#why sleep when you can be constantly aware of the window in your room even if you literally cannot see it instead

[whataboutyouisamascot]

What was the point of giving humans irrational fears?

[scarletlizzard]

Part 1: Get Help

Sessions Series

Pairing: psychiatrist Wanda x female reader

Tags Minors DNI: being stalked, paranoia, therapy, mentions of sex

Masterlist

Fall 2018

It was the same thing every day.

You wake up, make breakfast, and go for a run. You go to work, a normal 9-5 job downtown. After work, you would wind down by making dinner and sometimes taking a bath with a glass of wine. You go to bed around the same time every night, letting the sounds of I Love Lucy lull you to sleep.

Your routine was all but normal, though. You had a shadow.

Your daily jog was filled with turning your head, constantly aware of a presence behind you, one that you could never see. You thought it was over until one night when you were making dinner, you happened to look out the window and saw a person standing across the street. The glass of wine you were holding dropped from your hand onto the floor beneath your feet. You step back onto the glass and wince, tearing your eyes from the shapeless figure.

When you look up again, they've disappeared.

This happened for weeks until you finally gave in and told your friend one night over a bottle of wine.

"Look, this is them. They're back," you say, handing the phone to Natasha. She raises an eyebrow and looks at the blurry picture on the screen. Practically a black dot next to the bus stop a few houses down from yours.

"But why would they wait so long? It's been over a year, and.." she squints, staring at the picture. "That kind of just looks like a blob.." the woman says and sips her wine, a concerned look on her face at your frantic state.

"It's not. It's them! I-I swear I'm being followed, being watched... every where I go, it's like, I can feel them. The police won't do anything about it." You move your shaking hand away from her to gulp down the rest of your wine.

"Look, Y/N.." Natasha sighs and sets down her glass, turning her body to face yours. "I know you've been through a lot, everything that.. happened last summer. I think - maybe you should.. get some help." She tries to soften the blow of calling you crazy by resting a hand on your thigh. You only look to her with betrayed eyes.

"I'm not crazy," you speak calmly, your tone stern, but the crack in your voice only solidifies Natashas' point.

"I don't think you are, Y/N. Here.." She grabs her purse, pulling out a business card from it casually, as if she just happened to have it. You knew her better than that. "This is my friend. She's an amazing psychiatrist. Just talk to her, give it a chance."

You snatch the card away from her hands, not making eye contact with her. Natasha sighs again and stands, watching your leg bounce harder. She leans down to kiss your forehead.

"I'll call you tomorrow. I love you.." She trails off, unsure if you'd even reply.

"Love you." You mumble, pouring yourself another glass.

After she leaves, you stare at the business card in your hand, eyes settled on the name in bold lettering. You crumple the card, ball it up in your hand, and throw it across the room. It bounces off the wall with a small 'thunk'. Then you're left sitting, recalling the events of last summer.

***

Summer 2017

It was an exceptionally hot night. The air conditioner had been broke all day, leaving you sweating and fanning yourself with a magazine. Also leaving you with no choice but to leave the windows open, letting a cooler breeze flow through your quiet house.

You shot a quick text to Natasha- See you tomorrow, meet at the coffee shop near yours.

With a sigh, you rest your head on the back of the couch, listening to the voices on the TV. You get a strange feeling suddenly, your whole body covered in goosebumps, the small hairs on your arms standing straight up. You slowly open your eyes, staring straight ahead at the characters running around the screen.

"Get a grip, Y/N.." You mumble to yourself, patting your cheeks as if to wake yourself up. Maybe you just needed some sleep. Your anxiety seemed to be kicking up again. Your hands reach for the remote on the table in front of you, and you press the power button, turning the TV off.

It's then you see, in the black screen, reflecting an image not only of you but a person standing directly behind you.

***

Current Fall 2018

No, I'm NOT doing this right now.

You think to yourself, swallowing down your third glass of wine for the night. Instead, you get up to double -no, triple- check all of the locks in your house. The windows to the backyard, locked. The sliding glass backdoor, locked. The windows to the front of the house, locked. The front door, locked. The side door leading to the garage, locked. Windows in any bedrooms, locked. Your bedroom door and window, locked.

It was exhausting, but it was a routine you had been following for the past year. It kept you safe. You turn on I Love Lucy, drifting off into another nightmare with your mysterious shadow.

The morning after, you awake to your alarm and slap your hand on your loud phone to slide it off. You lay there for a moment, staring at the ceiling. The morning sun shines brightly in the room, the light warm on your skin.

I am NOT crazy...

You repeat to yourself over and over, a mantra easily spoken and believed in your mind. Breakfast was made and eaten, running shoes tied to your feet, laces double knotted, ID and cash in case of emergencies, and headphones settle snug in your ears. The first mile was fine, humming along to your music, and enjoying the cold fall. It was when you were heading back towards your house that you began to have that unsettling feeling.

Your panicked eyes look around as you jog, your head constantly turning from side to side as you look for your shadow. You find yourself reaching into your pocket, letting your hand grab onto the pepper spray you had brought with you. Only a little ways to go. It's fine.

Your pace sped up, but your shadow was creeping up closer to you. Your heart was racing. Sweat was dripping down your forehead. With your thumb gripping the spray, you suddenly turn around, spraying the shadow behind you.

"Ahhh! What the fuck!" A man screams, falling to his knees in front of you. Your heart was beating out of your chest at the sight of him, rubbing his eyes and screaming in pain. But on the sidewalk in front of him you see your emergency clip that held your cash and ID.

"Jason! Oh my god, what did you do to him?" A woman comes running up to his side, sliding her arm around him. "Are you crazy? You dropped this. He was trying to give it back to you!" She screams at you, throwing the clip in your direction. Dollar bills fly to the ground, and you back up.

"I-I'm sorry! I didn't know, I thought he was - I didn't know.." Your voice trails off as you shake your head, hands shaking. "I didn't know.." You repeat it 4 times.

"Y/N, you're lucky he didn't press charges, I can't believe you actually pepper sprayed him.." Natashas voice sounded from the phone in your hand as you recall the events from the morning.

"I know, I can't believe I did either. I feel so fucking bad about it.." you hold your head in your hand, guilt filling your gut.

"It happened. There's nothing you can do about it now. He'll be fine.. people get pepper sprayed all the time," she tries to joke, attempting to lighten the mood.

You sit up and sigh into the phone, looking around the room. The TV playing, the dusty art supplies sitting on a desk in the corner. Your eyes find and focus on the crumpled business card on the floor by the wall. As you stand, your feet carry you over, picking it up.

"I'll talk to you later, Nat," you say, letting her say goodbye before you hang up. Your hands straighten out the card, and you once again read the name in bold lettering.

The clock on the wall read 5:28 as you sat, one day after work, on a chair in the hallway near the front door. You look around the hallway that leads to a massive house. It seemed the front was used for her practice, a room on either side of the hallway. One you assumed an office, the other a room to meet with patients. The clock ticked to 5:29, and your leg began to bounce.

The door on the wall across from you opens, revealing a brown headed woman with a warm smile on her face. She was taller, a creme colored blouse and brown pants settled on her legs. Her familiar green eyes find yours, and you both let out a small, awkward chuckle.

"Y/N.." Wanda says and holds out her hand to you, watching as you stand in front of her.

Your hand reaches for hers, "Wanda.." Her hand is warm and soft in yours. You know you linger too long in her grip. She leads you into room number two, a medium-sized room with one big, comfortable looking chair and an even more comfortable looking couch. Behind her comfy chair was an extravagant looking fireplace. Bookshelves lined the walls, and as you walked inside, your fingers trail the spines of the books that sat on them. It felt comfortable and safe. The sun was beginning to set, and an orange glow filled the room. Wanda sits in a chair, a notepad, and pen in her lap. You follow suit, sitting across from her on the couch.

"So, are you sure you want to do this? I'd be more than happy to recommend you to some other, highly recommended, co-workers of mine?" Wanda says with a smile, and you can't help but blush. She just had that effect on you.

"As long as you're okay with it, I am. I trust you, and right now, I really need that.." You mumble the last part, sitting back into the couch. Wanda nods, understanding of you.

One of the last times you saw Wanda she was in your bed, giving you what still stands today, the best orgasms of your life. Natasha had thrown a Christmas party where you met. You and Wanda came alone. You both had a lot to drink, and one thing led to another. You spent the night talking and laughing, getting to know each other as you came on her fingers. After that, you saw her from time to time, over a couple of months. She let you eat her out on your couch and fucked you against the counter in your kitchen. It was the best sex you'll probably ever have. You felt more alive with her than you had in years.

But then you had to leave town for work, and by the time you came back, the two of you had lost touch. Then, a few months after, during the summer, when your shadow appeared, you cut practically everyone out of your life.

"Well then, let's get started," Wanda interrupts your train of thoughts with a click of her pen, crossing her legs. "I reviewed the file you sent over from your stay at the Bay Point Medical Center. Do you want to talk about that?" She asks, her voice as smooth as honey.

You let out a shaky sigh, playing with the zipper of the bag you held in your lap. "I've always been.. anxious, since I was a kid. Always had these uh, routines. Tie my shoes until they felt right, flick the lights 4 times before bed."

"Were you ever diagnosed or tested as a kid?"

"No, my mom didn't believe in that sort of thing."

"So you were first diagnosed with OCD and Bipolar Disorder at Bay Point." Wanda makes a note. You tap your leg 4 times.

"Yes."

"So what led you to that moment, to that night?" Her voice is so inviting. You would tell her just about anything at this point.

"I'm sure it says in the file.." You clear your throat, suddenly being unable to look her in the eyes.

"There is a version, but I'd like to hear yours." Her eyebrows raise, pen hovering over the paper of the pad.

"It was a few days after I saw my shadow," you start, Wanda has a curious look on her face.

A pause.

"Your shadow?" She asks, you nod.

"The stalker, person watching me." You reply, she nods for you to continue. "I hadn't slept in days. The police didn't believe me. There was no evidence, they said, that anyone besides me had been in the house that night. So I went to the docks, and I-I bought a gun from some junkie. I'm not proud of what I did," you say, meeting her comforting gaze.

"I'm sure. You hadn't slept in days. You were delusional - sleep deprived. No medication, no diagnosis. Under extreme stress. Given the circumstances, I'm glad no one was hurt." Wanda concurs.

"Well, maybe not physically. But when you wave a gun around at 3 in the morning down the street, maybe a little psychological damage to the family that found me," you groan and put your head in your hands.

"The report said you had left a note at your house. What did it say?" Wanda asks, and you think back to when you scribbled on a piece of paper, what you thought would be, your last words. You're quiet for a moment. Wanda can tell you won't answer that question just yet.

"How about, who did you leave it for?" She asks.

"For my shadow."

The rest of the session you had spilled about your feelings that night and talked about you OCD and Bipolar disorder. You told her about your stay at the mental hospital, and told her about your routines. You spoke to her of almost everything.

"I think this session was really productive, Y/N. You've been very open with me, and I appreciate that." Wanda stood at the front door, smiling down to you. It was dark now, the sun at set completely. "I'll see you at the same time, Thursday?"

You nod and smile back at her. "I'll see you then." You walk to your car, feeling lighter. But you also can't ignore the hair on the back of your neck rising as you drive away.

***

Summer 2017

You scream loudly as you turn to see a figure behind you. A shadow, dressed in all black. A white faceless mask covered their true face. They stand still as you back away, slowly tilting their head to the side.

