#then he comes home and sees all the things his childhood self put in his childhood bedroom and laughs

[faaun]

procrastination is starting to have its consequences finally

[niallhorxns]

Niall Horan x Reader: Not Like Him

Prompt: Because of your past, you hate confrontation. One day, Niall comes home particularly grumpy.

Word count: 1.7k

Warnings: anxiety, past verbal abuse mention

A/N: hi all!!! continuing to try and post on here. please feel free to send any niall x reader prompts / ideas my way :)

You’re in the midst of putting a dish you just washed away when you hear the front door open, then suddenly slam shut. The pictures hanging on the wall rattle as you peer around the corner anxiously. The first thing you see is Niall bustling through the door. Normally, having Niall home would cause a surge of warmth and excitement to rush through you– but today, instantly, you recognize that something about his demeanor is off. 

He throws his flannel on the chair and with his back facing you, runs his hand through his hair. When he turns to you, there’s no warm smile or cheerful greeting. Instead, he takes a few steps then tosses his keys on the counter, letting them slide carelessly across the surface. He makes no effort to even acknowledge your existence. 

Instantly, a lump forms in your throat, making it harder and harder to breathe. You hate tension… Or any sort of confrontation, really. Your parent’s entire marriage was built off tension and confrontation– passive aggressive comments and slamming doors leading to screaming, which then led to shattered dishes or dented walls. 

Your father had a temper. And it didn't matter how well behaved or helpful or unseen you were. Something always managed to spark his anger. The nights he drank were worse, and as the years went on, the sober version of himself made less and less of an appearance. 

Although you didn't recognize it at the time, looking back, you knew that you spent the vast majority of your childhood living on edge– always waiting for the yelling or the screaming. You were afraid more often than not. And that wasn't something you could just unlearn when you were old enough to leave– no matter how far away you were.  

In fact, it took years of hard work to heal from the trauma you'd experienced. But for so long, it felt like no matter how much therapy you attended or self-help books you read, there was always a part of you that was just stuck. 

Until you met Niall. 

Niall was the missing piece. His presence alone was healing. He was calm and safe and consistent. He was patient and gentle and kind. And when you finally got up enough courage to tell him about your childhood, he listened carefully, his brows furrowed somberly. It was like your trauma caused him physical pain– that's how much he loved you– how much he felt with you. 

With Niall, you could safely work on communicating without screaming matches or slamming doors. It had taken time, but slowly, piece by piece, you started to rebuild, until you actually felt like you could trust someone again. 

And of course, even now, in the midst of whatever this unknown territory was, you trust him. But despite that, tension is radiating off from him. It’s almost palpable in the air– suffocating you. 

You have to say something– Niall will understand. 

“How was your day?” You ask nervously, already knowing the answer. 

Niall walks right past you to the fridge, pulling the door open and ignoring your question.  

You bite your lower lip, your anxiety settling like a rock in your stomach. This feeling felt too familiar… 

“Is everything okay?” you ask. He pulls out a beer, showing no sign that he even heard you. He cracks it open, the sound alone sending shivers down your spine as you’re instantly reminded of all the nights your father would drink five beers before even recognizing you were home. But Niall is not your dad, you remind yourself. Niall is gentle. Niall is kind. 

He takes a long swig before walking towards the stairs.

“Niall?” you say, worry evident in your tone. 

He doesn’t stop. 

Niall isn't like him. Niall cares about your feelings. Niall loves you.

You follow him a few steps, knowing that you can’t let him just go to bed this… angry? Upset? Whatever he is– 

“Niall, what’s going on–”

“Oh my God!” He bellows suddenly, waving his arms and spinning in his tracks to finally look at you. “Can you leave me alone for one goddamn second?!”

Before you can quiet down your brain or repeat all the ways Niall was different from your father, your body reacts as if they are one and the same. You flinch harshly from his sudden movements and loud tone, like your body remembered exactly how it felt to live in your house twenty years ago. And before you can help it, the glass cup in your hand falls to the floor, shattering around your feet. 

The noise makes you snap out of your trance. Looking down at the mess you made, your mouth goes dry. Your whole body has already begun shaking and you can feel the tears fighting their way to your eyes. 

“I’m sorry–” you whisper, choking back a sob. Then you brace for the screaming– the berating. Clumsy, stupid, idiot. 

Nervously, you kneel down, tucking your hair behind your ear while you try to pick up the broken glass. What the hell is wrong with you? It’s obvious Niall had a bad day. So why couldn’t you just leave him alone? The last thing he needs is you making and being a mess. 

“Sorry–“ you mutter, it’s so quiet though, you doubt he hears. “I’m sorry,” you repeat. You’re so anxious you don’t even grab a dustpan, you just start collecting pieces of shattered glass in your hand. Your vision quickly becomes blurry with tears as they streak down your cheeks. 

“Shit,” you vaguely hear, but you don’t stop trying to clean up. You’re frantic, grabbing whatever you can off the floor before he can get more upset about it. 

Stupid, stupid, stupid. 

Through your clouded vision, you can’t see what you’re collecting off the floor– all you know is that you have to keep cleaning it up.

“Baby, stop–”  

The voice is distant.

“I promise I’ll clean it up,” you say, hands shaking so violently, you wonder how no pieces have sliced open your skin yet. 

“Baby–” 

It’s just background noise. 

“Hey, hey, hey.” 

You vaguely see a figure kneel beside you and before you can wave him away, Niall reaches out– hand cupping yours before forcing open your fingers. As soon as the glass is out of your hand, you see him reach up to toss it on the counter before kneeling back down to be on your level. 

All it takes is one arm wrapping around your shoulders for you to break. Suddenly, you can’t hold back the sob that’s been sitting in your throat. The second it escapes from your lips, Niall pulls you into his chest tightly. 

“C’mere,” he exhales, chin resting on your head while he slides the both of you back against the cupboard. You let out a choked gasp and cling to him. 

His arm winds tightly around you, locking you in place. “I’m so sorry,” he breathes.  

“I have to clean it up–” you cry.  

“Shh,” he soothes. He rocks you on the floor like that, his arms wrapped around you securely.  Your breathing is choppy as you shake against him. Niall grabs your bicep with his hand, holding you steady while his thumb rubs up and down your bare skin gently, trying to calm you down. 

You’re not sure how long it takes for you to feel like you can think again. Time stands still as you settle into his embrace. Niall’s embrace– you remind yourself. Not your father’s. Because your father wouldn’t embrace you after yelling like that. And he certainly wouldn’t embrace you after you broke a dish. 

After a while, your breathing gradually returns to normal again. Moments later, you feel him shift. “Did you cut yourself?” he asks carefully. 

He supports the majority of your weight, all but lifting you off the floor before scanning the length of you. 

You shake your head. At least you didn’t think you did. 

Niall nods before reaching his hand out. “C’mon, let’s get away from the glass.”

You take it willingly, sighing as you feel the warmth from his palm spread through your hand. He guides you away from the pile of glass and towards the kitchen island. He helps you settle into one of the tall stools. 

“Hey,” you hear him whisper. But you’re still staring at the mess, so worried about cleaning it up. Until you feel firm, but careful hands cupping each side of your face– forcing your attention to shift towards him. “Hey,” he repeats. 

His calloused thumb trails along your cheek. Before you know what you’re doing, you’re leaning into his touch, craving his comfort. 

“Did you cut yourself?” he asks again, clearly not trusting your earlier response. 

To be fair– you’re not even sure that you trust your earlier response. By now, you feel like you’re actually back in your own body, and feel no pain. So you shake your head, this time more convincingly.  

As soon as you give the confirmation that you’re alright, Niall takes a step forward and wraps his arms around your shoulders, crashing his body against yours.  

“I’m so sorry,” he says, lips ghosting against the top of your head. “I didn’t mean to yell like that.”

You nod into his shirt, pinching the fabric between your fingers and breathing in the smell of him. Niall is not your dad, you repeat. Niall apologizes. Niall loves you. 

“It’s okay,” you whisper, you were slightly more calm. “I’m sorry I was so annoying– I’m sorry I broke the glass.”

You feel Niall shake his head above you. “No–” he says firmly. “I don’t give a shit about the glass. I had a shitty day,” he sighs. “A really shitty day. But that’s not your fault.”

“I should have just given you space.”

He shakes his head again, pulling back from his embrace to look at you earnestly. “No– We’re supposed to talk about things. I promised you I’d always talk to you about things, and I broke that today.”

He brushes a few loose strands of hair from your face, before wiping some stray tears stuck under your eyes. “I know how much yelling activates you– I know it sets you off, and I just wasn’t thinking.”

“You’re allowed to get annoyed,” you remind him. “And angry. You’re allowed to yell.” 

“That’s not how you and I communicate,” he says. “That’s not ever how I want to communicate, and I’m sorry. I’ll do better next time”

Squeezing him tighter, you nod against his chest. 

Because Niall is not your father and you believe him.

[annwrites]

⸻ billy hargrove being in love with you would include:

at first, he'd be unbelievably irritated over it.

and he most certainly would not initially admit that what he feels is love.

no, it's just a stupid fucking crush.

you just happen to get his dick hard—that's it.

but why, then, can't he get you out of his fucking head—off his mind?

like, why does he want to hold your hand, & cuddle you, & say sweet shit to you?

admitting it is not something he would ever do up-front.

instead, he'd, quite honestly, prob be a bit mean to you over it. somehow feeling like it's your damn fault.

but, when he sees how his words hurt you, he fills with guilt & does what he can do undo it/dial it back.

so, he offers to start giving you rides to & from school.

maybe even makes invitations to hang out—just not at his house. he doesn't want his dad ruining whatever the fuck he has, or, at the very least, wants to have with you.

so, you guys go to the starcourt mall, or the movies, or hawkins video to rent something to take back to your place to watch, or to the hawkins arcade, etc.

he just needs an excuse to spend extra time with you that isn't strictly in a classroom.

and he buys you things: pays for your movie ticket & snacks, pays for the movie you rent for the night, buys you gifts from the mall, etc.

and by insisting it's not a big deal—kind of like a self-fulfilling prophecy—he makes it one by stressing how much it really doesn't matter. it's just a few bucks.

in time, he offers to teach you how to drive his car.

just likes that he'll get credit for being the one to teach you how to drive in-general.

the more time you spend together, the more intimate he gets.

he's been flirtatious & handsy the whole time, but being 'sweet on you' is different.

it includes soft, nervous touches on his part with shaking, uncertain hands, waiting for you to mock him for it.

when you don't, he starts paying you nice compliments, like how he likes what you're wearing, or that your hair is really cute today.

starts holding your hand in public & around school, too.

speaking of intimate, he's usually rough when it comes to sex, to keep up that masculine façade, until he shyly asks you if you want to try ❝y'know, makin' love, or whatever the fuck❞.

and everything is slow and sweet and gentle & he lies in your arms afterward with his head resting between your breasts and he just feels so safe & loved & wanted & cared for.

is 100% the jealous type, so don't even think about hanging out with other guys. he needs that security in knowing you won't abandon him, too.

he, in time, tells you—begrudgingly—about his childhood & his mom. he tries to brush it off, but really wants you to give a shit. and when you do—hold him & tell him how sorry you are—he knows that he's fallen entirely.

it scares the shit out of him, though. because he's not like other guys: hearts & chocolates (he's capable of being a sweetheart, but because he hates himself so much, he can't see it). he's terrified of becoming his dad. what if he's not the best thing for you? what if he hurts you? the list is endless.

but when he thinks of being alone again? of losing you? he can't let that happen.

so, he says it. those three words. and he feels like he might vomit when he does.

and then you say it back and he cries.

once the two of you graduate, he works his ass off to get you a nice home or apartment.

he wants to leave hawkins as whole & take the two of you out west.

and you get there.

and he returns to surfing & teaches you as well.

he loves sharing it with you.

and once the two of you are comfortable & settled, he pops the question.

he's a trembling, breathless mess while doing it, but he gets through it.

and once you've had some time to enjoy married life, it inevitably happens (he gets you knocked up)!

he promptly freaks out.

then spends all his free time working on a nursery.

snaps at you when you try and help put anything together.

❝you need to be in bed with your feet up, or something. just let me take care of it, alright?❞

he just wants you to be pampered, in truth.

but once your little one has entered the world?

dad mode all the way.

he's always holding it, helping change diapers (even if he bitches about them sometimes), changing its clothes, playing with it (loves this part—always a huge smile on his face, especially when the baby is smiling, too).

he becomes everything his dad never was: a good man. and he has the love of a good woman that he knows is his forever.

until death do you part.

[wraithdance]

Good Boy [part 1/2]

CW: Mentions of canon childhood trauma & abuse, loss of virginity (Simon), using sex as self harm, my man being traumatized and bitch-less, awkwardness, eventual reader mention, lots of internal dialogue I’m setting sumthn up for the next part

Simon is aware he wasn’t pretty or particularly personable. He didn’t ever really need to be.

Even before the scars and the night terrors that kept him up as he meticulously arranged and dismantled his service pistol, he’d never been one to get the girl.

The years spent supporting his mother and saving Tommy’s ass, while also surviving his father’s blows, took up what was a joke of a childhood. There were no movie dates or pretty birds under his arm or texting his phone (not like he had one). Not even the time to wank to whatever model graced the cover of the cheap magazines his mother hid.

He’d lost his virginity in the most clinical way in the back of the butcher shop he’d worked as a teenager. Couldn’t remember the face of the bold older girl that offered to suck his cock when he went on break. Simon had been befuddled that she’d wanted to repay him with a quickie because he’d discounted the cut of meat she’d been sent to pick up for her mother. He’d accepted nonetheless and followed as she lead him to the back of the alley between the shop and laundromat.

Simon had been stiff, unable to enjoy the feeling of her hot, pink glossed mouth taking his prick as far as she could manage. He’d been too preoccupied with the fear of being caught by his boss and the uncomfortable feel of her teeth snagging the sensitive skin of his shaft. He remembered her offense when she’d asked him if she was making him feel good and he’d said no.

At 18 he was still unaccustomed to the concept of lying to spare another’s feelings.

Expecting her to give up he’d tried to thank her (which offended her more) and stuff his cock back into his work jeans. Instead she’d rolled her eyes and lifted her skirt, positioning herself against the brick wall. She’s all but snapped at him to hurry the fuck up and put his cock inside her.

