#so don't hold back on requests if you got 'em

[writtendaydreamm]

Allergies and Accidents

Summary: Y/n and Langdon's son has an allergic reaction at school and is rushed to the ER

Author's note: There are not enough Langdon fics on here so I tried my hand at it with this little scenario that came to mind. I have no medical knowledge so please don't expect accuracy with the medical details lol but I tried my best with ChatGPT.

If you enjoyed the is pls checkout the new Langdon fic I just wrote! Give it a read here

1:03 PM

McKay noticed Y/n immediately. Familiar faces are always the easiest to spot here - they’re the ones you never want to see. She came through the entrance frantic and pale faced, trying to squeeze through the mess of people packed into that waiting room tighter than sardines in a can.

“Alright guys, do a round and make sure no one’s dying before they get into a bed,” McKay instructed the row of interns following behind her like little ducklings.

Making a beeline to y/n, she eyed her up and down assessing for any possible injuries. No visible cuts or wounds. No signs of trauma or pain. Other than the obvious fact the poor girl was about to have a full blown panic attack, she looked fine. 

“Cass! Oh thank god,” Y/n exclaimed, grabbing onto McKay earnestly. She had a vice grip and was not letting go until she got some answers. 

“What’s going on, are you alright? What are you doing here?” 

“It’s not me,” Y/n said, holding back a sob. “It’s Theo.”

12:31 PM

Typing up his report on the college kid with pancreatitis in South 12, Robby settled into a chair. He thought to himself it must’ve been his lucky day. He barely got a chance to use the restroom let alone a chance to sit down. It was almost unheard of. 

The thought alone must’ve jinxed him as Dana called out for him the second he got comfortable. He gave her a tired look over his glasses thinking, what now. 

“EMS rolling in with a 6 year old male. Anaphylaxis. Low BP, dropping O2.”

“ETA?”

As if on cue the automatic doors slid open for two first responders wheeling in a young boy. He was wheezing, gasping for air. Jumping into action, Robby, Perlah, along with 2 interns opened up a room as the EMS gave their report. 

“Six year old male, Theo Langdon. Severe anaphylaxis, failed EpiPen at school.”

The name caught Robby off guard. No, it couldn’t be. Eyes dropping down to get a better look at the boy as they transferred him from the stretcher onto the bed, Robby’s jaw went slack. Perlah who had come to the same realization looked at him wide-eyed in shock. 

“Alright, we’ll take it from here, thanks guys,” Robby dismissed the responders before addressing their new patient. 

“Hey bud, it’s Dr. Robby. I know you're struggling right now, but we’ve got you, okay.” Pressing his fingers along the boy’s throat assessing the swelling and looking for signs of a possible tracheal deviation. No deviation yet which was good, no need for immediate intubation. Using his stethoscope against Theo’s chest and throat, he listened closely for stridor and absent breath sounds. “Get him on continuous pulse ox, full cardiac monitoring. O2 status?”

“88% on 15L non-rebreather,” Perlah replied, adjusting the mask on the boy’s face. 

“I do not want to intubate if possible, but if it drops below 85%, we have no choice. Get RSI meds ready in case we lose the airway.” 

Pointing at one of the interns, Whitaker, Robby ordered him to step out, find Dr. Langdon and keep him away from this room by any means necessary. The intern hesitated, clearly confused by the request, and honestly a bit offended that he was the one to be sent off over the other intern. Gathering what guts he had, Whitaker spoke up.

“Dr. Robby, I’d really prefer to stay-”

“And I’d prefer that Dr. Langdon not walk in and see his son like this,” Robby countered without a beat. 

A flash of understanding spread across Whitaker’s face as he rushed out of the room to do as instructed. Robby spared a quick glance out the doors watching the young intern weave his way through the bustle of the ER floor in search of said doctor. No matter how long you’ve been on the job or how much trauma and gore you’ve dealt with, nothing will ever compare to the sickening feeling of seeing a loved one here. And the last thing they needed in this room was another Langdon in distress. 

Wrapping his stethoscope back around his neck, Robby stood up determination setting in. He was not going to let anything happen to Theo. Not in his ER. They needed to open his airways and stabilize him fast.

“Nebulized racemic epinephrine stat.”

12:40 PM

Walking back to the nurses station, Dr. Langdon was feeling quite pleased with himself. 

A woman had been rushed in with a ruptured spleen and internal bleeding after a bad car crash. Distended abdomen, severe blood loss, BP dangerously low and on the decline. She was losing too much blood too fast. She was going to crash. She wouldn’t have made it to the OR if he hadn’t acted as fast as he had to stop the bleeding and relieve the abdominal pressure.

“The peritoneal lavage. The IV vasopressor. That was really quick thinking. I mean you didn’t even hesitate,” Mel thought out loud, joining him at the counter. “I’d never seen that much internal bleeding managed outside the OR before.”

“Yeah?” chucked dryly, “Well, get used to it.”

Only half listening now as Mel rambled on, he pulled out his phone and in an instant whatever high he was on after working on that patient was brought crashing down seeing his notifications.

15 missed calls, all from Y/n.

“Well do you think she’s gonna make it? In the OR I mean?” Mel asked, oblivious to the fact the man beside her was on the verge of mentally spiraling. 

“Um, it's in their hands now,” he answered absently, gesturing over to the OR as he walked off leaving Mel to swallow whatever she was about to say next. 

He didn’t mean to be rude, but whatever Y/n was calling about had to be something urgent. 15 missed calls. She never called him during his shifts. She’d text if she needed to tell him something. But even then sparingly and about little things, like needing to grab eggs and milk on his way home, or to update him that she and the kids got home safe. She never called. Not unless something serious was happening. His mind raced with the worst case scenarios as he paced down the hallway, phone pressed tight against his ear. Maybe she got into an accident again - she was always getting into little accidents and incidents. Or maybe she was having car trouble? But they’d just gotten both their cars serviced and paid a pretty penny for it too. Was it the kids? God he hoped it wasn’t one of the kids. 

“Hello, Frank?”

“Hey baby, sorry I missed your calls. I had this patient crashing and-” 

She didn’t give him any time to finish, cutting straight to the chase. 

“Theo was rushed to the ER.”

12:49

“Vitals,” Langdon demanded, bursting into the room pushing right past Whitaker.

Really? Robby looked at Whitaker who could only shrug apologetically. He had tried his best to keep Langdon away, but the poor intern was no match for the senior resident who just moments ago had threatened to lay him out on the ER floor if he didn’t move out of his way. And Whitaker knew by the look in Langdon’s eyes, he was dead serious. 

“You can’t be in here Langdon,” Robby shook his head, adjusting the ventilator settings, tweaking Theo’s oxygen flow.

“The hell I can’t,” Langdon bit back, moving towards his son. But Whitaker held his arms out, trying to block him from getting any further into the room. 

“I swear if you don’t get your hands off me, you’ll be in a bed next,” Langdon said through gritted teeth.

“Do not threaten my interns,” Robby warned pointedly.

But the words fell on deaf ears as Langdon continued, asking how Theo’s airways are looking? If he’s getting enough steroid coverage. If they checked for biphasic anaphylaxis.

“You’re not his doctor right now,” Robby said, beginning to lose his patience, “You’re his dad. And you need to step out if you can’t control yourself.” 

Langdon threw his head back in frustration. He was both for crying out loud. He was Theo’s dad and a doctor. And he’d be damned if he didn’t use his skills and knowledge to ensure the best treatment for his son. He was about to protest again when suddenly the machine's steady beeping began to go off, the alarms spiking. A cold panic coursed through Langdon’s entire body as that dreaded high pitched beeping filled the room. 

“You need to push fluids faster. He's in distributive shock,” Langdon stressed from the foot of the bed watching the monitor show Theo’s BP dropping. 

Robby cursed under his breath, adjusting the IV line. Although there were no rules against having family members in the room while patients were being treated, at times like this Robby really wished there were. Dealing with overbearing parents in the room was one thing, but an overbearing parent that happened to be a doctor as well was another. 

“Fluids are running. Normal saline wide open. We can handle this.”

“He’s not responding fast enough,” Langdon pushed, “If this is progressing into refractory shock, you need to start the pressors now.”

Perlah turned to Robby, “Do you want to escalate to vasopressors?”

“Get the vasopressin push ready, but hold for my call,” he shot a sharp look at Langdon having had enough of him trying to control the room, “Don’t wanna jump the gun. We’re not panicking here.”

“Not panicking? My son could code, and you’re not panicking?”

“That’s it. Out. Now,” he snapped, raising his voice to meet Langdon’s.

“No,” he doubled down.

“Then I will have you forcibly removed and written up for insubordination.” 

“Robby, please. That’s my son,” Langdon pleaded, running his hands through his hair, trying not to get a grip.

“And we’ve got him,” Robby assured. “Now, go. Let us do our jobs. Go.”

With a sharp exhale, and one final look at his son, Langdon turned to leave pulling his phone out to call Y/n. 

1:07 PM

Following McKay through the double doors into the ER, Y/n gripped the strap of her shoulder bag tightly. She was putting on a brave face, but the worry in her chest grew heavier and heavier with each step. McKay tried her best to soothe the poor mother, but being a mother herself, she knew there was nothing she could possibly say to make Y/n feel any better about this situation. 

Langdon, who had been pacing outside of Theo’s room, closed the distance between them the moment he saw her. Without a word, he wrapped his arms around her into a tight hug. Y/n let out a deep sigh, melting into him. Her heart that had been beating like a jackhammer was calmed by the the comfort of his presence and the warmth of his embrace. Pulling back to take a look at Theo, she couldn’t see a thing. The room’s curtains had been drawn.

“How is he,” she asked looking up at him, brows furrowed tightly together, worry etched across her face

Langdon had never seen her look so helpless before. She’s the strongest woman he knows - juggling a fulltime job of her own all while taking care of the kids and picking up the slack at home whenever he was late or working overtime. Even with her plate piled high, she was always composed, always cool under pressure. But all of that composure and coolness had flown out the car window as she sped from work to the hospital after getting that terrible phone call from their son's school. Before him now she was just a mother, scared and worried sick. 

It was a good thing Y/n hadn’t gotten here any earlier than she had, that she didn’t have to see Theo struggling like Langdon had. Admittedly, he lost himself a bit back in the room seeing Theo like that. He knew looking down at her now he needed to keep it together. He could not give her any reason to stress or worry any more than she already was. Every other day of the week, she was his rock, their family’s rock. For once, he needed to be hers. He took a breath choosing his next words carefully. 

“He’s gonna be alright,” Langdon said, pressing a tender kiss to her forehead. 

She listened as he went on trying his best to assure her of just that, telling her that Robby was taking good care of Theo. That he’s in good hands. That they see kids come through with anaphylaxis all the time. That he'll be okay. And though he sounded confident, Y/n knew him better than that. She had the sense that he was trying to convince her of all that just as much as he was trying to convince himself.

Taking a seat on one of the nearby chairs, Y/n shook her head in confusion. They’d taken every measure they could think of to ensure something like this would never happen. They’d informed his teacher of the allergy, and sent out letters to the parents in his class informing them as well. And even in the case he did consume anything with nuts, they always sent him off with an EpiPen and always ensured that it was still effective. 

“I don’t understand. The school said they’d given him his EpiPen.”

“It’s not foolproof babe,” Langdon sighed, running a hand over his face.

It was unfortunate but true. While potentially life saving, EpiPens are not 100% effective if not properly administered. They could’ve taken it out too early or maybe misfire, he explained. 

“So you’re telling me this was what? Some sort of user error?” Y/n scoffed at the irony. It just goes to show no matter what you do or how prepared you are, you can’t control what happens out there. As hard as you try, you can’t protect your kids from everything. 

“The better question is what idiot parent brought treats for the kids and didn’t bother checking for allergies,” Langdon said, growing upset at the thought. It was clearly stated in their parent handbook, all treats must accommodate any allergies and tolerances. Otherwise, don’t bring any. How stupid, careless, and dangerous. “You know, I bet it was those fucking Fultons. They don’t know how to follow basic instructions.”

About to go off on a tirade about the Fultons - whom he could not stand, for multiple reasons, but most recently because the father had cut Langdon off during morning drop off the other week - when the curtains pulled open.

Y/n stood up moving closer, getting her first look at Theo since she’s been here. He was lying still, eyes closed with an oxygen mask on his face, an IV still in his arm. Langdon placed a hand on her back, in part to comfort her and to ground himself, as a wave of relief washed over him seeing Theo stable and out of critical danger. 

Robby stepped out to speak to them. He and Langdon locked eyes, a silent understanding passing between them. Any of the tension they had in that room was eased and forgotten. As a father of sorts himself, Robby knew where Langdon was coming from. 

“Is he okay? Is he awake? Can he talk?” Y/n asked, the words just flowing out of her mouth as Langdon’s rubbed her back. 

“He’s okay. He’s breathing on his own now, still on oxygen, but his vitals are holding steady” Robby assured her, before turning to Landon who looked at him expectantly, “His airway swelling has gone down significantly. No sign of biphasic reaction-”

“Residual bronchospasm? Signs of delayed reaction?” Langond interjected before he could even finish. Robby shook his head, more amused than annoyed. 

“This thoroughness,” Robby said sarcastically, patting Langdon’s chest with the clipboard teasingly, “is why he’s one of my best residents.”

The pair chuckled, both knowing full well how Langdon can be sometimes. Robby went on, letting them know that they’re keeping a close eye on Theo, watching out for any secondary complications. His lungs sound clear and O2 are improving but they’re keeping him in the PICU overnight to make sure he’s in the clear. 

“Can we see him now?” Y/n asked.

“Yeah. Of course. He’s still under some sedation, but should be up soon,” he told her, gently guiding her into the room.

1:30 PM

Theo had come-to for a little, just enough for Y/n and Langdon to let him know he's okay now, that they’re here with him, before his heavy lids closed again, falling back asleep. His little body surely exhausted after all it had just gone through. 

Sat on either side of their son, Y/n and Langdon watched over him quietly. His gaze wandering over to his wife, he could see the toll this had taken on her. It was the middle of the day but her eyes looked worn, and hollowed like she'd pulled an all-nighter. And her lips, that were always smiling and laughing, were pressed into a tight frown. Her brows knit together so tight, the 11 lines on her forehead looked more like 1,111. The stress of your loved one being in the ER will do that to you. Weigh you down, wear you out, and age you a year in an hour. He sees it all the time. But he hated seeing it on his wife.

“He takes after you y’know,” Langdon started. 

She perked up a bit at the sweet sentiment thinking maybe he was referring to their physical resemblance, or maybe the similarities in their personalities, or the little quirks Theo picked up from her. But when he said that she and Theo were both accident-prone, her mouth fell open at the jab.

“That’s not funny Frank,” Y/n rolled her eyes, chastising him.

“Oh come on, it's a little funny,” Langdon continued to joke, seeing her straight face start to crack. “I mean, god forbid, but if I'm not wrong Theo only needs one more ER visit to tie with you.”

She hated that he was making light of such a thing, but what she hated more was the smile she was fighting to hold in. She shook her head trying to fight back her own laugh but just couldn’t do it, not once she heard his. It felt good to laugh, even if it was hushed and contained as they tried not to wake Theo. She needed this. He needed it too. They both needed something to lighten the mood, to let out the long breath they’d both been holding in. 

“No but seriously, take that back. Theo and I are not accident-prone,” she pointed out as their laughter died down. 

Langdon nodded, agreeing that it wasn’t right to say Theo was accident-prone. His visits to the ER were never his fault. The first time was when he was just a baby for a fever that wouldn't go down. The next was a couple years later when he was a toddler for an allergic reaction as they hadn’t yet figured out he was allergic to certain types of nuts. And today, well, he wound up here thanks to some other kid’s parents' negligent disregard for the health and safety of all the kids in Theo’s 1st grade class.

Y/n, on the other hand, she definitely was. 

“I am not,” she fought back, arms crossed, unwilling to admit to this.

“Babe, really?” Langdon asked, brows raised.

“Maybe I’m a little clumsy,” Y/n admitted reluctantly, “But I wouldn’t say accident-prone.”

Langdon scoffed. “Y/n, we literally met in the ER because you were in an accident.” 

It was his third year of med school doing his rotation in Emergency Medicine. At this point he had already intended on pursuing Emergency Medicine and all of the hands-on experience he was getting only solidified that. It was the end of his shift but two buses had just come through - one from a car crash with two non critical patients and the other a factory worker coming in after a gruesome work related accident. Of course, he’d decided to stay hoping to get in on the much more exciting case with the factory worker. But by fate or dumb luck, whatever you wanted to call it, he wound up with Y/n’s case instead - cue their meet-cute. 

“Then 4 weeks after that you ended up in the ER again,” he added now counting on his fingers for dramatic effect. “Then there was the time you fell trying that new-”

She interjected with "ah," holding up a hand to stop him from going any further. She did not need to be reminded of that particularly embarrassing incident he was about to bring up. She got the point.

“But hey, if you didn’t get into those accidents we never would’ve met. Never would’ve dated, got married, had our kids,” he said genuinely, his voice softening as he brushed a gentle hand over Theo’s head. 

With fond memories of their time together, of how they ended up where they are now playing through both their heads, the air in the room felt lighter and so did the weight on their shoulders. A comfortable silence filled the room and for a moment, everything seemed to settle down when Y/n gasped suddenly.

“Shit, what time is it,” she asked, rummaging through her purse.

Jolted by her sudden outburst, Langdon hurriedly pulled out his phone for the time. 1:42.

Y/n let out a groan. She'd been in such a panic when she arrived, she couldn’t be bothered to waste another minute in the hospital’s parking structure going aisle to aisle hunting for a parking spot. So instead she haphazardly parked in the 30-minute parking stall for pick-ups and drop-offs. Y/n moved to get up but Langdon said he’ll take care of it. 

“Are you sure,” Y/n asked, as he took the keys from her hands. Truthfully, she was glad he offered, not wanting to leave Theo's side just yet in case he woke up again.

“Yeah, you stay. Need some fresh air anyway," he said massaging her shoulders for a second, before leaning down to joke into her ear, "Besides, all this talk of you getting into accidents, I don’t really feel like letting you get behind the wheel right now."

"Asshole," Y/n muttered, shoving him away playfully but not before he could press a sweet kiss against the side of her head. 

Watching as he left, she chuckled to herself. Maybe being accident-prone had its perks.  

[pinkyqily]

TWO HOOLIGANS INLOVE | JuJu watkins x teammate!reader

Summary: Just you and juju acting foolishly in front of the press

Warning: fluff, use of yn a few times

A/n: This isn't accurate to the actually games so don't bite me, fic is apart of my new series called hooligans inlove this isn't the first part so watch out for that, if you have any juju requests send em my way if you have any feedbacks feel free to leave them happy reading readers 🌹

Usc had just won the game against uconn. You, juju, and Ray had been called for media. After a phenomenal performance from the three of you.

coach knew it was going to be crazy having you and juju up there, but with Ray too, she could only hope y'all would be on your best behavior.

"Now, before you guys head up there, I need you to be on your best behaviors. She told all three of you, "Come on, coach me and yn are good, juju just the problem here." Ray told coach while sending diggers towards juju way

"There's no way I'm getting blamed right now." JuJu yelled, losing her so-called nonchalant chil.

"Can we get going already? No one has time for you two idoits arguing." You told the two girls as you make your way to the conference room." Bro, hold on." You didn't have to turn your head around hearing your annoying girlfriend and teammate calling you, bro.

"Who are you calling bro Judea?". You said out as you stopped in your tracks, staring at juju with your arms crossed around your chest. Ray voice Intervene swinging her arms around you and juju.

"Come on guys, let's not argue."

"If she calls me bro one more time, it gonna end up with more than an argument." You told them both. JuJu, who knew what was best for her, stopped calling you bro but couldn't wipe away the stupid smirk on her face as you guys sat down.

The press was going well Juju and Ray made a few jokes here and there when answering questions until it was your turn to answer some Juju had decided now was the perfect time to be distracting you.

Anytime you got a question she would turn her whole head and body towards you as she looked deep in your eyes not taking off contact.

"So what do you think about this win against uconn and how we're you guys able to come back from previous games?" A reporter asked directing the question to you.

"Um the win was definitely a hard fought and we definitely brought in our all I think we're able to learn from our previous game against,

them on what to do and not to do-.you stopped mid sentence to say, "ju can you stop staring at me like your life depends on it." You told the girl as you guys secretly held hands under the table.

"I'm doing no such thing." She said after looking away.