"Run." A menacing whisper, a familiar tone.

You run.

[hermanunworthy]

congrats on your new relationship!! have a hermie <3

he can do it in his dreams.

hermie has total control over his dreams. that doesn’t mean he remembers them perfectly, or that it didn’t take some practice to perfect, but as long as he remembers to be aware, he can transform the space however he wants. he suspects he doesn’t sleep as deeply when he does this. often, he doesn’t care; passion takes precedence.

it was in a dream he peered into goofs realm, understood what it would take to arrive. this was where he belonged. he would be lauded as a prince, sat beside the knee of a shifting, faceless figure he could earn a place beside. that gave him a purpose, something to work toward.

he sees normal’s attempt to grab at anything as a direction and narrows his eyes at the reflection. they did share certain… similarities. normal had that oak-doodler blood pushing him to something, half-deluded into believing he would be some great savior, some chosen one. hermie didn’t miss the way normal adopted a leadership role whenever things got dangerous. he told everyone what to do, assumed responsibility. deep down he thought he was just a little bit better, a little bit smarter, a little bit more aware.

and hermie- well, there was that rhythm in his pulse, pushing to lie, deceive, pull one over, they’ll believe you. he liked to trick, liked to act. he learned to channel it in healthier ways with theatre, but it was something not quite human. it called for more, clamored for some great coup, some marvelous scam.

and then he did it, and it was big enough to tear a hole into goofs realm. he thought he’d be happy. he wasn’t. he was a kid holding a costume having just watched normal literally dive out a window after him, and it felt… well, mean, yes, but he wasn’t guilty about that. empty, was perhaps the better word.

and even after all that, scam wasn’t waiting for him, hadn’t been watching. it was the big bow at the end of the show, and the lights come up on the audience and your parents aren’t there.

after the stand-up set, he stares at them. kill this man. and they don’t.

jodie didn’t love him. constantly, he was overlooked for nick. nick, who came first, who was older, who was stronger and half-demon, who jodie claimed was a disappointment but somehow still earned a watchful paternal eye.

scam didn’t love him either. there was a revolving carousel where there should have been a heart (hermie had actually seen it, it had been cartoonish and horrific), and just because scam liked him, smiled at him, approved of him… scam wasn’t human. there was no real love there, there never would be never could be it wasn’t fair.

in the green room, he lays it all out. he wants revenge (what else is there to want?) because scam kidnapped him and dumped him on earth and left him to sort it all out on his own. what do you do, when you’re raised like a human and no one tells you you aren’t one? when you get all that mess caught up in your throat but your biology wasn’t designed for it? he got parents who wanted good grades and clean morals. the call for chaos in his head couldn’t be quieted by behavioral lessons.

that pulsing in his veins stopped after the deed was done. he had done the thing his birthright demanded and come home to a shell of the kingdom and father he’d expected. at first he was empty- then he was angry.

he doesn’t really understand his anger. he knows it’s there, and he can see why it’s there, but he doesn’t know how to interact with it. so he deals with it the way he deals with everything: theatre.

centuries of material to draw on! and so much of it suggesting the classic kill-your-father trope. why not.

but that isn’t how the teens want to play it. no, of course not. and the conviction breaks down easily- scam is an easy face to put the anger to, but it doesn’t really matter. he can’t be hurt the way hermie is.

he stroked normal’s chin and looked right in his eyes as he called him an easy mark, finished off the job of crushing that hopeful spark. there was no grease lightning romance.

but! I’ll go on a date with you if you help me kill my dad. I’m willing to throuple this because I want you to help me with scary (and I’m dangling it over you to get what I want).

normal likes people who withhold validation. well, here he is, withholding every scrap of it unless it could be used to coerce normal into whatever he wanted. keeps him interested, doesn’t it? keeps him wanting hermie around, keeps him trying to earn it. and that feels good, that measure of control. he knows how to keep normal liking him, at least.

everyone’s just out to use each other. he understood exactly how to be the pawn they wanted. even when it was clear every single one of them disliked him, he found ways in. be someone for normal to “fix”. be the new best friend when taylor feels betrayed. be the sacrificial lamb when they need one. be the soccer mvp no one’s valuing and the mastermind at jpl when everyone else is goofing off and the guy to call on for a disguise or distraction, be a solution, be a throwaway shield. answer their questions and keep the praise coming and tag along like you’re the one who needs them.

he’s out of a plan now. now, he’s just angry he was abandoned and angry the thing that was supposed to earn him love didn’t and angry that he feels like a shadow of a real person.

you cannot expect to be lovable if you are not knowable. he looks at the skirts the makeup the suits and he doesn’t have answers to what he is. he is half demon half chaos full teenager and full throttle all the time, and it is so much to ask for that all to be reconciled into one person, one identity.

he sees the lgbtq club at the school and ignores it. he flirts with bisexuality just as he flirts with gender (“it’s just theatre kid culture, all part of the show”), and stupid for any of it to really matter anyway, but it does. and it stings. where in his genealogy is the humanity to explain this? every time he meets a father there are no new answers.

normal kissed his cheek in another life and didn’t care that it wasn’t really him, couldn’t see it. he can’t quite blame him for it, even though he does, even though it is the most bitter thing he has ever bitten into and he will bite it again and again just to let it smart. that tells him something about it at least, what he is, how he feels.

for a moment, someone said they could see him. only an amateur believes the lines straight from a script.

ANON ILY RUNS IN CIRCLES AND JUMPS FOR JOY. THEY MAKE ME SO SAD. yknow for someone who "didnt have a lot of hermie thoughts" U REALLY DO GET HIM. tysm for indulging me once again i could read about hermie forever and ever and be entertained every time

[mochinek0]

Pissed Off

Marinette couldn't understand what the problem was. Was the universe that against her? Was this just suppose to be her life after weilding a miraculous and becoming the guardian; that nothing in her life would ever be normal?

Marinette glared at the window as yet another bird boy of Gotham came to her boyfriend's window. They had already told two of them to leave. It was date night and she felt like it was coming to an end before it had even begun. She was at her wit's end when Damian suggested they move to the bedroom, instead.

Marinette groaned as someone began to pound on the door to the apartment and ring the bell.

"Seriously?" Damian shouted.

Marinette flashed him one of her sunshine smiles, "Let me handle this, won't you?"

Damian sighed and nodded. Marinette picked a robe and closed the door.

"Tikki; Lucky Charm." she growled out, making her way to the door.

She felt the power of creation in the palm of her hand and grasped it. In her hand appeared a red bat with black dots. She tightened her grip and threw open the door. Red Hood threw himself back, not expecting the tiny woman. Before he could say why he was there, Marinette griped the bat and slammed it across his helmet. Red Hood fell to the ground. He looked up to see the woman glaring at him worse then Bruce ever had.

"Leave and don't come back." She hissed, "Any of you." slamming the door shut.

Damian and Marinette groaned as knocking persisted from the window. Damian threw the curtain back to see Batman.

'Son of a Bitch! Enough is enough!'

Marinette stood up in her lingerie and stalked over to the window, before throwing it open.

"What the fuck could be so fucking important to interrupt us while we're having date night and trying to have sex?" she shouted.

Neither Damian nor Batman expected that kind of response. Marinette glared at him when he failed to answer. Even the boys in the cave flinched under her glare.

"Tikki, Spots On!" Marinette shouted, enveloping herself in a bright pink light.

Ladybug stalked towards Batman in anger, pulling her yo-yo off her hip.

"I finally meet a nice guy, who likes me for me, instead of this stupid costume, and for some reason your stupid pigeons keep interrupting us!" she cried out in frustration, "I don't need some furry interrupting us, too!"

Ladybug threw her yo-yo at him and enveloped him in her line. Try as he might, Batman couldn't escape her grasp. He tried his batarangs, but they couldn't cut the thin wire. She lifted the Dark Knight over her shoulder and threw him. Damian watched in shock as his father was launched across town. Ladybug turned her gaze onto Damian. He kept his eyes on her and gulped. Marinette was powerful. She was magical and that was without the suit. She tossed his father out the window like nothing. He found a new woman to fear and it made him excited. With a sigh, Marinette de-transformed and began to pick up her clothes off the floor.

"Guardian?" Tikki called out.

"Let's go, Tikki." she spoke, sadly.

"Why?" Damian questioned, breaking out of his shocked state, "Where-Where are you going?"

Marinette blushed, turning back to him. Damian felt he was knocked senseless when her emotions altered quickly from anger to sadness and back to the soft angel he knows.

"I figured you would want me to leave." Marinette mumbled, "I don't know what they want, but I don't think it's me. At least, not until I revealed myself. You can deal with whatever you need to." as she turned to leave the room.

Damian reached out and grabbed her wrist, "I don't know what they want and I don't care. What I do know, is that I want you."

Marinette smiled and allowed him to pull her towards him.

"We can talk about the suit tomorrow." he smirked.

Tikki giggled as clothes dropped back onto floor. She left the room and closed the door.

Marinette turned over in her sleep as she heard the doorbell ring constantly.

"Dami, bell." she taps him, "Your turn."

Damian was suddenly aware of the insistent ringing and chuckled as Marinette curled deeper into his sheets. He grabbed his robe and hurried to the door, hoping he could allow her some more sleep. As he entered the living room, he was suddenly made aware of how bright it was outside. Quickly, he threw open the door to threaten whoever was behind it, only for his family to barrel right on in. Damian glared at them, signifying he was unhappy with their unexpected visit. At least until he saw Todd's face and saw a black eye.

"Where is she?" asked Bruce.

"WE were asleep." Damian growled out.

"Did you question her?" Asked Dick, concerned.

"No." the young Wayne stated.

"Why not?" shouted Jason.

"Too busy." Damian answered.

"Too busy? What could you-" Jason complained.

"Dami, who was at the door?" Marinette asked, rubbing her eyes.

The family stared in shocked as the tiny terror that attacked them last night, came out wearing Damian's t-shirt. They could only assume there was nothing underneath it by the way she froze and quickly hurried back into the room, slamming the door.

"Excuse us, while we get dressed." Damian spoke, leaving his family to process what happened.

Marinette walked out of the room, behind Damian, and quickly busied herself with making coffee. She quickly took down some mugs for everyone. As she double checked the amount of people in the house, she noticed that one had a black eye. She set down the mug and looked the new guests over. Mari turned to Damian and looked over his physical appearance, as well, before sighing.

"You're a pigeon, too?" Mari questioned Damian, "Guess now we know why they were here."

"Robin." he answered.

"Hey!" Dick shouted.

"Nightwing, Red Hood, Red Robin, and The Fuckin' Furry." Marinette spoke, as she pointed at each one of them, "What the fuck did you all want anyways?"

"How?" Tim asked.

"Jason's black eye." she smiled, "Smacked him with a magical baseball bat; same location. Also, I'm a designer with an impressive eye for measurements. It's not that hard. Also, tell Clark Kent that glasses were a really stupid idea. How no one has figured him out, I don't know. Maybe too many broken piece of Metropolis buildings fell on them."

Marinette poured herself a cup of coffee, leaving them to get their own. She walked over and sat on Damian's lap, tossing her legs over the arm rest, radiating power, that she belonged there. They had been the people who ruined their evening. Damian just smirked as he wrapped an arm around her waist.

"So?" she questioned, eyeing them.