His hands had trembled as he worked himself into her cunt. She’d hissed around the gum in her mouth when he’d pressed the head of his cock past her slick hole, barking that he was too big and to go slow. He tried, the restraint it took to not chance her ire and rut into her like a dog made his teeth crack with how hard he clenched his jaw. She’d yowled like the female cat that made home behind the trash can when it was in heat. He’d nearly slipped out of her afraid he’d hurt her. She’d called him a fucking idiot and demanded he fucked her until she said stopped. So he did.

The force of his orgasm nearly made him black out, through the muffled roar of his blood in his ears, he’d been able to heed her warning to pull out.

He’d been apologetic about the cum that dripped on her open toed shoes. She’d ignored him and scrapped what she could off with a business card he kept in his apron, while he buckled his pants. She’d come inside to grab her parcel of meat and ignored him. His boss had come from the back office and took one look at the retreating girl before shaking his head at Simon.

When he’d joined the military he’d lost what was left of his naivety. There was no room for apologies and mincing words when seeing the life drain from your enemies eyes. For the first time in his life his roughness and straight speech was an asset.

Tactical. Strategic.

Those were the kind of things they said in praise as they pat him on the back.

He’d embraced it, embraced the part of him that would always be his father’s son and he raised hell in honor of his majesty.

He couldn’t look himself in the eyes in the mirror much less imagine the kind of life MacTavish went on about. Always talking about a house in the highlands and a pregnant wife with a barn full of children.

‘Ye can’t tell me ya don’t want the same L.T’

Johnny would say in the dead of night. Always while ‘keeping company’ at Simon’s shoulder while he watched the world through his sniper. Simon’s hands had always sweat beneath his gloves at the talks of imagined lives outside of the shithole safe house they were holed up in. Sometimes he’d grunt noncommittally and Johnny would take the hint and entertain himself with something else. Other times it took a gruff

‘Shut the fuck up MacTavish’

Johnny would be blissfully quiet awhile and the part of Simon that was still his mother’s son would rear his head long enough to transmute a sense of guilt. It was always short lived because Johnny was persistent, forgiving.

He’d bounce back after some time and laugh at whatever joke Simon had in his arsenal in lieu of an apology.

‘It’s alright L.T we’ll find ye a nice Lass to settle down with’ MacTavish’s eyes would sparkle in mischief. Convinced that was the solution to every problem.

Simon thinks about it often when in the bare apartment he calls home when forced on leave. On nights he can’t think of anything but of the echoes of blood and blows across his body, he thinks of what it would be like to have something to come home to. He never gets too far because there’s no frame of reference to use. Just a nameless girl who’d taken his cock in an alley way.

Simon learned that the more he lost himself to the entity that was Ghost the more women gave him the time of day. It was like the self loathing and dark acerbic energy that kept him tethered to the living was a beacon.

The first time it happened he’d made a mousy girl cry. She’d been dared by her friends to approach him at a bar. He’d felt her eyes on him throughout the night, choosing to ignore her. The mask protected him from the itch that came with being perceived in civilian life. He’d been somewhat prepared for her to get the courage to come up to him, having learned that some people were stupid enough to go against their predator/prey instincts. He hadn’t been prepared for the soft hand that trailed across his back to get his attention.

He’d humiliated her. Towered over her and cut her down with words until dark spots danced at the corner of his visions, until she’d burst into sobs. He’d thrown down cash to cover his tab and left. The echoes of her friends calling him a fucking bastard on his heels.

Much like the first time he’d had sex he responded better to blatant requests to be fucked. The requests nearly always when out at drinks with his team. He’d gotten good at recognizing the telltale signs of desperate interest. The glance over of his mates, the dilated pupils as they took in his mask and covered form. On the days he couldn’t be arsed he ignored them. When he needed to feel something other than nothingness he’d meet their eyes. Signal with his head to meet him in the dingy hallway or the back alley.

Always the same as the first time. Spreading their legs against the brick, rutting deep and wasting his spend on the asphalt. With experience he’d learned to grip their necks and maneuver their bodies just so. Overtaking their senses and giving them the fantasy of being just a cunt for him to fuck. In the end he always felt like the one being used.

Sometimes they wanted more from him. A kiss, a call, a second time. He’d occasionally entertained it, the prickling desire to have that dream Johnny painted. It always ended the same. His career kept him away, he was too closed off, the novelty of fucking the guy who scared their friends wore off. And he was left feeling more like a shell.

He stopped recognizing himself in the mirror after a while. A stranger stared back at him with lifeless eyes and a body that belonged to someone else.

The night he met you he’d been unprepared. You’d stared at him like the others. Flickering eyes back and forth taking him in with interest. Gaz and Johnny had noticed and made jokes that set his teeth on edge. He’d told them to piss off.

He caught you staring at him once more, holding your gaze with lidded eyes. You didn’t look away or act coy and embarrassed.

Good.

Subtly he motioned to the bars entrance. You frowned.

He watched you stand up and collect your bags and he took down the rest of his tepid beer. Gaz and Johnny whistled loud and obnoxiously, until Price rallied them in with a half hearted threat.

Simon is making his way through the crowded pub keeping track of your movements. He’s got a cigarette out and lit when you cautiously tip toe out into the night.

He’s watching your nervous shuffling from behind the tendrils of smoke. You seem to make up your mind about something because your shoulders set apart and you straighten your back. Brave little thing.

“Can you model for me-“

“Lift your skirt-”

Your eyes are peeled wide in disbelief. He’s honestly just as confused but hides it with a flick of the cigarette ash.

“Wot?”

“Uh? I asked if you could model for me,” you’re not quite fidgeting but you aren’t really focusing on him. Your eyes are looking just past his shoulder in a facsimile of eye contact. Something about it bothers him.

He flicks the half spent cigarette to the concrete and pulls away from the wall. You don’t step back from his size or flutter your eyes like a pretty bird. You’re taking him in like you’re categorizing him.

“Wots this about modeling? I thought you followed me out to ask for my cock.”

Your nose wrinkles at the crassness.

“No sorry, I thought you just wanted to talk in a quieter area,” you look around at the alleyway for a spell before facing him. “Honestly it seems a bit unsanitary to have sex out here don’t you think?”

He snorts. He’d never heard any objections before. He’d also never had sex in a bed either though.

Simon had long since learned he was good enough to fuck in alleys or cars between shifts. Sometimes couches if he made it across the threshold. Never had any qualms around it until you mentioned it.

It’s a grating thought he doesn’t want to dwell on. He’s turning to leave when you step in front of him with arms raised.

“Wait!” He is glowering down at you unimpressed.

“I’m sorry I really did want to ask you to model for me!” You’re panicking and inching closer to the bar door as if hoping to block his exit with your body. A laughable thought. You must realize it too because your hands drop listlessly to your side.

“Listen, I’m an author and I need someone to pose for a cover mock up for a series.” He scoffs.

“And you thought I’d be a fit?”

“Well yeah!” Your eyes light up in excitement and you ramble out a stream of things he doesn’t quite catch. His focus on the curve of your cheeks and the sense of life you emit. His cock is half chubbed in his pants watching you.

After awhile your rambles trail off and you stare at each other. Realizing he had no plans to respond you sigh in defeat.

“Look take my card,” you’re reaching into your pocket for a wrinkly square. “I’m serious I really do think you’d be a great model for my series and I’d really like to treat you to coffee if you’re willing to hear me out.”

Simon isn’t sure why he takes the card, but he does. He’s looking at the hand doodled picture of a dog and the chicken scrawl beneath the text stating ‘Expert Dog Walker’. He gives you a flat look that causes you to grimace.

“It’s my day job, you know what they say about starving artists and all.” You joke.

He doesn’t laugh.

He instead pockets the thin square and steps around you. You’re on his heels following him inside. He gives you a look as a sign of dismissal that you scoff at but you take the hint.

He watches you leave from the corner of his eye while he settles down at the table with his team.

‘You’re back a little early mate.” Gaz prods.

“The lass dinnae look too happy with your performance LT what did ye do? Do ye need me to tell you how to put it in.” Soap claps a hand over Simon’s shoulder that he shoves off.

Price observes him quietly with arms crossed. Simon doesn’t tell them about your odd little request at all.

He fingers the card in his pocket throughout the night. He looks at your scrawled name as he washes the eye black from his face, your card tucked into the mirror.

He has the number memorized by the time he’s done.

[ccuniculusmolestus]

one thing the tsh fandom will do is constantly overlook the significance and also implications of henry and bunny's friendship in favor of relationships like henry and camilla. (and these were all realizations i had while talking to a friend so-)

we never see Bunny directly break down. well, we never see anything period because we're looking through Richard's eyes, and Richard never sees Bunny upset. I don't mean the upset where he's being mean or being a drunk in his dorm, I mean the kind of upset where he's sobbing and yelling out insults and threats and wrestling with Henry on the floor of their palazzo. I'm talking the kind of upset where he's screaming at Henry to stop touching him while crying in his bed.

We only ever hear that fight, and the other one in Rome we just get to hear of it. None of the others ever saw Bunny in that state, and I doubt they knew how the situation even arose. Only Henry did.

Only you know the way that I break.

And matter of fact, nobody saw Henry genuinely angry too. Even when he was dealing with Charles, he wasn't pissed per se, he was just annoyed and more ready to commit his third murder. I can't remember a scene where Henry genuinely loses it with someone he knows well (so, none of his friends). We only hear of him losing his shit with Bunny EXCEPT for the scene with Judy.

You push my buttons in a way nobody else can.

You know that makes me think, again, that him losing his shit at the party had less to do with Judy and more to do with Bunny. Think about it. Why would they be at a party where Bunny is nowhere to be seen? Why wouldn't Bunny, a party animal, be there with them? You'd think he might have invited the others, or at least heard of their intent to go and wanted to join them- but he just wasn't there. Why? What made the perfectly composed, stoic Henry lose his shit over something that, characteristically, shouldn't even annoy him? Who was later established to be the only thing in Henry's life capable of making him snap to the point of losing all self-control and resorting to violence?

That's right.

Bunny.

In every other case of aggressive, intentional, sober violence displayed by Henry, Bunny is the cause, on the receiving end, both times.

Henry and Bunny knew each other too much, way too much, and I'm tired of pretending theirs was not perhaps the most significant relationship in this story. Put aside the fact that the story is literally DRIVEN by them, put aside even the fact that they both are the only ones to die at the end (too much symbolism here kms), but their relationship genuinely is so fucked up and heavy it leaves more questions the more you think about them. So no, I don't think "Camilla was the only one who saw Henry for who he was" just because she was the recipient of his occasional smiles, because Henry was not just the gentle-giant she got to see. Neither do I believe "Richard was on the same frequency as Henry" because they had a shitty childhood (tbh all of them probably did?) and because Henry saved his ass from freezing. Henry was more so his rage and the anger he tried to keep sealed with the rest of himself, a destructive force trying desperately to reign himself in. Yes, he was not a bad person per se, but he was, like Bunny, a ticking time bomb (albeit a much more destructive one).

But even despite the anger and bitterness that later poisoned their relationship, I sometimes like to think of them whilst keeping in mind the fact that Bunny was the only one who could make Henry laugh. And Henry was the only one Bunny directly told about his past/home life. I think of them as freshmen, with Bunny's hair catching the sunlight in his lazy curls as his eyes crinkle and his tone rears back in preparation for a joke Henry doesn't see coming. And Henry, awkward in his detachment, with his nose in a book, trying to keep his lips from quivering up as the awful, stupid joke registers, and then failing to keep the chuckle from slipping through when Bunny's stupidly expectant face wriggles its eyebrows at him.

They were soulmates before they were friends.

And they were friends before they were enemies

[mattscoquette]

𝑶𝑯 𝑴𝒀 𝑴𝒀 𝑴𝒀 | 𝑴𝑨𝑻𝑻 𝑺𝑻𝑼𝑹𝑵𝑰𝑶𝑳𝑶

𝒊𝒏 𝒘𝒉𝒊𝒄𝒉.. you are childhood best friends turned lovers with matt. based off of mary's song by taylor swift

kissing, slight arguing, no use of y/n

2.1k words

i was seven and you were nine

i looked at you like the stars that shine

and our daddies used to joke about the two of us growing up and falling in love

you were in the backyard, running around on the wooden play set your dad had built for your fifth birthday. it was an early evening in mid august, the heat of the summer day finally beginning to cool down. your family invited the neighbors over for a barbecue for about the third time this week, and it was only thursday.

“matty,” you giggled, brushing the dirt off your knees from the slight tumble you took, “i said no tag backs.” your mother had put your auburn hair into braids for today, which were beginning to fall out from all of your running around. you wore a light green sundress, bringing out the slight green specks in your usual blue irises.

matt laughed back down at you, running away once more, yelling you’re it. you watched as the taller blonde boy made his way down the slide, getting his washed out overalls wet from the sprinkler water that was spraying around the yard.

you two continued to run around while your dad was cooking, admiring the way the two children interacted.

“i bet they’ll get married on day.” he told matt’s dad.

take me back when our world was one block wide

i dared you to kiss me and ran when you tried

later that night, matt and his family stayed past dinner to have a bonfire. matt, being the big boy he said he was, convinced his parents to let him walk up the road to the connivence store with you to retrieve things to make s’mores with. he was nine now, after all. following thirty minutes of being told to stick together and don’t talk to strangers, you and matt made the quarter of a mile trek with the thirty dollars your mom gave you two.

although the walk wasn’t that far, it still was still exhausting seemed to take days, especially to your poor seven year old self. to make the time pass, you and matt threw rocks down the sidewalk, racing each other to see who’d get there first. matt won, but only because you were tired, or so you claimed.

you two began walking again, hands swinging next to one another.

“truth or dare, matty?” you spoke, grinning over at matt, flashing your new grown up teeth that were starting to grow in.

“hmmm,” matt began, already knowing his answer. he shuffled his feet on the sidewalk, trailing behind you slightly to make you look back and laugh. “dare.”

you thought for a moment, trying to come up with a dare. there wasn’t much to do seeing as you two were walking to the store.