"Whatever." You told her, but this time yanking your hand away from hers under the table only for her to grab it back

"Can y'all stop wasting the people's time?" Ray spoke up with a slight teasing tone, she was stuck sitting in the middle of two drunk inlove players while it was entertaining she didn't want to be no 3rd wheel

"Um, sorry for that interruption." cough cough as you did that while side eying juju.

"One last question for juju, what did you think of yn performance today and how she contributed to the team performance wise".

"I think that her performance today was topnotch, probably one of her best, she contributed a lot by getting really involved with defense and offensive if I can say so myself she brings a lot to the team when she can".

You found yourself starring back into juju eyes as she spoke there was always something about her that made you feel all warm inside you couldn't tell if it was because you haven't let her hand go or something else.

It felt like only you two were in the room, and that's until Ray voice brought you back to earth. "I think you both got staring problems at this point." She told you as the room erupt with laughter.

Anyone in there could sense the growing tension between you and juju. From the way you both spoke about each other to the not so subtle touches, anyone could tell you're both madly in love.

You guys got up heading back to the rest of them, team.

"Ugh, I can already see the edits coming about you two so nasty." Ray told y'all as she made a gaging sound.

"Oh please, they aren't that bad". You told her

"Not bad, juju was basically undressing you with her eyes, and you sat there eating it up."

"Not my fault that my girl a baddie." JuJu said as her hand brushed against yours. It was little things like this that got you worked up, and she knew it.

"At least I've been promoted from bro to my girl." You told both girls making them laugh.

Before you knew it, clips from the press were already going viral.

Some people called juju whipped sum saying, "You we're complaining even though you were down bad for juju too, people fighting about you guys being gf while others disagree and say you're a couple."

[mysteryshoptls]

SSR Deuce Spade - Liongarb Voice Lines

Liongarb Deuce does not have a vignette.

Since this is a proper battle, I don't gotta hold back. I'm gonna win this, fair and square!

Summon: Just a little while ago, Kingscholar-senpai tossed me this outfit. "You might be up next year," he said... What's that supposed to mean?

Groovification: I don't care about my chances, I'll never give up. You'll see just how much willpower I have!

Home: You tryin' ta face me? Or, whatever.

Home Transition 1: Asim-senpai said he wanted to build a hot springs on the campus grounds. If that really happened, I'd probably want to take a dip there, too.

Home Transition 2: So, Catch-the-Tail is all about letting your fists do the talking, huh. I sure hope I'm not rusty when I actually get to take part in it.

Home Transition 3: Kingscholar-senpai knows how to drive a car!? I've always wanted to know the difference in how it feels from riding a blastcycle. I gotta get him to tell me about it...!

Home Transition - Login: I didn't really know much about the Sunset Savanna, but it sounds like it's got some awesome places. You should show me around sometime.

Home Transition - Groovy: You're giving me these egg-flavored hot spring cookies? Thanks! It looks really good. Here, want to share 'em with me?

Home Tap 1: Is this a picture of the Sunset Savanna? Woah, these are some real neat shots. You gotta show me the rest.

Home Tap 2: So the Sunset Warriors even have to take special classes, huh. They're both scholars and fighters... I can't help but admire 'em.

Home Tap 3: In all of Schoenheit-senpai's photos, despite him focusing hard on the fight, it also looks like he's perfectly posed for the camera. I guess that's an actor for ya. He's always prepared...

Home Tap 4: A rain-calling tradition, huh. When it rains, my tires lose traction, and my mom has trouble with her deliveries... I don't think I've ever wished for it to rain before.

Home Tap 5: Don'tcha think the color and design of these beads are super awesome? I've always liked this kinda stuff, and... Eh? You think they're a bit much?

Home Tap - Groovy: I get so pumped up getting decked out in clothes specifically for a battle. In the past, I'd wear a special outfit that had a tiger embroidered on it whenever I had an important fight coming up.

Duo: [DEUCE]: There's no way I can lose, Asim-senpai! [KALIM]: Deuce, let's go all out!

Requested by @farfalla049.

[bernardsbendystraws]

Fresh Air

Matt Sturniolo x Reader

Check out my pinned post for more of my writing.

00 01 02 03 04 05 06 07 08 09 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 FINAL

Summary: One night at a party seems to change everything. A strange man with a friendly smile and a sleeve of patchwork tattoos seems to make you feel at home for a change. You're finally happy to have made a good friend to lean on - especially when it comes to your not-so-great relationship with your boyfriend. But what happens if you lean too much...what happens if you fall?

Warnings: 18+. This series contains mature themes, read at your own risk. (SMUT, angst, parental troubles, financial hardships, and more. Don't like, don't read.) This warning is made for all parts.

A/N: To be added to the taglist, send a request in my inbox or comment on the pinned post. I'm far more likely to see requests sent to my inbox.

With love and big tits, Rose.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

05: Building Up Like Waves

I was still in Matt’s hoodie. And under his blankets. 

We had gone on a walk and Matt had let me yapp the entire time. He even wanted me to talk the whole car ride too. Wrong turns had made the quick ten minute drive from the park somehow turn into over an hour. 

I knew what he was doing. 

Those weren’t wrong turns. I doubt he didn’t have any fun stories to catch me up on from the past week, but he didn’t interrupt me once. I couldn’t complain. I felt even better somehow. It wasn’t all being trapped in my head anymore and it didn’t feel so lonely to think about that night.

I didn’t feel lonely at all. 

“Hey, where’s my toothbrush?” I ask, shuffling around in the top left drawer of his bathroom vanity. It’s usually here–in the little tray next to his, but it’s empty. I don’t even see his toothbrush. 

“Well,” Matt starts. By the tone in his voice my lips already start to curl upward. What is he up to? Anticipation pokes at my skin as I watch him pull something from behind his back while standing in the doorway. “-I got these…” 

A break of giggles from my end makes my gut hurt. I feel my hand clutch onto my stomach through the soft, thick fabric of his hoodie. 

“Matt–” I snort harder, grabbing the toothbrush packages from his hand. “Why the–”

“For fun!” he exclaims, his hands waving in the air dramatically. His lips smack and part with mischief and pride as he watches me hunch over with laughter again. “--do you,” he snickers, “--do you not like ‘em?” he asks. 

Straightening my posture, I place the two small packages on the bathroom counter, my hands flying up and messing up his hair. “Of course I love them you idiot!” I announce, laughing softly as Matt’s hands wrap around my wrists and pull my hands to his chest gently. 

“I…” My eyes meet his as he looks up at me with a sparkling joy. His hands hold mine a little tighter as he keeps his gaze pinned on me, his lips pressing gently onto my knuckles as I swallow thickly. “I–”

“You…” Matt interrupts, squinting his eyes with a flourishing excitement as I stammer over my words. 

Shaking my head, I let out a sigh of disbelief as I push against his chest, “I can’t believe you got us character themed toothbrushes. The ones they get for kids!” 

His chest rumbles with hushed laughter as he twiddles his fingers around my hands. “I know, isn’t it fun though? You said you never got one as a kid,” he says. 

I never got one as a kid, I barely even remembered telling him that. 

But, he remembered. 

He always remembered because he always cared. I didn’t even have to ask for him to care. 

What if I hadn’t said yes to Hayden that day? What if Matt and I had…

No.

Bad thoughts. 

That’s cheating. 

Is this cheating?

“I, um…” I try to retrace my steps as overflowing thoughts flood my brain. It was just a thought. “--I can’t believe you remembered,” I remark, my tone reeking of the tooth-rotting smile covering my face. 

I can’t believe he cared enough to remember and do something so minor just to give me that piece of…innocence. 

Looking back up, my chest tightens as I feel his gaze pour onto me with intensity. It’s a toothbrush—a fucking toothbrush. 

I can feel tears pricking the corner of my eyes with warmth from overwhelming emotions. Happiness with something lingering sadness. I got it now—he thought I deserved to have such a stupid thing—a toothbrush. Why didn’t my parents?  

Why didn’t I?

Buying toothpaste always made me a little sad–buying anything always made me a little sad. I saw all the colorful, nostalgic things. The things I never got. It’s not like my family had been broke either. They were just cheap. The other toothbrushes did the same thing. It wasn’t necessary. 

But they bought other things. My parents bought fancy cruises, all the luxuries some people dreamed about. 

All the luxuries that didn’t really last. 

Those trips were only a glimpse of what things could be. Dad would be happy to finally be away from work—one of the few occasions we truly laughed together—not talked, laughed. I couldn’t remember one meaningful conversation with him. 

And mom…she was somehow worse. 

She stood and watched him step on my innocence, crushing my hopes everytime he ignored me or yelled. 

I just wanted her to be there for me—I didn’t realize anything was wrong until a lot later than I should’ve.

Just like now. 

This wasn’t right. Hayden had no right to put that kind of pressure on me for sex. 

“Hey…are you…are you okay?” 

Reality.

I’m here—with Matt. A stupid, Pokemon toothbrush staring at me practically. 

“I just—I’m about to cry over a fucking toothbrush,” I exclaim, laughing as a tear falls from my cheek. 

“Don’t!” I start, lifting up my hand as I aggressively use the sleeve of the hoodie to brush away the warm tears. “--don’t. This is embarrassing. This isn’t happening,” I joke. 

Matt’s head shakes back and forth with humorous disbelief. He cups my cheeks in both his hands, softly wiping the tear stains as I stare up at the ceiling. 

“Hey—it’s okay. I…I’m sorry, but it’s funny—it’s cute,” he laughs.

Cute.

He thinks it’s cute?

A blush covers my cheeks before I can stop it. My widened eyes watch as he hunches over with giggles spilling from his lips profusely. Shame paints over my face as I push his hands away and cover my face with my hands. 

“Ugh!” 

My loud ruff seems to catch his attention. The burn of embarrassment bubbling in the pit of my gut leaves my muscles tensing as I feel his grab my wrist lightly and hold them as if he’s praying. 

“No, no—” his eyes pour into mine with apologetic sympathy as he tries to keep a straight face, “--just, let’s brush our teeth and go to bed.” 

Nodding in agreement, I watch with a warm heart as he unpackages the toothbrushes. He puts a line of toothpaste on the bristles. With a soft smile, he outreaches it to me. 

And I didn’t even have to ask. 

Matt smiles at me in the mirror as I swirl the brush along my teeth. It feels refreshing.

__________

The cool night air contrasted with the heat swarming beneath the comforter. 

Fuck, it’s hot. 

“Mmph, I…” 

Oh.

Matt’s hands are clutching into my hips, a hard bulge grinding into my core as my mouth drops wide. 

God, it feels like fucking heaven. 

The fog of sleep clouding my mind leaves me with nothing but instinct, my own hips swiveling to combat his motions. My head cranes back against his chest, his warm breath tickling behind my ear. 

He’s so hard. 

Hayden.

Fuck. This is wrong.

This is definitely wrong. 

“I…Matt,” I croak, whispering into the air as my hands latch over his wrists. 

Silence. Quiet air is only broken by muffled whines vibrating against my neck where his lips hover.

He’s still asleep. 

“Doll….-’m…close…” 

Doll. 

The name he likes to call me. 

Only me. 

He’s dreaming about me.

Matt’s hips drive faster, rocking and tensing as hard as possible. The blistering warmth crawling in my chest is overwhelming, but intoxicating. 

He’s close. So close. The desperate moans, his hands clutching even tighter and pulling me closer—he’s so close.

“Matt, wake—”

My words hitch as his nails dig into my skin, his hips tensing more and more. 

Wake him up.

The three-worded chant is clouded by every sensation—his hair tickling my ear, his lips puffing against my neck, and…his hard, clothed cock rutting against the growing heat between my legs. 

Nothing like this has ever felt like this. 

I can’t think….I can’t stop.

A broken whine echoes from my lips as I feel a warm liquid smother through the thin pajama pants, a lengthened groan stringing from him against my neck. It feels so good. 

It feels so good making him feel so good. 

Doll. The name he only calls me. He’s thinking of me, holding me. He wants me subconsciously.

Does he want me consciously too?

Hayden. Fuck.

Guilt creeps in as I feel Matt fall limp and unmoving. Even breaths from his chest press against me. The huffed breaths turn into soft snores, the same snore that made it easier to feel at peace. 

This is wrong. This is so utterly wrong. 

Despite the growing pit in my gut, my eyes lose more and more while trying to fight gravity. It’s just so warm—so intoxicating. It doesn’t feel like anything is wrong when I’m in his arms. 

Even the guilt doesn’t compare to the amount of peace. 

[enwoso]

finding her way back home | alessia russo

i’m sure someone requested something with lotte and foxy from college era but i can no longer find the request or maybe i dreamt it idk but if not here it it anyways!

grumpy masterlist

alessia leaned back against the dorm room couch, her hand resting on her small bump as she watch lotte and emily animatedly discuss their future plans.

"i'm telling you," lotte said, pausing for a moment as both girls waiting for her to continue, "arsenal is where i'm heading after here. best club in england!"

emily rolled her eyes, "your so biased, arsenal's good sure but if you're really aiming for the best, you'd look across the pond. nwsl has the edge in-."

"emilyy, not again" alessia interrupted, laughing as she dragged out emily's name.

emily smirked, "fine but i'm staying in the u.s. anyway at least for now. but mark my words we'll all end up in london one day, we'll sign with a club together. it'll be epic"

"deal" alessia said softly, looking between her two best friends. "i don't care what club we're at as long as we're together again."

lotte grinned, "you'll have to hold out the talks with manchester united until you're ready to come back though."

"yeah, the deal with them is still early days" alessia said a wistful smile crossing her face. she loved the idea of returning to england and playing there but for now, football felt like a distant dream.

she had other priorities now - a tiny, growing priority who was going to depend on her for everything.

emily leaned forward, her serious side kicking in, "oh, speaking of priorities, less have you taken your prenatal vitamins today?"

a small groan came from the blonde, this had been the same conversation she would have with the american everyday. she wouldn't forget. "yes, emily"

"and the iron supplements? you've been looking pale the last couple of days."

"wow thanks em, but yeah i have"

"and you're drinking enough water?"

"yes, emily!" alessia said, exasperated but unable to hide her smile, her heart warming at the fact of how caring her friends were over her now.

emily raised an eyebrow, "don't 'yes emily' me you were standing for like two hours at that student center thing yesterday. you've got to take it easy less!"

lotte snorted, "your like her personal midwife"

"somebody has to be!" emily shot back, tossing a pillow at lotte as she giggled on, "she's carrying out honorary niece or nephew. i take my duties very seriously!"

—

after a long morning, and a few teary goodbyes mainly saying goodbye to lotte and emily who walked alessia to the further point they could in the airport before sharing a group hug, promising one another that they'd see each other soon.

alessia was finally settling into her seat on the plane, rummaging through her carry-on, pulling out the book emily had packed for her.

as she opened the front cover she noticed a bright pink sticky note with emily's neat handwriting sprawled on it.

‘make sure you drink water every hour, you're already bad enough at this on the ground, don't make me come 30,000 feet and lecture you! safe flight lessi.’ emily

a small laugh bubbled up despite her exhaustion, emily had never let up since the the moment alessia told them and alessia could never not be grateful for the two.

a couple hours later, the flight going somewhat smoothly apart from the fact alessia was finding it rather difficult to get comfy, as she kept having to get up every half hour to use the bathroom. luckily she was on the isle seat..

as the flight attendants handed out complimentary snacks, alessia reached into her own bag for her own stash she'd bought in the airport. as she unwrapped the granola bar another little sticky note fluttered out.

the one had a messier scrawl of letters on it, accompanied with a doodle of a football. alessia immediately knowing it was from lotte.

‘granola bar = good. chocolate = bad. unless you want me and em to tell your little one that their mum broke all the rule, only kidding. take care of yourself, okay? we love you.’ lotte<3.

shaking her head with a smile, alessia carefully folded the note and slipped it back into her bag. her journey back home continued as she found more and more notes that the two girls had hidden in her bag in unexpected places.

reminder to stretch her legs.

a reminder to take her vitamins (no guesses needed to guess who that one was off..)

a reminder to have a nap.

but finally she found a small handwritten card tucked into the side pocket of her bag, where she kept her headphones. the note being from both of them:

‘alessia, we're so proud of you. we can't even begin to imagine how hard this is for you but you're the strongest person we know. and we know that your little one is so lucky to have you as their mum, and we're are so lucky we get to have you as our best friend. don't forget we're only a call away — no matter what the time it is. this isn't a goodbye, just a see you soon. we love you so much! lotte and emily <3'

tears filled her eyes as she read their loving words. holding the note tightly as she pressed it to her chest, overwhelmed by the love and support they had shown her. looking up at the time left on her flight: ten minutes and she'd ben home.

—

when alessia finally stepped through the arrivals gate in london. her body ached for her own bed from the long flight and her mind was foggy with fatigue. yet her heart leapt when she saw her family waiting for her.

her brothers were the first to reach her, gio stood tall with a big grin on his face as he pulled her carry on from her hand. "what's this? didn't they charge you extra for the snacks you probably smuggled on board?"

"or is it baby stuff already?" luca added with a smirk, reaching to grab the trolley with her suitcases on, "bibs and tiny shoes?"

"hilarious" alessia said rolling her eyes playfully. normally she'd fire back with a quick comment of her own but she was simply too tired to engage as she let out a breathy laugh and muttered, "just make yourself useful and carry my bags would you?"

her lack of a witty retort made both her brothers pause, gio nudging luca with his elbow. "she'd either growing up or she's too jet lagged to care?"

"one hundred percent the second one," luca quipped back quickly.

mario was standing slightly behind them, giving her a warm smile as he silently pulled her into a hug. alessia closing her eyes as she leaned into his steady presence.

when he released her from the hug, he took one look at her tired face and gestured towards the doors of the airport, “let’s get you home, you can sleep in the car”

but before they could move any further, carol appearing rushing forward to envelop alessia into her arms.”

“oh my baby!” she cried, happy tears already spilling down her cheeks. her hands immediately going to alessia’s six month bump

“look at you, you’re glowing. are you eating enough? have you been taking those vitamins i told you about? and oh- names! have you thought about any yet? what about james or izzy? or-”

“mum,” alessia said with a tired laugh her voice soft but affectionate, “i’m too tired to think of names right now”

her mum wasn’t deterred, as she looped her arm through alessia’s and began walking in the direction of the car, her chatter filling the quiet night.

“that’s okay, we can talk about it tomorrow. did you know your gran suggested peter? i told her absolutely not and then your aunt said olivia, but that’s..” alessia let her mum’s voice wash over her, a small smile tugged at her lips.

she was home.

the drive back to kent alessia’s head was leant against the cool glass of the car window the air cool and a lot less sticky than the hot air from the states as alessia’s eyes half closed.

her brothers keeping up a low and playful banter next to her as mario hummed softly to the radio as he drove. carol keeping a watchful eye on alessia from the corner of her eye the entire way.

when they finally pulled into the familiar driveway of her childhood home, alessia felt a wave of emotion rise in her chest. her family bustled around her, her brothers unloading her bags as her dad quietly set up a spot for her to sit in the living room. her mum of course already started to plan where they were going to go for breakfast.

alessia sat back, her hand resting on her bump as she let the moment sink in. she was surrounded by love, laughter and warmth. this is what her baby was being welcomed into, a family surrounded by people who already cared so deeply.

for the first time in what felt like forever, she felt at peace. she was home and she couldn’t wait to welcome her baby into the world.

—

it was well past midnight when alessia finally sank into the soft cushions of her old bed, her body aching with exhaustion but her mind too restless to sleep.

her family has tucked her in for the night with promises of a big family breakfast in the morning, but the quiet hum of the house only made her miss lotte and emily even more.

reaching for her phone, alessia stared at the time. it was early morning in north carolina - ridiculously early. she debated whether to call, knowing she could leave a message and they’d get back to her later.

but before she could second guess herself, her fingers had already pressed the button.

to her surprise emily picked up after only two rings, her voice groggy but alert. “less? everything okay?”

“why are you awake?” alessia asked, startled at the americans accent and by the fact she actually answer the phone.

“it’s five thirty am,” emily muttered, “i have morning conditioning in an hour. why are you still awake?” alessia chuckled, that’s one thing she wasn’t going to miss in a hurry - the early morning sessions.

“i just got home and i- um couldn’t sleep. i wasn’t expecting you to answer. i was just going to leave a message.” alessia explained as emily had placed her phone down on the counter to fill up her water bottle.

“like i’d miss your call,” emily said her tone softening as the american glanced across her dorm room, “wait, here comes lotte.”

a moment later, lotte was on the screen a tired smile on her face but still filled with excitement to her see the blonde. “less! your home already? how was the flight? did baby behave? did you find the notes we left?”