Bruce sighed, "Who are you?"

"No, I believe I asked you first." Mari spoke, "You all needed something so desperately that you all showed up in intervals, interrupted our time together, and blew your own identities."

"Talia's alive." Bruce declared.

"Who?" Marinette asked.

"My mother." Damian growled, "You're not one of her spies…right?"

"No, Love." she smiled at him.

"Who are you then?" asked Tim.

"Ladybug. I was given the Ladybug miraculous when I was thirteen. I already defeated my villain. If you need confirmation, you can ask Wonder Woman; her mother was a previous wielder." Mari began.

"You had training?" Jason questioned.

Mari shook her head, "It was in my room and I was told to fight. I became a child soldier. When I was seventeen, we, my partner, Chat Noir, and I, finally caught Hawkmoth. Turns out, it was his father. He was a mess. So, I made him a deal: I wouldn't arrest his father, but I would keep the miraculi ONLY if he gave up his. I would gain three miraculi and seal them away and he could rebuild his life, but he would never find out who I was."

"What?" the brothers shouted.

"You didn't know who your partner was?" asked Dick.

"It was forbidden. We were told that our miraculi would be taken away and our master succeeded in doing just that, one time, fearing for our lives, but we managed to get them back. We even managed to still keep out identities hidden." Marinette explained, "At fourteen, I was made the new Guardian. My master was captured by Hawkmoth and he granted me guardianship, forcing himself to lose all memories of the miraculous."

"Would that happen to you?" Damian questioned.

"I believe there is another way to pass guardianship." she smiled at him, "There was an order long before my time. When I became Guardian, I stuck to that rule even more. Chat Noir had a tendency to fall under the spells of the akumas or die."

"So, not much of a partner." Jason quipped.

"He took the hits he believed were meant for me. I could reset the damage done by the akumas; he couldn't." Marinette sighed.

"The deal." Bruce spoke.

Marinette took a deep breath and let it out, as she gripped her mug, "Chat Noir was in love with my Ladybug persona. He wanted to know who I was from Day One. He said we were soulmates and belonged together. The Ladybug and Chat miraculi are balance: Yin and Yang. Long ago, I had promised that once Hawkmoth was defeated, we could finally meet who was under the masks. That he may have a chance. When that day came….we found out Hawkmoth was his father. So I made him choose: his father or the idea of the girl he loved. He handed over his miraculi without a word and I left."

"I made an announcement to Paris that Hawkmoth's reign was over." she continued, "I showed them the miraculi as proof and explained that during the battle, Hawkmoth and Chat Noir perished. No one would ever look for them. I told them I was leaving Paris and never reappeared. I would see him at school. He seemed haunted. I don't know if it was with the knowledge of his father or just that he would never know who I was so I consulted the kwamis on what to do."

"Kwamis?" asked the boys.

"Tikki." Marinette called out.

Tikki yawned as she fluttered out of the cupboard.

"What?" cried out Tim.

"I am Tikki, the kwami of the Ladybug miraculous and the Goddess of Creation." Tikki explained.

"There are others like her?" Damian asked.

"Yes." Marinette spoke, before taking another sip of coffee, "They told me they knew of a way to make him forget, similar to how the previous guardian forgot. So, I created the spell and placed it in a macaron. He thanked me and called me a great friend. He took a bite and I walked away."

"So what happened?" asked Jason.

"I had other Kwamis cast protection and illusions on social media about my hero persona. Technically, Ladybug never existed." she shrugged, "The next day at school, he was asking if I was a new student. People were asking if he hit his head and that we had been friends for years. We graduated soon after and I came here."

"Have you checked on him?" questioned the eldest Wayne.

Marinette shook her head and replied, "I did the right thing. Even if his father tries to pry or tell him, he'll think it's a story from his childhood."

"Can we meet the others?" Dick asked, excitedly.

"They should probably stretch out and get treats." Marinette responded, "How about tonight?"

"Cave?" asked Tim.

"If you prefer. Oh, and don't even bother trying to capture them. They can't be seen on film and can faze through anything. They are bound to their miraculous. You try and take them, I will kill you." Mari growled out.

"You wouldn't." Jason chuckled.

"My yo-yo sliced through the Eiffel Tower, regularly. It can probably slice through skin like butter." She stated, in anger, "Not to mention, the kwami of destruction sunk Atlantis. I would tread with caution."

Damian smirked and grabbed her coffee mug, before setting it down on the table. Bruce could sense the conversation had ended and led his other sons out the door, after a promise that they would both be at Wayne Manor for dinner.

Damian picked her up and said, "Come, My Little Bug, I'm going to make sure you're treated like a queen." as he took her back to the room.

Tikki smiled as she felt the world shifting back into balance.

'He would make a great black cat.'

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[sublimecatgalaxy]

Why? (Song Inspired Fic)

Pairing: Elliot (Euphoria) x reader

Warnings: Swearing, sexual stuff and drugs. This is unnecessarily fluffy for me lol.

Word Count: 1.4k

A/n: Hi guys! This is based off of a request for Elliot's reaction to the reader wearing his clothes. I made it cute and incorporated 'Why' by Dominic Fike as the song that Elliot wrote in here for the reader.

Listen to the song: here

Elliot loved few things in this world.

He loved me and he loved writing songs about me.

He had to have written forty songs about me in the span of our four month relationship, all about different things; my eyes, the way I sleep, the way I kiss him, his lips between my thighs. He was creative and I was just his muse, a thing to vent about and to. And I loved being that for him.

In the short time that we’ve been together, he had to have learned everything about me. How my mind works, how my body works, how I take my coffee after a night of not sleeping… If you catch my drift. He knew that I hated my job, struggling with my coworkers, my boss and my schedule, constantly getting in between me seeing him. He knew that I hated the apartment that I rented for way too much but I was adamant on being separate from my parents.

He wanted to know everything about me and I wanted to know everything about him. I knew that he couldn’t sleep with a shirt on or else he would get completely overwhelmed at 3am in the morning and have a hissy fit trying to crawl out of the material. I knew that he had to have the window cracked at night, just enough to be able to hear the passing cars. I knew that his newest thing was keeping his hair blonde, deciding that out of all the colors he’s used to dye his soft locks, blonde was his favorite. It was mine too.

I also knew that, no matter what time of day it was, he had to lock the door before slipping between my thighs. He constantly worried about his cousin entering the room, even when she wasn’t home. I also knew that Elliot loved giving over receiving, something I definitely wasn’t aware of when we first started dating.

Lucky fucking me.

He had given up most of his drugs, dumping them down the toilet without a second thought after I came to visit him late after a long day, only to find him passed out, unresponsive. It was scary and he didn’t want to be put in a situation where he could potentially hurt me like that again. No drug was worth losing me. Sometimes he brings up that day, heartfelt apologies leaving his lips like it had just happened. It was still raw in his mind and I could tell that he still hated himself for it.

I had let it go, happy to have him healthy, happy, and partially sober. We don’t count weed though the NA people that urge him to go to meetings would argue.

But he was the other two, happy and healthy, all thanks to yours truly. Anything I did put him in a good mood. I knew that it was enough to just be there while he writes away on his notepad, sketching down new ideas for a song, hiding the words from me until it was done and finished.

I love watching him write songs, his teeth nibbling on the end of his pencil as his fingers plucked away at the guitar strings. I always knew when he was satisfied with his writing, a soft smile spreading across his lips as he finally gets it.

Like now, he’s spent hours writing, his knuckles and fingers sore from tweaking and changing things, his eyebrows pulled together in concentration. I love watching him share that knowing smile, his head turning to me as he grins. Before he can say anything, his gaze shifts to the shirt that covers my upper body, his breath getting stuck in his throat as he blinks rapidly.

“Uh, is that my shirt?” He asks slowly, his eyes traveling down to my bare thighs, as if he’d never seen me in this state before. His jaw is slack as he reaches up to run a hand through his tangly, yet handsome, hair. The blunt that’s between his lips falls, his hands fumbling to catch it before it lights the bed beneath us on fire. I laugh loudly, knowing he’s seen me naked, the most vulnerable state someone could see me in. I nod gently, his pupils blown as he places his guitar and the joint down, now completely enthralled by me.

He crawls to me, my head tilting at him as I gently put my foot on his chest, stopping him. He frowns, his hand coming up to bat away my leg that currently separates him from me. I giggle, shaking my head again as he pouts. I nod silently to his notebook, his eyes rolling as his head hangs. “Screw the song!” He squeaks, his eyes wide, knowing I want to hear him sing, but his want for me close to him greater. “I wanna screw you, Y/n.” He whispers, his hands spreading up the expanse of my thighs as I snort, my head shaking once more.

“I wanna hear you sing, El.” I whisper in a quiet plea, my lip jutting out in a pout as he huffs, his hands squeezing my thighs. “Then you can fuck me. You can do anything.” I add after a moment, his eyes lighting up as an evil grin spreads out across his lips. He’s so handsome. He nods eagerly, watching me with a smile as I clap my hands with a happy smile.

“It’s not done though so I’m gonna skip around.” He blushes gently under the dim light of his bedroom, his eyes flickering over to his notebook. “But first,” he mutters, reaching over to wrap his arms around my waist, “imma need you in my lap.” I squeal as he pulls me on top of him, his hands resting on my lower back as I gaze down at him, so in love.

He sighs softly, his lips gently pressing against mine as I hum. My hands gently settle on his chest, my teeth nibbling gently against his bottom lip as I push him away. He pouts, rolling his eyes as he reaches for his guitar, placing it in between us as I grin successfully. He gets himself situated, his notebook next to us as he takes a deep breath, his fingers settling on the strings of the guitar.

Man, oh man, do I love his fingers.

He plucks the strings in a more upbeat tone, my cheeks heating up as he looks over his lyrics that are scribbled out. “Uh, you ever wonder why?” He sings, his eyes closing briefly as he continues. “Said the lady with the long legs in the lawn chair. She like the strings on my guitar neck and my blonde hair.” He grins sending a wink up to me as I giggle, listening intently with a stupid smile. “I write about her thighs in my latest lines. I remember her eyes when I asked her why. Why would you pay for this apartment you don’t belong in? You take this shit from all your bosses and all your boyfriends.” I giggle, my head thrown back as his singing stops, a small hum leaving his lips as he improvises, not knowing what else to put in that part. “Oh yeah this part.” He chuckles softly, the tune changing a bit as he sings once more. “How many warnin’ signs ‘til it hits you, darling? Gravity’s your friend. You fall out of touch sometimes but your history calls you back to it again- Yeah that’s all I’ve got so far. Obviously it's about you.” He chuckles under his breath, his palm resting on the guitar strings as he waits for my review.

“I love it. I do love the strings on your guitar, mostly ‘cuz of your fingers and I love your hair.” I whisper, my fingers running through the curls as he hums quietly. “I do take a ton of shit from my bosses and my boyfriend.” I giggle, leaning forward to press a kiss to his cheek. His eyes gaze up into mine as he moves the guitar without a second thought. He cranes his neck, his lips brushing against mine as I cup his cheeks. He looks up at me expectantly, his fingers dancing under his shirt that I wear. Feeling the palm of his hands smooth up my bare back, I tilt my head at him as he clicks his tongue.