“kiss me” you giggled, puckering your lips out at matt. when he began to pucker his back, you ran up the road to the store shrieking.

well, i was sixteen when suddenly i wasn't that little girl you used to see

you and matt stayed friends your whole childhood. constantly at each other’s houses, having after school play dates or movie nights during the weekend. you two were inseparable. over the years, you two began to change, both physically and mentally. you shot up when you were about 12, standing a few inches taller than matt, until he came home from summer camp taller than you again. you two went through the awkward teenage phases together, finally now growing out of it.

today was your sixteenth birthday, and matt was over at your house with his family for dinner and cake. you’d always been pretty to matt, but over the last year he’s watched you grow into the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen. you’d grown tall, having long slim legs that seemed to be miles high. your hair stayed the same color, unlike matt’s who’s had turned brunette over time. you started wearing makeup recently, not much, but enough to accentuate your already stunning features.

matt watched you in awe as you blew out your birthday candles, silently hoping you wished for him. after dessert, the two of you found yourselves outside sitting on the swings of the play set you two used to once roam. you looked beautiful underneath the stars, wearing a brand new blue sundress you bought last weekend. you and matt gazed at each other, both secretly wanting more than you had now.

“remember when i used to give you birthday punches?” matt laughed, peering down into his lap and swinging ever-so-slightly.

you giggled, recalling the time he’d accidentally hit you so hard you’d bruised. he cried for days afterwards, he felt so bad.

“do i get any this year?” you asked him, leaning over into him more as he sat next to you, staring back into your blue eyes.

she shook his head. “i can give you something else.”

you didn’t realize how far you two leaned in until you felt his soft lips pressed to yours.

“one”

you smiled lightly as matt pulled away, suddenly feeling them again back on your own.

“two”

this went on well past sixteen, finally letting go of so much pent up feelings towards one another, as the both of you spent the whole night exchanging kisses back and forth on your old play set. at the end of the night he asked you to be his girlfriend.

take me back to the time we had our very first fight

the slamming of doors instead of kissing goodnight

you and matt had been together for two years now. it was late spring, and you got accepted into your dream college. the only problem was the school was on the other side of the country. matt had stayed home after graduation, deciding he wanted to pursue a career in youtube with his brothers. you two were currently yelling back and forth about the future of your relationship.

“it’s not fair for you to leave!” matt argues, running his hands through his messy hair.

“we’ll be fine, matt,” you assured him also sounding upset, “this is my dream we’re talking about here.”

“how do you know we’ll be okay? we’ve spent our whole lives together.” the brunette boy shot back.

you began to feel tears prick your eyes, blinking to keep them at bay. he was right, you didn’t know for sure if you two would make it.

“i waited my whole life to finally be with you, i’m not losing you now.” matt shouted, his eyes becoming red with tears as well.

“you won’t lose me!” you tried to plea, full on crying now.

matt huffed, walking out of your bedroom, slamming the door behind him. you spent the whole night sobbing into your pillow, hugging a sweatshirt you had of matt’s. he’d done the same thing, waking up extra early the next morning to show up to your front door with flowers.

upon seeing your poor boy at the door with red puffy eyes clutching a bouquet of daisies, you pulled him in for the tightest hug you had in you. “i’m sorry pretty girl” he kept muttering into the side of your head, repedealty kissing you over and over again. you spent the day with him cuddling on the couch, legs intertwined with one another as you watched the movie. you were both uncertain about the future, but you had right now, and that’s what was most important.

a few years had gone and come around

we were sitting at our favorite spot in town and you looked at me, got down on one knee

matt decided to go out west with you to school. he couldn’t bare the idea of not being together for four years. he got an apartment that you two shared together, finally being able to wake up next to your favorite person everyday. little mundane things showed the love you two shared. you would wake up early for class, making an extra cup of coffee you’d set out for matt while you both ate breakfast together. you two had shared drawers, often finding his t-shirts mixed into your clothes. matt would always shower while you were in the bathroom getting ready for the day. little things.

it was now the summer after your college graduation, and you and matt were home visiting your families. upon arrival, his mother had sneakily given matt her engagement ring to propose to you with. you had no idea, so when matt had dropped to one knee in front of the connivence store you bought marshmallows from all those years back, you couldn’t contain your excitement.

take me back to the time when we walked down the aisle

our whole town came and our mamas cried

you and matt decided to get married the next summer, right in your old backyard. the once sturdy playground was now old and rotting, so your dad broke it apart and rebuilt it as the archway you and matt stood under as you exchanged your vows.

you both stood facing one another, hand in hand as you listened to the officiant list off the promises you two swore to keep until death do you part. matt looked at you beaming, tears in his eyes as he imagined the future he would share with the girl next door he fell in love with so many years ago.

“you may kiss the bride.” the man spoke as matt pulled you in. he grabbed your waist, spinning you around so he was holding you up as you leaned backwards, kissing you like you were the air he needed to breathe. you both smiled as you shared the moment with your families and friends, something they had all been waiting for since you both were kids.

take me home where we met so many years before

we'll rock our babies on that very front porch

you ended up moving into matt’s old childhood home after his parents moved out of state to retire. you made it a whole project together, updating the wall colors and floorboards, making it your home. you two spent countless days and nights at the hardware store, buying and returning supplies to make sure your new home together was perfect.

you both sat in the center of the living room, the furniture covered in plastic as a fresh coat of burgundy was plastered on the walls. exhausted from the day’s work, you two ordered chinese takeout for dinner.

“when should we tell everyone about the girls?” you asked matt, taking a bite into a spring roll. a few months ago, you found out you were pregnant. at the last doctor’s visit, you two were informed you had twin girls growing inside you. you and matt were absolutely ecstatic, already beginning to prepare the nursery.

“i don’t know, i just hope they have your hair.” he smiled back at you tiredly but with love in his eyes.

after all this time, you and i

a quick six months after that, you brought two beautiful baby girls into the world, who did in fact have your hair. matt loved you three to pieces, constantly attacking you guys with bear hugs when he returned home from long days at work.

becoming a parent was easily the best thing that ever happened to you and matt. you both promised to raise and love your girls as best you could, and you two had absolutely delivered. everyone loved the twins, claiming them to be “angels sent from heaven.”

as time went on, your girls got older, until eventually they were packing up for college, going to the same school you went to. the first few months were rough, you two not being used the quiet in the once loud and booming house. the quiet reminded you of your time before you were a parent, and when it used to just be you and matt.

i'll be eighty-seven, you'll be eighty-nine

i’ ll still look at you like the stars that shine in the sky

you couldn’t have asked for a more perfect life. you spent all your time with the people who loved you the most, something a tangible item could never live up to. you and matt were sat on the porch of your house, waiting for one of your daughter’s to come home from the hospital with her first baby. you looked over at your husband, meeting the blue eyes you fell for so many years ago. you think about all the time’s you’ve shared together, both good and bad. you remember the big things, like being matt’s date to his prom, and the smaller things, like his promise to constantly keep your vases filled with fresh flowers.

you think to way back when you were seven years old, playing in your backyard with matt as your dad’s joked about you two growing up and getting married. oh my my my.

© mattscoquette

𝐚/𝐧: this is one of my fav taylor swift songs i hope u all enjoy reading this much as i did writing it !! matt is so mary’s song coded so i had to do this. i love u all ty for all the love i’ve been getting on my writing!

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: @alorsxsturn @sturniolossss @cammie4298 @bussybandit1 @amorttentia @franticroads @sturnsssbow @cams5sos @strombolilovr @st7rnioioss @junnniiieee07 @mattscurlygirly @simply-a-simper @sturnrc @sturnifyed @freshlovie

[liliannadelaphinehartifelt]

Alastor - [DEVOTION…. Pt. 2]

xxxxx xxxxx xxxxxx xxxxxx xxxxx xxxx xxx

[ NSFW ] + [ MDNI ] + [ SLIGHT AGE GAP ] + [ ARRANGED MARRIAGE ] + [ BREEDING KINK ] + [ MENTIONS OF BLOOD & GORE ]

xxxxx xxxxx xxxxxx xxxxxx xxxxx xxxx xxx

Beautiful days weren't uncommon in New Orleans.

They frequently occurred -even more so during the late summer months in the swamped countryside- where you now found yourself traveling through alongside your husband.

Alastor had decided it was high time both of you visited your recently conjoined families. His mother constantly asked to see you again, calling twice a week like clockwork to check on her darling son and his ever-so-sweet wife, and you appreciated her sincere affection.

You missed visiting her in person, learning things from her, and observing how much adoration she had for Alastor..

In a sense, she'd raised you like her own daughter, taking the place of your mother, who'd passed before you'd even taken your first steps. Your father was adamant a 'fever' took her, but Alastor's mother always hinted at a force greater than unfortunate health having to do with it.

You'd never thought to ask what she meant, trusting her wise and kind words wholeheartedly since Alastor was your only friend, but curiosity did plague your thoughts from time to time.

Her passing was a tragedy you could barely remember….

However, it was in the past, your mother was gone with your childhood, and you were now in the present -married to a man you never wished to part from…

Even more so now that he'd revealed how truly devoted he was to you and you alone…

“….I feel much more than love for you, my dear. Devotion is a better term…obsession at times…”

Those words of his rang loud and clear in your head for days on end, making your heart flutter ten times harder than it usually did when he was near and coaxing a particular passion for making him happy out of you at every opportunity given.

Your infatuation had grown into undeterred loyalty and in your opinion he deserved every bit of it.

Alastor worked tirelessly to further his career. Reaping the benefits of such hard work through copious amounts of money and awards from various admirers.

He'd perfected so many things to reach that point, hiding his natural down home drawl with a perfect transatlantic accent -you found both charming but preferred the first. Although, you understood why he’d mastered the ladder accent, and never insisted upon him disregarding it.

It was what made his character, brought the masses running back for more each time he was on air, and what kind of wife would you be if you asked him to refute all the admiration for simple and selfish reasons?..

He wasn’t home often enough to have such conversations in the first place…

Alastor was no stranger to working late into the evening, writing script after script past midnight at the station, and only returning home when he was sure his manuscripts were crystal clear.

That’s what you were made to believe he was doing anyway.

Alastor made sure of that.

In your eyes he was perfect, hardworking, and utterly perfect…

Not the merciless, flesh hungry, murder that’d been stalking the streets of New Orleans for almost six consecutive months…

To your knowledge Alastor had no flaws, no deep, dark secrets you felt the need to uncover, and certainly not a man with a tainted sense of morality you couldn't fully trust.

He ensured your view of him remained spotless, devoid of bloodthirst or cruelty.

You were too innocent for it, too pure to know what he'd done and continued to do for the sake of self-satisfaction, but there is always a time for truths to come to light…

Nevertheless, Alastor strived to make sure that time never came…

So, when the city became on edge, being put under a curfew by law enforcement in hopes of slowing the occurrence of his murders, and the number of police patrols significantly increased, Alastor decided a nice…long…relaxing vacation to the countryside would be an excellent idea.

Nothing suspicious about the idea at all…

You were ecstatic about the trip, rushing to pack things for the both of you the very evening he mentioned it, and Alastor was genuinely pleased to see you so excited.

You were painfully unaware of his true motives…so willing to spend time with him and leave the fear-induced city behind…

Oh, how he loved it…you and your gentle, naive nature…

Truly, a warm-hearted belle safe and sound in his bloodstained grasp.

He almost felt guilty, looking at you now, taking your first bare footsteps into the dewy summer grass surrounding his mother's home. Your eyes lit up like the high noon sun shining down on you both, soft lips pulled into a satisfied smile as you reacquainted yourself with fresh summer air, "God, I missed this.." you whispered to yourself as the comforting wind blew through your hair.

Alastor laughed softly, smile ever present as you did a twirl in the grass before looking at him over your shoulder, "Well, aren't you gonna join me, Al? Or am I gonna have to get a hug from your mother first?"

He narrowed his eyes, smile softening at the mention of her, "First? My dear, are you askin' for a race?"

You grinned, giggling as you shrugged playfully while walking backward towards the pathway leading to his mother's home, "Only if you're agreeing to one, honey.." you respond cheekily.

Your husband could never resist a challenge.

Ever.

You’d realized that very early on in your time with him, using it to your advantage more often than he realized.

Getting your way with Alastor was a special skill unique to you and not a soul else…

A smirk tugged at your lips as Alastor pushed off from leaning against the car, rolling his sleeves up as he strode towards you, "Daring, little thing, aren't you?" He teased, having to yell as you spun on your heel and took off without warning.

You let out a laugh, hearing him give chase, only a meter behind you in less than three seconds, and his subtle chiding at your attempt at cheating urging you to beat him.

"Looks like I'll beat you, dearest!" He boasts, drawing nearer to you within seconds, but hesitating to pass you by as he took in the sight of your white cotton dress riding higher up your thighs as you ran.

A delectable view for him in more ways than one…

Alastor couldn’t recall the last time he’d seen such a carefree and angelic sight. Nor, did he want to when you were right in front of him.

You scoffed at his teasing, oblivious to Alastor’s longing stare as you hiked up the front hem of your dress to hop over a fallen tree branch, but when you landed, he was at your side -a smirk already sneaking its way onto his face as you shot him a surprised glance.

When had he gotten so fast?…

You weren't sure, but Alastor had always been more physically fit than most, so you merely tried to keep up with him as the end of the path approached.

He beat you by five feet at least, but you were in too much of a giggle fit to notice. "You cheated!" You chirped, faking a pout as he leaned against one of the dark timber poles that upheld the wrap-around porch. "I was only beating you at your own game, ma chère… fair is fair." Alastor flashed you a grin, pushing his glasses to rest on top of his head before raising a hand to swipe the specks of dust that'd landed on his cheek during your short race.

You smiled at the rare, docile, boyish action. Alastor was never one to altogether drop his guard, so when moments like this occurred, you'd relish in it for as long as possible.

"Here, let me…" you spoke softly, still a little breathless after running but eager to help your husband. Alastor dropped his hand from his face, leaning down to make your reach for him less strenuous, and you smiled at the tiny habit.

He'd always considered your height difference, and your tummy fluttered at each implication of it.

Using the back of your dress sleeve, you carefully wiped at his cheek as he stared at you, allowing you to gingerly guide his face from side to side with your small hand cupping his jaw. "There, much better, monsieur.." you compliment him with a flirtatious drawl, admiring his dust free skin in the sunlight as a few strands of his wavy brown hair shifts over his eyes from the wind.