“slow down lotte..” emily interrupted with a teasing smile, “let her answer one question at a time”

alessia laughed, warmth spreading through her chest, “yes i’m home. the flight was fine - long but fine. baby is all good, kicking my ribs but that’s usual these days. and yes i found all the notes. thank you for those by the way.” her voice softened, “i already miss you guys.”

“don’t make me cry at five am,” emily groaned, “it’s too early for emotions.”

“literally? who gave you the right?” lotte added, but her teasing tone couldn’t mask the affection in her voice.

alessia leaned back against her pillows, “it feels weird without you both. and em you’ll be happy to know my mum has already taken over your job”

"job?”

“mhm the constant reminders about vitamins and water” alessia replied a hint of amusement in her tone, “first you, now her. it like i have my own personal tag team of nagging.”

“poor you” emily dai, her voice mock dramatic, “you live such a hard life. imagine having people who actually care about you. must be terrible.”

alessia snorted as she rolled her eyes playfully, although the two on the other side of the facetime call could barely see by the blondes dimly lit room.

“don’t mind her less,” lotte said her voice light. “you know she gets snappy when she’s tired.”

“i’m not snappy when i’m tired.” emily protested as lotte and alessia both looked to each other and burst out laughing.

“you are..” lotte countered as she stopped her laughing, “but it’s okay we love you anyway.”

the banter made alessia smile so wide her cheeks were beginning to her. these two girls were her rocks, her family away from home. even though right now they were miles apart she felt their love and support as strongly as if they were sitting beside her — if not more.

“thanks for answering” alessia said softly, “i didn’t think you would.”

“of course we did.” emily said her voice losing its previous teasing edge, “we told you that you can call us anytime, less. even if it’s just to say hi, we’re here for you.”

“always,” lotte added, “now you need to sleep. you’ve got the whole growing another human thing to keep up with.”

alessia laughed as she could feel the baby kicking slightly, “okay okay, goodnight— or good morning.. i guess”

“love you less!” they said in unison making the blonde grin.

“love you guys too!”

as alessia hung up the room felt a little less quiet and her heart felt a little less heavy. even across an ocean her best friends were always there for her. with a content sigh she fitted off to sleep one hand resting on her bump knowing she’d never be alone in this journey.

[cryptotheism]

Lilly: Good morning New Babel, you're listening to Screw Loose, your favorite early-morning exo rig and rig maintenance rig show this side of the white river, I'm Lilly.

The Bear: And I'm the Bear, and you- are on the air. What can we help you with?

Caller: Hello! Hi! So, uh, first time caller. My name is Zuri. I run a barley and flesh farm about an hour south of Isin. I'm in the market for a new rig. My last rig kicked the bucket. But I have an, uh, odd request that I was hoping you two could help give me some guidance on.

The Bear: Welcome to the show doll, we'd be happy to help. But first, I gotta ask, what were you running before and what happened to it?

Lilly: Yeah! We gotta know what we're dealing with here.

Zuri [beginning to laugh]: So we had an Arcadia Y-400-

[both hosts erupt into laughter]

Lilly: And it broke!?

The Bear: Doll what in the hell did you do to this thing!?

Zuri: [laughing] Listen! Listen! It was my grandfathers! We had been replacing parts on this thing since before I was born! It was its time!

The Bear: Lilly, is she dodging the question?

Lilly: I think she's dodging the question, Bear.

The Bear: Okay okay, so what exactly did you do to destroy this extraordinary museum piece?

Zuri: [laughing] Oh gosh I don't want to say it now.

[The hosts erupt with encouragement]

Zuri: My sons will play this game, where I'll be out working in the field. You know, rigged up, focusing on tilling. They'll sneak up behind me with their rigs on, jump up, curl up into a little ball, and try to lock themselves to my back-jack in the cargo position...

[The hosts are howling with laughter]

Zuri: They're- They're damn good at it too! My oldest, Zair, can do it in on solid motion. Its like one moment I'm minding my own business, the next moment I have a whole kid in a 100 pound work rig locked to my back!

Lilly: What a riot! Oh this is just dangerous to put on the air.

The Bear: Ahem, to all the parents at home we apologize in advance, please don't sue us.

Zuri: So- So one day- One day my youngest tries it, but he doesn't twist around fast enough, and the aux battery on the left arm clips an exposed spinal neurohelix. Zap! Neuros are fried. My legs and arms lock straight like stilts! Now I'm swearing up a storm, you know- "You little rats!" But I'm hobbling like a circus performer trying to chase em down and they're just dying. Musta been the funniest damn thing they've ever seen.

[The hosts continue to laugh uproariously at this]

The Bear: Doll we gotta get to advice part of the show or the network is gonna give YOU a show.

Lilly: What a way to go! You hit an aux to the spinal braid? That's fried. Done. Kaput. You gotta scrap that thing.

Zuri: Yeah, we've already gutted it. Old girl is rusting in the barn for parts now. Zair is a whiz, so I'm hoping he can get some good use out of it.

The Bear: So we hear you're looking for a new rig?

Lilly: What's your price point love?

Zuri: We've got a good chunka cash built up. We're looking at something in the 600 to 700 washer range.

The Bear: That's pretty good for a work rig. You've got a lot of choices.

Lilly: I have a sneaking suspicion that this price point has something to do with your special request?

Zuri: So, my oldest, Zair. I recently learned that he's been uh. Well gosh now I'm embarrassed about this too!

The Bear: Doll c'mon don't hold out on us!

Lilly: You called, we can handle it!

Zuri: I learned that Zair had been using the Arcadia to race on the weekends. He and some of the local kids would run street races at night. He's been rigging a grapple harness to the waist-jack, and stripping it before I need the rig for monday morning.

[The hosts laugh at this, though not as hard]

Lilly: Ha! So what you're saying is you want the biggest, slowest, beached-whale rig you can get? Something just impossible to race?

The Bear: I'm thinking an HR&R Pauldron, Heavy Industrial. With that type of money you can get the new 900 series. Ask for the high-stability option-

Zuri: No no! No you don't understand! The damn kid keeps placing last because he's been racing in a junker! What I'm lookin' for is something I can use as a work rig for the days, that's easy to strip and good to race on the weekends. I want it safe, you hear me? I can't stop this kid from racing, so I might as well get something that'll keep his skull together.

[The hosts explode into laughter again]

Lilly: You! You're a good mom! What I wouldn't give for a mom like you!

The Bear: Ma'am, one day, when I grow up, I wanna be like you. I wanna be that typea mom.

Zuri: So, can you help me?

[The hosts can be heard stage whispering for a moment, followed by the sound of cracking knuckles.]

The Bear: Okay. You've got a lot of good options here. My friend here wants you to get a sport rig, but that's not gonna have the torque you need for farmwork: Here's what you're gonna do-

Lilly: Would to! Have you seen what the Roadrunner 600 can do? Six point neuro uplink! Eighty pneumatic helices per leg! Tell me that's not good enough to rig a plow!

The Bear: The dirt Lil! We need solid-body articulation! Using a pneumo-helix for farmwork is like pouring sand into clockwork!

Lilly: You replace the dermis with a synthetic sheathe! I get no respect around here!

The Bear: Zuri, doll, here's what you're gonna do: You're gonna go to your local Post Office outpost. You're gonna ask if they have any old courier shipping rigs. You want middlegrade. Ask specifically if they have an Albatross W-500, or if you're lucky, an LH-640. These are long-haul light-load shipment rigs. They're ugly, but they're sturdy as hell, built for carrying things long distances through rough terrain.

Lilly: The kicker here is that they're both light-combat certified. Built-in medical and shock response treatment. You'll need to replace the medical gel canisters every few months to make sure they're fresh... And if a certain someone wanted to maybe engage in a little bit of light illegal street racing...

The Bear: Well the Albatross line is built to be constantly refitted for different weathers and terrains. So someone, not saying who, might have a real easy time stripping the plating for speed. That sound good doll?

Zuri: That sounds perfect, thank you so much girls!

The Bear: Perfect! Thank you for the call, you'll have to tell us how it goes!

Lilly: Please love we beg you! Call again! Toodle-oo!

Zuri: Thank you again!

[The caller hangs up, the show transitions into a commercial break]

[circeyoru]

The Only Reason

[Yandere!Sung Jinwoo x Worker!Reader]

Note: I have no idea what to call this AU, but I don't think a lot of people will read this so... Haha~ Mental AU? Chaos AU?

Update! This AU is called Mana Chaos AU! Plus there's Part 2 up!!

Part 1 (here) 一 Part 2 — Part 3 — Part 4

Once, the world’s strongest Hunters were revered as humanity’s saviours and heroes for the weak and ordinary. They were once treated like celebrities and hold the highest power and authority. They were respected, praised, and idolized. They still were, now, with a hint of fear.

It all happened due to the infamous incident now dubbed as <The Outrage Incident>. It happened like any other day, in any other country, in any other city. But to only that one strong Hunter. He was an S-Rank Mage, a successful and loved one at that. The story goes like this. 

One day, this powerful Hunter was out on the street enjoying a day off, but something set him off and he used his powerful ability to set things right. It would have been the end of it since an S-Rank’s threat was enough to make the majority crumble. However, his power got out of control and caused an outrage to his being. He was using his powers in public and there was no dungeon outbreak or monsters nearby for him. No amount of justification could calm the public.

After that one incident, other countries’ S-Rank or higher started to experience a similar issue. The worst case was that even Healers of their level didn’t escape such a phenomenon. Soon, the public feared the strong protectors they once saw as shields and swords against the gates. 

Researchers and scientists were put to work quickly to investigate why and how this issue was happening now. The answer was in the overflowing mana levels within their bodies that couldn’t be contained since the human body was weak and frail for such a change. Addition to that, it correlated to the Hunter’s emotional level and their control. Institutions were built to imprison house the S-Ranks while monitoring their situation. 

Whenever an S-Rank’s mana levels and emotions show signs of <Outrage>, a term they now use to describe the Hunter going haywire with their powers on everything and anything around them, they will be sent to a dungeon alone. In the people’s eyes, it was better for that one Hunter to die in battle than kill innocents. Because at first, it was only the S-Ranks, but then some A-Ranks would fall victim to <Outrage> as well. 

The professionals have named the correlation as Emotional Mana, EM for short, which made way for the Emotional Mana Institution, EMI for strong Hunters. The Hunters were treated like mental patients or worse, forced into a straitjacket and some had a muzzle for certain Hunters. These were specially designed and created items that limit and restricts a Hunter’s use of their powers and abilities. 

It was a miracle that someone managed to create such equipment. That someone was also targetted by the S-Ranks after being announced and killed for such a disrespectful act, still the blueprints and prototypes were created and other talents that took over were able to finalize the perfect form.

“Personnel 002, you were specifically requested by SM-10.” 

You looked up from your laptop and paused in your rapid typing for just a few second before you looked back to your screen and continued typing. That code name was to protect you and everyone else that worked in EMI or have some form of connection to it, so that no innocent is sacrificed for the greater good. Still, you can’t get used to it nor do you want to. “I’m busy.”

“Please… SM-10 is way too picky with the people that enters his cell.” This person, Supervisor 843, was one of the newest employee to join the crew. Though, unlike the name of the duty, they were people that were disposable hence the frequent newcomers and high number. “Please help me.”

You sighed and glared up at the person who had a mask over their head and a voice changer to mask their identity. Though, with the way they were speaking, you could deduce this person was a ‘she’. You got up and snatched the file extended to you. Just when you thought you could rest and work in peace, trouble comes knocking on your door. “Get me a drink and some refreshment, I want to see it on my desk by the time I’m back.”

“Yes? Yes!” Supervisor 843 bowed and clapped her hands together, “I’ll do so!”

As swiftly and automatically, you made your way through the hallways and doorways, tapping your access card to unlock needed doors and lifts for your travel. On the way, other Supervisors nodded their heads and bowed in your presence when you walked by. Unlike them who wear a uniform, you only have a lab coat over your usual outfits. You don’t even have a mask or voice changer. 

Why?

You stood in front of the door that was labelled in bold ‘SM-10’, meaning the 10th S-Rank in Korea that belonged to the Mage class. The guard dressed in black from head to toe nodded their heads at you before they started unlocking the various security checkpoints and locks for you to enter into a battlefield in its own right.

“Will one hour be enough, Personnel 002?” One of the guards asked.

“Not sure, just be alert in case I need to rush out.” You spoke stoically with indifference.

Step by step, you walked in, announcing loudly of your arrival to the individual inside. The doors closed behind you and locked you inside with what everyone feared. You sighed and put away your glasses since there was no need for it right now. The room was eerily silent and cold, something you were long used to. 

You took a few more steps, walking deeper into the room where it seemed to get darker and darker even though the lights in all housed Hunters would be on 24/7 to monitor their actions and activities within the room. 

Just when your vision failed you to the point where you can’t see what was in front of you, you were enveloped in a pair of strong arms, your entire form effortlessly pulled back till your back was pressed against a firm wall of muscle one would call chest and abs. Hair tickled one side of your cheek and neck, you felt a breath cooed before a deep voice rang in your ear, “I’ve been waiting for my favourite Personnel~”

It wasn’t at all odd that your name was called as well, if it was someone like him, he’d know everything there was to know. In fact, everyone should be worshipping him right now for his controlled and well-mannered behaviour. Especially when he could have destroyed this entire facility and killed everyone in it within seconds if he so wished. 

“Jinwoo. I need to work, don’t bully the newcomers.” You sighed while looking to the side as if making eye contact with him. 

“I like it when you call me by name and not some code, thanks for that.” Jinwoo hummed as he played with your fingers. “I guess I’ll think about it. It’s a bit bored here, you understand.”

“You removed your straitjacket again.” You let him fiddle with your fingers as if it was the most interesting thing in the world. “You’ll get caught one of these days and then it’ll be game over.”

“Igris helped me remove it. You know how they are with seeing me constrained and imprisoned here.” He chuckled and leaned back, but it turned out he was just taking a seat, presumably on his bed since you still couldn’t see anything in the darkness. “Don’t worry, I’ve made sure no one could see me free and they didn’t kill anyone. Yet.”

Every Hunter that was admitted into the EMI was evaluated and thoroughly investigated to create the perfect profile for reference. All their fighting style, powers and abilities, weapons of choice, gear type, and any other detail was accounted down. It was all for people to be prepared in case one would have an <Outrage> and they were needed to be countered by weaker Hunters. 

For Jinwoo, however, his profile was lacking to put it in the best terms. His mana levels were unmeasureable, yes, so he was placed as an S-Rank. Though, his powers and abilities were unknown. Since he was a Reawakened Hunter, most would assume he was the same class as he was as an E-Rank; a Fighter Class. But he exhibit <Telekinese> and <Shadow Manipulation> so he was placed as into Mage class.

That wasn’t even the tip of the iceberg. 

You saw through his innocence and lie, uncovering his true powers and abilities. To be honest, even if you told your higher-ups of Jinwoo’s secrets, there was nothing they could do to counter it. Jinwoo was a league of his own and only you knew it. He was no mere S-Rank, he was definitely a National Level Hunter.

Ah, yes. The question as to why you don’t wear a mask or bother having done anything to hide your identity. It was not because you’ve been in one of the people who has been in service of EMI for the longest time or wanted something as shallow as respect from the newcomers or other coworkers. It was completely because you knew it was useless to hide when someone like Sung Jinwoo had his eyes on you.

“I’ll try and arrange a dungeon for you to raid.” You marked down on your phone while Jinwoo continued to treat you like a teddy bear.

“You have to join though. If you don’t…” Jinwoo’s voice went deeper as glowing eyes stared at you from the shadows, “I don’t know what I’ll do to get your attention…”

You nodded, pushing down the urge to flinch or jerk away from him. It was normal, something you expected but still unnerving to hear with your own ear from his lips. You swear this place made the Hunters mad in the head, it was a place that made them sick and mentally ill, it wasn’t actually helping them at all. “Yeah, of course. I’m sure everyone will be relieved to hear it.”

Jinwoo smirked as his arms tightened around you, his face buried between your neck and shoulder. “You’re the only reason I stay here. Remember that. If you leave here… Leave me… I’ll do what Thomas Andre did to America.”

Note: I can't help it, it was supposed to upload the requested ones first, but then this idea hit me like a truck (without the isekai part), so now here it is. There are like 2 requested stories written and ready to be posted, but I'm double checking and stuff. Hope you like this AU/idea.

Circe Y.

My Works: MASTERLIST

Taglist: (none at the moment)

[captain-huggy-bear]

Congratulations on 1,000 followers! Can you please do Michael Kesselring + “I'm sorry I was so grumpy last night.” can I also request that the reader is pregnant in this prompt?

Dad!Michael makes me happy <3 He's also looking so good lately...don't tell Clayton. 1000 Followers Celly Currently ongoing 🥳🎉 (please read the rules) Big requests/full fic/big idea requests are closed at the moment but drabble and prompt requests are still open. Writing Masterlist

You wake to kisses being pressed across your face; little pecks to your cheeks, your nose, your chin before Michael's hand grasps your chin and pulls you into a kiss. It's the sort of wake up that has you smiling even as your back hurts and your baby kicks you like she's trying to decide whether to be in the NFL or Rugby Union.

"Morning, baby," He mumbles against your lips, sugary sweet, as you blink your eyes open to take him in. He's gorgeous in the mornings; curls across his forehead, chain swinging towards you, chest bare and tattoos on display.

"Morning..." You sigh as he leans over you, waking up a little more, smile dropping as you remember that night before, how grumpy you'd been, how snappy. “I'm sorry I was so grumpy last night.”

Michael helps you to sit up, pillows being plumped behind your back to support you as you move. Your belly making everything 10 times harder as you get closer and closer to your due date.

The grin he gives you is a little goofy, forgiving and sweet as he pulls one of your ankles into his lap, long fingers massaging the swollen area without being asked, without being told.

"'s okay, baby...you're kind of carrying an entire human in you right now. I'd probably be grumpy too." If anything his forgiveness and understanding makes you feel guiltier, like you need to explain your behaviour because you were a real terror last night and Michael's been nothing but wonderful the entire pregnancy.

"I just... she was kicking real hard last night and I was tired and hungry but I can't have half the things I'm craving because it makes me sick..." Your favourite foods had become inedible, even the smell of some of them made you queasy. An unfortunate symptom of your pregnancy and Michael had promised to bring you all your favourite foods for your first meal after giving birth.

Your eyes shift away from him out of guilt, Michael's hand stills on your ankle, "Hey, look at me."

You flick your eyes back to him, rewarded with your ankle massage ongoing, pressing into the tightness there, "You don't have to explain, I get it. I mean, I don't get it because I'm not pregnant, but I understand. You feeling better this morning, mama?"

"A little...I'm just really tired." You feel like staying in bed all day, not moving, just curling under the covers for an entire day until you feel like maybe you have some energy again.

"I know, but you've got to get your body moving, baby, the doctor said you can't be lying down too much."

"I know..." You hate that he's right. You'd been told to stay active, that not moving would make birth ten times harder on your body, but it didn't make it any easier to keep active when you were so goddamn tired all the time.

"What if you came to the rink with me? To see the boys?" He's pulling out the big guns because Michael knows you love going to the rink, you love watching practices and most of all you love the team. The guys treat you so well that sometime Michael has to remind himself that you're married to him, that he doesn't need to worry.

"Yeah?" He considers it a victory the moment you start smiling at him even if you haven't agreed yet.

"Mmm, and after at least 5 of 'em will try to buy you lunch but I'll do it because I'm your husband and that's my job," You can already imagine the scramble to pay for your lunch, the rush to hold doors for you. Each of the guys has been overly considerate of you since your pregnancy was announced, attentive to the point of overbearing like having a hockey team of brothers, uncles and fathers.

"Yeah? Subway?"

"If that's what you want or Wendy's or Taco Bell or anything you want." Michael scoots up nearer to you at the head of the bed, hand reaching out to cup your cheek and brush a few strands of your hair behind your ear.

"Do you think Logan will wear those stupid sunglasses for me?"

"Do you want him too?"

"Yeah, he looks silly in them, makes me smile."

"Give me a sec..." He's already reaching for his phone, shooting off a text message to Cools to demand he wear those ridiculous shades to make you smile. The response is quick, one word, a simple yes because Logan Cooley has no issues having a bit of fun if it makes you smile.

Michael grins at you, thumb brushing against your jaw, "Yeah, he's gonna wear 'em for you...should I be concerned that you have my entire team wrapped around your pinkie?"

"No, cause I only want you." You try to lean over to kiss him but barely move before Michael's doing the leaning for you, to ease the strain on your neck and back. You kiss him brief and soft, barely moving away, just enough so both of you can talk.