“I sang to you. Now I believe you promised something to me.” He whispers, his eyes gleaming with mischief as I smirk, my fingers moving down from his cheeks, gently wrapping around the smooth skin of his throat. His eyes flutter shut as I press a kiss to his lips, a quiet moan leaving his own. “Fuck.”

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[comfortbucky]

hey hey! can u do some fluffy bucky about having to share a hotel room w u and there’s only one bed!!!! and he’s trying to be respectful n stuff but man does he have the fattest crush on u! thank u <333

HEY HEY YES OMFGGG THE ONE BED TROPE (ur mind😌🤝)

i’VE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS ONE I DIDN’T EXPECT IT TO COME SO SOON

𝗼𝗻𝗲 𝗯𝗲𝗱, 𝘁𝘄𝗼 𝗶𝗱𝗶𝗼𝘁𝘀 ⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆ ｡˚

pairing: bucky x fem!avenger!reader

tags: enemies(?) to lovers BABYYYY, angst, fluff

A/N: i almost always write about tfatws!bucky in mind but let me try and branch out by writing about avenger!bucky hehe

i hope u enjoy🥺💗i absolutely loved this prompt and loved writing this!!!! (it is almost 4am for me as i am posting this :) i’m insane :))

this oneshot will not be following the canon timeline!

word count: 2k

my masterlist!

completed requests!

“Stick to the plan, Y/N.” Steve’s voice came through over the intercom. She rolled her eyes at his warning. He always seemed to be extra cautious with her, making her feel like an unimportant member of the team, and this mission was no different.

“I got this,” she said, completely ignoring his request and charging headfirst at the enemy. Her brash decision resulted in her receiving a heavy beat down, ending up with a split lip and fractured ribs.

Needless to say, Steve was pissed. He and Y/N developed a close friendship over the years, during his search for Bucky. She was oftentimes the one who would stay up all night with him, looking for any trace of Bucky’s existence online. She’d become one of the closest people in his life, which is exactly why he was upset with her, endangering her own life.

After the mission, he confronted her at the base camp.

“You could’ve gotten killed!”

“But I didn’t,” she snapped back. “And the mission was a success anyways, so I don’t get why you’re so mad right now.”

Steve closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing.

“It’s reckless behavior like this that’s eventually going to get you killed, Y/N.”

Bucky walked into the room and immediately regretted his decision as soon as he laid his eyes on Y/N. He’d come to foster an animosity towards her, after seeing her close friendship with Steve. After Bucky joined the Avengers, he noticed how much time they spent together, and jealousy started to fester within him. Steve was the only person he felt comfortable being around in the tower and she constantly took him away from Bucky. Everyone else seemed to have an aversion to him, or so he assumed. He never gave anyone the chance to get to know him, locking himself up in his room most hours of the day. Bucky didn’t think anyone would want to get to know an ex-assassin, especially one that killed the Tony Stark’s parents. She was the one thing that kept Steve away from him and he despised it. So Bucky did what he did best and avoided any sort of interaction with her.

Steve looked at Bucky and suddenly, an idea popped in his head. He had noticed how closed-off Bucky had been since joining the Avengers and refused to let Y/N be alone, worried that she might make another brazen decision. He hatched a plan to kill 2 birds with 1 stone.

“Bucky,” Steve said, making his way over to him. “You and Y/N will be assigned to the same room tonight.”

Bucky choked on his own spit in response and Y/N began to protest.

“You’re not serious, right?” Steve turned to face her with a stern expression.

“You’re not giving me any reason to trust you to be alone.” She let out a defeated sigh and crossed her arms across her chest.

“Why me?” Bucky asked, trying to figure out how he ended up in this situation.

Steve placed a hand on Bucky’s shoulder and looked into his eyes. “Because I trust you, Buck. I need you to do this for me.”

Bucky could see the desperation in Steve’s eyes and reluctantly nodded.

Steve was able to obtain another key card to the hotel room that Y/N was assigned to for the mission. He forgot to take into account the logistics of the sleeping arrangements, leaving Bucky to find a single bed as he entered Y/N’s room.

Bucky froze, his right hand on the door handle, keeping it open, his left hand by his side, holding his duffel bag. He racked his brain, trying to figure out what to do, when Y/N’s voice pulled him from his thoughts.

“Relax,” she started, motioning for him to come inside. “I’ll sleep on the floor, alright?”

Y/N knew that Bucky didn’t like her, despite Steve trying to convince her otherwise. It hurt her feelings a bit, especially after she’d learned so much about him through both Steve’s stories and the time she spent tracking him down. He was such an important person to Steve, her close friend, and Bucky hated her. At first, she figured he was shy and wasn’t ready to open up to anyone else, especially after all the trauma he endured. But she realized he actively disliked her over time, with Bucky always leaving the room when she entered or ignoring her offers to hang out with her and Steve. Eventually, she gave up on reaching out to Bucky, as she only seemed to upset him further, no matter what she did. She figured it was for the best.

Bucky stepped into the room and shook his head.

“Bed’s too soft for me anyways, I’ll take the floor,” he grumbled.

Y/N shrugged in response, knowing that Bucky would be too stubborn to try and argue against. She turned around and picked up the phone, calling the front desk to ask for extra blankets and pillows. When she hung up the phone, she turned back to Bucky to see him nod in thanks.

The rest of the night was silent, as they both prepared for bed, taking turns going into the bathroom to wash up and change. While Y/N was in the bathroom, Bucky arranged the extra blankets and pillows into a makeshift bed on the ground, something that he’d done countless times before. Y/N exited the bathroom in an oversized t-shirt that covered her shorts, and placed her toiletries bag in one of the hotel dresser drawers.

“Bathroom’s all yours.” Bucky grunted in response, grabbing some clothes and a bag headed for the bathroom.

“Don’t do anything stupid,” he stated, just before shutting the door behind him. Y/N scoffed at his comment, gently climbing into bed, in an attempt to not further injure her ribs. She winced as she tried to get into a comfortable position before settling to sleep on the side of her unaffected ribs.

Bucky emerged from the bathroom to see Y/N lying on her left side, her back towards him. He assumed that she had already fallen asleep and quietly crawled into his makeshift bed.

Approximately 10 minutes had passed, when he heard her sniffling. At first, he thought the noise was coming from outside the window, but he traced it back to her. He remained lying on his back for a moment, deciding whether or not to say something. Bucky sighed before speaking.

“You okay?” Y/N immediately stiffened upon hearing Bucky’s voice. She was hoping that he wouldn’t hear her crying, despite his super soldier hearing abilities.

“Yeah, ‘m fine,” she replied back, her voice wavering as she spoke. Y/N hated how weak and pathetic she sounded in that moment. Her fractured ribs made it hard for her to breathe and the adrenaline, that was previously shielding her from the pain, had faded, leaving her to lie there in agony. On top of that, she also felt that this mission solidified her belief that Steve had little faith in her ability to be an Avenger. The last thing she wanted to do right now, was to confess her insecurities to Bucky.

Bucky’s attitude softened, hearing Y/N’s voice crack when she spoke. He knew she’d gotten hurt due to her own, dumb, decision during the mission. Bucky quietly pulled his blankets off and stood up, leaving the room without saying another word. As soon as the door shut, Y/N burst into tears. Bucky did exactly as he’d done in the past many times before, leave. She wasn’t sure why this time upset her more than the rest. Probably because she knew that he was aware of her crying and he’d still chosen to abandon her completely.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the door opening, causing her to stop crying. Y/N listened to Bucky’s footsteps growing closer, and felt the bed dip under his weight as he sat on the edge she was facing towards. She peered over the blanket she was covering her face with, to see Bucky facing her, holding a bag of ice, wrapped in a towel. Bucky’s heart sank at the sight of her glossy eyes and tear stained cheeks in the moonlight.

“For your ribs,” he spoke softly, gesturing to the ice bag in his hands.

“Oh. Thank you.”

Y/N took the bag from him, attempting to slowly sit up. She closed her eyes as she grimaced, and suddenly felt a hand on her back, helping her up. Her eyes opened to reveal Bucky, with a soft smile on his lips. She silently thanked him again, placing the ice bag on the right side of her ribcage.

“Thought you hated me,” she mumbled, keeping her gaze down on her lap. He furrowed his brows, keeping his eyes on her.

“I don’t hate you.”

“Well, you definitely don’t like me.”

Bucky paused at her comment, thinking about his next words, before responding.

“I don’t like that you take up all of Steve’s free time,” he grumbled, causing Y/N to quickly look up at Bucky, his eyes averting her gaze. Her face fell, immediately realizing why Bucky had treated her so coldly all this time. He just missed his friend.

“I’m so sorry, Bucky.” She placed a hand on his shoulder and he looked up at her in response. “I didn’t realize, I’m sorry.”

Bucky didn’t know what to say. He wasn’t expecting her to be so kind and understanding, even coming up with multiple points to argue back at her. He realized then that he didn’t know her at all, but that he wanted to now. In an instant, she became an entirely different person. He studied her eyes and wondered if they had always sparkled like that, if her cheeks were naturally rosy, or if her lips had always been so pink and plump.

His expression softened and he cleared his throat. “It’s fine,” he muttered, tearing himself away from her gaze to look down at his lap. After a moment of silence, Bucky stood up to return back to the floor.

“Stay.” The words left Y/N’s mouth before she had time to process them. Bucky froze and turned to face her. “I mean, if you want to, of course. Just figured the floor must be super uncomfortable for you.” Y/N felt a blush creep up onto her cheeks and kicked herself mentally. She looked down at her hands, regretting the words she spoke, before feeling the bed dip again. She looked up to see Bucky. He smiled and she almost melted at the sight.

She shifted over, putting the ice bag on the nightstand, as Bucky crawled into bed next to her. The two rested on their backs, both staring at the ceiling in silence. Bucky remained at a respectful distance away, not wanting to overstep any boundaries. Y/N turned on her left side, her good side, to face him.

“I’m glad you don’t hate me.”

Bucky turned on his side to face her before responding.

“I don’t think I could ever hate you.”

A strand of her hair had fallen in front of her face and Bucky, instinctively, reached out a hand to tuck it behind her ear. Immediately, he regretted it, about to pull his hand back when Y/N took her hand and placed it on top of his, guiding it to rest on her cheek. He cupped her face in his hand and she leaned into his embrace. Bucky felt his heart rate increase as she moved her body closer to his, wrapping the arm she used to hold his hand on her face, across his side. He shifted towards her as well, wrapping his arm around her body, bringing her closer to him.

“Is this okay?” He whispered, nervous that he might have somehow misinterpreted the situation. He hadn’t been with a woman in such an intimate way in years and had no idea what he was doing. Y/N looked up at him and nodded, before snuggling her face into his chest and Bucky felt a wave of calm wash over him.

“Can you stay here tonight?” Y/N mumbled, her face pressed into his chest. He chuckled at the vibrations from her voice and kissed her temple, smoothing her hair back.

“I’ll stay as long as you want me to, honey.”

[talesofstyles]

Drs Styles

paediatric heart surgeon harry, husband harry and dad harry. honestly the holy trinity.

warning: they did it in the car. bloody animals.

Harry

“Move your car, please!”

“What are you going to do? Write me a ticket?”

“This is in the interests of safety for the children!”

I look at the time in the car. I’ve still got about twenty to twenty-five minutes to watch this drama unfold at the school gate. I just wish we had popcorn because drop-off and parking situations at the school gates are always more entertaining than Good Morning Britain. 