Alastor returns your admiration, gaze lowering to your lips when you speak and slowly rising again as you place the round glasses back on his face. "Thank you,'ma chère," he sighs gratefully, natural southern drawl shining through as he speaks, finding himself out of breathless as you stare up at him lovingly.

In all his life Alastor could count on one hand how many times an inkling of ‘love’ had trickled its way into his heart. You seemed to be a factor in at least half of those memories.

He deemed that fact more than enough reason to kill for you if fate ever dictated harm your way…

What man wouldn't spill a bit of blood for a woman that looks at him the way you are looking at him now..?

A lesser one, surely.

Alastor considered himself far from the definition of a lesser man..

“It’s my pleasure,” you mutter in response, shifting to step around him and knock on the door, but Alastor stops you by wrapping an arm around your waist, bringing you in close to gently kiss your nose, then your lips, and you return the intimate gesture on instinct.

He hums deep within his chest as your soft lips melt into his, grip tightening on your waist as he unconsciously glides his tongue along yours, and you successfully stifle a moan at the unexpected intrusion.

Was that….blood you tasted on him?…

You weren't given much time to register the iron residue mixed with the hints of black coffee you'd made for him that morning since the sound of a door swinging open startled you half to death before any connection could be made.

"Oh, well, would you get a look at you two!" Angelique Hartifelt beamed as she registered who was on her doorstep. Alastor immediately let you go, smiling wide as his mother tugged him into an airtight hug, and you blushed at the heartwarming sight.

"Hello, mother," Alastor mumbled into her dark curls, swaying her in his arms as she took him in, "My, you've grown baby…real successful too, I hear.." She laughed as he nodded, both clearly happy to see each other after so long, but she eventually pulled away from Alastor to turn her attention to you.

"Sweet girl… c'mere! God, you're just as pretty as a magnolia in May!" You had no time to reply as she hugged you tight, kissing your cheek while you giggled and greeted her politely, "You're too kind, Mrs. Hartifelt … It's nice to see you again! I've missed you dearly!"

She stepped back, grinning as wide as her son as she spun you around, "Don't be silly, honey! Married life becomes you! I missed seeing your lovely self, too. Maybe if Al stopped working so much, you'd have more time to stop by.." She gave him a playful glare, to which he flashed an apologetic smile.

"I'll try to remember that, Mother.." he tipped his head in understanding, and she swatted his arm lightly. "Oh, you know I'm only poking fun, baby. Come on inside, I wanna hear about the two of you…"

She paused, ushering you in the door first with a knowing smile, "…and if I have any grandchildren on the way." Her jest made you turn bright red, but her lighthearted laughter that followed eased your nerves.

However, Alastor's face fell for a moment as she said it, the two of you sharing a strange stare as Angelique closed the behind her and whisked past you both to lead the way into the kitchen.

It was only for a split second, but you could've sworn Alastor looked…

Hopeful…?

Or rather, genuinely affected by the mention of having a child with you…

The complex expression vanished from his face just as quickly as it appeared, his gaze shifting from you to his mother as she set a pitcher of sweet tea and a plate full of cookies out, and you instantly focused on the dish of sweets as the sugary smell invaded your nose.

You were here to enjoy her company, get away from the world and its burdensome worries, and overthinking Alastor’s every reaction wouldn’t be a good start to that….

Besides, her sweets were always your favorite; she'd shown you how to bake, and you attributed most of your cooking skills to her teaching. Alastor had also picked up a great deal of culinary tricks from her, and it became another hobby you two bonded over during childhood.

"Those look amazing, Mrs. Hartifelt," you flashed her a smile, humming as you pretended to swoon over them, and she laughed at your slight dramatics. "I suspected you'd stop by, so I made your favorite, honey. Come on, sit!"

"Don't mind if I do," you chirped and sat next to her at the modestly round dining table; she poured you both a glass of sweet tea before looking over at Alastor expectantly. "That means you too," she gently scolded his standoff-ish behavior, watching as he took a seat on her unoccupied side and patting his cheek in gratitude as he did.

Alastor leaned into her touch, mumbling an apology for not accompanying her sooner, "I got lost in thought, is all…" he clarified in a soft chuckle, and she nodded in understanding.

"Mmm, really, what about?"

His gaze shifted to you again, and your body momentarily froze as he stared while answering his mother, "How much I love you…that’s all.”

Whether he meant to direct the phrase towards you or his mother was unclear, but your chest tightened, and your head filled with fog nonetheless.

How could he still manage to make you so unsteady within the simplest efforts and gestures?…

Alastor held your gaze for a minute longer, forgetting where he was presently, but his self induced trance vanished as his mother spoke again.

"I see you still haven’t lost your charm to the big city. That radio show must keep you on your toes, then.."

He nodded, laughing gently at his mother's teasing, "I wouldn’t dream of it, and my audience expects the best, so I must deliver."

She nods, humming as her chocolate eyes drift towards you, "And how is my lovely son treating you, sweetheart? Well, I presume?"

You could hear the hint of curiosity in her tone, light but underlying seriousness in her question. It was no secret to her that Alastor had…certain tendencies, but those were reserved for people who deserved it, and you'd never been deemed deserving.

She hoped it remained that way…

To her inner relief, you answered her with the broadest smile and happiest tone, "Oh, of course! I couldn't have asked for a better husband! You raised him well..a true gentleman, Mrs. Hartifelt."

Alastor smirked, reveling in your praise, unbothered by his mother eyeing him carefully before she gave you a pleasant response, "I'm glad to hear that. You're still sweet on him too…just like when you were little."

You blushed, taking a ginger bite of one cookie while nodding, "Mhm.."

Why you became nervous when your childlike crush on Alastor was brought up was a mystery, but you couldn't help it since both of your families saw your subtle pining for him day in and day out.

"Speaking of 'little'…" his mother sat straight, arms crossed over her chest as she glanced at the both of you, "When are you two gonna give me a grandbaby to look after. I'm not getting any younger, Al.."

That look crossed his face again, but his smile remained.

You, however, nearly choked on your sweet treat, but luckily managed not to make an utter fool of yourself. A minor cough and a quick sip from your glass eased your mishap.

Angelique patted your back gently, laughing softly at your reaction, "Honey, I'm only kidding… there's no rush." Her reassurance was genuine, but unbeknownst to her, Alastor had breached the subject already.

Albeit in the heat of a very intense and lust-driven moment.

"Ma chère," Alastor rose from his chair, slight concern on his face as he came to kneel by your chair, "…are you alright?"

You nodded slowly, smiling softly at him before huffing out, "M' fine…no need to worry.." he nodded in return, standing to his feet to address her implications.

"We'll see what the future holds, Mother, but as of now, are we welcome to your hospitality for a few days?"

He knew she'd say 'yes' but made it a habit to ask.

Alastor maintained impeccable manners, just as she'd taught him to have, and it brought a proud glint to Angelique’s eyes.

"Now, Al, why would I ever say no to that. You two stay as long as you want!"

You tipped your head in gratitude, "Thank you, Mrs. Hartifelt.."

She scoffed, placing her hand over one of yours before leaning in close as if to tell you a secret Alastor shouldn’t hear.

"Even after all these years and being married to my boy, you're still so polite, Y/n. The world won't burn to a crisp if you call me 'mother' sweetheart."

She kissed your temple, and your heart melted at the tender gesture, "We are family, after all."

That was true…

"I suppose you're right, Mrs- I mean mother." You tripped over the words, so used to being formal but enjoying the new arrangement.

It felt natural enough.

"Look how easy that was!" Angelique patted your hand assuredly, stood from her seat, and began to clear the table.

There was no doubt in your mind that Alastor got his charm from her….

Your revelation was cut short as she absentmindedly spoke to you again, "Pay your father a visit before you settle in. I'm sure he'd like to see you…he comes by often asking about you two a lot these days.."

You stiffened at the mention of your father, recalling the last time you'd seen him.

Exactly a year ago.

The day you married Alastor…

After that, you'd barely spoken to him, not because you wished for distance but because he'd established it.

Your father may have agreed to your marriage with Alastor, but he only partially warmed up to your husband. He'd looked upon him with a hidden distaste from the very beginning of your friendship.

"Something's off about that boy…" he’d say.

Then proceed to warn you of a danger that never existed in your opinion. "You be careful around him…real careful.."

When he realized your attraction to Alastor his nagging only worsened, "He's a charmer…those are never good for anything. You remember that."

For years, his assumptions of Alastor irked you to no end; it perplexed you why he even married you off to him, but whenever you'd search for answers, he'd give the same vague answer.

"That boy isn't what he seems. Never has been and never will be.."

Frustrating as he was, you could never bring yourself to hate him for it, but the thought of having to endure his morbid company wasn’t comforting at all.

Alastor recognized the distress in your gentle features, your bright eyes narrowing at the tabletop, and your hands wringing around each other nervously.

All because of him.

Mr. L/n...

The one man who seemed to get a clue as to who and what Alastor was without anything other than a so-called ‘gut feeling’.

Alastor had tried for years to mask his true nature from him, but your father saw right through him at every encounter.

He had been and still was Alastor’s worst agitation…

Such a bothersome fool…

Your husband averted his oncoming glare to the nearest wall before wiping the disdain off his face, and reaching a hand out to caress your back. You relaxed under his firm touch, looking up to him as his thumb rubbed soothing circles into your spine, "It'll only be a short visit, my dear. We'll have the whole weekend after that…"

His smile eased your fretting, leading you to nod and smile back. "Alright… y-you'll come with me, yes?"

Absolutely not-

Alastor inwardly hushed his shadow demon, tipping his head in warning to the spectrum and forcing it to hold its tongue before it overrode his consciousness.

His smile widened, the hand on your back sliding up to cup your cheek, "Of course, mon chere. I wouldn't dream of letting you go alone.."

We should-

His shadow attempted to cut in again, but Alastor withheld its advance with a simple command.

Hush up. Now…

Fortunately, it ceased all communication, and his focus on you went unhindered.

You stood from your chair, rising on your tiptoes to peck his lips with your own, whispering against them before you pulled away.

"Thank you… Sometimes I dont know what I'd do without you…"

Alastor cursed the sharp pang that penetrated his heart as you said those words, an eerie sense of Deja vu hitting him in waves, but the uneasy feeling never showed on his face -not until you thanked his mother one last time before flurrying upstairs to freshen up.

Angelique felt her son’s mood shift, intuition leading her to ask him what was on his mind, "Something wrong?.."she mumbles calmly without ceasing in her task of cleaning.

Alastor remained silent for a long moment, watching as his mother moved on to pulling out ingredients to cook for dinner, and when she turned to face him entirely, he found the sense to speak.

"It's gettin' worse…" he confessed through a tight-lipped smile, leaning back against a wall to keep his composure, and she needed no other clues to figure out his cause for distress.

"The killing' or the magic?" She inquires, back to him, and but her voice laced with evident care.

"Both. It's getting to me..bad…more frequently.." he confesses.

Angelique hums in understanding, "Have you been hunting at all these past few weeks?.."

Alastor took his glasses off, breath coming out strained as his eyes shifted from their usual whiskey color to a redder hue.

"No. Not since…" he falters, gritting his teeth as his unruly spectral companion cut into his train of thought.

Not since you fucked her-

"I said shut the hell up…" Alastor seethed out loud, eyes screwing shut as his shadow danced onto the wall, yet his mother remained unphased by the sudden outburst.

She merely peered at the taunting shadow, causing it to cower back in her son's tall frame, "Go hunting while you're here. That'll take the edge off, but get that spirit in check before you do, or it won't end well. You hear me?"

Alastor nodded, rolling his neck to alleviate the tension in his body before recapturing his shadow and flashing his mother an understanding smile.

Her advice was final, a direct warning to him, and it garnered a welcomed sense of control over his frazzled behavior.

His smile lost its crazed edge, drawing into a polite smirk as he peered at her expectantly.

"Do you happen to have my old hunting gear lying around?.."

She turned towards the stove, not affected by his sudden personality switch by any means, and simply motioned a hand upstairs before answering him, "In your father's old study. Right where you left it, behind the bookshelf…."

Alastor perked up, grinning wide as the memory of his last hunting spree crossed his mind, "Merci, mother." He thanked her, walking over to kiss her cheek before exiting the homely kitchen while humming a new tune as he strode up the steps with newfound confidence.

Tonight, he'd look for prey…

How he'd satiate his shadow's pesky intrusions was a matter he'd have to solve later.

Although, if the way it constantly became hyperactive at the mere mention or sight of you had anything to do with it Alastor was certain you were the solution to the problem.

+++++

The visit with your father went as you expected it to go.

He welcomed you with open arms and a tender smile, but when he saw Alastor climbing the marble steps of your family’s estate, his cordial behavior waned.

“I see you’ve brought him along…” he made no effort to hide the distaste in his tone as Alastor reached your side.

“It’s a pleasure to see you again as well Mr, L/n…” Your husband remained polite as always, masking his hatred for the man with a practiced facade of kindness.

Alastor became more affectionate towards you in his presence, going so far as to kiss the top of your head and wrapping an arm around your waist protectively, making every effort to keep you close throughout the tense reunion.

Your father clearly did not take a liking to his indirect aggravations it at all…

Yet, he said nothing on the matter, cutting your visit short with the tired excuse of having an 'important engagement' he needed to attend to.

So, in under an hour of resisting your childhood home, you found yourself walking back through the secret trail you and Alastor had paved years ago to commute across, and with each step, you felt more at ease.

You weren't quick to anger, but your father's jabs towards Alastor never ceased to ruin your mood. Thankfully, your husband seemed more eclectic than when you'd arrived in the countryside, and that, in turn, brightened your previously somber spirits.

Alastor held your arm under his as the two of you trekked along the path, going over small hills, thin creeks, and finally through a line of forestry bordering his mother's home.

The sun was beginning to set as you entered the forest end of your journey. The warm summer wind becoming a bit chilly as it whipped through the large willow and evergreen trees. Alastor kept you close, better acquainted with the woods than you were, but not because he'd memorized the path from childhood.

No, his memory of it stemmed from the many bloody escapades he'd enjoyed there and intended to continue sooner rather than later…

All for a rush, for the flesh, for the undisputed thrill.

Even now he couldn't stop grinning, thinking about it, failing to dampen his excitement as he led you both through the darkening woods.