"Yeah?"

"Mmm, love you the most." You do love the entire team, but it's different, oh it's different. They're the mad group of gremlins who make you smile but you're not in love with them like you are Michael. You'd pick him any day of the week.

"Uh, so you love them?" There's that little jealous pout that brushes your lips, a reminder that Michael ultimately loves you so much that the idea of you loving anyone else even platonically sets his hackles rising.

"Well, they do buy me food..." You tease knowing he'll bite, he always does.

"Okay, but you love me most, right?"

"No doubt about it."

"Good, cause I love you the most too,"

"Even more than Logan and Josh?"

"Oh, fucking 100% more than those two idiots."

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Besotted 7

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, virginity loss, age gap, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: your new neighbour brings intrigue and a bit of danger.

Characters: ex-con!Bucky Barnes (silverfox)

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You're stiff and sore. Every part of you is cramped. You open your eyes, lids as heavy as the rest of you. You groan and shift as a weight rests against you. Bucky's arm is hooked around you as he holds you close. 

"Doll," he rolls his pelvis against you. Again. 

You shield your face from the slat of sunlight leaking in around the curtains. You brush his arm and sigh, "I gotta go, Bucky." 

"Where?" He nuzzles the back of your head, rocking against you. 

"Stop!" You smack him and giggle. "I mean it. I have to work." 

"I'll put you to work," he grits. 

"No more," you reach to shove his hip. "Bucky, I can't go anymore." 

"You can't?" He tickles down to your pelvis. "Didn't you beg me for this?" 

"I did, but... " 

"You got what you want, huh?" He snickers. 

"More than," you assure him and clutch his thick fingers. "I'm sorry, but I can't miss work." 

"Baby," he drawls as you sit up, pushing past his resistance. You grip your head as dizziness swells inside. "When are you done?" 

"Oh, gosh," you stand and shake your head. "Haven't you had enough? Don't you have stuff to do?" 

"Only you," he growls. 

You stop and look at him, hands on your hips. He shamelessly scales your body with his eyes. You wave him off and gather up your clothes. You don't say anything as you dress. How do you break it to him that he's right? You did get what you want but now you have to go back to real life. You have a trip to plan for! And an Angelique to brag to. 

"You're so sweet," you grab your phone from the table and your purse. "And... that was amazing. Mind blown, back blown," you keep your thighs apart as you waddle. 

"Mm," he hums and sits up. "So you're off?" 

"I gotta shower." 

"Could do it here." 

"My clothes are at home," you argue as you cross the room, your pelvis scraped and hollow. "Oof." 

"Grab 'em and come back." 

"I don't have long," you check your cell. "I'm sorry but I need all the money I can get right now." 

"I can spot you," he insists. 

You stop with your hand on the doorknob. "No, no, I couldn't. That's... I don't want your money, Bucky. I'll see ya around." 

You smile and quickly unlock the door. You flit out and snap it shut behind you. You stumble across the porch and whimper. It's going to be a long day sitting behind the desk. Maybe you should get one of those special cushions. 

👙

"No way," Angelique sneers. "You actually did it?" 

"At least six times. I lost count," you say proudly as you suck pudding off your spoon. 

"Holy shit. You're fucking lying. Six? I'm surprised he got it up the first time," she cackles. 

"He did. I can't walk straight," you hiss and shift on your chair. 

"You have to be lying. Half the guys I'm with fall asleep the minute they blow." 

"I don't know, Ang, maybe try an old man," you sigh. "And he wouldn't keep his mouth off of me--" 

Theresa looks over her shoulder as she waits for her coffee to brew. You grin and turn away. 

"He ate you out?" 

"Mhmm," you giggle again. 

"Wow," she drones. "Maybe you should introduce us..." 

"Ew, sloppy seconds?" 

"Maybe he has a friend?" She suggests. 

"Now who's lame," you chirp. 

"Shut up." 

"And coming to the beach..." 

"Yeah, whatever," the sniffs. "You know, you were always invited. You didn't have to go fuck a geezer." 

"Jealous." 

"No," she snips. 

"It was your idea." 

"I didn't think you had the balls to do it," she retorts. "I mean, sure, your tits are huge but--" 

"Oh, fuck off, Angie," you roll your eyes. 

She laughs again, "I'll see you soon, bitch. You earned your vacation, but remember, you already spent enough time on your back." 

You make a face and hang up. God, she's such a bitch. Still, you can't wait. You just need to get through today and tomorrow, you'll be off into the sunset. What timing.  

👙

You meet up with Angie after work. You need a new bikini and she's always ready to spend money. It also gives you buffer between you and your neighbour. While your night with Bucky was everything you dreamed an more, you really can't take the awkward aftermath right now. You're too excited for your vacation. The weekend is one more work day away and you're out of here. 

You go to the mall and scowl at the hordes of fellow shoppers. You have no right to despise them but you do. Why do they need things? Can't they come at a different time? 

Angelique chooses her typical fare; strings and not much else. You find a cute red gingham tankini that isn't entirely too modest. According to your outspoken companion though, you could show a bit more skin. You roll your eyes and pay as she continues to pile purchases on at the counter. 

"You wanna come hang out?" You ask as you stop to get a soft pretzel in the food course.  

She snorts, "oh really? You're not too busy banging the old man next door?" 

"Whatever, Ang. It's a one night kinda thing. Really. There's a bit too much time between us." You shrug and thank the guy behind the counter as he hands over your pretzel. 

"I mean that sort of gap is kinda in now," she snickers as you turn down the tile. 

"Yeah, well, I don't know if I should be hanging around him. Apparently he just got out." 

"Got out? Of a dead-end marriage? Divorced men are hot. Probably why he took the time to kiss your kitty," she slithers. 

"No, prison," you lower your voice. "I don't know. I wasn't thinking. I was in the moment when he told me and..." you shrug. "Now I think about it, I'm just... I wonder what he did." 

"Probably drugs or some shit. They give you twenty for a joint in some cases," she slurps on her milkshake and hums. "Bad boy. Oof, sexy daddy." 

"Really? You said his dick wouldn't work?" 

"I've been with older guys and they are just..." she makes and O with her index and thumb. 

"They are what? Trent wasn't old. He was twenty-eight." 

"Well, how old is that criminal, then?" She snaps. 

"I don't know," you pick a piece of the pretzel away. "It's got me thinking. I don't know much about him, do I?" 

"And yet you fucked him. I pass my slut crown to you, your majesty." 

"Shut up. Okay? It's... whatever. It was good. I'm glad it's done with, I just..." you eye your sugary pretzel, "I need this vacation. Give him time to cool down. And me." 

👙

Angelique ditches you. She says she needs to pack but you saw the message from Kev on her phone. She needs something to brag about at the beach so she can drown out your own boasting. 

You yawn as you get to the duplex. It's dark. the streetlights are on. It's past nine and you're going to regret this when you have to get up for work. 

You jingle your keys lazily as your shopping bags rustle together. You pull open the screen door, shrouded in shadows, and search out the right key. Why do you have so many? 

A thump behind you makes you jump. Your keys fall to your feet. You turn to the silhouette watching you from the bottom step.  

"You're home late," Bucky says. 

You bend to get your keys and blow out a breath, "you scared me." 

"Did I? Probably shouldn't be creeping in after dark," he grits. 

You stand and narrow your eyes. You can't see him through the dark. "Right, well, I needed to grab some stuff." 

"Sure," he clucks. 

You frown. What's his problem? You turn and shove the keys in the lock. You quickly reach inside to flip on the porch light. You drop your bags inside and face him. You gasp as he's right behind you. You grip the door frame as you step back into it. 

"Bucky, hi, uh, I need to get ready for bed." 

He's quiet. The yellow bulb shines over him and pools in his eyes. You gulp. His expression is rigid. 

"Can I join you?" He speaks at last. 

"Oh, uh," you smile, "that'd be great but I had a long day," you pat his chest. "Maybe another time." 

He huffs, "sure... guess we did stay up pretty late." 

"Right. Besides, I'm sure you have lots of stuff to do." 

He tilts his head, "nothing important," he puts his hand on the frame, just above yours. "I had a really nice time with you, doll." 

"It was great," you chime. "Really, it was... super." 

"Your first time," he tuts. "Wish you'd said something." 

"I didn't want to ruin the moment," you brush his fingers. "Well, Bucky, you have a good night." 

"Hmm," he inhales, "sure you don't want me to come in and check for bugs?" 

"All good," you cover your mouth and force a yawn. "See ya around." 

His face falls again. You hold back a shiver as his pupils grow and you gulp. You gently reach for the screen door. 

He moves away and watches you. He just stands there until you snap shut the outer door. You slowly push the inner one into place and twist the lock. You hold your breath and listen. You don't hear him go. 

You shake it off and back away. You grab you bags and turn on the hallway light. You make your way down to your room. That pretzel upset your stomach. Too much sugar. 

You unpack your things from the bag, sorting it into what to take and what you might return. Angelique always talks you into the worst things. 

You fall asleep easily. You really are worn out. You drift into a slog of roiling shadows and silence. You roll over as your arm tingles from being trapped beneath you and you grumble as your head spins. You blink at your room and shift in your bed. The moonlight streams in and casts across your messy blankets. 

You open your eyes and nearly scream. There's the outline of a man right outside. You blink and sit up, heaving in horror. No, it's gone. Was it even there? You're tired. Seeing things. 

You lay back down and shudder. You brush your hands over your face and sigh. Just one more day and you can forget about it all. 

👙

Your last day of work drags. You nearly fall asleep at your desk. The hours are dull and so are you. You go through it all like riding a bike. It's all muscle memory. 

It isn't until you leave that the uneasiness stirs. You have to sneak past your neighbour who always tends to be outside. Before, you looked forward to the encounters, now you're playing hide and seek. Maybe he was right... You should have listened. 

Yet, you don't regret any of it. Just thinking of it makes you tingle. You smile just before you cross the street but quickly wipe it away. You keep your head on straight and rush down your walk. You dare a peek to his side of the property as you get to the steps. 

His bike is gone. He's not there. Or at least not that you can tell. 

You run up the stairs and quickly skirt inside. You need to get everything ready. You put a pizza in the oven and get to work. 

You pack a single duffel and your beach bag. Angelique will have at least triple that even if she won't use it all. You spend the night double-checking and re-checking as you eat nearly half the frozen thin-crust on your own. 

You fall asleep watching Golden Girls and wake as your phone buzzes beside your pillow. The morning dances between your curtains, drawn almost shut since the night before. It's not paranoia. Not at all. 

Angelique's message slowly unblurs in your groggy visions; 'up and at em, bitch'.  

The only thing she ever wakes up early for is the beach or shopping. You roll out of bed and nearly fall on your ass. Your bags are at the door. You just need to get yourself together. 

You rush around and get into your new tankini, covering it with shorts and a crochet sweater. You pop on a sunhat and step into your sandals. You check the battery on your phone and nearly forget to snatch up your solar charger. You're just about ready, Angelique just needs to step on the gas. 

You grab your tumbler full of iced coffee as the knock comes at the door. You skip to it and swing it open with a smile and a hop. You stop short as the screen door is propped open against Bucky's shoulder. You shrink down as his eyes slowly descend your figure. His brows draw together. 

"Morning, doll," his hand is on his hip. 

"Um, hi, Bucky, how's it going? Oh, did my pool blow away again?" 

He shakes his head, "you headed out?" 

You look down at yourself then at him. "The beach! Going to go get some sun." 

"The beach," he echoes. "Right." 

"I would invite you but it's Angelique's thing and... yeah," you wiggle your shoulders and look past him.  

As if she hears her name, your friend pulls up in her Barbie pink convertible and toots the horn, "come on, whore!" 

You cringe and glance at Bucky again. You clear your throat. You turn and grab your bags. 

"Sorry, I gotta get going." You manage to balance it all on your shoulders as you grip your keys and cup. "Needa be early to get a good spot." 

You step out and he backs up, still close, crowding you as you lock the door. 

"Hm, I'll... keep an eye on things then." He growls. 

"Oh thank you, Bucky," you preen and face him. "You're the sweetest." 

You twirl away and hurry across the porch. You nearly sprint down the walk and toss your bags in the back of the open top car. You get in and pop your cup into the holder near the console. Angelique giggles. 

"Aren't you in a hurry?" She cackles. 

"Shut up," you send her a cringe. "Just drive." 

[delaware-lemme-smash]

Can I request some headcanons for All Might, Aizawa and Nighteye taking care of their s/o when their sick? I have a wicked cold right now and this would be just amazing. Thank you so much for the work you do

Absolutely I can! Hope you feel better!

Characters: Yagi Toshinori/All Might, Aizawa Shouta/Eraserhead, Sasaki Mirai/Sir Nighteye

Contents: gn!reader, sickness, medicine

Yagi Toshinori/All Might

Toshinori is a little out of his depth the first time you come down with a bug. He's used to playing the big damn hero, swooping in and saving the day, beating the bad guys, and rescuing innocent civilians. But then the civvies et handed off to paramedics, doctors, family and friends. He's never had to look after someone for more than the few minutes it took to rescue them.

He's been in hospital himself with his injuries after the fight with All For One, which does kind of give him the reverse perspective, but it's not quite the same.

When Toshinori is unsure, Toshinori goes over the top. You'll be sitting on the couch, swaddled in a blanket, snoozing or trying to watch TV to distract yourself from your headache and stuffed-up sinuses. Meanwhile, Toshinori will be trundling in and out of the room, offering you endless cup soft tea, chicken soup, extra blankets, more Lemsip.

It's a little much, and each time you refuse one of his offerings, he sidles back into the kitchen and anxiously calls Recovery Girl.

"What is it this time, Toshinori."

"They didn't want the chicken soup! What do I do?"

"Oh, for the love of... Put them on the phone, Toshinori."

He sheepishly hands the phone to you, explaining who it is. When Recovery Girl finds out you just have a cold and aren't wheezing your last, she's even more exasperated than before. She scolds him to stop smothering you and just let you rest, much to your relief. As nice as it is to have Toshinori clucking around you like a big mother hen, offering you ten cups a tea an hour was getting to be a bit much. You felt bad having to refuse him.

It's much nicer just to have him hold you in your blanket swaddle on the couch, while you watch TV and cheesy movies that don't require any brain power to enjoy.

Please do occasionally ask him for things—soup, more tissues, an ice pack for your head—because it will make him feel needed. Toshi's got a hero complex.

Aizawa Shouta/Eraserhead

Aizawa's a teacher, so he's hardly a stranger to people being unwell. Teenagers might be not be the walking disease vectors that little kids are, but a school is still basically one giant petri dish, so he's not going to freak out when you're not well.

Don't worry though, he's not going to demand that you Plus Ultra! your way through your illness.

I know Aizawa comes across as a bit of a hardass, especially when it comes to his students, but he also prizes rationality. And logic dictates that when you're sick, you need rest so that your body has the time and resources it needs to fight off the illness.

He won't expect you to be up and at 'em while you're a snot-riddled Kleenex-fiend or while you're throwing your guts up. If you try to go to work, he'll make you call in sick. If you refuse, he'll do it for you, using his best Teacher Voice to browbeat your boss into submission.

"What kind of strategy meeting do you expect to have when they have a fever of 102?"

It is Aizawa, though, so he will expect you to look after yourself as much as you're able while you're sick. He's not going to be tenderly mopping your brow and telling you what a poor dear you are, or spoon-feeding you chicken soup just because you have a cold.

So, if you're the type to act completely helpless or like a little kid when you get ill, whining all day about how bad you feel, you won't get a lot of sympathy from him.

Also, if you refuse to take any medicine (barring medical/religious reasons) or do anything to relieve your symptoms, it frustrates him, because he sees it as martyring yourself for no reason.

"It's an aspirin, not poison."

He can't really call in sick to look after you—he is basically an essential worker—but he will make sure there is someone nearby who can respond to you in an emergency if you get worse or run out of medicine. And he'll have his phone on and check in with you throughout the day.

When he is home, he cooks or orders in, feeds the cats, tidies away your tissues. He pushes your hair back out of your face, calloused palm feeling for your temperature.

"I'm not used to looking like the well-rested one between us two."

The pair of you lay on the couch like a couple of bugs in cocoons. He in his sleeping bag, you in your blanket burrito, covered in cats.

Sasaki Mirai/Sir Nighteye

Sir Nighteye comes across as so stern and imposing that at first you might be tempted to hide your illness from him. You don't want to bother him with something as small and inconsequential as a cold or a stomach bug. He's a busy guy!

Too bad, Mirai's a very perceptive man even when he's not using his Quirk. If he can put together a plan to dig out a Yakuza gang and spend years being the brains behind All Might, then he can work out that you've got the sniffles.

Much like Aizawa, he's full to the brim with logical, practical advice about how to handle your illness. None of those old wives' tales about putting a slice of onion in your sock 'to suck out the impurities'.

He's a little less slammed than Aizawa, and can delegate to his sidekicks for a day or two while he stays home to keep an eye on you if you're really under the weather.

Despite his stern front, Mirai is a man who cares deeply for the people close to him, and he's not above tending to you.

However, there is one slightly odd thing—he keeps the TV tuned to stand-up at all times. You catch him watching the news on his laptop where he's working away at the kitchen table.

"Mirai, why don't you just watch it on the TV? Also, why has it been tuned to Tokyo Comedy Central for the last two days?"

Mirai looks at you, deadpan, and says solemnly, "Laughter is the best medicine."

Crickets.

"But it hurts to laugh," you protest, the wheeze in your voice clear.

"Very well. Laughter in conjunction with cough syrup."

[sturnsdoll]

𝙂𝙄𝙍𝙇𝙔 𝙂𝙁 ˚୨୧⋆｡ - M.S

(headcannons!)

pairing: matt x girly/hyperfem!reader

warnings: hc's, sfw and nsfw but they are labelled as such.

nsfw warnings: dom!matt, sub!reader, implied spanking, dirty talk, mostly just super suggestive.

authors note: multiple people requested a matt version so here you go <3

SFW !

ೃ⁀➷ one of the first things matt loved about you was the way you express yourself through your style.

ೃ⁀➷ how could he keep his eyes off you with bows dangling and intertwined through your hair, belt loops or pretty much anything else you could stick em' on

ೃ⁀➷ watching you lay peacefully against your pink silk sheets never fails to lure him into crawling under your matching covers to cuddle and stroke your perfectly cared for hair into further relaxation.

ೃ⁀➷ anytime your cake-esque fragrance is sprayed around him he has to pull you into him. he's addicted to it like crack. he has to bury his face into your neck, inhaling like he'll never be graced with it again.

ೃ⁀➷ anytime he's out he's looking for things you'd accesorize with..

ೃ⁀➷ matt would be searching through every color of ribbon in every store he's in for a color, size or texture that you don't have.

ೃ⁀➷ matt would want to buy you makeup because he knows how good you feel about yourself while wearing it.. not saying he'd be good at picking out the right shades but hey, he tries right??

ೃ⁀➷ matt loves watching the bottom of your skirt dance and twirl while you bounce around your room with your fav artist playing..

ೃ⁀➷ you hum the lyrics while organizing your closet that's drowned in shades of pink..

ೃ⁀➷ "need help sweetheart?" "i'm okay, thanks" and even though he knew you were sincere from the sweet grin on your pretty lips, he'd get up from the comfort of your bed to assist anyways. he couldn't let your pretty little head get too exhausted now could he?

ೃ⁀➷ he knows how capable you are though, there's no doubt. he enjoys taking care of you but knows your more than able on your own

ೃ⁀➷ he would try his hardest to be assertive when he's angry but it was always impossible.

ೃ⁀➷ mid arguement you'd find yourself inching closer till you reach him. you take his hand. he can't ignore your perfect shiny acrylic nails (that he paid for) grazing along his palm to slowly interlock with his longer, masculine fingers.

ೃ⁀➷ "i'm sorry matt, i'll make it up to you. " you'd apologize sincerly.

ೃ⁀➷ before he could even think about saying no, your lashes batting up at him with doe eyes beneath them would usually force him to the final decision of teaching you how to behave another way...

NSFW !

ೃ⁀➷ "you think you look all innocent don't you?" now your backed up and corned against your makeup table. a few lipglosses knock over when the back of your thighs hit the table, your hands coming behind to steady yourself.

ೃ⁀➷ you'd nod your head. matt's dry laugh makes wetness pool beneath your skirt faster than you're willing to admit. "we'll see how much of a good girl you really are then yeah?" then next thing you know you'd be holding off your orgasms, being left begging for at least the 3rd time in a row.

ೃ⁀➷ and it never took much to get him going.