The school gate is a strange social scene, and honestly, I don’t blame my wife for trying to avoid it like a plague. Sometimes, you don’t even have to talk to these people to know everything about their lives and more. I swear there are more gossips in the class WhatsApp group and daily playground chattering than in the copies of The Sun and Daily Mail combined. You know who’s married, who’s getting a divorce, whose husband shagged the au pair again, whose party you haven’t been invited to, even who’s looking for a builder. 

I see the school caretaker chuckling to himself as he sweeps the autumn leaves off the pathway, no doubt also enjoying our morning entertainment. 

“Why is Mrs Chambers screaming like that?” Alma, our eldest daughter, asks from the back of the car. 

“Because that man parks his car in a drop-off zone,” I reply, still watching him as he removes a child from his car seat. “Do you know who that is?”

“I think the boy is your classmate,” Alma turns to her sister.

Fiona, our youngest, peers over to inspect. “Oh yeah, that’s Rufus and his dad.”

“Do we like Rufus?”

“Not unless we like boys who pee down the slides,” Fiona scrunches her nose up. “He stood at the top and peed down like a waterfall. I haven’t gone down the slide ever since.”

I shake my head and let out a chuckle. “M’sure they’ve cleaned it up since, button.” 

Did you know that choosing a school for your child after nursery can be a head-throbbing, stomach-twisting, heart-pounding experience? Well, it can. How is one supposed to choose a school anyway? According to the proximity? Leavers Results? Adorable uniforms? Parents’ agendas?

After many, many discussions and visits through more schools than I can count, we ended up with Thomas’s Kensington. It’s a great school, and only ten minutes away from our home, making school runs easier. The downside of this school is the fact that it costs us an arm and a leg and that they’re always trying to rip us off any chance they get. Also, they only take the kids until 11, so after that, we’ll have to look for other schools again. But since our girls are only seven and five, we can worry about that later. 

There’s a strange mix of parents at this place. I went to school up in the North and the school gate scene is nothing like this. Here there are more au pairs, fancy cars, nicer clothes and people coming with impressive tans from their last weekend break in Antibes. The kids here are suited up too: the PE kit is the size of a small weekender bag, and we put them in uniforms that make them look smart, hoping that will increase the size of their brains. A child walks past our car with a cello case, another with a hockey stick. It’s a different land here. One that my socialist in-laws constantly tease us about and one which my mum was hysterical about because she was scared her grandbabies would be little Tories. I promised her I’d keep them grounded by only giving them plain hobnobs. None of those luxury chocolate covered ones.

Jokes aside, my girls are happy here. They’re thriving. They learn French and Spanish and Mandarin, even if they share a class with kids who have ridiculous names like Kitty and Archibald. 

A knock at my window calls me to attention. I wind it down.

“Are you Fiona’s dad?” A mum asks me.

“I am.”

“It’s about Ophelia’s riding party this Saturday at the riding stables.” 

Like I said, it’s a different land here.

“I thought we RSVPed to that?” I look at her in confusion.

“Yes, you did, but we have to change the food options as one of the partygoers is allergic to nuts. I’m making everyone aware and we need to let the guests know that they can’t bring any nuts on the day.”

A dirty joke is right there on the tip of my tongue and I’m trying my hardest to keep it in. My wife would definitely find it funny though, I’ve got to remember this and tell her later. 

“Noted,” I mean, I wasn’t going to send my daughter to a party with a packet of cashews anyway but I nod politely.

“And just gift vouchers for gifts please. Smiggle, if you can.”

Again, I nod, biting my tongue at the presumptuousness. But then I suddenly panic, because we haven’t entered the realms of pony riding just yet. Do I have to buy jods and boots? If I don’t, will my daughter be the odd one out? But Ophelia’s mum saunters off before I’ve got the chance to ask.

“Do I have to go to that party, daddy?” Fiona asks. 

“Well, we’ve already replied, poppet,” I tell her. “Did you not want to go?”

“I’ll go if I have to.”

I don’t answer because I get distracted by a vacant space. I edge the car forward so my girls can hop off. 

“I love you both. Have a good day, make good choices.” 

“Bye daddy! We’ll see you after work!”

***

Evelina London Children’s Hospital is our second home. Of course, as a children’s hospital, we try to make the place as fun as possible as not to freak those little patients out at being ill. It is bright and primary coloured, and each ward is decorated according to its own theme with different colours and lovely artworks. There are televisions and toys almost in every corner. We have a giant slide on the ground floor, and even the bins are shaped like red London buses. The aim was to help the children to forget that they’re in a hospital and take their minds off their sickness.

Since my wife and I are in the same department, our offices are next to each other, both overlooking the Thames. It’s nice up here. Would’ve been nicer if we could sneak in a quickie, but that’s practically impossible with our shared secretary’s desk sitting literally in front of our doors. 

Speak of the devil.

“Good morning. Here’s your tea,” my secretary follows me into my office with a cup of tea and a tiny plate with a couple of rich tea fingers. “Clinic until 3 pm, scheduled PDA ligation in the laboratory for 4 pm and then evening rounds on the wards.”

“Mornin’ Rhonda, you look lovely today,” I greet her cheerily. She’s a stern-looking woman who definitely likes her tea as strong as tits and who has probably never cried in her life. With such severity, she runs a tight ship, but she secretly has this affectionate side in her too. Not only is she a great secretary, but she also takes care of us in a way as a grandma does. She makes us tea, feeds us in between surgeries with biscuits or nice baby cheeses and crackers just so we wouldn’t starve. 

See that sofa over there in the corner of my office? Rhonda got me that. It was around the time when I had just become a new father with the sweetest, most gorgeous little baby who did not sleep. Alma wasn’t a fussy baby though. For some reason, she just wouldn’t go back to sleep after her midnight feed for months. Believe me, I tried everything. I changed her nappy, I swayed and jiggled and rocked and sung her to sleep. Odd nonsensical songs like, ‘Alma darling go to sleeep. Sleepy sleep sleep. Pleeeeease. I’m so tirrrred. My eyeballs may actually exploooode. I don’t want you to see thaaat.’ And she would just look at me all wide-eyed like I’d lost the plot. Those were song lyrics? That was rubbish. Please don’t give up your day job. Also, it’s not sleeping time. I’m awake. I’m ready for life. Come on, entertain me, old man. Isn’t this nice, just you and me? Tell me everything you know. EVERYTHING. 

Except of course she didn’t say all that. She would just stare at me and I had no idea what was going on in her little head. 

I took over my wife’s patients at the hospital during her maternity leave, so I had longer hours at the hospital. One day Rhonda found me napping on the floor between surgeries, so she sweet-talked some porters into looking for any old sofas on the go and paid to have this one reupholstered. She even bought me a fleece throw for it too. We really don’t deserve her.

“You hittin’ on me?” She deadpans. “Yer wife not doing it for you these days?”

“It’s the blazer. I’m a sucker for a blazer.”

“If I’d known, I would’ve worn it more often,” she replies. “Did my nice dress yesterday not give you the fanny flutters?”

“It’s schlong shiver for me,” I roar with laughter. “And it’s the tartan, makes you look well old.”

“YN, yer husband’s a bloody git, did I ever tell you that?” Rhonda says loud enough for my wife to hear, and I can hear my wife’s laughter from her office next door. “Drink your tea. Your first clinic appointment is in twenty.”

“Yes ma’am,” I salute her. 

***

The Arctic ward in the Evelina is home to many of our imaging, heart and kidney services. The name is probably giving it away, but everything is decorated in blue and white to go with the theme. We have several zones, and since paediatric cardiology clinics are held in the Walrus zone, I spend a great deal of time each day looking at walrus and snowflake decals. 

“Doctor Styles!” I hear a little voice shouts in excitement as I walk towards the waiting room in the outpatient ward. I smile, because I recognise that voice even before I see the little person.

The waiting room is very open here compared to other hospitals. There’s a sea of noise, snacks, tiny juice boxes and colouring pages. There’s also always a look of expectation, judgement on the faces of parents and guardians every time I walk in. They want to see if their doctor is old or qualified enough to see their children. There’s always one child who has the whole gang with them; parents, two sets of grandparents and even several aunts and uncles, and there’s also at least one child running around in circles out of boredom. 

This little lad bounces off his chair and hurls himself at me in a way like a little puppy would when its owner comes home from work. I put an arm out, hoping that he’ll apply the brakes but no such luck and he bundles himself into my arms. “Nice to see you, mate.”

His parents smile as they watch their son’s antics, who then runs off as I shake their hands. I turn around to see what caught his attention, and I can’t help but chuckle when I realise it’s my wife. 

“Doctor pretty Styles!” He exclaims excitedly as he bundles himself into her arms. She gets a mouthful of curls in the process. 

“Hi Rory,” she greets him as she runs her fingers through his curly mop. 

“Oi,” I pout as I walk towards them. “You don’t think I’m pretty?”

“Your wife is prettier,” he says with a shrug, his tone matter-of-fact.

She laughs and gives him a high-five. “Rory, you are officially my favourite patient.”

She is right. Rory is one of our special patients for sure. We’ve both known him for about six years now, ever since Rory’s mum gave birth to this tiny human next door at St Thomas and his heart was literally broken. I remember watching proudly from the theatre when my wife replaced two of his valves when he was born. It was in our early years of training. Long time patients like Rory almost always feel like family. We’ve seen all their parents’ tears and watched over their children throughout the years. They send us cards and wine every Christmas and despite all attempts to keep a professional distance, their kids do feel like our own.

Rory shrugs off his dinosaur rucksack and unzips it, pulling out a drawing of a blue whale and an opened packet of KitKat. I like that the whale wears a top hat and appears to also don a moustache. 

“I drew you both a picture. Only one though, because I figure you can share,” he says with a big toothy grin and hands the packet of KitKat to my wife. “And I’ve got half a KitKat here. Do you want it?”

“I’m good for now. Keep that KitKat for later on the tube,” she smiles and waves at Rory as she begins to walk away towards the fetal cardiology ward just down the hall. “Bye Rory, thanks for the picture.”

“Bye doctor pretty Styles,” Rory replies, making my wife laugh as she walks away. I give her a wave and a wink. 

“Hey Rory, did you know a blue whale has a heart the size of a small car?” I ask him and his eyes widen.

“No way! That’s mega!” He exclaims. “Do you think you could operate on a whale heart?”

“I would need a very big ladder,” I tell him. “And a wetsuit. I’d give it a go though.”

A senior nurse from the outpatient ward, Florence approaches us with a junior nurse trailing behind her. “Dr Styles, always a pleasure.”

I smile at her. “Florence. How are we today?”

“Busy as usual,” she replies. “We’re about twenty minutes behind I’m afraid. We had Dr Goodridge in this morning and you know he likes to talk.”

“He always runs over,” I chuckle. “Well, don’t worry. I’ll skip lunch and get us back up to speed.”

“I’ll make sure to send some snacks for you. Here’s your chart, your files are already in your office. And this is Alice, your nurse today. She’s newly qualified so might need some instructions.”

The new nurse looks terrified so I smile at her to try and calm her fears. I totally get that. When you work in medicine, unfortunately, you’ll realise that there are a lot of rude self-important wankers. 

I look down at my chart and find Rory’s name on the top of the list. “Well, look who’s coming with me to the exam room.”

Rory reaches out to hold my hand and we walk towards the examination room. His parents follow us closely, carrying the usual coats and devices that people do when they know they’re bound for a hospital waiting room. I see them inside and sit behind the desk.