You glanced up at him, happy to see Alastor so content despite your awful encounter with your father, "I apologize for him… he's…" you paused, trying to find the right words to describe your father's behavior, but he beat you to it with a gentle laugh.

"A cynical old man who believes that I'm no good for you?"

His voice held an edge, but you took the comment as playful heat and not as a harmful insult the way Alastor intended it to sound.

You couldn’t blame him for feeling spiteful about the whole ordeal…

He had every right to be unnerved…

A tender sigh slipped past your lips, and you nodded in agreement as he glanced down at you, "A spot-on depiction…not a pretty one either.." Alastor chuckled, shaking his head dismissively as he reassured you he took no offense to your father's dislike of him.

Though it was somewhat justified.

"Don't you worry yourself about him, my dear. I have you, and he can do nothing about it…"

Not a fucking thing…

You peered up at Alastor, noting the unwavering smile on his face as he spoke, but the glare in his eyes said he felt anything but indifference about the situation.

That worried you…scared you a little…

"Al…" you whispered, halting in your tracks and causing him to do the same. Your brows furrowed as he lowered his head, his breaths becoming heavy as his hold on your arm grew harder, but not enough to harm you.

His smile only grew as you muttered again, "Alastor, …look at me…" your words as tender as ever as you turned on your heel to face him head-on.

Alastor's eyes twitched as you came close, flashing red when you cupped his face with both hands and dipped your head to gain proper eye contact with him.

Concern was written all over you face…

You tried to decipher Alastor’s expression, ignoring the chill running down your spine as his gaze hardened while the air around you grew stiffer by the second.

Was he angry?

It felt as if he were but something in his unwavering stare told you this emotion surpassed that, and you couldn't deny how intensely it radiated off him as he slowly tilted his head at you.

Possessiveness.

Pure, unbridled need for dominance.

Whether it was over you or his state of mind remained unclear as he took a step forward. You made no effort to back away, letting Alastor tower over you, and not once breaking eye contact with him.

“Alastor…you can tell me-“

The comforting words died on your tongue when he jerked you into his chest, large hands finding your wrists as the heated kiss he initiated silenced the surprised yelp that left your lips as they melded with his.

You eyes drifted shut as he deepened the exchange, gradually relenting your body control over to him as he guided your arms to wrap around his neck. Alastor shifted his hold on your wrists to trace down your sides, the ghost like touch sending a shock through you immediately.

He smiled at your skittish reaction, oddly calmer than he was a moment before as he dared to pull similar responses from you. His skilled tongue delved into you mouth, inviting yours to play along while he leveraged his larger frame against your smaller one. You obediently stepped back as he pressed forward, subtly flinching as your backside hit the bark of the nearest tree, yet the scratch of wood on your covered skin failed to bother you as the kiss became feverish.

Desperate…

Alastor was desperate for something…

For what you weren’t certain, unable to think straight when he had you pinned against a decaying evergreen, stealing your breath away with ease, only pulling away from your lips to catch his own breath.

You quietly panted for air as well, blood rushing to your head from the sound of his have breathing mixing with the distant chirps of crickets harmonizing alongside buzzing cicadas.

The wind seemed to lose its chill as it passed between the nonexistent space separating you both.

Alastor held you still in that moment, one hand at the back of your neck to keep your head raised towards his, and the other resting under your chin. His thumb traced over your now spit slick lips, brown eyes following the slight tremble in them as you continued to pant for air.

Oh, how he adored your eagerness to please him. Always so desperate for more of him and never quite aware of your own greediness for his undivided affection.

“What is there for me to tell you, ma chère…?” The words thundered in his chest, almost a low hum in the midst of the surrounding wilderness, but you heard him clear enough.

“How you truly feel….whats behind that smile you fight so hard to maintain.” You gulp down the anxiety trying to creep its way into your tone, inhaling sharply as he pushed a knee between your thighs, and your train of thought came to a halt feeling him put pressure on your thinly covered cunt.

You knew the gesture was a from of distraction on his part, an attempt to avert your attention from the uneasy shift in his mood, and though you wanted to push him back and demand he take your concerns seriously…

The building heat in your core advised otherwise, overriding your urge to coax an explanation from Alastor with the need to be filled by him instead, and the growing amount of stars in your eyes as he continued to toy with your body made it all the more obvious to him.

“I assure you I’m quite alright, darling“ Alastor remained true to his previous claim, smiling softly as your eyes lidded over while your hips tentatively began to rock over his thigh at a sluggish pace, and your hands unraveling from his neck to trail down his chest. The linen fabric of his shirt cooled your burning fingertips, keeping your focus clear enough for another hushed whisper to leave your lips, “Tellin’ me not lie to you but then turning around and doing it yourself…”

You paused, holding his gaze as your tongue darted out to lick at his thumb teasingly, “How is that fair, Alastor, hm?…” your voice remains quiet, the taste of his skin lingering on the tip of your tongue as the questions hangs in the air around you, and it seems to hit a nerve in him.

A flash of red illuminates his irises, smile stretching wide across his face at your seductive actions and reprimanding remarks, “Fair? Is that what you want from me, mon chere? A fair bit of truth?”

His shadow itched to enlarge, wanting nothing more than to show itself to you, and intake the delirious reaction you’d surely have to seeing its monstrous form.

Although, Alastor kept it at bay, settling with trailing the hand on your neck to tangle through your hair, tugging it just rough enough to earn a soft gasp from you, and that action alone hard your inside twisting with anticipation.

You knew he’d never harm you, never lift a finger to imply harsh treatment, but the thrill of finally experiencing a hidden side of your husbands persona had your heart racing and your cunt throbbing.

“Yes…” you whimper compliantly, hands fisting the collar of his dress shirt to tug him closer, and Alastor growled at the aggressive action.

“Careful what you ask for, sweet girl…” he warns you through gritted teeth, tempted to kiss you again as an airy giggle leaps from your mouth, “And what if I refuse to be?”

Fuck, I need her…we need her…

His shadow twitched, writhing in the waning light of the sun at your taunting, and embodying every ounce of excitement the man before you struggled to contain as the heat of your cunt gliding over his thigh persisted with every gentle buck of your hips against him.

Alastor felt his blood run hot as you pried at his self control, the corner of your lips pulling up into a knowing smile as he stared at you hungrily, and not a single drop of apprehension present in your gaze as he lowered his head to whisper in your ear.

“Then I suppose I’m left with no other choice than to remind you what happens to curious little cats, my dear…”

xxxxx xxxxx xxxxxx xxxxxx xxxxx xxxx xxx

Idk if I hate or love this chapter…like I’m so used to writing smut that writing angst or fluff feels so dreadful to me. Plus, you guys liked the first part so much I didn’t want to fuck this up…I promise the next part is pure smut and gore lol. This was essentially a filler part (I’m sorry)… ❤️ also did you guys catch the Princess and the Frog reference I threw in?!? If you did then I freakin adore you hehehe ❤️

[ BONUS CONTENT + ]

I’d cry, scream, fucking beg for this man…it’s fucking ridiculous how much I love him tbhhhh ❤️ credit to creator

[mochinomnoms]

For the Shrimper Chronicles: what about Azul realizing he’s in love with the shrimpy, and even realizing he probably has loved Jade and Floyd for a long time?

Doesn’t have to be a written thing, but I just think the idea of him having that realization would be cute—

Him realizing he doesn’t want to leave on his visits. Him realizing he misses Jade and Floyd. And he’s such an emotionally constipated dude, he probably tries to choke the idea out of existence. Maybe he gets a bit snippy or tries to bury himself in work and be distant. Though I think the twins would start to notice his change in behavior.

Maybe when he gets more comfortable, giving cute little courtship “test” trinkets to get a feel for it.

I wonder if there’d be a hierarchy to who he gives trinkets to first? Like, when courting an established poly, does he approach the shrimpy or the eels first? I feel like he’d probably spend a lot of time thinking on that.

TLDR: adorably overthinking octopus has a crisis on whether to/how to court a poly of his dear friends lol.

-👹🎏 (Devil Fish Anon?)

For me personally, I feel that the octopolycule would have had to already started with the twins and Azul during NRC in order for it to work. It feels like a more natural progression of their relationship from “business” associates to friends to lovers, which I can't really see happening when they get older. If you add in the relationship with Shrimpy, I feel like there's even less of a chance of it happening.

It's not impossible, though! I can see the polycule still happening later on if it was a case of the tweels and Azul knowing they liked each other deep down, but seeing Azul's childhood effected his sense of self-worth and ability to really get close to others, nothing ever happens.

When you come into the picture and get closer and closer to the three of them, that same issue happens again. Azul probably feels a bit of an ache in his heart when the three of you get together, but he'd never admit it.

The ache is worse because the three of you seem insistent on making him a cornerstone of your lives, he's at your home more than he is at his own! Forced to be a giant pillow for you three, as Floyd in particular giggles about how soft and squishy he is. Floyd has always been like that, though, even though Azul doesn't want to admit that the nuzzling is new.

Jade, despite his parents' insistence on taking more charge in the family business, still acts his right-hand man, often staying late with Azul at his restaurants. He's always ensuring Azul eats well…extraordinarily well…based on the complicated and filling meals he makes. Azul doesn't want to put more meaning into it, caecilians might court via food, but morays don't…mostly anyways.

You seem particularly insistent on involving him with your little ones' lives, much more than any uncle should be. He doesn't want to mistake the adoring look in your eye as he cradles one of the fries in his arms. The worst part is that he can't bring himself to argue against it when he starts being called 'Baba Zuzu', it's so cute, so sweet, and he just wants to pretend that the kids are his too when you curl into his side with the fries in his arms.

He is just ever so slightly emotionally stunted, and as smart as he is, he also is an Olympic Pro at mental gymnastics. My favorite way of the polycule becoming official is when Azul is laying in bed with all three of them, you in his arms, Floyd practically splayed over him and you on the left side, and Jade tangling his tail with Azul's tentacles as he rests his chin on the top of his head. And let's not forget the kids curled with each other on top of his chest.

It takes a moment, just as Azul is falling into a blissful sleep, cradled against his family, when the 'his' part of that sentence hits. His eyes snap open, as he realizes.

"Wait a second..."

[natashaslesbian]

For You

Summary: You’ve been going through a rough patch with your moms for a while, after a big argument you finally tell them how you feel.

Word Count: 1.2k

Parings: (Wandanat x Daughter!Reader)

Warnings: none I believe :)

————

The walls shook as you slammed your bedroom door shut, the tell tale sign of another fight with your moms. Most teenagers have arguments with their parents, who usually have high expectations of them. But being the daughter of the Black Widow and the Scarlett Witch meant that your expectations were set much higher. Growing up your moms were your best friends, you spent every second with them, it was the three of you against the world. You had a magical childhood and all your school friends were jealous of your home life, however after your 13th birthday Natasha and Wanda decided that it was time for you to start training alongside Peter. It was nothing extreme, a few hours a week in the gym and some basic self defence. As Peter progressed you soon fell behind, not only disappointing your teammates but also your mothers.

You let out a sigh as you slumped down onto your bed, rolling over to face the wall incase of any unwelcome visitors. You replayed the row in your head, Natasha’s words loud and clear in your mind. “Why can’t you be more like Peter, he’s doing so well, he puts so much work into his training, he’s not lazy like you!” She had shouted across the room. That was your final straw. If only they knew the effort you held within you, they just didn’t care about it as it had nothing to do with being an avenger. As a kid you loved to draw and paint, and as you got older it became a favourite hobby. At first your moms would take your cute little drawings and put them around the compound to be admired but as they transitioned back into work and long missions they didn’t really have the time to appreciate your art anymore and very quickly they forgot about your favourite activity.

A knock at the door arrived as another tear slipped down your cheek. “Go away” you huffed. Shortly after came a gentle click of your door. “Who said you could come in?” You asked. Your mom didn’t say anything just yet, she simply walked over to your bed and took a seat next to you. “Y/n” Wanda said “I- I’m sorry. I hate when we fight kiddo” she said as she reached for your hair. “Mama started it” you replied as you pushed away her touch. “Baby mama didn’t mean what she said. We had words after you left and she knows she was wrong, she’s gone for a walk to calm down” your mom said as she shuffled closer. “And I know that I was wrong too” she said, causing you to look up at her. “I shouldn’t have shouted like I did” Wanda said with a hint of guilt in her eyes. Your mom never usually shouted at you, she was normally the calm one although still echoing everything your mama was saying.

Wanda’s vulnerability made you think for a moment. You had always hidden how you truly felt, putting on a tough act so you didn’t disappoint your moms even further. When Wanda had come to see you, you were prepared for round two with her. But the delicacy she had entered the room with caused something in you to shift. “Why am I not good enough for you and mama?” You cried out, the sight breaking Wanda’s heart. “Baby don’t say that!” Your mom cooed as she pulled you up into her embrace “you are good enough for us darling” she said. “You just want me to be like Peter” you sobbed “you’d rather him be your kid” you tried to push away from Wanda’s hold, but she tightened her grip around you, “we don’t think that y/n” she said. “I know I’m not as good as him at combat and weapons and stuff but I am good at other things! Why can’t you see that? I’m trying so hard to make you proud of me but nothing I ever do is good enough!” You cried.

Without realising, a second pair of arms had been wrapped around you, a steady hand was trailing through your hair. “Mama?” You mumbled as you looked up to see her green eyes. “I’m never gonna be good enough for you am I?” You said as you melted into her arms. Natasha had been stood outside your room for a few minuets listing to yours and Wanda’s conversation. She felt so guilty when she heard what you said and came running to your side, crying along with you. “Oh my little spider, look at me” Nat said as she cupped your cheeks, bringing your gaze towards her. “I promise you’re enough baby girl, I’m so sorry I made you feel like you weren’t. Your mom and I are so proud of you but we’ve been blinded by our own want for you to become an agent. But it’s not what you want is it?” She asked. You looked at her confused for a moment, finally starting to calm down again. “Your artwork” Natasha whispered.