ೃ⁀➷ matt and you would be with his friends and all it'd take would be a graze of your perfect nails against his jeans for him to crave them wrapped around his dick.

ೃ⁀➷ your perfect pink lips pouting at him as you asked to go home early..

ೃ⁀➷ your eyes telling him you weren't wearing the shortest skirt you could find for no reason.

ೃ⁀➷ matt never really cared about you doing much for him sexually. making you feel good is what got him off. you were his princess and you needed to feel as such, in and out of the bedroom.

ೃ⁀➷ contradictory to that though, being a princess means being a bit of a brat and he knows how to deal with you when needed.

ೃ⁀➷ if it came to it, he'd pull you out of any social event (dinner, party, hangout, doesn't matter) and take you to his car.

ೃ⁀➷ your sweet demeanor never stopped him from ruining you.

ೃ⁀➷ "you think that shit's cute?" you quickly mutter back a "no" while knowing damn well that being bent over his lap in the backseat as your tears of pain and pleasure ruined your makeup was exactly what you were hoping for.

ೃ⁀➷ "who's dog was in here?" nick would ask matt the next day, eyeing at the nail shaped imprints in the seat cover. chris' head whips around from the front to spot your hair ribbon discarded on the floor. he put two and two together. "matt, there's absaloutely no way dude... in nick's seat seriously?!"

(sorry if any of the tags didn't work) tags ᥫ᭡ : @mattsrod @sturncakez @sturniololovesss @sturniolosstar @sstvrnioloo @watercolorskyy @pettydollie @sturniol0s @6ix9inewiturmom @sonicsmacks @orangelala

[chimielie]

hold ‘em up (above my heart)

summary: Atsumu x Physical Therapist!F!Reader. the sun rises and sets over and over as your relationship progresses from friends to pro yearners to more.

wc: 4.3k

cw: friends with benefits subplot and all that entails; not explicit, just suggestive, reader is fighting for her LIFE in her brain, atsumu is just chilling (not really)

a/n: hi i didn’t die :3

“Hands up,” you say, voice low so as not to disturb the peace of the morning.

Atsumu raises his arms, elbows bent, making a frame of his face. His blond hair is pale, almost white because his little kitchen window faces east and he wakes before it rises above the upper pane. You sidle past him, back to his front, ignoring the weight of his hand as it settles on your hip while you reach up for the granola you keep in the cabinet next to the fridge.

He likes traditional Japanese breakfasts, the savory and umami flavors of natto and rice and miso. You have a sweet tooth and a craving for crunchy food, like a wild animal that needs to grind down its molars. On the days he has work, he settles for an omelette (or scrambled eggs if he fucks it up). You eat the same thing every morning or you'll be sick.

Growing up, Atsumu was never a morning person, but he sleeps better on the nights you're next to him. He doesn't get angry when you slosh milk over the side of his bowl onto his dining table, doesn't snap when you ask him what his plans for the day are. Maybe this is what being an adult is, these steady waters and calm skies.

You don't speak much as you chew, staring into space and thinking the slow thoughts of the exhausted, and he busies himself scrolling through his group messages and social media accounts.

There's a request from a verified account, a retired athlete-turned-model. He knows her name, has seen her in ads, bumped into her at the last Olympics. He clicks on it.

Hey, handsome. I'll be in Osaka this upcoming weekend - let's get a drink!

"I'm gonna shower," you're patting your hair, looking irritated. It always sticks up in the morning, no matter how you sleep on it, a few particular strands defying gravity.

"You should go to work like that," he says, voice still rough even if his mind's woken up. His accent is thicker in the morning, you've told him, but he can't hear it.

"Hell no," you say. "You're the only one who gets to see this morning glory for now."

"I better be," his grin is roguish, running his hand through his own bird's nest. "C'mon, you gonna let me shower with you or what?"

"No, you'll use up all my nice shampoo again!" You fake running to the bathroom, keeping your pace slow enough for him to wrap his arms around your waist and tackle you down, careful to fold himself so that you land on top of him, body between his legs, face cushioned on his chest.

He leaves his phone face up, forgotten on the table.

He's toweling off his hair, dressed in his practice uniform, while you're packing your bag for the day in the kitchen. His apartment is small, way smaller than some of the other guys' on the team, but he grew up crammed into a room with his mom and his brother. He'd toured one penthouse and decided he couldn't live with all that space strangling him.

He'd tried to get Samu to bunk with him like old times, but his brother had just said I'll sleep three meters from your dirty laundry in hell, and that was the end of the argument.

Besides, he has a lot of car bills to pay. He managed to fold another Mazda last month and you've been carpooling in your ancient Toyota while he waits to get license privileges again ever since.

"You got a text, by the way," you say casually, digging through your purse with your lips twisted to the side. "Aha!" You pull out a tube of lipstick triumphantly. "You should respond before you forget."

"Ah, was it Samu?" He asks, crossing back into the bedroom to put away his damp towel.

"Nah, the model," you call. "Sorry, I read your texts."

You're fighting the growing bitterness of the words, trying to sound jaunty and uncaring and casual. The admission of invading his privacy weighs heavily on your shoulders; you can't make yourself look up into his face when he comes into the kitchen.

"I don't care," he shrugs. "You can read whatever you want."

"You shouldn't say that," you try to laugh and wince instead. He just grunts and picks up the phone, swiping away from the conversation and leaving her on read. "I don't have the right, don't I? I shouldn't have—"

"I really don't care," he cuts across your strained attempt at an apology again.

"You should!" You sound like you're about to stamp your foot at him. He doesn't understand why you're so angry; he doesn't bite. "Aren't you gonna get mad? Shouldn't we be fighting?"

"I don't wanna fight," he rubs his large, calloused hand over your shoulder, your upper trapezius, to cup the back of your and pull you into a loose embrace. You stand, dumbfounded, chin pushed into his shoulder, hands at your sides. "Do you? We can if you want to."

"No," you whisper. "Sorry, I—sorry."

"'S okay," he says, digging his thumbs into the tight knots of muscle. "No big deal. Here, you dropped your thingy."

The thingy is the tube of lipstick, a deep berry color, rolling towards the edge of the table. He steps back and squeezes your cheeks in one hands, prompting you to part your lips slightly. He does it how he knows you do, a soft smear on the lower lip and two dabs made sharp by a swipe of his thumbnail on the outer creases, all blended together at the end for a subtle touch of color.

"You look like a frog about to burp," he says when he's done. You laugh so hard you cry.

On the car ride to work, you keep chewing on your lip. He frowns when he notices, all his work bitten off.

You wait for him to get out of the car first, a holdover from the days when you would wait five minutes so no one would notice that you were coming from the same place. In some ways, it's easier that he crashed his car; so convenient that you volunteered to be his chauffeur. He comes to your side, opens your door. You squint at him, jutting your chin out like you're bracing yourself for something.

"I wasn't gonna go out with her," he tells you, a secret between you, him, and the hard asphalt of the MSBY gym's employee parking lot. "Ain't nobody else seein' this in the mornings either. That's all."

He turns around and strides off, leaving you blinking in the morning light.

"Can you move it?" You say, your brows knit together. Hinata grimaces.

"I can bend it, like this—" he curls the injured finger inward. "But it won't stretch out, like this. Ah!"

You release his hand, where you'd applied pressure to the digit. "It's sprained. You're sitting out the rest of practice."

"Aw, but it really doesn't hurt that bad," he protests. You give him a look. "Okay, okay. Can I least do some running and stuff?"

"Do you want to come to practice tomorrow?" You say evenly. He gives you big brown puppydog eyes and you fold like wet paper. "I'll give you some stretches and exercises for your legs that you probably can't fuck up."

"Yay!" He cheers. "Thank you!" He uses an affectionate diminutive of your name with -chan tacked on the end. You laugh and wave him off, walking out of the main gym area toward your office, where you can print him the exercises.

You lean against your desk while the printer huffs temperamentally, taking a long sip of coffee. You should really stop going over to Atsumu's on weeknights, but you've been telling yourself that for well over a year, and it's a lot more convenient since all your clothes and your toothbrush live at his place.

You tell yourself a lot of things when it comes to your blond coworker.

The door to your office slams open and you make an involuntary, high-pitched noise in the back of your throat, focusing hard on keeping the cardboard cup in your hand from jumping with you.

"Sorry, sorry," Bokuto says, his hair drooping dramatically. "It's just really important—Tsumu's hurt!"

You take an inhale so quickly it hurts and burst your coffee cup all over your coat and work pants. Luckily, you take it mostly milk and sugar, so it doesn't burn you, but you don't even really notice it, just shedding the coat and rolling up your sleeves as you stride out the door without hesitation.

Behind you, Bokuto follows, making garbled promises you hear as through water to buy you a house to make up for startling you and ruining your outfit.

You try to take three deep breaths before you enter the gym, knowing you'll be much more helpful calm rather than battling the wall of panic that threatens to overtake you. Atsumu is blocked from your vision by a crowd of his teammates, fluttering around him like a herd of bumblebees.

Iwaizumi is already there, you see with an exhale of relief, ordering everyone around him to stay calm. You motion to the players around him to give him space, hoping your terror doesn't show untowardly on your face, hoping he can feel your singleminded prayer: please be okay.

"Eh?" He has a dopey expression on his face, dopier than usual, anyway. He says your name gleefully, but you're too busy scanning him for visible blood or bone to respond right away. "Nice shirt. Hey, why's your coat off? Were you taking off your clothes in there? Without me?"

"He collided with Sakusa," Iwaizumi tells you. Atsumu reaches for your hand and you stroke your fingertips lightly over the back of it, along the bones and tendons, each touch saying you'll be okay, it's going to be okay.

I'll make it okay.

"Sakusa's shoulder got banged up, you should probably put him on reserve for a couple days," Iwaizumi says. You glance over at the black-haired spiker, who gives you a thumbs-up though his expression is characteristically flat. "Atsumu, though... he fell pretty hard."

You can see that. There's a bruise blooming along the side of his face, like the sloppy trail of your lipstick after a night out. His ankle is swollen, too; the disorientation of the head injury must have impaired the grace of his landing.

You kneel and shift into clinical mode, receding into the comfortable space of your training. You feel along his leg, asking him over and over does it hurt, can you move this, does it hurt when I do this.

"Okay, doc?" His beautiful honey eyes are unfocused. You want to cry. You want to squeeze his hand tighter, but you don't want to hurt him more. "S all good. I'm fine."

You shake your head, grateful it's not worse. Afraid of what you have to say to him.

"That's right, you'll be fine. But the concussion paired with the ankle injury... I don't think it's a good idea for you to return to practice for a month at least."

You squeeze your eyes shut and pull your hands away from him. He probably doesn't want to be touched. He might hate you for this.

What's the point of sleeping with the doc if I don't get special privileges, you imagine him saying, if you're gonna take my life away from me like this. A month of recovery doesn't sound like so much to other people, but you've been working around these volleyball freaks since high school. You know that it's everything to them.

"Okay," Atsumu simply says. You look at him. "You gonna drive me home?"

"If you don't mind," you say softly.

"Yeah, then it's okay," he says, and scoots around, hissing when he forgets and puts pressure on the injured ankle. He leans back, and you catch his head in your lap.

"I'm gonna break my leg," Barnes says from somewhere behind you. "I want the doc to hold me like that."

You hear a thwack and then Iwaizumi's voice: "Sakusa, stop concussing your teammates. L/N only has so much room in her car."

Atsumu recovers more quickly than you expect. You should have known, though; he's always had a strong ability to heal. He rarely gets sick and though he's brash and reckless and sometimes outright stupid, he's lucky. In almost all the inadvisable endeavors you've seen him pull, he almost never gets hurt.

You're not actually a doctor, not that the team believes that. You've been trying to explain that you're a sports medicine physical therapist for the three years you've been working for MSBY and not once has it deterred anyone from calling you doc.

Atsumu was signed six months after you started, and you had only been friends until a year after that. In all that time, you've been the consummate professional at work, never letting your touches linger, never stretching him too deeply, trying not to stare at him like he's just any other player. When he first propositioned you, you tried not to say yes too quickly, as businesslike as possible.

You went into sports medicine because of your sister. She had been a superstar from the moment she stepped foot on a tennis court; even at a young age you saw that she wielded the racket like it was an extension of herself. As the two of you grew in age, you also saw the ways she overextended herself: the swollen knobs of her knees, hidden under frozen packs of peas, the frequent doctor's visits for hyperextension, the tear tracks when she tore her ACL.

You had spent so much of your childhood waiting for her during practice, doing your homework in the bleachers, fielding questions about her play to the uninitiated relatives who came to support her matches that it felt like the most natural course of action to go into a career field that meant you could help her and others like her chase their dreams.

You had also almost exclusively dated athletes as a result. While you were attending university and chasing your certifications, you had been surrounded by two types of people: students and athletes. You had barely any time in your schedule, much less the ability to align it with a similarly crammed med student. Athletes, on the other hand, didn't have an obsession with comparing your knowledge, liked that you were too busy to monitor them all day long, and loved that you had to attend every one of their games because it was literally your job.

By the time you got the position in Osaka, you were beyond over the routine of dating the people in your care. You swore to yourself that you wouldn't mess around with the team and entered a yearlong celibate streak, which Atsumu blew up into a million pieces and never allowed to recover.

To his (and your) credit, the both of you became close friends before ever crossing the boundary of inappropriate conduct. Just because you were strictly business during work hours didn't mean that you, lonely and shy in a new city, were going to turn down your coworkers' offer to go out after practice. You'd gotten to know Meian well and considered Bokuto to be something of a little brother. Then they had traded a couple of players for Atsumu, and the moment he gripped your hand and slapped your shoulder instead of shaking it or bowing like a normal person, you knew that he was going to mean much more to you than any other of your team.

You had fallen quickly into a deep friendship, and his apartment was much closer to the team's favored bars than yours was, so it was just easier for you to go home and crash on his couch. And his couch was gross, because it belonged to a bachelor who had never heard of a steam cleaner, so one night you insisted on sharing the bed, and you had become good friends who cuddled weekly.

It happened like this:

You were the last two left in the booth that had once contained the extremely compressed bodies of several of the largest men in Japan, probably, but they had practice early the next morning and had trickled out, one by one. Atsumu had his head down on the table while you desperately tried to convince him to come home (already you were referring to his apartment as your home without thinking, though only a spare toothbrush and a coat were kept there at the time).

"Please," you said, "I'm so tired. I'm not even drunk anymore."

"I am," Atsumu said, turning his face toward you. "Very."

"I know," you groaned. "Let's go home."

"I can't," he said despondently.

"Why not?"

"Not with you," his words slurred together. "I gotta problem."

"What?" You suddenly felt very, very sick. Maybe you were more drunk than you'd thought.

"Mhm. I gotta apologize, I think."

Oh, you thought. This is it. He knows.

"I've been having," he hiccuped and turned his face into his arms again so that you couldn't hear the next thing he mumbled.

"I can't hear you like that," you say softly. "Please, Atsumu, you can tell me anything."

You've been seeing someone, and she wants me to stop sleeping over. She wants you to stop being friends with me. You need the apartment to yourself to have her over.

"No," he says, turning back to you again, his eyes glossy with drink, his lips pink and just the slightest bit open. "I have been having manly thoughts about you. Unmanly thoughts. Whatever."

"What do you mean?" You'd asked, heart beating fast.

"I wanna have sex with you," he said, and then slammed his forehead against the table until it left a red mark. "I'm sorry, women! It's wrong to dream about kissing your girl friends, I know!"

You ignored his nonsensical shouting and put your hand under his face so he wouldn't injure it.

"Then let's go home so we can have sex," you said. He whipped his head up so fast you worried for his spinal discs.

"You promise?"

You actually didn't have sex that night because he fell asleep as soon as you coerced him into the bed. The next morning, he'd been hungover and ashamed, stuttering and afraid to look you in the eye. You had given him a handful of painkiller pills and waited until he was washing it down with a glass of green juice before you said "I think about having sex with you, too," so that he spewed it all over the floor.

Maybe it was petty, but you needed vengeance for his forcing you to drag him bodily out of that bar the previous night.

After your first time, he said, awkwardly, something about not being able to commit to a relationship at the moment, something about difficulty expressing his feelings, about being too immature to settle. A script you were as familiar with as the back of your hands. You turned to him, swiping sweaty strands of hair out of your face, glowing with a smile as he stuttered his way through it, and said I know the game. We don't have to talk about it.

He insisted that it wasn't a game, that you deserved transparency and to be treated well, and you rolled over on top of him and kissed him until he forgot his own name.

During the month-long recovery period, you had resumed the friendship you had had in the early months of knowing each other, refusing adamantly to do anything strenuous or even unsportsmanly while you had to work much more closely together than ever before. You insist on sleeping at your own apartment for the first week, afraid of aggravating his injuries further, until he threatens to walk to you with his pillow and sleepover bag. You bring him food near-daily and call his brother when your schedule prevents you from doing so.

He's diligent about doing the exercises and stretches you assign him to bring him back to full functionality. Towards the end of his detention (you pinch him for using such a dramatic word), you start taking walks together, in the evenings on work days and the mornings on days off.

You keep expecting him to ask for space, to push you out of his daily routine, to realize that he's bored because he knows everything about you; there's nothing left to hide. Nothing except the one unspoken thing, the one you're sure he knows but you can't acknowledge.

New growth is beginning to sprout on the trees, grey wood dotted with little specks of bright green. Atsumu walks without a limp, now, his posture straight but relaxed, his hands shoved into his pockets.

His body is healed, but his heart aches. You're wearing casual clothes, big soft pants that billow around your legs and a black shirt with his name in yellow letters, and you look far away, worried. No matter how many times he smooths the pinch between your brows away with his thumb, no matter how many times he asks what's wrong, you refuse him a straight answer.

He wonders if he's pulled you too close, in this month dying of boredom, forbidden from running and setting and anything that could damage his brain. He still gets to see you in the morning, your back arching as you stretch and yawn, the crinkle of your nose when your feet touch the cold floor outside of bed, which is probably slowly draining all the function from his grey matter.

You're wearing gloves, your extremities sensitive to the cold. He takes your left hand, tugs it off. When he tangles your fingers together, you look up at him, questioningly, that knot between your brows back again.

"What, woman, now I can't hold your hand?"

You stop walking. He curses his big, fat mouth. He always chooses the wrong thing to say, always has.

Osamu used to ask him what he was supposed to say to girls. Atsumu, proud big brother that he wanted to be, would puff out his chest and give him paragraphs of advice, and Osamu almost never used it. There were so few opportunities for him to advise Samu, though; he was so self-sufficient, maybe more than Atsumu had ever been. He was more introverted, less brash and crass and rude. Sometimes, when Atsumu ceded his insistence on being the wiser one with six more minutes of life experience, he wished he could be more like his twin.

"Do you love me like that, Atsumu?" You ask, mouth pressed into an unhappy line, already pulling away from him like you were expecting him to say something completely insane. "Because I understood fucking, and being friends with benefits, but I don't know if I get going out for food and holding hands and—"

"Like?" He says, refusing to let your hand slip from his. "I love you. That's it."

"Oh," you say, and your mouth is twisted up like you're searching for something he can't see again, but the crease in your forehead is gone.

"You gonna go out with me?" He says, and it comes out way easier than he ever thought it would, and if choosing the rest of his life is as simple a decision as chasing volleyball and you has been, growing up sounds way better than he thought. "'Cause I wanna do it all with you."

Once Atsumu's allowed to drink again, it's time for the real volleyball season to start, and his diet becomes much stricter and your schedule much longer, but eventually the two of you find yourselves back at the same old bar with the rest of the team.

"You're a scrub with no hope of survival in the zombie apocalypse," sneers Atsumu. This is a common topic of conversation among them; each one vying to be the leader of your hypothetical ragged survivors' team.

"I could win a fight against you with one hand tied behind my back," snits Tomas, who usually is oblivious to Atsumu's provocations but gets a lot feistier when he's drunk, to the setter's delight.

"Please don't," says Bokuto, his hair deflating in fear of his friends fighting.

"Haven't you had enough dick measuring," says Sakusa, holding a mug in front of his face like it'll prevent him from seeing Atsumu's and thus pretending he's not there.

"Have you guys ever done that?" You perk up, looking around. "Isn't that supposed to be a locker room ritual?"

"In high school, maybe," snorts Barnes. "We're way too old for that now."

"Yeah, we're real mature," insists Bokuto, his hair bouncing back up into its familiar two-pronged shape. You’ve long wondered how it does that, but if working with MSBY has taught you anything, it’s that science can’t explain everything.

You nod, taking another sip of your beer.