“So, young man, I hear we’ve had a touch of drama with you. Can you tell me what happened?”

I’ve actually already got the information in the file, but I like the way this kid tells a story. He reminds me of my youngest. 

“So… I was at school and we were doing PE and I wasn’t really feeling it because it was cold and really we should have been inside but Mr Witter makes us go outside because he used to be in the Army apparently and he says we should get used to the cold but that’s what they do in prisons.”

I smile. “Go on.”

“And then my heart started running.”

“You mean racing?”

He nods firmly. Racing isn’t even the word. It sprinted to the finish like Bolt at 252 beats per minute, three times the speed it should.

“It felt like bubbles in my chest and then the school went crazy panicky and they called the ambulance and they brought me to the hospital but not this one, it was another one and it wasn’t as good because you weren’t there and they had really bad biscuit.”

His mum adds. “And they gave him some drugs to bring it back to a steady rhythm; they were close to shocking him.” Her voice trails off and both parents’ faces look drawn and pale remembering the incident.

Rory looks absolutely unbothered by this. To be fair, we have put this little man through everything. We’ve cut his chest open more times than is necessary for someone so small, we hook him up to machines and put him on treadmills. His resilience and character amaze me, and I really can’t imagine what it feels like to see your child so vulnerable and helpless, to be paralysed and weighed down with such worry.

“Alright then, little man, we need to make sure that your heart is working as it should. This is Alice, and she is going to take you over for an ECG and we just need to make sure your tick-tock is in good shape.”

Rory nods and jumps off the chair. His dad offers him a piggyback, and his mum smiles at them. I can hear Rory offering that half KitKat to Alice as they leave the room. 

His mother turns to me as the door is closed, her shoulders relaxing, allowing herself to breathe. “And how are you?” I ask her.

“You just think it’s done and then something like that comes along to scare you,” she says with a sigh.

“Let’s have these tests and then see if it’s anything major to worry about,” I try to calm her. “Episodes of rapid heartbeat is quite common in Rory’s case, and we can look into drugs to remedy that if necessary.”

She smiles, nodding.

“Did you have any other questions for me?”

She studies my face for a moment too long. “I… well, it will show up in Rory’s records soon, but my husband I are… I mean we’re getting a divorce.”

I pause for a moment. Of course, I know these things happen in life, but I’ve known this couple for years. I’ve seen them at their lowest ebb, bound by friendship and their love for that boy. I really do feel sorry for them.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” I mumble.

“We just… we’re terrified about telling Rory.”

“He doesn’t know?” I ask.

She shakes her head. “We’re scared of breaking him. I mean, look at him. All of this stuff he’s been through and he carries on like nothing has happened. We don’t want to upset him.”

“It took a team of us the best part of six years to build Rory’s heart. There's a warranty on that workmanship,” I reassure her. “Have that chat with him. He’ll be fine.”

***

“Have we got time for dinner first?” I turn to my wife as we walk out of the hospital. We don’t normally have the luxury of ending our shift at the same time, but today is exceptional. We have parents’ evening at the girls’ school so Rhonda made sure to clear up our schedule after our evening rounds at the ward. 

“No, but we can raid M&S and eat in the car?”

I’m starving and I almost cry with relief at the suggestion. “Always knew I married the right woman.”

She chuckles. “Damn right you did.”

We leave the car at the hospital and she drags me along the walkways to Waterloo, the breeze biting at our cheeks. I pull her into M&S, dodging the marching commuters and grab a basket. 

“I’ll look for some wine,” she says before she saunters off. “Oh and I want sushi. None of that crap with the mayonnaise please.”

“Alright.”

I skipped lunch today so the whole place calls to me. I start taking very random things off the shelves: a packet of raspberry iced buns. That’ll do. I also take some hummus for my wife because she bloody loves hummus. I’m not even joking, I’ve seen her down a whole pot of it. Then I take some sushi as requested, some coleslaw, a family bag of mature cheddar and red onion crisps and a trifle. I hope I don’t bump into Rhonda. Next are cheese twists, noodle salad and cocktail sausages. 

It takes me a while to notice that there is a man right next to me with a roll of yellow stickers in their back pocket. Hello there, you are one of my favourite people tonight. Have I managed to find that sacred hour when all the food is being marked down? He labels some prawns with dip and even though I get a little squeamish about eating fish near its expiry date, I put it in my basket. I then follow him around the corner. Now, this is dinner. I put all sorts of random food in my basket and smile at the thought.

Ooh, knockdown pizzas. I should get a pizza. That’s tomorrow’s tea sorted, the girls will love it. Although I can’t help but wonder, what’s the limit for us to feed our daughters frozen pizza in a week before they get taken away from us? But eh, we might be able to get away with it if we give them frozen peas on the side. 

“Look at you,” says my wife, depositing two bottles of red in the basket. 

“Yes, it’s me. I’m the yellow sticker bitch.”

She snickers as we turn to head for the tills. “Excellent work.”

***

“Mr and Mrs Styles, welcome.”

“Mrs Ebner, always a pleasure,” I shake the headmistress’ hand who’s standing at the door. 

“Busy evening?” My wife asks her as she shakes her hand next.

“Always,” the headmistress replies with a smile, then proceeds to speak like she’s reading out of brochures. “But such a wonderful opportunity to connect with our parents and build on the special relationships we have with our school community.” 

Two uniformed minions appear.

“Lewis, Maggie, could you please show Mr and Mrs Styles through to the drinks reception?”

They both nod in unison. The boy holds his arms out like a waiter showing us to our table. We follow them through the school’s grand corridors to the main hall. It’s the one thing I like about this place. It’s very Hogwarts-like with hefty engraved name boards and sepia photos of successful sports teams. In the hall, a throng of parents mill around waiting to see respective teachers. It’s the same every year. We all dodge the people from the PTA trying to sell us quiz tickets, and the bowls of crisps out of hygiene concerns.

“Red or white?” Asks a lady in an apron.

This right here is the very reason we get through parents’ evening. From the look of the bottle, it’s decent wine too. I think that’s where a good proportion of our fees is going. 

“Red, please.”

We both take our glasses and walk to the corner of the hall. It’s essentially a holding area without the background music. The idea is that all the parents will get on and create a party vibe but it just becomes a strange family gathering. As terrible as it sounds, it’s sorted into cliques: parents who know each other via NCT groups, the international expat brigades who keep to themselves, the parents who’ve ostracised themselves by gossip, the ones who you know regularly brunch and ski together.

The boy from earlier suddenly appears in front of us. “Mrs Hughes is ready for you.”

I put my hand on the small of my wife’s back as we walk towards the classroom. Fiona’s teacher first and then Alma’s straight after. Right, we can do this.

“Mrs Hughes, we meet again,” I shake her hand. I’ve got no qualms about Mrs Hughes. She’s a seasoned teacher who likes a slack and sensible moccasin and we’re familiar with her since she taught Alma two years previously. When we enter the classroom, Lewis bows in reverence, taking his leave and I wonder whether to tip him. 

“It’s always lovely to have another Styles girl in my classroom. Fiona is a particular delight.”

My wife and I smile proudly. I’m sure Mrs Hughes says this to every parent here about their child, but that’s always nice to hear. 

“She talks a lot about you,” my wife says. “She seems to have settled in well.”

Mrs Hughes opens up a couple of books and it’s classic Fiona. Alma is ordered and neat—if she makes a mistake then she erases it completely and she underlines things with a ruler and listens to instruction carefully. She gets that from her mum. Fiona though, on the other hand, she’s all me. She has more wild abandon about her; no rulers, no rubbers. She puts giant crosses through things that don’t work and likes her bubble writing decorated with doodles of many, many cats.

I glance around the classroom as Mrs Hughes talks to us about standardised scores. The theme of the school is to show you how smart and educated these children are. Look at the copperplate handwriting, their reproductions of Van Gogh and our languages corner where they’ve all had a go at telling us what they like in French. I spy a contribution from my girl. J’adore les chats et le gâteau au chocolat. 

I’ve lost track of the conversation so I try to catch up.

“So to push Fiona into those top scores, perhaps we can look into tutoring? For maths, in particular, so she can grasp some of the concepts a little more tightly,” says Mrs Hughes. 

My wife and I look at each other confused. “Uh, I don’t think there’s a need, right? She’s only five.”

“It’s never too early,” replies Mrs Hughes. “We run an after-school tutoring club on Tuesdays that would help.”

Back when I was a youngster, clubs were fun endeavours that involved matching baseballs caps or were a chocolate biscuit that you had in your lunchbox. Maths tutoring session was not a club.

I ask her. “Is it free?”

“It’s fifteen pounds per session.”

See? My point being this should be a parents’ evening, not a sales session.

“Well, then it’s something to think about,” says my wife. “It could be that Fiona catches up with people throughout the year.”

“Possibly,” Mrs Hughes nods. Still, though, she proceeds to go into her folder and passes me a form. Sneaky. “Fiona has also shown great interest in languages and art. Her pictures have been a joy.”

Mrs Hughes goes to a file and pulls one of Fiona’s drawings. I glance down at it. It’s a standard child piece of art. The grass and sky are strips of colour to the top and bottom. It’s a family portrait, and we are as tall as the broccoli style trees. Wait, hang on a second. I count the number of people in the picture again. Is that-

“And Mrs Styles, I gather congratulations are in order,” she says with a smile. “Such lovely news.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Fiona told me it’s a boy,” she adds, and the sheer terror on my wife’s face at the realisation is priceless. “You must be very thrilled.”

I study the picture. There’s a house in the middle, and standing in a line in front of the house is our family. The one slightly taller than the broccoli tree is me. I’ve got my white lab coat, and I look like a serial killer because I’m holding a scalpel with the size of a butcher’s knife. Next to me is my wife, also with a white lab coat, but instead of a scalpel, she’s holding a very chunky baby who rather looks like a basketball with a head.

“Oh dear,” I chuckle. “Guess now we know what she’ll ask for Christmas.”

“Yeah,” my wife shakes her head. “We’re not expecting.”

“Oh, I apologise,” Mrs Hughes says with a sheepish smile.

“No worries, Mrs Hughes,” I tell her. “So, what else has our girl been up to here? Besides gossiping of course.”

Mrs Hughes laughs under her breath. “Well, in class, Fiona is attentive, bright and very helpful. She is a credit to you both.”

***

“I swear your daughter, Styles.”

We’re sitting in the car now. Finally done with parents’ evening, still laughing at the slightly creepy, chunky basketball baby in Fiona’s picture and the fact that three people, including Mrs Hughes, have congratulated us for the ‘baby’.

“You haven’t called me Styles in years,“ I turn to her with a grin. “Not since medical school.”

I can’t help but flashback to the good ol’ days when we had matching university hoodies and we’d test each other on the parts of a kidney whilst walking into lectures, sitting next to each other, sharing pens and cans of Lilt. 

“Well, after that I became a Styles too,” she chuckles. “Would be confusing then, wouldn’t it?”

“True,” I laugh under my breath, then I grab her hand and pull it to my mouth so I can kiss her knuckles. “Thank you.”

“What for?”

“For being a Styles.”

“Aw, aren’t we soppy tonight?” She smirks. “Alright, stop the car.”

“What?”

“There,” she points to a dark empty spot and I oblige. 