“Mama you remembered?” You asked. “Of course we did sweetie” Natasha said “baby you’re a fantastic little artist we loved when you used to bring us all your drawings” Wanda said as she brushed your hair back from your face. “But I thought you didn’t care anymore, you just wanted me to focus on being an avenger” you cried “you never had any time for me” you mumbled as you laid in your moms arms. “You’re right baby girl and mama and I are so sorry” Wanda said as she kissed your forehead. “Y/n being an agent and an anger is all your mom and I have ever known” Natasha said “we’ve not put being mothers first and we know that now. We thought we were putting you first by pushing you into training but we weren’t and we are so sorry” she finished. You sat up so both your moms could see you, you took a deep breath as you prepared to tell them the truth “mom, mama” you whispered “I don’t wanna be an avenger” you cried out “I’m sorry” your moms both scooped you up immediately, both now crying with you.

“We know that now sweetie” Wanda calmly said “you don’t have to be sorry” she said. “I don’t wanna disappoint you” you mumbled as you wiped your nose “dekta you could never disappoint us” Natasha said “this is your life and you’re old enough now to decide how you want to live it, all we want is for you to be happy” your mama said. It was like a breath of fresh air had hit your bedroom, everything you had wanted to say was finally out in the open. “I think I know what I wanna do” you said looking up at your moms “what is it darling?” Wanda asked “after I finish school, I wanna go to college, to study art. Is that ok?” You sheepishly asked. “Oh y/n of course it is” Natasha said “it might be expensive though” you frowned “well that’s what uncle Tony is for” Your mama giggled “and besides we’ve got some money put away from you, it’s plenty enough to get you where you need to be” Wanda said “really?” You asked, trying hard to hide your excitement. “Really baby” Natasha said “whatever you need, we’ll sort, we’re your moms and that’s our job” Wanda said as she ran her hand under your chin. “I love you mom” you said to Wanda “I love you mama” you said to Natasha.

————

Taglist<3

@saraaahsstuff / @dannipotatoo / @tobiaslut / @a-simpfortessa-lesbriean / @marvelnatasha12346 / @yelenasdiary / @mousetheorist / @ashadash0904

[ylangelegy]

montage of love ꩜ seungmin x reader.

── .✦ 💌 reader uses she/her pronouns. includes: idol!ksm, feelings realization, [childhood] friends to lovers, freeform, time skips, fluff, light angst.

── .✦ 🚏 self-indulgent and prose-heavy with a reference to Twenty-Five Twenty-One! originally posted on ao3.

── .✦ 📟 wc: 1,600+

Seungmin’s poorly concealed indifference towards her is probably the biggest tell of his affections.

She’s known him for so long, after all, growing up in the same Gangnam neighborhood. Their mothers stayed in touch, too, so Seungmin knows all about the course she’s taking up at university and the sporting competitions she’s winning first place in. 

Had things been any different, Seungmin is sure he would have been urged to pursue her. As a teenager, the thought would have repulsed him. Now that he’s a bit older, he’d be lying if he said the thought didn’t cross his mind at least once.

Maybe a couple of times. 

Maybe every single time he got to go home, really, because there she always was. A few houses down, their basement converted into a flower shop.

He wishes sometimes that it wasn’t flowers, because he sees flowers everywhere, which means she haunts him even when he’s miles and miles away. 

They don’t keep in touch online. They only ever see each other when his mother sends him out to buy a fresh bouquet for the living room vase.

Never mind that Seungmin comes home hours late, his face flushed and his answers curt. She always gives him the prettiest arrangements to make up for their rendezvouses.

(And, secretly, their mothers are still hopeful.)

But there was no romance in their meetings. Not the first dozen, anyway.

She would close up shop for an hour or two so they could visit a nearby convenience store or some obscure cafe. And when the group’s popularity began to pick up, Seungmin didn’t have to say anything. Their walks began to veer into quieter neighborhoods, more secluded spots. 

He doesn’t want to love her. He doesn’t have time for any of that, anyway.

But when she mentions offhandedly that a classmate flirted with her, Seungmin flexes his hand unconsciously. He feels the sudden urge to swing a bat at something.

And when she says it didn’t work out, Seungmin is embarrassingly relieved. 

She notices, laughs, reaches out for his hand. He doesn’t move away.

So Seungmin cares for her. He lets himself admit that much.

None of the boys know for the longest time, but he lets slip in front of Minho and Felix and Jeongin one day that he’s going back to Samseong-dong for the night because it’s his 여자친구’s birthday. 

Girlfriend. They all balk, even Seungmin. His what? 

Seungmin doesn’t bother to correct himself. He leaves his roommates in a general state of confusion and spends the night with her in her flower shop, eating take-out on the floor and talking about his latest trip overseas.

He contemplates, then, asking her what they are. But Seungmin has never been the type to rock the boat. Not when something is still good. 

They spend most of their time together in her shop. Rarely anyone who knows him stops by. It’s always an old man, an apologetic husband, a clueless boyfriend.

He asks her, one night, which flower she likes the most, and she simply says, “All of them.”

So he watches a couple of YouTube videos and arranges a bouquet with a little bit of everything. She tells him to stop wasting her resources but keeps the arrangement in the back room until they wilt. 

Though the boys ask, Seungmin never dignifies their questions with a response. They stop prying when they realize he’s not about to crack. They follow the breadcrumb trail instead, the traces of her that are difficult to avoid. 

Passport photos that Seungmin keeps at the bedside table of every hotel. Pictures he never posts but sends to someone, not the fan Bubble or the like.

And when they’re back home, he’s always hitting the ground running. The typically put together, restrained Kim Seungmin has started rushing, speed walking “home” after extended trips abroad. 

One day, his roommates look out their window and spot who he’s running towards.

Seungmin is in love with her, he eventually concedes. Big deal, he thinks.

He doesn’t really realize just how much it matters until he tells her offhand I think I might be in love with you and she freezes. Then laughs. She laughs and laughs and laughs, and he leaves the shop that night with the tips of his ears red.

They don’t talk for a week. Chan even pulls him aside at one point, concerned because all his recordings are too sad, too angry. 

She meets Seungmin at his dorm one evening and apologizes about her reaction. She was trying to act cool, she admits. And then she says, I think I might be in love with you, too.

Seungmin wants to laugh coldly, wants to get back at her, but there’s something so earnest in her confession that he knows she means it. 

Their first day as a couple goes by without much fanfare. Slowly but surely, she becomes more known to him. When he introduces her, formally and finally, to the boys, they are all shocked at the Kim Seungmin he becomes without him even noticing. 

He keeps an envious, watchful eye on all the members. There is always some form of connection between them; their knees touching, his arm around her shoulders, his fingers twisting a strand of her hair.

When she speaks, he nods in all the right places. “Call me when you get home,” he tells her as she leaves, and she rolls her eyes like it’s something he’s said a thousand times before. 

Seungmin dismisses the boys’ jokes about it. He has no idea, it seems, just how unfathomable his love is to others. And is that not the best kind? His affection is almost intrinsic, instinctual.

To him, loving her was as practical as breathing. 

“Did you ever really love me?” she asks bitingly during a particularly nasty row. The details are hazy, now, about what had them bringing out their claws and spewing venom.

It could have been Seungmin’s jealousy. It could have been her aloofness.

Nothing justified her question.

Seungmin recoils like she’d hit him. He stares at her, hard and angry. “Watch what you say,” he hisses, his voice impossibly tight and his eyes deceptively dry.

She has her lips pursed and her arms crossed. She’s poised and raring to fight, and waiting for the right answer. But Seungmin is stubborn, and tired, and what kind of question was that? 

There’s no way she could have known, or even seen, the way that Seungmin looked at her. The devotion in his expression. Oh, he practically worshiped the ground she walked on.

And here she was, questioning that. How dare she, Seungmin thought. 

What do I have to do? he wanted to ask. Do you want me to yell your name off rooftops? Give everything in my life up to prove it? Say the word. Say the word and I’ll show you just how much I love you. 

He says none of that. Instead, he does what he does best: He watches her leave. He watches her retreating back, watches the light blink out from the window of her room, watches their KakaoTalk conversation receive no updates for yet another grueling week.

He doesn’t even find out that she’s fallen ill from her. It’s his mother who tells him in a conspiring whisper. 

He shoulders into her room despite her protests and treats her until he’s coughing and sneezing, too. They switch roles.

“Is this enough proof?” he asks one night, delirious and drugged. Then, for the first time, with his whole chest, he says: “I love you.” 

She strokes his forehead with a damp handkerchief. Her eyes are dry but they shine, twinkle, and quietly, dozens of times over, she says it back. 

They’re able to keep it a secret for four years. Even the most harsh of critics begrudgingly have to hand it to them. What phenomenal discipline! What utmost consideration! Why did she never demand, never ask to have a bigger share of his life?

The short answer: She was happy. She didn’t need the whole world to know that she was the idol’s muse. She was content to watch his stages and know that he would be coming home to her for the weekend. 

Right before he enters military service, he releases a SKZ-Player. 사랑의 몽타주. Montage of love. And its hers, wholly hers, referencing their relationship, promising a safe return.

Fans think its about them. She knows who it’s really for. 

And when the 21 months of service is over, Seungmin is a bit of a changed man. Enough to stand before the higher-ups of JYP Entertainment, and then his adoring fans, to tell them all that he is in love. He has been for quite some time now. And there’s nothing he wants to do more than to keep making music, and be in love with that one person, if they’d all still have him. He asks, too, for his privacy to be respected. 

People do, for the most part, but she’s still found out.

Her flower shop booms in popularity. Old classmates from uni blow up her inbox. She waits for Seungmin to come home to her after his surprise pronouncement and can’t decide if she’s going to hug or slap him.

He gives her the long answer: He’s tired of hiding. He doesn’t care what might happen to his career. And the boys, he ran it through them, and they all think the same. 

If you love someone, why hide it? If you love someone, let it be known.

Seungmin takes her hand. “Let’s go out,” he urges.

It’s late in afternoon. Most of their dates have been snatched up moments; evenings in parking lots, backstage in dressing rooms. 

But the day is warm and promising, and the flowers are in full bloom. And Seungmin is looking at her, expectant and hopeful, his hand trembling ever so slightly.

And she can’t say no.

She squeezes his hand. “Let’s go out,” she repeats. 

He smiles, then. Indifference be damned.

They walk out of the store and the flowers lean towards them like they're somehow brighter than the noonday sun. 

[silaslich]

Words that melt in your mouth

Simon “Ghost” Riley x afab!reader

Wc - 2k

Summary - Simon is finally home, you show him how that makes you feel.

Cw - 18+, smut

He looks different every time you see him.

Perhaps not literally, but you’ve always seen through the mask. Both real and metaphorical; it’s as if another layer of him is stripped away with each passing footstep through the pools of blood coagulating in the sand and across the broken slabs of concrete that are left in his wake. The splintered buildings crumble and the structures give way around him, yet he never quickens his pace, as if he welcomes it - almost like he’s waiting for it.

“Deserve it” he’d grumble to you, mumbled against your throat when you question a fresh scar or open gash, because his voice is more often than not a grumble or laced with a somber tone that totally contradicts what he might actually be saying.

You’ve learnt to live with that. The self depreciation that comes along with Simon Riley. You’d learnt to live with what little value he puts on his own life and happiness for the sake of feeling like he brought this on himself. He won’t ever change - no. He was made this way, further moulded by the death and destruction he brings with him when he flies over seas and straps a gun to his chest.

He doesn’t talk about it, not much, you never dare to ask. It’s one of those things you don’t talk about, biting your tongue till you taste copper out of morbid curiosity because it’s a basic human reaction when it comes to the life he leads.

Of course you ponder what killing someone is like, doesn’t everyone?

They’re lying if they say no. It’s human. It’s instinct, long ago maybe, but instinct. Fight or flight. Predetermined to be overcome by the adrenaline or fear, so much so it’s often the urge to fight that outweighs the instinct to flee.

If given a chance, a free pass; you’d ask him about all of it.

The bloodshed and the bullets, what it’s like to bury a knife so deep into someones throat that your knuckles meet the thick corded tendons that hold their oesophagus together.

What does death smell like, exactly?

How is it that you make the split second decision on ending someone’s life or letting them live?

The foggy skies filled with rifle smoke and looming rain clouds, washing away the blood splattered stains on the sandstone and what’s left of the men, women and children killed in the line of duty.

Part of you thinks he’d tell you, he’d tell you too much, make you regret asking.

He carries that weight in a way he shouldn’t, but how can’t he? It’s like a chain-link mass of lead attached to his ankle, dragged with him wherever he goes, the clank of metal resonating in his ears as the weight almost pulls him under - soon enough he’ll sink.

That’s why he looks different.

It’s not the scars that tally up with each visit or the way his lungs rasp with the tacky sickness of tobacco hindering them that have caused him to change. Nor the length of his hair, wether it’s newly cropped or he’s let it grow a bit longer, it’s not even the sadness in his eyes that he tries to hide as anger or as lacking any emotion at all.

It’s the way he carries the weight of the world on his shoulders. His guilt and his sadness; an ugly creature with jagged teeth and weathered skin, a stench of booze emanating from its skin when it hisses his name in his ear. Hissing like the snakes in his childhood, tormenting him in his bed, when the image of his guilt and resentment build themselves into a tangible image -

He’s that little boy again. Too small to stand up for himself and his mother, too weak to open his mouth and say what he thinks, and too much of hopeless dreamer to pray to god that things will get better. They didn’t. He cared too much back then, now he doesn’t care at all.

It stings, somewhat, knowing he’s not fighting to come back, but at the end of it all - you don’t think you can blame him.

He’s sitting on the sofa, a book in hand, flipping mindlessly through the pages. You linger in the doorway, drinking him in for a second, he sits in his own blanket of silence. You assume he enjoys the quiet, he’s drowned in too much noise for months at a time, it must be a nice feeling to leave it all behind. If only for a few days.

You make your way over to him, he spares you a glance, watching you come close. “Alright darlin’?” His voice is low, it rumbles in his chest when he speaks, it makes your stomach flip. Even now, after so much time has passed you both by, the novelty never wears off. “Much better with you home” you push his hand down, the one holding the book, climbing over his knees and setting yourself astride his thighs. You feel the muscles in his legs tense beneath you, so sturdy, solid.

The book is discarded, tossed aside, all the focus is on you. He tilts his head, the light catches the scars littering his face, the one that cuts through his right eyelid and the one that drives down through his lips at a sharp angle are the most prominent, you tell him that they add character- he disagrees.