“So how big is it?” Atsumu addresses Sakusa and you squeeze your eyes shut. You just got him to start attending team bonding nights.

“Small. Leave me alone.” You choke on your drink, spluttering as you make eye contact with Sakusa and the tiny, prideful smirk on his face.

The rest of the team dissolves into laughter.

"What about you?" Hinata, his cheeks rosy, says to Atsumu. Before you can think, your drunken mouth speaks for you.

"You can’t have it, I called dibs!”

You slap a hand over your mouth, mortified. You can’t even begin to think about the rest of your coworker’s reactions. You haven’t even disclosed your relationship yet! Atsumu guffaws.

“I don’t think anyone’s trying to take it from ya, doll.”

[miniimight]

Hiiii idk if you’re doing requests rn but I just ADORE how you write Izuku and katsuki like omg-

Anyways- my meds are causing me some crazy nightmares lately and I was wondering how they would handle you waking up from a nightmare???

If you don’t take requests then forget this ever happened :’)

Have a nice day byeeeeee!!!

NIGHTMARES you wake up in a start and wake them up in the process

with izuku & katsuki

notes guys i know ive been away for way too long im so sorry!!! :( i'm in the process of moving so it's stressful T-T thanks for the request, anon, hope those nightmares got/get better :( <3

it was so vivid. your mind sunk into an alternate reality that captured all your senses. you felt yourself spiraling deeper and deeper, faster and faster—

your body jolted upright with a breathless yell and a sharp gasp, the world stilling for a mere second...

and then you leaned over your knees, your lungs racing to catch up with your need for oxygen. your chest felt tight and you squeezed your eyes, remembering that your boyfriend was laying peacefully beside you.

you peeked to your side and found him staring right back—wide, bright eyes piercing into your own—sending a shock through your body.

IZUKU

"god, izuku, you scared me—" you sighed, your hand pressing on your stomach as if that would make the uneasy feeling disappear.

"i scared you?" he sat up further, scooching closer to your side. "you scared me, angel. are you okay? you're out of breath, honey. let's do it together, okay?"

you whimpered softly as you tried to follow his guide. izuku could tell you were in distress and it took everything to stop himself from overwhelming you with questions. he just laced his fingers with yours and squeezed.

"good job, honey." izuku praised you ever-so-softly, rubbing your back soothingly. "feeling a bit better?"

you nodded, frowning. "m'sorry for waking you—"

"angel." he whined, letting his eyes do all the talking. "don't do that! please, don't do that." he actually sounded offended.

you looked away from him, your throat hurting from holding back tears. "it's been happening all the time, though, and you need your rest. maybe i should take the guest room?" you were more talking to yourself than anything, but izuku refused to let you entertain such an idea.

izuku's shoulders slumped, the shock fading as drowsiness began to overtake him. he smiled lazily, fighting a yawn. "y/n, even if i knew you would wake me up every night for the rest of time, i'd still choose to be here beside you."

you turned to face him, the horror of your nightmare slowly fading to the back of your mind. "really?"

"really." he confirmed.

you smiled, letting your head rest on your knees as you stared at him lovingly.

the rustle of sheets and whistle of wind reminded the both of you that it was indeed the middle of the night. izuku tugged you closer by your waist, pulling you back onto the bed. he groaned softly, stretching a little before he relaxed against you. "did you wanna talk about it?"

you pursed your lips. curling into his embrace, you immediately felt warmer. "...not right now."

he kissed your forehead. "don't worry, i'll always be right here to protect you from anything your head throws at you. you just tell me and let me at 'em." he kissed you again before wrapping both arms around you.

his steady breathing and soft snores brought a fond smile to your face. you found yourself falling asleep despite the night's events.

KATSUKI

you both stared at each other for a good few seconds before you spoke up.

"sorry for waking you," you mumbled, still having trouble managing your breathing. you turned away from him, pressing your palms into your eyes.

"no," he whispered with a softness reserved for you only. "you didn't wake me."

you stared at him through the darkness and could see him so clearly. "katsuki—"

"shh, it's okay, baby." he gave you a soft smile, once again reassuring you. "come 'ere."

you sniffed as you inched closer. katsuki gently took your arm and pulled you the rest of the way right into his arms. his hand fell to your waist, tracing little shapes and lines as he allowed you time.

"wanna talk about it?" he asked.

you shook your head.

"okay." he squeezed your shoulder, kissing your cheek. he figured you'd tell him when you were ready—the last thing he wanted to do was stress you out even more. it was hard, not to get all the answers on what was bothering was you... it was in his nature to want to make all your problems go away. "what do you need?"

you hand wound around his torso, hugging him back. "um..." you shuddered as you breathed in. "just you."

he smiled against your skin. "yeah? promise you're not holding back on me?"

you giggled. "yes."

"cuz you know i'd do literally anything—"

you sat up slightly, turning to face him with a swat to his chest. your face burned and it was a struggle to recall the images of your nightmare. "katsuki! oh my god."

"what?" he scrunched his nose. his eyes never left you. "it's true."

you returned to your spot between his arm. "just you."

"whatever you say." he pressed his lips to your temple before he got comfy. he sighed. "goodnight, pretty. wake me when those stupid nightmares bug you again, okay?"

your heart fluttered and your smile grew out of your control. "okay."

© miniimight ! thanks for reading <3

[pensthoughts]

Wait…actually I’m the person who asked about the cowboy! Van x farmer’s daughter! Reader. Maybe Van like…comes up to the farm one day and asks stuff to r. Maybe some smut??? Like a little

Set: 1920s

Paring: Butch Cowboy! Van x Farmers Daughter! Reader.

Fluffy/Angst/a tiny bit of smut.

dust & honey | v.p

a/n: you don't understand i freaked out when i got this request. i seriously live for an au so i got straight to writing this as soon as i got it lol. i really hope you enjoy reading this as much as i enjoyed writing it!! pairing: cowboy!van x farmersdaughter!reader summary: stumbling into a small town to buy honey, a cowboy van ends up finding something much sweeter word count: 5.2k warnings: smut towards the end

the bees were already agitated that morning.

you'd been out by the hives before breakfast, smoke can in one hand, trying to calm them down before the sun got too high. they buzzed in tight, angry circles like they knew something was coming, like the air was holding It's breath. you wiped your brow on the back of your glove and stepped away, leaving the boxes humming behind you.

your father stood in the yard, crouched by the broken wagon wheel, brow furrowed and hat pushed back. "it's cracked clean through," he muttered, giving it a nudge with his boot. "i need you to ride into town and get a spare from harold."

you nodded. "anything else?"

"twine, if they've got any that ain't rotted. and that tonic your ma used to buy from the back shelf—my lungs been actin' up again."

you shifted your weight, brushing dust from your skirt. "ms. matthews asked about honey last week. want me to leave her some of the batch?"

he gave a tired smile. "you always think of everything, don't you?" he straightened with a quiet grunt. "yeah, drop her off a jar. and don't let harold try to short you on the wheel. he still thinks you don't know what you're talkin' about."

you raised an eyebrow. "maybe i'll remind him."

your father laughed once, dry and low. "that's my girl."

you packed light—two jars of honey in your bag, your coin purse, and a bit of twine wrapped around your wrist like a charm—and saddled the horse instead of taking the cart. dust clung to your boots before you even reached the road.

town wasn't far, but the ride felt long with the sun beating down overhead. it wasn't big—just a string of old buildings, a few shops, a blacksmith's shed, and the chapel that lost its bell pull over the winter—but it was the kind of place where everyone noticed when someone new walked in.

you tied your horse in front of the general store and climbed the porch steps, the boards creaking under your weight. misty quigley was already out front, sorting envelopes into neat little piles on the crate beside her.

she looked up when she saw you and grinned. "well look who's alive. i was startin' to think your daddy locked you in the barn."

you rolled your eyes but smiled. misty had been in your sunday school class when you were kids, always a little too eager with the scissors during arts and crafts. now she worked part-time delivering the mail and full-time poking her nose where it didn't belong.

"just pickin' up a few things," you said. "pa's wheel cracked again."

"harold's got a whole stack of 'em in the back," she said. "and don't let him sell you the warped one like he did me. that thing spun sideways down the hill like it was runnin' from soemthing."

you laughed, pushed open the door, and stepped inside.

the store smelled like sawdust and dried tobacco. the ceiling fan spun slowly overhead, stirring the heat without doing much to move it. you were halfway to the counter when you saw her.

she was leaning against the wood, one boot crossed over the other, looking like she didn't quite belong but wasn't trying to fit in either. red hair tucked behind her ears, sunburn just visible on her nose, and a wide-brimmed hat pushed up off her brow. her shirt sleeves were rolled to the elbows, and her hands rested loosely in her back pockets. like she was waiting, but not in a hurry.

you slowed your steps without meaning to.

harold stood behind the counter, wiping his hands on a rag. "his daughter just walked in," he said to the woman. "you can ask her yourself."

the woman turned. her eyes landed on you like they'd been there before.

"you the one with the bees?" she asked, voice steady, a little rough like she hadn't talked much that morning. she had an accent, but it wasn't distinctly from around here. almost like she picked up pieces from different places.

you blinked. "that depends. you lookin' to get stung?"

she cracked a smile at that—quick, crooked, and real. "just hopin' for honey. the real kind. not the corn syrup harold's selling with that fake label."

harold muttered something under his breath about ungrateful customers and ducked into the back.

you adjusted your grip on your bag. "we've got clover jars left. the spring batch's lighter, but sweeter."

she stepped forward a little, just enough that the scent of leather and sunlight followed her. "mind if i stop by the farm to buy some?"

your heart stuttered for a second. "you could. but i can leave a jar here if you're just passin' through."

she shook her head. "rather see the place. never been out that way."

something about the way she said it made your skin buzz. she stuck out her hand. "van palmer."'

you took it. her handshake was firm, but not rough. just...confident. like she knew exactly how to hold on, and when to let go. but she didn't. not right away.

"nice to meet you," you said, a little breathless. "i'm—" you hesitate, just for a second, then tell her your name.

she grins. "nice to meet you too."

before you could say anything else, taissa turner walked in through the back with a crate in her arms. she used to come around the farm during the summers, back when her aunt lived up the hill near the orchard. you hadn't seen her much lately, apparently she's saving up to go to school. she gave you a quiet nod as she passed, eyes flicking between you and van with something close to curiosity.

van watched her go, then turned back to you. "seems like you know everyone in town."

you shrugged. "that's what happens when you never leave."

van didn't smile this time. "maybe not such a bad thing."

the store felt smaller with her in it.

you cleared your throat and reached into your bag, setting one of the honey jars on the counter. "in case you change your mind."

she glanced down at it. "guess i'll be seeing you soon."

and then she turned and walked out, spurs tapping the wood like punctuation.

taissa was already setting the crate by the counter when you moved to follow, brushing a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

"wheel's in the back," she said, standing and wiping her hands on her jeans. "you want the newer ones. harold's been trying to offload the old stock again."

you gave her a grateful look. "thanks. i'll owe you one if it rolls straight."

tai smirked. "i'll put it on your tab."

the two of you walked through the back door and into the storage shed, the heat sticking to your skin like syrup. rows of cluttered shelves lined the walls, and in the corner sat a stack of wagon wheels, some leaning, some wrapped in cloth.

you crouched beside the pile, giving them each a careful once-over. "so," tai said, leaning casually against the doorframe, "you met the newcomer, right?"

you glanced up. "van?"

she raised an eyebrow. "so you caught her name."

you rolled your eyes, choosing a wheel with clean spokes and a smooth rim. "she was asking about honey."

"she ask about anything else?" tai's voice was light, teasing, but curious underneath.

you hesitated. "just where to get some."

taissa grinned. "mhm. well, she's staying around a while. might want to pace yourself."

you didn't reply, just adjusted your grip on the wheel and nodded toward the front. "mind if i settle up?"

"yeah, come on." she opened the door for you, and the two of you stepped back into the store. you counted out the coins while tai scribbled the amount in a worn ledger. "tell your dad he still owes me for last time."

"he says you overcharged him for the twine."

"that's 'cause he picked the good kind." she gave you a lazy salute. "safe ride back."

you pushed through the door, stepping out into the bright afternoon—and nearly walked straight into van.

she was standing by the hitching post, hat tipped back, chewing the corner of her thumbnail like she was thinking real hard about something.

"didn't figure i'd catch you again," she said, squinting at you in the sunlight. "you know if there's anywhere in this town a girl can sleep without ending up in the river?"

you blinked. "you plan on makin' enemies that fast?"

van gave a half-smile, eyes sweeping down to your boots and back up. "only if they ask nicely."

your stomach did something traitorous, and you adjusted the wheel in your arms like it might ground you. "there's a boarding house. run by the matthews, just past the chapel. i'm heading that way now, if you want to follow."

her smile deepened. "guess i'll walk with you, then."

you weren't used to walking through town with anyone but misty or your father. and van wasn't like either of them.

as you made your way down the main road, dust kicking up with every step, she kept pace with you, hands in her pockets, boots slow and steady on the dirt. she asked questions between glances at the buildings—who lived above the bakery, what happened to the old chapel bell, if the mayor was always drunk or just liked to pretend.

you answered where you could. "that's the tailor's window there. the one with the blue curtain. she has a cat names pickles that sleeps in the basket by the display."

"you name all the animals in town?" van asked, grinning.

"only the important ones."

you could feel her watching you more than she was watching the town. it was like walking beside a thundercloud with a crooked grin, quiet but electric. her compliments weren't loud—just little things, soft and careless, but they landed sharp anyway.

"didn't picture you with bees," she said, after a stretch of silence.

you raised an eyebrow. "what did you picture me with?"

she shrugged. "something sweeter."

you opened your mouth, then closed it. you didn't know how to flirt with a girl. you'd never tried. but it didn't feel like something you had to try with van—it just was, and that scared you a little. not because it was bad, but because it was unfamiliar.

you rounded the bend and pointed. "that's the boarding house. big white porch, pink flowers in the boxes."

van looked up at it like she was memorizing it. "looks like the kind of place where you get offered tea you don't want but say yes to anyway."

"it is," you said. "and they'll talk about you the second you leave, so be polite."

"guess i better behave," she said, tipping her hat. "thanks for the escort, sheriff."

you laughed under your breath and nodded towards the owners home, conviently placed next door. "i've gotta drop something off. i'll see you around?"

van hesitated, then smiled. "i sure hope so."

you watched her step up the porch, knock once, then disappear inside.

you turned and headed next door, up the stone path to ms. matthews' garden gate. but when the door opened, it wasn't her.

it was lottie. the town clairvoyant. or the town nutjob, depending on how you put it.

her hair was pinned up and loose at the same time, wild strands catching the breeze. she wore a soft lavender dress and no shoes. there was a faint smear of flour on her cheek.

"hi," she said like she'd been expecting you.

you blinked. "i—uh—i was dropping this off for your mom." you held up the jar of honey.

she tilted her head. "she's at choir. i can take it."

you handed it over, and she held it like something fragile. "the bees were angry this morning," she said suddenly, not quite looking at you. "they get that way when the air's shifting."

you opened your mouth to respond, but she kept going. "you met someone today. a readhead?"

your stomach flipped.

"she's staying nect door," lottie said, turning the jar slowly in her hands. "you should save the sweeter jar for her."

you swallowed. "how did you—?"

lottie smiled, serene and distant. "she's going to your house tomorrow. you might want to start a loaf. just a feeling."

you didn't know what to say to that. the wind rustled through the garden, bees buzzing in the distance like they were laughing to themselves.

"thank you," lottie said, and turned toward the door, as if the conversation had ended.

you stood there a second longer, then stepped down the porch, heart thudding hard in your chest.

she was going to your house tomorrow.

and you didn't know what shocked you more—that lottie said it, or that you wanted it to be true.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

the knock comes late morning.

you’re barefoot, a little sticky from standing over the stove. there’s flour on your wrist and heat on the back of your neck. your hands smell like honey and smoke.

your dad left before sunrise—took the old truck to a nearby town, said he wouldn’t be back till tomorrow night. you’ve had the house to yourself all morning, windows cracked just enough to let the breeze in, music playing low from the radio on the counter. it’s too hot for much else, so you threw on a white button-down, short-sleeved and clingy with the heat, the fabric thin enough that it goes a little see-through in the right light. the buttons strain slightly when you reach or twist. your skirt’s something light—flowy, hem brushing mid-thigh—cool against your skin as you move.

you wipe your hands on your apron and crack the door open.

it’s van.

hat tilted back again, hair messier than yesterday, like she didn’t bother trying to sleep in the bed she paid for. her cheeks are pink from the sun, or maybe from something else, and she’s got a lopsided smile like she’s already halfway through a joke.

“hope i’m not too early,” she says, glancing past your shoulder like she expects you to say you’re busy.

you lean against the frame, heart thudding once, sharp and low.

“depends. what are you here for?”

van shrugs, casual, but her eyes aren’t. “thought i’d see if you had that sweeter jar.”

you blink. “you remember what i said about gossip in this town?”

“i do. and i’m real interested to see what they’ll say about me walking into your house before noon.”

you should say something. should tell her you’ll meet her outside or that your father’s in the barn or that ms. matthews could be watching from her parlor window.

but instead you step back and open the door wider.

“come on in.”

she steps past you, slow like she’s walking into water. you shut the door behind her and it clicks too loud in the quiet.

“kitchen’s through here,” you say, leading her in. there’s a loaf of bread cooling on the counter and a pot of tea steeping by the window. you don’t offer any of it. you don’t have to.

van leans against the counter, looking too at home. her eyes skim down your body, quick but not discreet. she lingers on the hem of your shirt, the line of your collarbone. the way the sunlight spills through the window and clings to the white cotton, outlining your bra faintly underneath.

“you bake too?”

you nod, pretending not to notice the way she’s looking. “keeps my hands busy.”

“that why you keep bees?”

“i like the sting,” you say before you can stop yourself.

van’s smile lifts, slow and dangerous. “you always talk like that?”

you flush, turn to the shelf. reach for the small jar, the one you’d tucked away after lottie’s words yesterday. it’s darker than the others. thicker. smells like wildflowers and something warmer.

you hold it out to her. “this one’s sweeter.”

she takes it, but doesn’t look away from you. her fingers brush yours, and something flickers behind her eyes—sharp and electric.

“and what’s the price for this one?”

you try to laugh it off. “didn’t know you planned to pay.”

“oh, i plan to,” she says, and you can feel it again—that pull. that thing that lives in the way she says your name, in the way she doesn’t look away. it’s not loud. it’s just there.

you move past her to the sink, needing to do something with your hands. rinse off the flour. you can feel her still watching.

“you always this quiet?” she asks after a beat. “or just when girls flirt with you?”

you pause. hands under the water. not sure what to say.

“i don’t mind it,” she adds, stepping closer. “makes it easier to hear myself think.”

you glance at her, meet her eyes for real this time. there’s something soft behind the smirk. something you’re afraid to name.

“you ever been with a girl before?” she asks it so simply. like it’s not the kind of question that could set a whole fire.

you shake your head.

she steps closer. “but you’ve thought about it.”

your voice is barely there. “yeah.”

“me?”

you don’t answer. you don’t have to.

she grins, just a little, and leans back against the counter again. gives you space like she’s giving you a choice.

you wipe your hands on the apron, heart going too fast.

“you want tea?” you ask, already reaching for a second cup.

“only if you’re having some too.”

you pour two mugs and sit across from her at the kitchen table. the light is soft through the window, dancing on the honey jar between you. she spoons some into her cup without asking. you do the same.

she watches the way you stir it in. watches like it means something.

“you gonna tell me why you really came?” you ask after a moment.

van smiles, tilts her head.

“i already did.”

you look down at your tea, steam curling up in slow ribbons. your fingers graze the rim of the mug, but your skin’s humming for something else.

you think about lottie yesterday—her soft smile, the strange, still way she looked at you when she said, “you might want to start a loaf. just a feeling.”

you’d laughed it off at the time, but the memory makes your chest flutter now. because she was right. van’s here. just like she said.

you swallow. “you think you’re smooth,” you say quietly.

“i know i am.”

you lift your eyes again. she’s looking at you like she wants to know how you taste when you’re flustered. and you think maybe, for once, you want to find out too.

“you staying long?” you ask, because you need to fill the air with something.

van shrugs. “depends.”

“on?”

“whether i get invited back.”

your throat feels too tight. your voice feels too small.

“you’re welcome anytime.”

van leans forward, resting her arms on the table, gaze dipping to your mouth before meeting your eyes again. “dangerous thing to say.”