Then, before I can even ask her why, she reaches over and grabs me by the collar. Pulling me close to her and gives me a kiss. I kiss her back, and I smile when she bites gently on my bottom lip.

“Oi, oi. Something’s got you randy.”

The next thing I know, she undoes her seatbelt and then rolls her trousers down her legs along with her knickers, fumbling and giggling at the awkward movement. I push my seat back and pull my trousers down. 

“Don’t fall on gearstick now,” I joke as she climbs over to straddle me. “Well, unless you want to, of course…”

She laughs as she lowers herself over my lap. I really can’t believe what’s happening here.

“Mrs Styles, we’re about to have sex in a car. Around the corner from our daughters’ school.” 

“I know,” she says with a smile before she runs her tongue along my neck. “Not our first rodeo though.”

“Oh right, we did it in our Volvo years ago, didn’t we? Thought the suspension couldn’t take it.”

“And it turned out fine. Told you that you needed to have more faith in the Swedes, they’re a reliable breed.”

“I love it when you talk about Sweden.”

“Ikea.”

“Fuck.”

“Meatballs.”

“Billy Bookcase.”

She throws her head back in laughter and I take this as an opportunity to run my tongue along her collar bone. She gasps. I reach down to lift her before I slowly lower her over my cock. We both sigh as I enter her, a long exhalation with our lips barely touching. 

“Viggo Mortensen.”

“Isn’t he Danish?”

“Tomato, Tomahto.”

I smile at my wife and push my hips up, silently telling her that we don’t need to talk about Swedish people anymore. She grabs onto the car seat and levers herself up and down. I look at her in the eye, a goofy smile still plastered across my face.

But then I squint. Light. Bollocks, what’s that? Where’s that light coming from? Crap, that’s bright. Shit. I see the flash of a hi-vis jacket, a knock at the window and someone shaking their head.

Oh sodding fucking bollocking shit wank.

[separatist-apologist]

Lucien Vanserra + The Villain Theory & Why the Mating Bond Is Not Fake

I've been thinking about this for a while and I've decided I want to debunk this because of all the *insert character that is definitely not the villain becoming a secret villain*, Lucien is most definitely not it.

The theory, according to tiktok, is that Lucien is a secret schemer who has tricked everyone, including Elain, into believing they are mates for undefined, suspicious reasons likely related to Koschei. I find this unlikely considering his "father" is ALSO scheming with Koschei and Lucien likely has some awareness of this considering how often Eris is suddenly hanging around.

This is so long. Everything is under the cut.

However, lets pretend he doesn't. There is consistent, contextual proof that Lucien a) could not make up a mating bond even if he wanted to and b) everyone would know if he had.

Starting in ACOTAR, Tamlin tells Feyre the story of Lucien. On page 160, Tamlin says:

"Lucien said he didn't care she wasn't one of the High Fae, that he was certain the mating bond would snap soon and that he was going to marry her and leave his father's court to his scheming brothers."

Followed up on page 161, Tamlin adds:

"...his father has never apologized and his brothers are too frightened of me to risk harming him. But he has never forgotten what they did to her...even if he pretends he has."

That's ACOTAR. I know SJM likes to change things on a whim, but foundationally, this is Lucien's character and across all five books, it never changes. Lucien is still haunted by Jesminda and the mating bond he lost. He firmly believes, if we believe Tamlin to be a reliable narrator (and we should, as Lucien backs Tamlin's opinion up in his private thoughts. It is also worth noting that if Lucien has a villain origin story, it begins right here, the moment his father beheads Jesminda. To assume he's the villain, we ought to believe that he's been scheming non-stop for at least 200 years (since he's like, 300ish?) and to what end? To kill Beron? He'd have been scheming far longer than Elain was alive.

Moving right along to ACOMAF, on page 619, Amren says:

"And the bond," Amren breathed, Cassian's blood shining on her hands as she slowed its dribbling.

Mor said, "She asked the king to break the bond. He obliged."

I thought I might be dying- thought my chest might actually be cleaved in two.

"Thats impossible," Amren said. "That sort of bond cannot be broken."

"The kind said he could do it."

"The king is a fool," Amren barked. "That sort of bond cannot be broken."

"No, it can't," I said.

This is from Rhys' perspective. A mating bond can't be broken with magic- it's forever. Even rejected or in death (we'll get there), the mating bond is for life. Assuming Lucien's mate was Jesminda, even if it hadn't snapped in death, she would STILL be his mate and death would not have changed that. Neither would any magic Lucien, a spell-cleaver, might possess.

Let's also consider Elain, who has no reason to lie and every reason to call Lucien out regarding the bond. In ACOMAF, page 608, we see this:

"...Elain was staring over Nesta's shoulder. At Lucien-whose face she had finally taken in. Dark brown eyes met one of russet and one of metal. Nesta was still weeping, still raging, still inspecting Elain-

Lucien's hands slackened at his sides. His voice broke as he whispered to Elain, "You're my mate."

It's Elain who sees him first, who feels the mating bond mere seconds before Lucien. Why choose Elain, if you're going to pick a fake mate for your scheme? The argument is generally that she has the least amount of knowledge about Faeries and no interest in that education but how would Lucien know that? Feyre told Lucien nothing about her sisters (she told Ianthe instead), which means he would have had to guess. Given that Elain fights being put in the Cauldron, there's nothing contextually in that moment that suggests that Lucien somehow knew she was the easier sister to fool.

It's also worth noting that Lucien, up until that moment, still genuinely believes Jesminda was his mate. If he's the villain, having a fake mate makes no sense to the story or his plans.

Feyre has been inside Lucien's mind twice. Once in ACOMAF (pg. 95):

"Thoughts slammed into me, images and memories, a pattern of thinking and feeling that was old, and clever, and sad, so endlessly sad and guilt-ridden, hopeless-"

And again in ACOWAR when Lucien meets Elain for the first time. On page 249, we get the best description of what Lucien is feeling regarding the mating bond, all through Feyre's perspective:

"Too thin. She must not be eating at all. How can she even stand?

The thoughts flowed through his head, one after another. His heart was a raging, thunderous beat, and he didn't dare move from his position a mere five feet away. She hadn't yet turned toward him, but the ravages of her fasting were evident enough.

Touch her, smell her, taste her-

The instincts were running a river. he fisted his hands at his sides."

"But there she was. His mate. She was nothing like Jesminda."

"Elain had been...thrown at him."

"That circle of people who now claimed to be Feyre's new family...It was what, long ago, he'd once thought life at Tamlin's court would be. An ache like a blow to the chest went through him, but he crossed the rug."

"But he couldn't breathe as she faced him fully. She was the most beautiful female he'd ever seen. Betrayal, queasy and oily, slid through his veins. He'd said the same to Jesminda once. But even as shame washed through him, the words, the senses chanted, Mine. You are mine, and I am yours."

"She looked away- towards the windows. 'I can hear your heart,' she said quietly. He wasn't sure how to respond, so he said nothing and drained his tea even as it burned his mouth.

'When I sleep,' she murmured, 'I can hear your heart beating through the stone.' She angled her head, as if the city view held some answer. 'Can you hear mine?'

He wasn't sure if she truly meant to address him, but he said, 'No, lady. I cannot.'"

These are Lucien's thoughts from Feyre's perspective. He has no idea she's in his head, so why is he thinking all those things? Why feel guilt that he finds her beautiful or that he'd once said all the same things to Jesminda that he thinks about Elain? Why care about her well-being? We know mates are driven to protect and Lucien's very first thoughts about Elain are ones of concern. She's not eating, she's too thin, how can she possibly stand? Not, hahaah my evil planned worked and I totally have an in with the Night Court (which, why would he need considering Tamlin is currently allied with Hybern and Lucien could have taken full advantage of that?).

Additionally, assuming Lucien is faking the mating bond for some poorly defined, evil plot, why keep such distance? Why not force himself on her? That's the claim, right? That he's forcing her to be with him which is amusing because in ACOFAS, Lucien has some thoughts on page 162"

"'How is she?'

'Better. She makes no mention of her abilities. If they remain.'

'Good. But is she still...' A muscle flickered in his jaw. 'Does she still mourn him?'"

First question he asks. "How is she?" Followed by if she's still in love with her ex-fiance. And I can hear the screaming now, "HE ASKED BECAUSE HE WANTS TO OWN HER" but like, on page 165 of ACOFAS, we get:

"I can't stand to be in the same room as her for more than two minutes."

Truly a stupid plan to fake a mating bond with a person that is causing you to be eaten alive with guilt and longing. We know the second he's around her, Lucien's is overwhelmed with the mating instincts and feels guilt over Jesminda, which is why he spends little time around Elain. He also tells Feyre, on that same page, he doesn't want his life to be financed by Rhysand. Feyre practically begs Lucien to move back to Velaris, to work for her full time, to let her set him up somewhere nicer and Lucien declines it all. If his plan hinged on getting closer to the IC, to using Rhys' resources, why tell her no? Why not take her up on it? Why not make him part of her life in a much more tangible way?

And finally, the dreaded scent of the mating bond. Feyre doesn't risk talking to Rhys when she's in Spring for fear of alerting everyone to the scent of the bond. Azriel, too, cannot stand the smell of it to the point he stands in the doorway during solstice rather than come in.

Ladies, Gentleman, and Non-binary pals of the jury, examine the evidence. For Lucien to be a villain, he has to KNOW that Feyre is a daemati before she does and both leave his thoughts unguarded while constantly assuming she MIGHT be picking through them. He also has to be able to control large amounts of people at the same time via the smell of the bond and Elain being able to feel it. When he tugs, she responds.

It would require everyone around them to be incredibly dumb. Feyre and Rhys basically share a mind and while they don't necessarily trust Lucien (unfairly imo), I firmly believe one of them would have picked up on a fake bond or Lucien's scheming.

Lucien wanted Jesminda, not Elain. If he decided to punish the world around him for the consistent pain he was enduring, he doesn't need Elain to achieve this. He's friends with Feyre. He has contacts all over Prythian. He didn't need to fake a mating bond, nor does it make any sense to do so. What they have is REAL.

And lastly, the bond can't be broken. Rejected, yes, broken no. Regardless if you think they'll keep it or not, they ARE mates and Lucien is NOT the villain who will be heroically slaughtered. They're awkward, they're uncomfortable, they have shit to work out but they ARE mates, and Lucien has proven over and over that all he wants is a home and goddamn peace and quiet.

[thatfuckingweirdo]

Up, Up and Away...

Bucky Barnes x Insecure!Female Reader

Summary: Bucky turns soft in the middle of sex, and you're left wondering if you were the cause.

Warnings: Angst, insecurities, erectile dysfunction, tears, self doubt, semi smut, implied smut, and uh, I think that's all?

Authors Notes: This was a fun one to write! It definitely got out of hand and I'm glad I ended it before it got any longer, no pun intended!

This is written for @the-ss-horniest-book-club thank you so much for the prompt! 💙

Word count: 1,298

Hours Earlier

"Oh Bucky… yes… right there…" you moaned, your nails scratching down his back as he fucked you hard, the mattress squeaking under you that only made the sex feel so much better and intimate.

Bucky was panting quietly, a permanent frown in between his eyes. He was so tired from the mission and the stress from the upcoming mission didn't help his mood, there were things on his mind but he wanted to please you before the two of you went to sleep.

