crackled in the hearth, and Eris drifted off to a dreamless sleep moments after he shut his tired eyes.  

[thebearer]

can you please write dad!carmen and mom!reader stuck at home taking care of their two sick babies? carmy would be soo worried hate seeing his girls like that 💔

"Teddy, please don't cry, sweet girl."

"I know, Wills, I know it's nasty. Just a little bit more."

One was screaming, the other sobbing with deep, heaving breaths that made your own heart feel like it might spilt in two somehow. Strep had made its way into the Berzatto household. A mandatory forty-eight hours to make sure they both weren't contagious, an extra twenty-four tacked on so they could recuperate, and you weren't sure you were going to make it past day one.

Carmen had to stay home, of course, he wasn't risking infecting his staff or customers. You were thankful you had his help, especially at times like this.

Times when you were having to feed the girls their medicine. The pale pink liquid measured out in syringes, forced down their throats with gentle coaxes over their cries.

"I don't li-ike it!" Teddy sobbed, shoulders heaving. She was exhausted, sick, just uncomfortable all around. You knew she was. You wished you could jus magically make it better for her, take the pain instead so she'd go back to your bubbly, sweet girl.

"I know, baby." You hummed sympathetically, pressing the small sippy cup to her lips, thumb catching her angry tears streaking down her face. "But it will make you feel better."

"I want to feel better without that!" Teddy roared, crankily, throwing her arms out in pure frustration.

"That's the only way you can get better, Teddy Bear." Carmen chimed, soothing a still sobbing Willow in his arms, her face buried in his neck. She was still upset that he'd given her medicine to her. Sobbing in the most heart wrenching way; sad sobs, not like her sister's cries of frustration and anger- sobs that tore Carmen's heart right down the middle.

Somehow, you managed to get the two of them back down for a nap. They'd cried themselves to sleep, exhausted with emotion, collapsing in your's and Carmen's bed.

The two of you had took to the couch instead, falling nearly on top of each other. "Do you think we should take them back to the doctor?" Carmen muttered next to you.

"Why?"

"Because," Carmen hesitated, head lolling over to look at you. "I mean... They act like they're still in pain."

"That was their first dose, Carm. The medicine hasn't even had a chance to kick in." You countered gently.

"I know... I just- I-I was looking up their symptoms and what if it's meningitis or something? What if it was misdiagnosed and-"

"-Carmen, I swear to fuckin' God, I am blocking WebMD from your phone." You huffed lightly. "I don't know how I'm gonna do that, but I am. I'm gonna go to the Geek Squad and make them block it entirely."

"I'm being serious-"

"-So am I." You looked at him with a light glare. "Baby, they ran the tests. It came back strep. They have to like grow it and stuff to make sure, ok?" Carmen still looked unsettled. "If they wake up and don't feel better, we'll take them back."

"Fine." Carmen nodded, letting his head fall on your shoulder. "You think we should nap in there with them? Or stay in here?"

"Maybe one of us should go in there." You mutter. "Make sure Will doesn't throw up."

"True. Good point." Carmen sighed, rubbing his eyes when he sat up. "I'll go in there."

"I can go." You stand before he can, putting the blanket from the back of the couch on his lap. "You got them this morning. I got 'em, Daddy." You give him a playful, yet tired, wink. Carmen flushes, a shy smile that has your tummy pooling with warmth, pressing a kiss to his cheek before you're padding back to your bedroom.