���maybe i like danger.”

her tongue dips out to wet her bottom lip. she’s smiling again but it’s quieter now. more curious. like she wants to see what else you’ll say if she just stays still long enough.

she taps her fingers on the jar between you. “so… what else do you do when it’s just you and no one’s watching?”

your pulse jumps.

“you always ask questions like that?”

“only when the person answering looks this pretty doing it.”

you press your thighs together beneath the table. the air feels thicker now. like the room’s gotten smaller. like she’s closer than she is.

you don’t say anything. but you don’t look away either.

and van smiles like she knows she’s not leaving anytime soon.

the tea goes cold between you.

you don’t notice. not really. van’s still talking, voice low and warm, hands moving when she does, fingers brushing over the table like she’s drawing invisible circles. the room feels tilted somehow—like it shifted the second she stepped inside, like something’s humming just beneath the surface and neither of you are brave enough to touch it yet.

she tells you about a girl she met once, the way she smiled like trouble and kissed like she meant it. you laugh, shaking your head, but you can feel it in your stomach—this strange twist of something that feels a little like jealousy and a little like want.

“you ever think about leaving?” she asks suddenly, cutting through the quiet.

you look up from your mug. “what, this town?”

“yeah.”

“sometimes,” you say honestly. “not sure where i’d go, though.”

van nods, her pinkie tapping lightly against the rim of your cup. just a brush, but enough to make you look down and see how close her hand’s gotten to yours. she doesn’t move it. doesn’t pull away.

“you could go anywhere,” she says. “you’ve got that… flight risk thing about you.”

“you think so?”

“i know so.”

her eyes are on you again, but softer now. not teasing. just… seeing you.

you shift in your seat, your leg bumping into hers under the table. you don’t move it right away. she doesn’t either.

it makes your heart do that funny thing again. makes the collar of your shirt feel too tight.

“what about you?” you ask, trying to steady yourself. “you planning to just keep drifting around?”

van shrugs. “i like not knowing what’s next.”

you hum, watching the way the light catches her freckles, the way the tip of her ear’s turning pink again. it makes your stomach flutter, how easy she makes it look—this not knowing. this being.

“you ever get tired?” you ask softly.

“of?”

“not having something to come back to.”

van leans forward slightly, her arm brushing yours. this time, the touch lingers. not enough to be anything yet. just enough to make your skin feel warm where she’s touching.

she doesn’t answer right away. just looks at you like she’s deciding what to say.

“depends,” she says eventually. “sometimes i think i wouldn’t mind something… quieter.”

you don’t ask what she means. the words are enough. the tone. the way her voice dips on quieter, like she means this. like she means you.

you glance down at where her fingers are now resting just an inch from yours. slow, careful, she curls her pinkie around yours. not holding. not grabbing. just that little hook. like a promise. like a dare.

your breath catches.

“you okay?” she murmurs, like she can feel it.

you nod. you think you nod.

she smiles again, real gentle this time. “good.”

you both sit there like that for a while. pinkies linked. legs touching under the table. eyes flicking up and down and back again.

and it’s not much. not yet.

but it’s enough to make your whole body feel like it’s holding its breath.

and neither of you seems ready to exhale.

you don’t even remember what you were saying, just that van’s knee brushes yours under the table and neither of you moves away. her hand is resting on the bench between you now, just barely touching your skirt. light. tentative. like she’s testing the air between you.

“you always this nice to strangers?” she asks, voice low, lazy in that way that makes it sound like a dare.

you smile, a little shaky. “depends on the stranger.”

her eyes drop to your mouth.

your heart stumbles.

“am i pushin’ too far?” she asks, quieter now, like she’s afraid to break whatever spell you’re both caught in.

you shake your head. “no. i just…”

but you don’t finish. because she leans in and kisses you.

soft at first, like she’s giving you time to pull away. but you don’t—you lean closer. one of her hands comes up to brush your jaw, thumb skimming just beneath your ear, and your fingers find her thigh under the table without thinking, clutching the worn fabric of her jeans like a lifeline.

her mouth moves against yours slowly, her breath warm and a little shaky too, and when you let out the smallest sigh she deepens the kiss, her fingers slipping into your hair.

the bench creaks a little when she shifts closer, knees knocking together now. you’re fully turned toward her, hands on either side of her face like you’ve done this a hundred times.

you haven’t. but it feels like you should have.

her hand skims down, curling around your waist, thumb tracing the edge of your shirt where the fabric is thin and clinging to your skin from the heat.

“you sure?” she breathes, lips brushing yours.

you nod, whispering, “yeah.”

her mouth finds yours again, hungrier this time. you gasp when her fingers slide beneath the hem of your shirt, grazing the small of your back, and she groans against your mouth like she’s been holding that in all day.

she kisses your neck, slow and reverent, right where your pulse is pounding. you tilt your head without thinking, letting her.

her other hand finds your thigh under the table, fingertips grazing bare skin where your skirt’s bunched up. your breath catches and she freezes, giving you the tiniest second to stop her.

but you don’t.

you reach for her instead.

your fingers tangling in the front of her shirt, pulling her closer like gravity's got a personal vendetta. her mouth finds yours again, deeper this time—less question, more answer. you don't remember standing, but you're both up now, the edge of the table bumping your hip as van backs you gently toward the counter, lips never straying far from yours.

your back meets wood and she pauses, hands on either side of you, bracketing your body like she's framing a picture. her breath is coming faster now, her eyes scanning your face like she's reading it cover to cover. like she's afraid she'll miss something if she blinks.

"you sure?" she asks again, quieter this time.

and you are. it's not even a question in your mind anymore. you've been sure since she first said your name like she was trying it on. since the moment her fingers brushed yours from across the honey jar.

so you nod. then say it, real soft, just so there's no mistaking: "i want this."

something in her face shifts—something a little wild, a little undone. she kisses you again, and this time there's no hesitation. her hands are on your waist, fingers curling in your shirt, bunching the fabric slowly until it's untucked and rising.

"tell me if it's too much," she murmurs against your jaw, between kisses that trail down to your collarbone, "i'll stop."

"don't," you breathe, your fingers sliding under the hem of her shirt, feeling the heat of her skin, the solid line of her stomach. "i want you."

she exhales, almost like it hurts. "yeah?" her voice is wrecked, reverent. "god, you have no idea what that does to me."

you pull her in again, mouths meeting like magnets, like it's inevitable. she lifts you, easy, like she's done it before, and sets you on the counter. the wood's warm under your thighs, and her hands slide up your legs, slow and careful, never rushing, always asking with every touch.

"still good?" she asks, her forehead pressed to yours.

you reach down, guide one of her hands beneath your skirt, fingers trembling slightly as they meet bare skin.

"still good," you whisper. "better than good."

van kisses you again like she believes it now—like she's been trying not to. it's like the world narrows down to just that moment. just her touch. just the quiet sound you make as your head falls to her shoulder, your breath catching against her neck.

van's hand is under your skirt now. fingers dragging slow, steady paths along the inside of your thigh—pausing just long enough to make you ache. you shift against her, chasing the contact, and she huffs a low laugh, mouth brushing your jaw as she murmurs, "needy thing."

you manage a breathless, "please," and that's all it takes.

her fingers slip beneath the edge of your underwear, and the first touch is careful—measured—like she wants to feel how every little change in pressure pulls a sound from your lips.

"oh," you breathe, and she leans in closer kissing your throat as her fingers work deeper—sliding, curling just right until your breath hitches, until your hand grabs blindly at the counter for something to hold on to.

"you're already so wet," she says, voice low, rough at the edges. "is this all for me?"

you nod—whimper, really—and van's mouth finds yours again, swallowing the sound as her fingers curl just right inside you.

the rhythm builds slow, but certain—like she's not in a hurry, like she wants to make you feel every second of it. her palm presses tight against you with every motion, coaxing soft, involuntary gasps from your mouth, and when she speeds up just a little, your knees fall further apart without thinking.

she's watching you now, you can feel it. her breath hot on your cheek, her voice right against your ear.

"tell me what you need," she whispers, fingers stroking deeper, steadier.

"i—van—don't stop—"

and that's all she needs.

her other hand grips your hip to hold you steady, and she keeps going, thumb finding that stop that makes your back arch, your breath break. you're trembling now, hips rolling into her hand, chasing that edge with everything you've got, and van's right there with you—murmuring soft nothings, kissing you through it like she wants to taste your every breath.

you fall apart in her arms—slow, drawn out, the kind of release that makes the world blink out for a second—and she holds you steadily through it, fingers gentling, lips brushing your temple, your cheek, your mouth.

when it's over, you're slumped against her, legs shaking, heart thundering like it might burst right through your chest.

van pulls back just enough to see your bace, her hand still resting warm on your thigh. she grins—crooked, flushed, wrecked—and says, "hope you've got more of that honey."

you laugh, dazed and breathless, and kiss her again.

van's hums into your mouth, like she's trying to memorize the taste. when she finally pulls back, she nudges her nose against yours and murmurs, "could get used to breakfast like this."

you snort, still a little shaky. "that wasn't breakfast."

she grins. "then i'm real excited for the rest of the menu."

you swat at her shoulder, but she catches your wrist and presses a kiss to the inside of it, right where your pulse flutters. her eyes find yours again—steady, golden in the light spilling through the kitchen window.

"i could head out," she says casually, thumb brushing lazy circles against your skin. "but that'd be a damn shame, seeing as how i've got nowhere better to be. and your daddy's not due back 'til tomorrow."

you raise an eyebrow. "you planning to scandalize the whole town?"

van smirks, leaning in until her lips are a breath from yours. "i think it'd be more of a scandal if i left now."

you don't argue.

outside, the bees hum low in their boxes. inside, the air smells like warm bread and wildflower honey and her.

you kiss her once more, slow and smiling, and whisper, "you can stay."

and she does.

[surielstea]

Give ‘em a show

Based on this request.

Pairing: High Lord!Eris x High Lady!Reader

Summary: The autumn court celebrates the equinox with a great rite of their own, what happens when the High Lord finds out Reader left the Forest House in search for him?

Warnings: Smut | minors dni | p in v | reader and Eris are both aroused by a higher power (?) | breeding kink | riding | public sex (on throne) | dirty talk | praise | cream pie | multi-orgasm

A/N: Sorry this took me forever, but I’m really happy with how it turned out so I hope you guys enjoy! 🧡🧡

6.2k words

It was the most festive day of the year in autumn, the equinox. When both night and day are perfectly divided and everything feels at peace. We called it Mabon. The peak of nature's abundance.

The holiday usually entailed freshly harvested crops and feasts to satisfy an entire continent. People gathered to the crop fields and pray, whether it be for good fortune or the wealth of the earth it didn't matter. They honored the soil beneath their feet as much as any other living thing. Similar to Calanmai in the spring there are bonfires in every direction, dancing surrounding the pits.

This was also the day high Fae reinforced the wards around their homes, seeing it as a new beginning.

Some prefer to stay at home and pray to the gods of fire, knelt by the flames that warmed them, having a simple meal of bread and grain. I, however, did not. During the day I'd plant fresh herbs and seeds, placing them in the richest of soils then saying a soft prayer until they began to grow. My harvesting powers have always been my favorite, being able to merely look at a seed and turn it into a blooming flower in the blink of an eye would forever be my favorite party trick.

During the night of Mabon however, I indulged myself in the finest of whiskeys and got drunk as all hel, claiming it was a tradition and a night of commemoration.

"All done?" Eris asked as I came back into the Forest House, my knees covered in dirt from kneeling in the gardens.

"All done." I gave him a small smile and he mirrored it while taking my wide-brimmed sun hat from my head.

"As cute as you look, you need to go change." He hands me the hat and I blink up at him confused. "Or have you forgotten your duties as High Lady?" He arched a manicured brow and I rolled my eyes.

My traditions would be different this year. It was Eris' first year as High Lord, meaning he'd have to put on a show to make sure everyone knew just how powerful he was. Whatever that meant. This also means my job was no longer getting drunk off my face but rather waiting alone in our bedroom where we'd consummate in order to release the power of the High Lord and grace the land with it, allowing harvests and crops to grow until the next Mabon.

"High Lady or not, I'd like to spend my night in a pub with my friends, not some stuffy room with your advisors." I scowl and a smirk tugs at his lips as I drape my hands around his neck.

"A lady of her people." He hums and my grin widens.

"Does that mean you'll let me have my holiday?" I bat my lashes at him.

"I can't," He sighs.

"Eris," I whine. "You're high lord now, fuck me in front of the rest of them for all I care just let me enjoy myself." I plead and he gives me a sorrowful gaze.

"It'll only be a few hours, you'll survive." He placed his hands on my waist and I narrowed my eyes at him.

"But what if you find some other girl on your way to me? I don't like the idea of you roaming this court half naked for just anyone to see, Eris," I dramatically fall into his chest, he tightens his hold on me as if I'm actually going to fall.

"Trust me, all I'll want is you," He guides me back upright so I can stand on my own. "Now go get dressed." His hold on me loosens and I give him the nastiest scowl I can muster.

"Fine, but only because I love you." I excuse as I place the floppy hat atop his head, I think the pink bow brought out his eyes.

"Love you too," He smiles sloppily as I leave his hold, the sun hat remaining on his head as I move away from him, his hand coming down to pat me on the ass, as if encouraging a faster rate, making me toss a glare back at him.

In between now and the beginning of Mabon's night festivities I passed the late afternoon stuck in a meeting room, which was as boring as I thought it was going to be. I spent the entire time drawing the high lord in front of me, making sure to match the glint in his golden eyes to his crown, pure regality as he sat in front of Advisors that used to be in his father's corner.

It's been past an hour, the sun reaching the horizon had told me so, I could already smell the scent of smoke from the bonfires and I knew my time was being wasted. "My lady, are you listening?" I snap to attention, clutching my sketchbook from beneath the table and looking at the male who had snapped his fingers at me, earning a low grumble from Eris as a warning.

"Yes," I answer on instinct.

"Really?" Eris leans forward, muscular forearms resting against the wooden table.

"Mhm." I nod with slightly tinged cheeks, I could never lie to Eris, something about the mating bond, or rather just him, in general, had me somehow giving myself away.

"You wouldn't lie to me, would you Fawn?" He narrows his gaze on me and it takes everything in my power to not give in, tell him that every word since greetings has gone in one ear and out the other. All this information was useless anyway, old rules that Beron followed. Not Eris. I don't understand why my mate entertained these old males.

"You know what?" A bright grin spreads over my features as I stand, my chair pushing back against the floor as everyone looks up at me.

"All of you may take an early holiday, enjoy the night, and spend time with your families." I dismiss and they blink up at me.

"Really?" One of them babbles.

"Yeah, really?" The high lord glared at me and my grin widened.

"Really." I nod.

"With all due respect, you're not one to be giving orders around here." The eldest of them scoffed and my smile faltered, I had never expected to hear that in my own court.

"She's your high lady and you will do as she says. Now go before I change my mind." He shoos the male away. Eris may not have liked me cutting the meeting short but he wasn't going to tolerate any discourtesy against me, it may have been wrong to use it to my advantage but all I wanted to do at the moment was curl up by the fire with a freshly poured glass of wine. Second best to getting hammered at the pubs like I would've been doing this time last year.

"You heard him, go." I make hands that send them away and they all scramble off, shuffling out the door with a haste I haven't seen in a while. I smile softly as the last male disappears.

"You are a cruel female." Eris leans back into his seat at the head of the table. I grab my sketchbook and walk down the long stretch of the meeting hall until I'm right beside him.

"Cruel? Or smart?" I tilt my head as I hoist myself up onto the table in front of him.

"Show me what you were drawing that entire time." He places a ringed finger on the top of my pencil and I flip to the page of his half-shaded figure, flipping around to show the male his unfinished portrait. A satisfied grin spreads over his lips as he sees that he is the subject, but he shouldn't be surprised because he is always the subject.

"Is this whole book me?" He flicks through the pages and I pull back before he can see all the drawings of him I sketched from memory on a particularly desperate night when he was gone on a mission.

"Don't be so full of yourself, I wasn't going to draw any of those old males." I roll my eyes and he chuckles. "Plus I was listening, I could draw you with my eyes closed," I confess and he raises a brow, his lopsided smirk making me feel warm inside. "Now can you please just get this celebration over with then come back to me?" I place the sketchbook beside me and look back at him.

"And what will you do while I'm gone?" He places his hands on my hips, a soft look in his eyes.

"Lots of drinking." I shrug, taking hold of his crown and making it crooked atop his head.

"You're quite the drunk." He grumbles and I chuckle.

"I'm a tavern keeper's daughter, what more do you expect?" I grin innocently and he shakes his head in disbelief.

"Alright, come with me," He slips his hand into mine and guides me out of the meeting room.

I intertwine our fingers, occasionally bumping into him, the comparison of his steady figure, walking with only solid steps and articulated movements contrasted to my bounding, my arm brushing his with every step. It was a silent kind of intimacy, our dynamic.

"This my cell for the night?" I ask as we stop in front of our bedroom, a grand suite that seems more like an apartment.

"Don't act like I'm locking you up," He sighs, crossing his arms.

"You're right, I could easily sneak out," I taunt and he narrows his eyes on me.

"I'm not going to put guards outside these doors, however, if I learn that you've left I will find you," He says, his tone shifting from playful to menacing all in one sentence. "And depending on where you are, I might just fuck you in front of all of them," His words sink to my core, it wasn't much of a warning if it was my idea to begin with.

"Don't threaten me with a good time," I smirk up at him, mirroring his.

"I'll be back for you, soon," He promises, free hand coming to my jaw, the other still preoccupied with mine. His thumb rubbed over my jaw, pressing with a pressure that told me he didn't want to see this room empty when he returned.

"I'll be waiting," I sigh, leaning into his hand. He frowns.

"I'm sorry Fawn, but I doubt I'll be able to control myself with you so near," He shifts back to his usual self, the compassionate one.

"I understand, it's okay," I mumble, even if this was the last place I wanted to be during the holidays. He leans down and presses a yearning kiss onto my lips, the kind full of promise of what was to come later tonight.

He pulls away with a reluctance I immediately recognized. Whatever power that was going to consume him tonight was already forming, I could feel it through the bond like someone on his side of the tether was sparking embers.

"Don't leave this room." He warned one last time and all I could do was nod and then watch him leave.

I had never wanted to leave a room more in my entire life.

Eris forgot to put his shields up on his side of the bond and it was driving me fucking mad. I could feel the power of him, flowing through the very floorboards beneath my feet. His arousal was immense, or perhaps it was mine— I wasn't sure. Maybe being High Lady had its own effects, maybe it made the mated female just as willing to consummate with the High Lord. The intense heat running up and down my spine reminded me of when Eris and I had accepted the mating bond, The Frenzy that took over both of us full throttle, I had managed that because he had been so near at the time, it had only lasted a few moments before he was touching where I needed him most but this, with him so far, gods this was unbearable.

I looked out the window like an animal eagerly waiting for their owner to return, but I couldn't see anything beyond the maple trees, only the smoke of the bonfires and all that promised with it.

I leaned my forehead against the cold window, it relieved me for only a split second before the heat of my body returned.

It started less than an hour ago, bloomed right at my core, and has only grown since. It would reach my head soon and I don't know what I'd do at that point. I had already put the fire in the hearth out but it felt as if I was the furnace and embers were still popping against my bare skin that mistook me for kindling.

I had practically stripped to my socks, but even my undergarments had been too much to bear. I wore a silk slip with a lace trim that was lighter than a feather and softer than anything I had ever felt before but on my burning skin, it felt like a winter coat.

If the window was cold then outside must've been colder, autumn air sweeping over the continent and beckoning at my very window, who was I to keep it out?

I pushed the window open with a grunt in agony, the sweet feeling of the light breeze kissing against my skin practically made me crumble in relief.

I latch the window all the way open and lean my head out the sill, the sound of music and cheering in the distance suddenly became so prominent but it was hard to hear anything over the blood rushing to my ears, dizziness consuming me as I grip the ledge of the window, something buried deep inside of me yearned for him in the direction of the music, and now that my head was out the window my body seemed to think I was teasing it, what it wanted so much closer now that the line to the outside world was crossed, the feeling so intense I thought I might start coughing up blood.

I grunt, attempting to talk myself through the pain, telling myself repeatedly that I've endured worse, that I was stronger this, that Eris would be back any moment now and— and oh gods, Eris. It was a mistake to let him cross my mind because all of a sudden he consumed every thought I could conjure, my mind in his hands and he was gripping it, not willing to let go.

I decided I didn't give a fuck if Eris was mad if I left the house, the pain I was enduring was horrific and the only way to relieve it was to disobey exactly what he ordered me to do. Don't leave this room. I slipped out the window with gasps of pain, landing on the soft grass. I was just grateful to be located on the first floor, close enough to the ground to jump from without shattering the bones in my legs.