“That so?” He asks with a raised brow, you nod profusely, “indeed” you purse your lips “all the other fellas that come over aren’t nearly as fun as you” he pinches the slight flesh over your waistband and you squeal, he doesn’t let up. “You’re a cheeky fucker” he smiles, slightly toothy, he dips his chin when he smiles out of instinct and you wish he wouldn’t.

You cup his face in your hands, mapping out his features, the notch at the bridge of his nose from multiple bad breaks and the speckles of honey that litter the deep walnut-brown of his eyes, everything’s perfect to you. “You’re so pretty Simon” you huff, “it’s unfair” you jut out your lip and he pinches at your flesh again, “don’t start” he groans and you lean forward to bury your face in his neck, drawing him in. You wish you could fold him up really small and put him in your pocket, a keepsake, treasured forever. As long as you remember to take him out before you stick the clothes in the washer.

He searches your eyes, there’s that vulnerability that sticks there, disguised as so many other things, but nothing gets past you, not when it comes to him. You lean forward and press your lips to his, a tender peck. “So so unfair” you say between kisses, dotting them over his face, over his scars and freckles. He groans again in annoyance and his fingers root deeper into your flesh, one big hand on your thigh while the others at the small of your back. He’s had enough, “come ‘ere” he meets you half way, back straightened as one hand moves to cup your jaw, he kisses you in that tender way that makes your bones melt into nothingness.

Simon’s efforts are never halfhearted, he starts as he means to go on, that cruel tongue and those plush lips, a deadly combination. It’s never innocent, he kisses you with intent, with meaning and passion and you can never deny him. You’d be denying yourself, still after all this time you never get tired of this, of him and his ways.

You roll your hips forward, teasing, testing. Simon moans into your mouth. Unabashed, all for your ears to hear, he doesn’t hide it from you. His hand cups your throat, thumb stroking over your neck, tenderly. Your fingers root into his clothes, warping the fabric you’re sure, you need him closer. “Fuck” he rasps, the word travels from his lips to yours, right down to your core, dropping lower. He’s hard, it’s a given, doesn’t take him much when it comes to you, it’s an issue at this point - the two of you had to return home from food shopping the other day because you made an indirect innuendo about the uses for whipped cream and he couldn’t pick his mind up out of the gutter.

It’s not as if it’s still the honeymoon phase, so much time has passed and yet you’re still both horny at the drop of a hat.

You smile against his lips, catching his bottom lip with your teeth. “Can’t wait Simon”, he growls something low in his throat. You both fumble with zippers and pants, shoving layers out of the way, as quick as possible.

It’s a sensation you hope you’ll never have to forget when he pushes home, rooted deep inside you, his cock slicked in his own spit where he wasted only a second to ensure it didn’t sting too much. It’s always too much, there’s so much of him, but you wouldn’t ever change a thing. You gasp, rocking forward as Simon hisses, bruising your flesh in his grip, it’s always so good.

“Fuckin hell” he groans, tilting his head back till the cords of his throat bunch beneath his skin, straining. You preen, “it’s so good Simon” your voice carries off, rolling your hips to a rhythm as he guides you by the thighs. It’s gotten so hot, your brow is sweating and your skin is clammy, you don’t want to rush but you need this so badly. “Wanna cum Si” you moan, leaning forward as you brace your palms on his stomach, he nods. “Yeah? Wanna cum for me love? Gonna cum all over my cock?” he smirks, eyes black as a shark, a predator - you nod like a maniac.

Your skin all but shreds itself to pieces when he brings his hand between your bodies, his touch is like electric, sending sparks right to your nervous system. He knows just how to get you going, just how to bring your to the edge and let you teeter there for as long as he sees fit - today? He’s not playing games. “Oh god” you pant, throwing your head back, digging your nails into his shirt to keep yourself upright. “Right there, that it love?” He asks, tone dripping in sex, “yes- yes!” You gasp. He hums, watching as he pleasures you, his lids are low as he watches his own show. You moan, “I’m so close-god” you groan, you’re so nearly there.

His hips rise to meet your rhythm, fucking up into you, pressing deep - it’s heaven. He’s panting, “m’close love” he grunts, lids low as he focuses on where the two of you meet. You arch your hips and it’s enough to topple you both, the way you squeeze his cock as you cum sends him over the edge just after you and the sounds he makes will forever be engrained in your memory.

You’re both heaving, catching your breath, slicked in sweat as your clothes stick to your skin uncomfortably- no time to even remove them. He leans forward again and catches your lips sweetly, big soft Simon Riley, kissing you gently after fucking on his sofa, what a good day.

[multimousenette]

bkdkbk longfic recs

for @miss-multifandom-mess, who wanted fics that are:

Long & completed ☑️

Good balance of genres: angst, comedy, romance, the package deal

Accurate bakudeku (as a pair and individually)

Great dynamic 👍

Izuku is not ‘feminized’ or made uwu

I'll give title (linked to the fic) & author, word count, rating, dynamic if relevant*, content warnings, major tags and a synopsis.

I'll also put them in the following categories:

Canon compliant: this does not disagree with canon in any way (eg. character study of Kacchan during dark hero arc, anything during the 8 year time skip that has Kacchan saving up/Deku teaching)

Canon consistent: yeah that could more or less be canon (eg future pro heroes especially where deku keeps OFA)

Canon divergent: something during canon actively changes, but the world is the same (eg. becoming friends in middle school, one of them is on a different course, pro heroes but my gut says it's too far away to be really canon consistent)

Canon adjacent: feels like canon except for one Major Thing (eg. omegaverse, (non-quirk related) hanahaki but still heroes)

Alternate Universe (AU): completely different universe (eg fantasy, sci-fi, or no quirks)

*it ended up being mostly either bkdkbk (ie switching) or dkbk -- I've highlighted these red just in case, but I've included them cos people tend to use bkdk for the ship generally if they don't have a preference, and I couldn't see anything saying you were fixed bkdk on your acc

... and I'll put them below the cut cos this is already so long oh my god

In order of word count (high -> low):

I Will Find You by Purple_Insomniac (174k, T, canon consistent)

CW: Alt universe character death

Major tags: Parallel universes, angst w a happy ending.

Deku disappears in the middle of a rescue mission. Turns out, thanks to some OFA weirdness, the person who sent Izuku into an alternate universe… doesn’t know which one he’s in. Somehow, Izuku and Katsuki can speak in the OFA Vestige Realm, but it’s still a total nightmare trying to find which universe Izuku’s in — let alone bringing him home.

For it is Something That We Lost by TheGraveyardChild (160k, E, top Deku, canon divergent)

CW: past domestic abuse, past child abuse.

Major tags: Kidfic, angst with a happy ending.

Number four pro hero Dynamight returns to his hometown, but — to (number five pro hero) Deku’s surprise — he’s kind of flaky now. Turns out, this is because he has a daughter, and they’ve only just escaped his abusive ex. Slowly, Katsuki and Deku grow close again, but everything’s complicated when they start work on a child kidnapping/trafficking case — especially when Katsuki’s daughter is caught up in it.

Halfway to the Moon (But the Sun is So Bright) by Catsired (105k, T, canon divergent)

CW: Graphic depictions of abuse and self harm; depressed & suicidal Izuku; physically, financially, emotionally and verbally abusive Hisashi; bullying; mild homophobia.

Major tags: Middle School AU, Slow burn, hurt/comfort, angst with a happy ending.

Izuku has a lot on his plate. It’s his final year of middle school and between his training with All Might, the part time job he’s picked up to help his mum with bills, and Kacchan… being Kacchan, he’s about ready to drop. And then his dad comes home, and his mum is so happy he can’t bear to tell her that Hisashi hits him. Meanwhile, Katsuki notices there’s something up with Shitty Deku and somehow decides it’s his responsibility to fix it. And maybe, as they grow closer, he finds that doesn’t hate Deku so much anymore. Maybe he never really did.

Surprise Reunions and Childhood Rekindlings by ladyofsnails (90k, G, AU)

Major tags: Slice of life, no quirks AU, uni/college AU, mutual pining, FLUFF.

Izuku and Katsuki haven’t seen each other in five years, but it turns out their friends are friends — and incredibly shocked (and concerned) when the first thing Katsuki and Izuku do upon meeting is start roughhousing. The two of them fall straight back into their chaotic childhood dynamic… and in love. Obviously.

After All We’ve Been Through (You get turned into a fucking rabbit) by TigerLilies64 (88k, E, switching, canon consistent).

Major tags: crack treated seriously, fluff, hurt/comfort.

Pro hero Deku gets hit by a quirk that turns him into a rabbit hybrid. To make matters worse, he shapeshifts into an actual rabbit when his heart rate gets too high. Kacchan... helps. 

Tidal Hearts by macksmilesback and SamIsNotLegend (83k, T, AU) 

Major tags: h2o just add water/early 2000s mermaid AU, high school drama, mild angst, fluff.

Izuku and Katsuki were best friends as kids, but that all changes after they nearly drown while swimming in the ocean and Inko moves her and Izuku away. Years later, they reunite, and after Katsuki saves Izuku from a nasty hazing prank, end up… growing a tail any time they get wet. Well, that’s one way to spend their senior year of high school!

The Spell in Her Name by MerryWeatherWeather (62k, E, top Katsuki, canon divergent)

CW: Past OC teacher/student relationship, past minor character death, past child abandonment.

Major tags: kidfic, domestic fluff, mutual pining, angst. 

Pro hero Katsuki returns from working in the US and due to some complications, has nowhere to live, so pitches up at Deku’s house — and is shocked to discover that Deku has a child. Turns out, she was abandoned on his doorstep as a baby, and he took her in. When her mother initiates a public custody battle, Deku will do anything to keep his daughter — and Kacchan will do anything to help.

just for your love (I’ll give you the world) by thwnderpoint (52k, E, top deku, canon consistent)

Major tags: idiots to lovers, (light) angst with a happy ending, mutual pining.

Katsuki confesses to Izuku, and Izuku doesn’t want Kacchan to suffer or feel like he has to hold back his feelings. So he tells him not to. Kacchan takes this offer and runs with it. Izuku quickly realises that while he hadn’t considered Kacchan as a romantic option, he is in fact absolutely in love with him… but Kacchan thinks Izuku deserves better than him. Izuku, of course, can’t let that stand. And now they’re engaged in some sort of psychological flirt-off, much to the dismay of everyone around them.

Photo Op by whitetail (50k, M, top deku, canon adjacent)

CW: transphobia, gender dysphoria

Note: I LOVE the characterisation of Deku, he’s an absolute disaster, but I can see that it might be love it or hate it as the author does exaggerate his social issues a lot. This Deku is explicitly, intentionally autistic and it's a close third person POV so we're very much in his head... which is kind of a mess.

Major tags: trans izuku, autistic izuku, massive simp kacchan, comedy of errors, miscommunication, light angst.

Pro hero Deku has PR crisis after PR crisis and now the whole world knows about his Dynamight thirst blog and he’s newly insecure about his bottom surgery. And for some reason, Kacchan won’t stop asking him (him!!) to join him for a photoshoot, as if Deku’s stupid ugly face won’t ruin everything again. Still, he can’t say no to Kacchan… 

In Another Life by hollyandvice (44k, M, canon consistent)

Major tags: Parallel universes, grief/mourning, angst with a happy ending.

While fighting a villain, Kacchan disappears. Turns out, the villain has a parallel universe swapping quirk, and he was aiming to swap number one hero Deku for a quirkless civilian. Except, the only world the villain could find where Deku isn’t a hero is one where Kacchan is dead — so when Katsuki took the blow, no one swapped with him, and now no one knows how to get him back. Meanwhile, Katsuki discovers a dystopian world where half his friends are dead or injured — not to mention this world’s Deku, who is all sorts of broken up over meeting an adult Kacchan. Will he be able to fix the problems with this world before he gets home? And which world will he choose to stay in?

last days of war by antisora (44k, M, AU)

Major tags: Pacific Rim AU, Sci-Fi/Dystopian, angst with a happy ending, hurt/comfort, misunderstandings.

Note: I've never watched pacific rim and had no issues with understanding what was going on. Author said there were lots of references, but you don't need existing knowledge to enjoy this.

All Izuku’s ever wanted is to save the world with his best friend… but his life doesn’t seem to be headed in that direction, especially when he doesn’t make it through the physical entrance exam for the best Jaeger pilot training school, UA. But after seeing him ace a Kaiju simulation, the world’s greatest ranger, All Might, intervenes, and Izuku is able to enrol at UA after all. Unsurprisingly, Kacchan’s there too — and their drift compatibility is through the roof. Much to Izuku’s dismay, even piloting a Jaeger together isn’t enough to regain their close friendship as children. Will almost dying (twice) be enough for them to finally be truly honest with each other?

The Time Between Our Lives by Fitzrovia (36k (56k inc. sequels), E, switching, canon divergent and AU)

Major tags: Hurt/comfort, angst w a happy ending.

Deku and Kacchan are sent back in time by a villain’s quirk and end up in an abandoned temple, quirkless. In order to escape — and return to their old lives — they must rake the gravel in the garden into a design that shows the beauty of all life. It takes a very, very long time.

Spacewalk by SamIsNotLegend (35k, M, AU)

CW: Major character death

Major tags: Sci-Fi/Horror, angst w a happy ending, grief/mourning.

Astronauts Izuku and Katsuki are set to co-lead the first manned mission to Jupiter… but a year and a half before launch, Izuku is hit by a car and dies. Katsuki has to lead the mission — their mission — alone, and sure enough, everything goes wrong. And keeps going wrong… until it starts going right. 

and a bonus totally-not-a-longfic-but-it-slaps:

Vertigo by Cyhyr (15k, T, canon adjacent)

Major tags: hanahaki, angst with a happy ending.

Pro hero Deku has hanahaki. He makes a plan to run away and just... die (when it gets too severe to keep working), but he didn’t account for Kacchan. 