Hounds rush up towards me before I can even take my first step.

They looked as if they were about to bark, to alert their owner that I had left the house but they saw my desperation, hel, they probably smelt it.

Rivin, the eldest of the shadow hounds rushed up to me first, staring up at me with a cock of his head, clearly concerned for my well-being. "Can you take me to Eris?" I murmur, praying the dog can understand me, I bring my hand to his snout and he chuffs, licks the palm of my hand then takes off running towards the sounds of the music.

I tried to stay as close as I could to the dog, he had taken the route through trees and behind stands, which I was grateful for since it kept me out of sight, however, it made it a lot easier to lose him amongst the trees. But he always came trotting back after a minute without him in my sights.

Eventually, the dog stopped in his tracks, his front paws prancing at the floor and communicating that he had finished his job. I creased my brows and looked around my surroundings but before I could talk to the dog again he ran off with the rest of his pack, back towards the house.

I had only just realized that whatever heat that was suffocating me in the Forest House had dissipated, still lingering below the surface but no longer unbearable.

I huffed, unsure what to do in the middle of the forest with a feeding wretchedness in the pit of my stomach.

I decided on heading towards where the largest plume of smoke was coming from, I had seen the set up of Mabon hundreds of times and knew this was the way to the throne, knew Eris must be sat upon it.

I hadn't explored Mabon much during previous years, I was always a barmaid for my father's pub, it had gotten crazy business during the week of Mabon so he needed any help he could get, funnily enough, that's how I met Eris.

I shake my head at the memory, thinking about Eris was almost painful, it felt like something was being carved out of me every moment I was without him.

I seethed a string of curses as I continued my trudge through the trees, staying in the shadows and avoiding the eyes of any drunk wanderers. I doubted they'd recognize me as their high lady anyway, Eris was the only one who ever saw me outside of my gowns and robes, this lacy slip was practically lingerie compared to the heavy dresses I often wore.

Lucky for me it had blended in with the other girls perfectly, in fact, I had seemed more covered up than most. Once I had made it out into the open area I spotted Eris immediately. On the throne, as expected, his legs spread wide and I wanted nothing more than to put myself between them.

He was shirtless, forest green paint smeared onto his body in tribal patterns of lines and dots, but he was glistening in sweat, drops running down the side of his face, through the grove of his abdomen. I didn’t want to think about who had the honor of putting that paint into those very groves, I only wanted to think about being the one to wash it off.

Heat pooled in my stomach as his eyes found mine from across the way, my body went rigid as he trekked his gaze down it, then so slowly back up, taking in every bare inch as well as every clothed part of me, like he was wondering just how perfect I looked underneath.

My knees shook as he lifted his hand and with two fingers waved me over. Waves of heat wash over me at every step I take closer, the power that radiated off of him left me defenseless, and the pain I had experienced earlier subsided entirely in favor of morphing into arousal.

Once I reach the dais I curtsy with a playful smile. "I thought I asked you to stay inside?" He purred, his voice rougher than usual, making my legs tremble.

"I missed you," I shrug, attempting to keep my composure but he opened his side of the bond entirely as soon as I was done speaking and my knees buckled. So, much, power.

It surged at my fingertips, blazed down my spine, and coiled in my abdomen. I couldn't imagine how Eris felt if I was only receiving an influence of it.

"C'mere," He lifts his hips, readjusting them in his ornate throne and I almost choke on my own tongue. He was going to push me over that dangerous edge and he didn't even need to say anything to do it.

I take the steps up the dais and I realize the silence in the crowd save for the music, people were watching, and couldn't keep their eyes off of the two of us. The offering between High Lord and Lady, the melding bond between us so clear on a night like this that any outsider could see that golden tether just as well as he or I could.

"On my lap, Fawn," He glances down to his thigh and I swallow thickly. "Oh, don't tell me you've become shy all of the sudden?" He smirks at the idea. I had told him I was willing to let him fuck me in front of all these people— still was, and yet sitting on his lap was the line to the path that I wasn't sure I could come back from.

My coaxing arousal won the battle and I took my final steps toward him, closing that distance, his hand came to the back of my thigh and I nearly melted at his touch, my body quivering in reaction because gods, if I had felt like a kindling fire earlier then he was a fucking inferno.

His fingers singed with flames but I felt none of the added heat as I took my place on his lap, straddling over his thigh and wrapping my arms around the nape of his neck, pulling him so close I wish I could've melted right into him, slotted myself into each of his grooves and stayed there, impossible to clean, impossible to get rid of.

My lips came to his neck without any forethought, I didn’t have control over my own mind, it was entirely consumed by him, his intoxicating scent of cinnamon, clove, and now an undertone of something different, something just as mouth-watering as the way his hands felt on my bare skin.

I fought the thoughts that told me to rip my dress off and decided to put my hands to better use and rub them down his chest, pressing my palm into his abdomen as I continued kissing his neck. I sucked and licked and nipped without caution, I didn't care if others were watching, he had never been more powerful than he was in this moment, both over others physically and over me mentally.

The domination running through his veins was attractive, so damned powerful and yet he knew how to control it, to conceal it beneath his skin rather than flaunt it, and he shared a fraction of it with me, a simple kernel of it was enough to send me spiraling.

"What are you doing? Dance," Eris spits at his subjects and they immediately do as he says, the music picking up in a crescendo of rushed notes to meet his demand.

I smiled against his shoulder at how much authority he held, my hips involuntarily winding over his thigh and I let out a soft, pleasurable sound. He grunts in return.

"If you keep making those sounds we're not going to make it back to our bedroom," He warns lowly beside my ear and I rut my hips again at the perfect sound.

"I don't know what's wrong— fuck," I'm cut off by my soft moan, his muscled thigh providing just the right amount of friction against my clit. "I don't know what's wrong with me, but I need you to fuck me now," I plead and I sense a sudden change in his demeanor.

"Now?" He hums and I can hear the smirk in his voice. Damned bastard. "In front of all these people?" He intones and I nod helplessly.

"However you want me, wherever, just— gods do it now," I beg, continuing to wind my hips over his thigh.

His foxlike smirk doesn't falter as his hands grip my hips, halting my needy movements only to guide me down onto his thigh himself, my core aching as he does so. I cry out at the feeling, it shouldn't have felt this good, it's never been this intense, even when our mating bond clicked I hadn't been so consumed by his fire that was so dangerously out of control and feeding into my own.

"I need you inside of me," I murmur, coming to the conclusion that this torment will not subside until he finds release inside of me, the mother herself was impelling us to consummate, to breed, and I was more than willing to oblige for her.

"Eris," I grip at his shoulder, paint smearing onto my hands, soiling my nightgown. But I didn't care, any piece of him spreading onto me felt like it was a gift from the gods, and I needed more. "Please, fill me," I beg into the warmth of his neck.

"You want me to come inside you? Want these people to watch while I give you an heir?" He taunts, his words ghosting against the shell of my ear. I reply with a pitiful whimper, unsure what to retort with because he was right. I didn't care who was watching, as long as they knew I was his and he was mine.

"Yes," I pant, my hand coming to the back of his neck. "That's exactly what I want," I plead, the rutting of my hips not slowing for a moment. "Show them I'm yours,"

My words seemed to push him over that fine line and he had obeyed. His rough hands grip my waist, pulling me over his hips so I was no longer straddling his thigh but rather angled just above his cock that was strained in his pants, the confinement so tight it almost seemed painful.

“Yeah?” He hummed and I nodded helplessly. “You want everyone to hear just how pretty your moans are when you’re sitting on my cock?” He asked and I whimpered, feeling powerless under his stare. Whatever heat that had been affecting me tonight had doubled over with his arousing words.

“I can’t be gentle with you right now,” He gritted through clenched teeth, the tip of his nose drawing a line up the side of my throat. “Can’t, control myself right now,” He murmured in warning and I smiled at the idea of having an effect on him as much as he did on me.

“I don’t want control,” I sigh against the side of his neck. “I need you now controlled or not, so please, Eris fuck me,” I begged and with one last kiss to my neck he obliged.

With an expert hand, he tore my underwear right from my hips, pulling the lace off like it was nothing. My heat was now left bare but it didn’t stop me from grinding down onto his bulge. I was staining his pants with my slick, dripping down onto him and he groaned as my wetness seeped through the material.

“Fuck, you’re drenched,” He admired and I nodded with purely innocent eyes, the kind that silently pleaded for him to fill me until he was satiated.

All I felt was hunger, and I could tell by the way flames alighted in his gaze that he felt it too.

Quickly, he removed his leathers and his cock springs up, smacking against my soaked folds, my pussy leaking over his length. The heat between us must’ve been record-breaking, I felt like a candle burning all too fast, making a mess of wax that he was too slow to clean.

The moment I felt his tip prod at my entrance my nails dug into his shoulder. I still didn’t know what it was that was wrong with me, I had never experienced an ache quite like this, the kind that only he could patch over.

“Please,” I cry, my cunt weeping as I crave for him to sink his length into me. “Show them how good you fuck me,” I mewl and perhaps it was the taboo factor of it all, how thrilling it was to have an audience while I rode him, but that had been his breaking point before he gripped the tops of my thighs and pushed me down onto his length.

My breath catches in my throat as I stretch around him, around every inch of him. He was so very large, and on any other night he’d need to fuck me with his fingers first, make sure I was ready for his member without the pain, but tonight we are both so needy that any foreplay was thrown out the window the moment I left our bedroom.

The pain was disguised as pleasure as he helped guide me lower onto him, it hadn’t been unbearable since I was slick with a natural lubricant, my arousal dripping down my thighs and onto his, as I took him deeper and deeper.

I swore he met places he’s never touched before, and fuck was it more than anything I had ever wanted.

This feeling was the god ecstasy prayed to, and I was blessed by it.

“That’s it, just like that, fuck yourself on my cock Fawn,” He encourages and I gasp out my moan, finally reaching his base, pressing against it with mine.

“Your court is watching, give ‘em a show for me,” He purrs, and so I do exactly that.

I begin to lift on his length, my knees buckling at the action but I ignore the pain and favor it for the pleasure as I drop down onto him, wielding gravity as my weapon. He lets out a low grunt and I do it again, continuing the action over and over again, bouncing on his cock just like he asked.

“Fuck, so good for me,” He praised, his eyes blazing with an untamable fire. “Such a good girl,” He sighs, his head craning back, leaning into his golden throne as his hands slip beneath my nightgown.

He didn’t take the dress off, because there were simply just some things he refused to let anyone else see, and though I was getting off on having an audience he wasn’t going to let everyone else get off on it too. He grips my hips tightly from beneath the slip, his callouses scraping against my soft skin, burning it with an unyielding pain, the kind that brings pleasure with it.

His cock seemed just as hot as I continued to fuck myself on it, the vein on the underside pulsing so feverishly I could feel it. The head of him pressed right into that sweet spot and it was a miracle I hadn’t come yet, gods he was going to send me over that edge any second now.

My lips connect with his, and he responds to the familiar feeling on instinct, his tongue slipping beneath my lips and tasting every fraction of me he can get his mouth on.

I moan onto his tongue every time he presses that deep spot inside of me, my noises only adding to the sound of skin slapping and the lewd sound of my pussy taking every inch of him. Our own music drowned out the symphony playing for the others.

“Eris, I can’t,” I pant against his lips. “I’m gonna come,” I warn and he smirks.

“So soon?” He taunts and I nod pitifully, continuing to rut my hips over his.

“Please, it hurts,” I whine, tears pricking at the corners of my eyes. And it did hurt, it hurt to not be granted that release I craved so desperately.

“Go ahead, make a mess all over my lap,” He allows and I would’ve wept at the words if my orgasm hadn’t consumed me first.

It felt like pure fire, setting me aflame and impossible to control. It was the kind of climax that lingered for hours on end, the kind that left my legs jolting and my eyes struggling to open. I let out a loud moan, so loud that if the dancing fae hadn’t known what had been happening, they did now. “You did so well baby,” He hums as I slowly come down from my high but I don’t have the strength to lift off his cock, and I definitely didn’t have the willpower to continue my movements. My thighs were burning and I hadn’t noticed until my climax settled.

“You done?” He coos and I nod, but the tone of his voice tells me it is him who is nowhere near finished with me, his member still hard inside of me evidence of that.

He didn’t warn me before he winnowed us back to the Forest House, the same position except he was no longer sitting on the throne but rather our bed.

I whine, falling limp against his shoulder. “I can’t take anymore, Eris,” I sigh and he shakes his head.

“Oh, no baby you said you wanted an heir and I’m going to give one to you.” He flipped us over so I was splayed out on my back, sinking into the mattress with my legs hooked around him.

“Eris I’m not on a tonic— fuck,” I try but he felt so much deeper in this position.

“Does it feel like I care?” He sighs into my hair and I shake my head no. “That’s right, now be a good girl and stay true to your word,” He demanded and I swallowed thickly, nodding while he lifted one of my legs up to hook on his shoulder, spreading my legs wide as I clamped down onto him.

“Fuck, I can’t wait to fill this pretty pussy, squeezing me so tight,” He grunted and I lost all cohesive thoughts, strings of moans escaped me as he rolled his hips down onto mine, his full balls slapping against my folds as his pace quickened.

“More,” I plead.

“Yeah? You want me to fill you don’t you?” He says and I was quick to show my agreement by squeezing around him tighter. “You just can’t wait to have my babes, isn’t that right?” He grunted into the shell of my ear and I nodded with a hum of restless accord. “Your tits are gonna be so fucking swollen,” He sighs and I clench around him at his dirty words. “You like that?” He kisses up my neck.

“Mhm, want your seed in me, Eris,” I whine and he twitches, a sign he’s nearing his climax.

I was hungry for his warm release, ached for it to fill my every crevice, let it seep into my womb.

I met his thrusts with my own sudden desire, sending my hips down onto him while he drove his cock right into that spongy bundle of nerves.

“I’m close,” He grunts.

“Me too,” I whimper, my legs locking up as my orgasm races to meet me.

My hands go into his hair and I pull at his short locks as my second climax finds me and I’m squeezing around him tighter than ever before. My walls flutter around him, and my pussy twitched as he continues his fast pace. He groans at the intense convulsions around him and suddenly his release is spurring out into me, kissing my cervix as he does so, his seed shooting out on a straight path to my womb.

“Fuck,” He sighed while guiding my leg down from his shoulder, and with a few more languid, slow strokes of his cock he finishes, slipping from my heat and falling down onto the bed beside me, both of us out of breath and settling over the action we had just committed to.

I clench my thighs shut, keeping his warm seed nestled inside of me. “Good?” I ask and he flips onto his side, arm slinging over my sweat-slicked body, pulling me into him.

“So good.” He presses kisses to the top of my head and I flip around to face him, my eyes heavy with exhaustion.

“I think I like this High Lord stuff,” I say, my hand coming to his cheek and he chuckles, leaning down and pressing a gentle kiss to my lips.

“I think so too,” He whispered against my mouth, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear.

“Alright, let’s get you cleaned up,” He sat up, pulling me with him and I groaned. “You can sleep after, I promise, Fawn,” He said with a gentle tone that rivaled his earlier rough grunts.

“Eris please, just lay with me for a few more minutes,” I huff stubbornly and he shakes his head, hauling me from the bed and taking me to the connected bathroom.

“I’ll lay by you all night after I clean you up. Sound like a deal?” He says, settling me down onto the cold counter that sent shivers up my spine and I lazily nodded, looking up at him. He grins and leans closer, pressing a kiss to my forehead.

“I love you,” He whispers and I match his smile.

“Love you too, Eris.” I look up at him with only honesty in my gaze. “Now hurry up, I’m tired,” I grumbled and he chuckled.

“Alright, alright.” He shakes his head in disbelief, wetting a cloth with warm water before beginning to clean me up, treating me with utter tenderness after he gave me the two best orgasms of my life. This male was going to be the death of me, and I was going to love every moment of it until that day.

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[midnightshindig]

Hey! Can I request a fic where the reader is a member of the GotG and best friends with Rex. Reader have a crush on Shapesmith and Rex takes it upon himself to be reader's wingman and get them together?

Shapesmith X Reader (feat: Wingman Rex)

How do we feel about the teased Rae x Rex pairing?

anyways- love Shapesmith, need more Shapesmith ngl

hcs under the cut!

"Reeeeex, he's just- ughhhh" you groaned into a pillow, your back splayed out against Rex's hard as rock mattress

"You're a lost fucking case, friend." Rex popped a fry into his mouth, leaning back in his gaming chair, which he only used to spin around when he had company, which was always just you

You'd been over this a million times in the last few months, with your crush on Shapesmith growing increasingly obvious and obnoxious

Every time the two of you hung out, at the gym or in public to get him used to Earth, you'd have to report back to Rex and be a gushy fucking mess

and you needed his help

"I'm gonna set you two up- you know he probably likes you too, right?" Rex was nonchalant, pulling out his phone

"NO-!" You tackled the phone out of Rex's hand, whining at him

"Rex what if he doesn't feel the same? what if I'm pathetic and unlikable and it's awkward?"

Rex rolled his eyes "Y/n, you either need to accept my help, do this on your own, or shut the hell up about it." He pinched his temple "Yaknow I love you, man, but this is driving me insane."

You pouted, a full minute of silence passing before you responded

"You got a plan?"

The "plan" was Valentines Day

Rex invited you and Shapesmith out to a romantic movie

"Oh I've never been to the movies before!" Shapesmith exclaimed, linking arms with you as you walked through the lobby with Rex close behind

err, he was close behind

where the fuck is he- ohhhhhhhhhh that's his plan.

You verified this when your phone buzzed to a thumbs up emoji from Rex

"go get em tiger" in effect

You suddenly got quite nervous.

Even more so when Shapesmith casually moved his hand down your arm and into your hand, slipping them together and intertwining your fingers

"Ah- Shapesmith- you're-"

"This is what people do when they go out to the movies, Rex told me so! So we don't lose each other." He grinned, his hand tight in yours.

"Haha- yeah- yknow- people also- uhm- mhm!"

It's when the ticket lady says "Ya'll have a nice date, you're a cute couple!" That Shapesmith starts to act weird

He doesn't contest the claim, just replying "thank you!!"

You're in the movie theatre and he's holding your hand, kicking your foot lightly every now and again

is he. is he playing footsies?

Your face is red as the film progressed, and you're grateful for the bucket of popcorn between you.

Shapesmith keeps trying to feed you popcorn, and you're not sure why.

He doesn't even comment on Rex being gone, it's like it doesn't even matter.

After the movie, Shapesmith is STILL HOLDING YOUR HAND- and Rex is still nowhere to be found, probably off watching a different movie.

Shapesmith is undeterred, and the two of you leave to get ice cream next door

he pays, which surprises you, and the two of you talk about your favorite ice cream flavors, his being the brightly colored superhero ones. He says it's on theme.

Shapesmith is walking you to your room at GHQ, and stops outside your door

"I had- a good time today, Y/n. Thank you." and he leans in to kiss you

Your face goes bright red before you duck out of the way "Agh- Shapesmith what the hell?"

He gives you a hurt and puzzled look "Is this not what couples do on Valentines day? Am I doing this wrong?"

"Wha? We aren't a couple!!"

"We..... no?" you're both thoroughly confused

"Why would you think that????"

Shapesmith tilted his head and shrugged "Rex explained what a relationship was to me last night, and I realized that we have been doing that for months! I felt bad, I've been your boyfriend and I've been... bad at it. I did not kiss you or hold your hand- I'm sorry Y/m-"

you were going to kill Rex

"Oh, Shapesmith..." you sighed "no- no we weren't dating. I mean, i'd like to be! But you didn't fail at anything, Rex was just being an ass."

Now it's his turn for his face to turn red, suddenly anxious as a quiet moment passed between the two of you

"Can I try again? To be your boyfriend, I mean."

"I'd like that."

He leans in and the two of you share an awkward, but wholesomely chaste kiss, before he walks away to his own dorm.

You sigh dreamily as your dorm door opens, revealing Rex playing your switch on your bed

"Haha- Take THAT Galamoth!!" he pauses the game, noting your presence "Oh yeah! How'd it go?!"

"Rex..... you.... you asshole!!" You grab a pillow and start beating him with it, relenting only when you're both exhausted on your bed

"So did it work?"

"....we kissed."

"AHA!! I'm brilliant, Go Rex, you're a genius, go Rex!" He sang, doing a little dance while laying down

"Ugh you're so obnoxious-" you smack him lazily with your arm

It was a Valentine's day to remember.