[leqonsluv3r]

funeral

—your boyfriend leon supports you after you start your new job, a drabble

masterlist taglist

an: this is so self indulgent because i just started my new job. i needed to write this though, to get it out of my system and to stay somewhat active. imagine whatever leon you desire, used re2 for aesthetic purposes <33

you were tired.

so very tired after your first day. you just wanted to crawl under the sheets and let your cramping legs wither away.

you kept running through the day with images encompassing your mind, like snapshots of the day passing through a slideshow. you had been up since 5:30 am, it was now 4:30 pm and you had just gotten home from your shift.

you were beat, worn out and just wanted to wither underneath the sheets. to just relax and not move a singular muscle. even reading, your favorite pastime, sounded tedious and the idea made your head throb.

serving senior citizens, the breakfast and lunch shift. it was rewarding but grueling, so tiring and your back ached. the coworker that you shadowed just smiled, saying; “you’ll get used to it after a while.” and you hoped, you really fucking did.

because how you would do this five days out of the week, you had no idea. you had no clue. you knew that you needed the money, that you needed the stability even though leon, your boyfriend, lived with you.

you had been financially unstable as a kid, could count on both hands how many times you’ve had to move. because rent was just too much for your single mother, or the neighbors picked a fight, or your moms terrible ex boyfriend knew you & your mothers current address.

that was enough to push you to work yourself to the bone, even leon, saying that it wasn’t a good idea. and he was a cop, he had been for two years. he’d seen shit, worked himself overtime. and if they didn’t live together, they’d never see each other. hence, them living in a one bedroom apartment together.

but if leon was telling her to slow down, to take it easy, you knew it was going to be tough. it was going to take all of you to have the life you dreamed of. going back to school in august, seemed like a pipe dream after your first day at your new job.

because how would you ever have time?

and you feared this, you feared the loss of the future that was so close in your reach but…just not within shot of your fingertips.

but you were grateful for leon, for him and just…how he made things so much better. he just loved you, supported you and knew how stubborn you were to prove yourself, despite the reassurances that you would be fine. that things would just work out, he had been in the trenches too once, as a child, he had made it out.

but you couldn’t compare your childhood to his, it was awful in different ways, it wasn’t worse. wasn’t something that could be measured. it just was. it was the past though. and you were desperate to prove yourself to leon, to your kid self deep inside of you and to the others that have told you that you wouldn’t, couldn’t do it.

because you could. and you would.

just to prove them all wrong.

you were beat.

only your second shift shadowing someone and you were a goner, your back was killing you and your feet ached. you wish you could just win the lottery sometimes so you didn’t have to work yourself to the bone just for some money.

leon was helpful, he rubbed your feet, massaged your back and pressed kisses everywhere he needed to. he was supporting you, the thought and idea alone made you want to cry. because you didn’t feel appreciated, no one had showed it up until this point. but leon had, he’d cheered you on despite his skepticism of you taking on a larger workload. 

you loved him so much, so much that it hurt.

and that was maybe all worth it in some sense, to have him to come home too. it made things easier, made you feel cherished and loved, even considered in the sense that he knew what you were sacrificing.

what he sacrificed everyday he went to work and put on his uniform.

you couldn’t imagine a world without leon, in any timeline, any universe he didn’t exist, was an unlucky one. a very unfortunate one. one that you never wanted to be a part of.

in the weeks that followed as you continued your new job, he just kept saying sweet things, buying you flowers and books from your TBR list and cheering you on. “your doing great, baby. i’m so fucking proud of you.” or “i’m so grateful for you, your so appreciated.” or your personal favorite, “i love you so much, beautiful. so strong, so kind and sweet.”

and that was enough, it was enough.

even though your hands were dry from washing copious amounts of dishes, your back hurt from standing for so long or your feet were killing you, or your mind was swirled with exhaustion. it pushed you, it made you want to push forward, it was hard. but with leon loving and supporting you, holding your hand and kissing your exhaustion and stress away…it was enough.

you didn’t think that without him you would’ve made it this far, that you would’ve pushed past the boundaries that you did. but you were thankful for him, for everything he did for you.

you wouldn’t be able to push forward alone, you’d likely fall. and leon would be there to catch you…

every.

single.

time.

an: this isn’t the update i promised, i know. but i just needed to write something. to deal with this change in my life and what better way to do that then with writing something about leon??? but anyways, pls like, reblog and interact with my masterlist linked at the beginning. let me know if you wanna join my taglist (also linked). i’ll have a oneshot up soon, pinky promise. i love you all, kisses. xx

[dreamland03]

WARNING: mention of sex like once, drinking, mention of trauma, bad self image, 

It’s been a rough couple of weeks between you and Bakugo.

The little bump that you and katsuki have run into has been making you guys be distance towards each other. The laughs were barely there, the sex was a barely there, and the connection was fading a little. It scared the shit out of both of you. All because Bakugo was not ready to say “ I love you”.

You know Bakugo’s  love language is acts of service. And you do see how much he loves you through this, but you operate a little differently. Words of affirmative was yours. You liked hearing how much you mean to someone, how much they miss you, when someone is thinking about you. You especially loved hearing how much someone loved you. You couldn’t help it, hearing how someone loved you made you thrive in every relationship. The reassurance and validation helped you thrive.

So with Bakugo unable to say it after 7 months of the relationship, made things shift. You told Mina about the issue and she said that we both should go to therapy. It was a weird idea at first for both you and Bakugo, but because you guys were willing to fight for this relationship, you guys agreed.

The first couple of sessions were helpful, but emotionally horrible. Unpacking childhood trauma, past relationship trauma, why he wouldn’t say it, how if made you feel. It was a mess to say the least. And after every session it just felt like you guys were growing farther and farther away from each other. You wondered how you guys got here, the goal was to get closer.

You tried to be understanding of where Bakugo was coming from. It wasn’t because he didn’t love you, cause he did. He said that he wasn’t comfortable saying I love you just yet because of his past relationship. He told his ex that he had loved her 3 months into their relationship, only to find out that she had been cheating on him the whole time during the relationship. So he was scared and didn’t want to waste him saying he loved you only for you to turn around a betray him. Understandable but you still felt like shit. It didn’t stop the thoughts of how unlovable you must be for him not to say it to you. It had gotten to a point where you kind of felt disgusted with yourself. You couldn’t even look at yourself in the mirror. But you understand that he’s not ready, but how long can you hang on?

Weeks go by and you guys try to keep everything as normal as possible. Small talking, hugging each other when you guys get home, cooking for each other, running errands together, etc. Although you both can feel how off everything was.

One day Bakugo goes out with Kirishima, Sero, Kaminari, Midoriya, and Todorooki . It was boys night for them. So you knew bakugo would have a couple of drink and you were gonna pick him up. You waited around for the call to come pick him up. As you were watching someone Animal Planet show, you get a call from Midoriya.

“Hey y/n, I think Bakugo is ready to go.” He laughs lightly.

“ okay I’m on my way. How drunk is he?” You say with a giggle in your voice.

“I think this is the drunkest I’ve ever seen him.”

“ wait, really?” You said a little shocked. Bakugo’s not the type to get fully drunk. Tipsy? Yes. Drunk? Once in a blue moon.

“ yeah, he keeps asking for you so I think he’s ready to go home.”

“ Okay, I’ll be there in 10.”

You paused the show, grabbed your keys, put your shoes on, and you headed out the door.

You pulled up to the bar that they were at. You called Midoriya to bring Bakugo out and made sure the seat was at a comfortable position for him. You see Kirishima come out and Midoriya with Bakugo leaning on his shoulder. Kirishima opens the door for Midoriya to put Bakugo in.

“ Good luck with him.” Kirishima laughs.

You smile at him and Midoriya, wishing them a goodnight and for them to get home safe.

You look over at Bakugo in there passenger seat, face light pink form the alcohol with a big smile on his face, looking at you

“Hi, baby.” As soon as you said that he’s leaning over console and hugging you. You hug him back and laugh.

“I missed you y/n. I miss you y/n. You smell so good and do you know how beautiful you are? You’re so fucking gorgeous.” He squeezes you tighter.

“Okay baby, thank you.” You say with a laugh. “Let go home, boo.”

“No you dont understand y/n, like I would die for you. Im so devoted to you. You’ve been so far from me and I miss you. I don’t want to lose you. Im sorry for being a dumbass and making you feel like you don’t mean anything to me. I love you y/n. I really do.”

Looking at him shocked that you’ve heard the words you’ve been dying to hear from him. The smell of alcohol makes you come back, he’s drunk. It’s his drunk thoughts not his sober thoughts. But the feeling of relief and joy that swells in you over looks it. With a big smile on your face, you kissed Bakugo’s cheek “I love you too.” Squeezing him and basking in this moment that will pass. Taking it all in. “Let’s go home, my love.” Bakugo pulls away and sits back in his seat. The whole drive felt better between you two then it had in weeks. With soft music playing and holding hands the whole drive back, it felt lighter.

The morning came and Bakugo remember nothing and you remembered everything. You woke up feeling  better about yourself and about your and Bakugo’s relationship. You felt secured and loved. He loves you. You saw Bakugo sound asleep next to you and decided to start making breakfast for when he woke up. 30 minutes later you hear foot steps, Bakugo comes into the kitchen with a grumpy and hurt look on his face.

“Good morning.” You smiled at him and handed him water. “Breakfast is ready.”

“Thank you.” He sits at the table.

“ Did you have a good time last night?” You ask.

“ To be honest I don’t remember anything. How was I the drive home?” He grumbled.

“You were great.” You say with a little laugh

Bakugo looks at you suspiciously, knowing something is up. “What did I do?”

“Nothing.” Looking down at you plate, your smile growing bigger.

“Spill y/n.”

You sign, knowing he’ll be pushing all day.

“Well you said something and it was a little funny, but it’s nothing serious.” Not wanting him to freak out.

“What did I say?”

Still looking at the plate, you confessed. “You dropped the L bomb.”

Bakugo’s eyes widen and he sucks in a breath.

“And you talked about how pretty I am and how you don’t want to lose me.”

“Oh”

“Yeah”

Silence falls. Bakugo clears his throat “come here.” Confused, you get out of your seat and walk to where he is on the opposite of the table.

“Sit.” He pats his lap. You sit down and lay your head on his chest while his arms wrap around you.

“Look Im sorry for everything. I been wanting to say it, but I’ve been scared. Ive never been this in love with someone before. I thought I was in love before but you made me realize I’ve never experience it until now. I miss you. I miss us. I love you y/n. Im so in love with you y/n.”

You can hear his heartbeat speed up. You look up at him and kiss his lips. A gentle kiss filled with much love.

You pull back. “I understand. We’re in this together, forever. I love you Katsuki. Im in love with you.”

Bakugo smiles softly and lets go of the breath he’s been holding. It feels good to feel the connection coming back.

_______________________________________________________________________

Yall this is ass, but I wanted to write 🙃. Any mistake forgive me 😭. Like always any tags or warnings I need to add let me know please. 💤🫧💗

[kneelingshadowsalome]

Hi I want to hear more about könig's dysfunctional family please!

I don't know where this backstory came from but it would explain a lot of things!

CW: Angst, self-hate, moral ambiguity, patricide

König’s dad left before he was even born. The way his mom still describes this man as some amazing hero, the greatest love of her life, she makes it sound like it’s König’s fault that he left. Ergo -> it’s König’s fault that his mom is so unhappy.

That’s why König has this deeply ingrained feeling that he should never have been born and so he tries to make himself as small as possible in the household. This becomes increasingly difficult after the growth spurt, but hey, at least he can make himself less of a burden in other ways…

He never tells his mom about the bullying stuff, about the disturbing websites he found when he was 13. Nor does he share his revenge fantasies that are starting to get out of hand, so much so that his school curator tells him he could go to the army if shooting as a hobby interests him so much. No one ever talks about the elephant in the room, how even a simple, old man at school can see inside König’s soul better than his own mother.

His mom had difficulty taking care of herself, which means König learned to juggle with all kinds of adult things when he was little. Running to the store, doing the laundry, heating up food or preparing it from scratch when mom forgot became this kid’s normal, as did listening to her gushing about this incredible new man she found online. König listened at least 15 times how this time, it’s different: this time, she really could sense how there’s this deep connection unlike ever before. This time, this mysterious savior will make things better for all of them and help them financially – even the sex is great!

König vaguely knows he shouldn’t be learning all these details about his mom’s sex life, especially when he’s already forced to hear just how great the sex is, but after a week of Would you like to come in's, his mother is pacing around and sitting next to the phone and sighing deeply. Eventually, she's crying her heart out on the sofa. Again.

She bawls how all men just want one thing, how König is all she has, he’s such a good kid, such a charming boy who would never abandon a good woman, yada yada, and König tries to comfort her as best as he can. At the age of 17, he’s relieved to get out of his childhood home, the house of many pains. But when he gets headhunted to KorTac, after many many years, and gets his first paycheck... 80 % of it goes straight to his mom.

---

If we’re talking about yandere universe König, well, his curse was that his father was very much there and abusive to both him and his mother.

To König, the day he killed his dad was the day he grew up, and even though it took several years for his mom to talk to him again, even though he regrets maybe one or two of the ~20 stabs he put his old man through… König knows his mom is secretly grateful. He’s her hero; he saved her from that monster.

He will save a lot of people before this sick thing called life is through...

[lycheedr3ams]

I want to see more konig fluff

Yes, we all love this Austrian beast for his hot accent, his huge cock, his height and his muscles. But beneath all that, beneath his body armor and his hood, beneath the vest full of bombs and ammo and who knows what, is the heart of a young boy who was bullied and outcast.

I’m not sure about you guys, but I was bullied as a kid, and that shit messes you up. It destroys your self-esteem, makes you insecure, socially anxious. It makes you come home crying every single day. It makes you feel helpless. Alone.

Imagine all the things konig thinks once the dust settles, once the gunfire stops and he’s laying in bed pretending to live a normal life: the humiliation, shame, sadness, injustice of the bullying. How much it’s affected him so that he’s still anxious even as a grown man.

Beneath all the muscles and Kevlar and steel is the broken heart of a man who had to cleanse his own wounds so that he’d have even a sliver of hope to move on. He had to toughen himself to move on. Fighting was his only way of standing out, of being admired. Violence was his saving grace: shooting and slashing and death is his way of living life to the fullest, of making the most of his talents.

I can’t even imagine how hard it would be to get to know him, for him to be vulnerable or open up. And I don’t like to think about it, but I’m not entirely sure if he’d be capable of a healthy relationship, given his childhood trauma and trauma from the military, and his way of life.

Fanfictions are fun because we can put our own spin on his character and make him how we want him, and unfortunately, we will never know what he is truly like.