The longer he was thrusting, the more tired he was feeling and fuck… he turned soft inside of you. Ashamed, he pulled out and sighed, rolling away from you and bouncing back on his side of the bed. "Sorry doll, good night." He mumbled under his breath, reaching over to turn off the lamp. He was already snoring before you had the chance to say goodnight.

Present time...

The coffee cup in front of you held your interest as you stared into the cup. Was it you? Was Bucky not sexually attracted to you anymore? Did he finally open his eyes and realize just what he could have with someone else? This has never happened before, not in the three years of your relationship. His stamina and sexual appetite has always been really good that sometimes you would need to turn him down because of how sore he made you.

You couldn't make sense of it. The more you thought about it, the more likely it felt like it was your fault. It was also the first time you slept away from each other, it was like two strangers in a bed where in normal circumstances, you would usually be cuddling up to each other in the night. It was strange and you didn't feel good about it.

Bucky soon joined you in the kitchen, pouring his own coffee and sitting down silently opposite you, flipping through the pages of the newspaper. He hasn't said good morning, you realize and it stings. What you weren't aware of was the embarrassment he was feeling from last night. He shouldn't have let the stress and tiredness get to him which caused his boner to deflate mid use. He didn't know how to apologize for such a thing.

The mission coming up was the worst one yet because it was an infiltration of a hydra base, the former bunker in which he was kept and that's why this mission weighed down heavy on his shoulders.

Bucky realized he forgot to say good morning and looked up from his newspaper to find you already starting at him with a sad look in your eyes. He smiled as kindly as he could before clearing his throat and scratching his head. "Mornin' doll."

A little bit of hope sends flutters to your stomach and you shift in your seat before clearing your own throat. "Morning, did you sleep okay?" The atmosphere feels awkward and you hate it. It's never been like this before.

"Yeah- yeah I slept good. Just waiting for this mission to be over and done with." He sighs, gulping down his coffee in one go and standing up to put the dirty cup in the sink.

The morning after the awkward encounter in the kitchen, Bucky left for his week-long mission with a quick kiss to your cheek. You spent most of that time alone and it was probably the most dangerous thing you could have done. All of your insecurities crept back one by one, making you feel like you were the most grossest person on earth. The nights were spent crying and sobbing into his pillow, you would wake up the next morning with headaches and sore eyes.

On the fourth night, there were no more tears left to cry. You did wake up in a bitter mood though, it only improved slightly because an agent had come running in to inform everyone the team was on their way back earlier than expected. Apparently, the mission had been a success. You're glad that nobody was hurt, but you couldn't help the anxious feeling of what would happen with you and Bucky. What would happen to your relationship?

You would soon learn things would remain the same, you still haven't talked about that night and your insecurities were still eating away in your mind. Bucky hasn't initiated sex since, and to be honest it only made you feel worse. You started to wear full pajamas to bed instead of just your sleep shirt and panties because you thought it would make him feel a bit more comfortable around you.

It hurt a lot more when you would notice his bulge in his sweatpants from watching a steamy sex scene in a movie, but not around you. Deciding you couldn't take this anymore, you figured the best thing to do would be to move out of his room and back into your old one. You had to negotiate a hug with Tony for your key back, but it was worth it.

Bucky walked in after his run with Steve to find you throwing your clothes into a duffel bag and tears streaming down your face. Panicked, he closed and locked the door behind him to stop you from walking out before he's had a chance to speak to you.

"Doll? What's going on?" His brows furrow even deeper when you ignore him, and he grabs the duffel bag and throws it over the other side of the room. Thank goodness the window wasn't open.

"I could ask you the same question. It's fine if you're not sexually attracted to me anymore but it's an insult if there's something more going on-"

"Something more? What are you talking about? And who said I wasn't sexually attracted to you? Did that Neil guy say something?" Bucky was feeling angrier by the second. Not at you of course, but he hated people on the outside of your relationship sticking their opinions in your business.

"I'm talking about that night, Bucky. You haven't initiated sex with me since and I know it's something to do with me because I've seen you adjusting yourself from watching a movie!"

"Doll, it's a misunderstanding please let me explain?" He pleads, taking your hands and kissing the back of them before capturing your tears with his thumbs. You nod, taking a seat on the bed and waiting for him to continue. He kneels down in front of you and rests his arms on your thighs. "That night had nothing to do with you baby, you felt as amazing as ever. It was my fault; I got myself worked up over the missions that it interfered with… things. And, I haven't initiated anything because I thought you were ashamed of me and I was embarrassed."

You let out a breath that you didn't realize you were holding. "So, you still want me?" You sniffled, wiping your wet cheeks with the sleeve of your sweater.

Bucky looks almost offended that you could ask such a question. "Of course I want you doll, I always want you. Can I show you how much?" His eyes drop to your lips and you subconsciously lick them out of the bad habit you have.

"How- do you wanna do that?" Bucky smirks at your question and reaches for your hand before dipping it under the elastic of his running shorts and boxers. You gasp audibly when you're met with something very hard, hot and pulsing against your fingertips with need.

"You see? It's not you, it was me. If it was you, I wouldn't be constantly horny for you." He winks, shoving his pants and boxers down his legs to let his erection spring free. "Now, let me show you how much I want and need you."

[luminnara]

It’s Been a Long, Long Time | Ch 6

Summary:  When HYDRA had their prized asset, the Winter Soldier, they did something no one ever thought was possible: they gave super soldier serum to an omega. With the sole purpose of tending to him during his ruts, she spends decades living in HYDRA facilities, denied her humanity and her life. Now, years later, Bucky Barnes has his mind and his own life back...and the last thing he ever expects is to see a familiar omega again. Bucky/OC, a little angsty but mostly smutty/fluffy/romantic!

Part One | ... | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven

Tags:  @kyrah-williams @oceanmermaidwitch @shawnie--jo @super-cape @ferxaniti @namjoonwatcheshentai @fandomsstolemylife00 @youngblood199456 @nightlygiggless @darlingely @ bluemoon-icecream @kaz11283 @jenjen8675309 @dollfacev8 @witchinpractice @mystical-b3ar @sukeraa

Bucky refused to leave the omega’s side while she stayed in the lab. Bruce had to stop him from trying to crawl onto the bed with her, and after about the third time, he convinced the super soldier to just pull up a chair like a civilized person and hold her hand while she drifted off to sleep again. Now that she was with her alpha, she had settled down for another nap, more interested in resting than answering any more questions so long as Bucky stayed and kept an eye on her. 

Steve had to admit, it was endearing. He had never seen his friend so absolutely enraptured like this. Whenever the omega, or Ten, as Bruce was still calling her, shifted in her sleep, Bucky’s eyes were snapping over to make sure that she was okay. Whenever she let out a little whimper, he was purring and stroking her hair. Whenever she seemed like she might wake up again, his attention was completely on her.

“So...sure you don’t remember her?” Steve asked, pulling up a chair. He had left for a few hours to work out, and after a lack of updates from FRIDAY, he headed back down to check on everything. They were exactly as he had left them, which was a good sign. At least nothing was getting out of hand. 

Yet.

Bucky shrugged, rubbing the back of the omega’s hand with his thumb. “I dunno. It’s...foggy.”

“Well, it seems to me like you’ve either got a history together, or she’s mistaking you for someone else.” Steve said. “Quite frankly, it’s hard to do the latter.”

“I’ve dreamt of her.” Bucky said quietly. 

“...what?”

“It’s not much, but...I’ve seen her face.” Bucky looked down at her. “I think that no matter how many times HYDRA wiped my memory, she’s always been in there. Kinda like the one constant that was always around, the one thing I could always count on being in the base with me.”

“Why didn’t you ever tell me?” Steve asked.

“Never knew if she was real or not.” Bucky sighed. “I thought...maybe she was just something my mind made up to fill some of the gaps. But she smells exactly like I remember.”

Steve sat back in his chair, his arms crossed over his chest as he watched his friend. Bucky wasn’t snarling anymore, most of his attention trained on the omega while she slept. Now that he was close to her, he had calmed down significantly, though he still wouldn’t let Steve within five feet of her bed. 

“Just got off the phone with Tony,” Bruce announced, walking in. “He and Pepper will be back tonight. Pepper’s having some clothes and personal items delivered for our new omega friend here. They also asked about renovating a more permanent room for her, but I, uh...told them I wasn’t exactly sure what the situation would be.”

“She’s staying with me,” Bucky said immediately. 

“Now hang on, hang on,” Steve leaned forward. 

“Steve,” Bucky growled. “I want her with me.”

“Buck, you don’t even know her—“

Bucky interrupted him with a loud snarl, the omega in question whining and squirming in her sleep at the sound of it. 

He immediately shut up, brushing a thumb over her cheek and shushing her until she was sleeping soundly again. Fuck, he felt so stupid. What was wrong with him? She could have woken up, or been scared, or upset, all because he couldn’t keep his big mouth shut. She needed her rest, and he needed to stay quiet. 

Steve almost couldn’t believe what he was seeing. 

“Oh, Buck,” he shook his head. “You’re in deep.”

—

Amoretta woke feeling well rested, and it wasn’t until she tried to stretch and felt the tug of her IV drip that she remembered where she was. Opening her eyes revealed the bright lights of the lab, and as she started to sit up, a few faces came into view.

“Welcome back, Sleeping Beauty,” Bruce said. “How are you feelin’?”

She licked her lips. “Juice box. Now.”

“Way ahead of you. Had this one waiting as soon as you started waking up.” He tossed one to her and was pleased when her hand shot up to catch it. “Reflexes look good. Vitals are all reading normal. I’ll have to run another test to see what’s going on with those suppressants, but I’m willing to bet you’re metabolizing them fairly quickly now. How are you feeling?”

She pulled the little straw off the back of the carton and jammed it into the top. “Nauseous. Like usual.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Side effect of the suppressants?”

“Always has been. Other than that...I feel great, actually.”

“Well, as soon as these wear off, we can figure out something nicer and more modern for you. If you want to use them, I mean.” Bruce shrugged. “Your choice.”

She smiled. “Choice. I like that.”

“Hey, we’re all about independence here,” Steve said happily. He was glad to see she was awake, even though Bucky wasn’t.

The other alpha was still at her side, but, as of about half an hour ago, he was napping. Steve made a mental note to never let him forget the way he slept straight through the one moment he had been waiting for all day. 

“What time is it?” She asked. “There’s no windows in this damn place.”

“Just after dinner,” Bruce chuckled. “You slept most of the day. Bucky hasn’t left your side.”

She looked over to her soldier, smiling warmly at the sight of him sleeping. He was even snoring softly. “I haven’t gotten to see this in forty years.”

“Did you two, uh…” Steve cleared his throat. “Spend a lot of time together?”

The omega laughed. “You always this awkward around girls?”

“That’s not—“

“Relax, I’m just giving you a hard time.” She sucked on her straw. “But...yeah, we did.”

“So...you were just kept for his ruts, or…” Steve was so awkward it was almost endearing. “I’m sorry, that came out wrong. I think.”

“It’s okay. I know my lot in life.” She kept her eyes trained on Bucky as she spoke. “But if I’m going to answer more questions, I want to get out of this bed. And I want real clothes. Then I’ll talk.”

And so, only several minutes later, Bruce was handing her a sweater and some shorts he had grabbed from a little stash of extra clothing, and Bucky was startled awake by Ten stepping past him. She was finally free from all the tubes and cords that had been sticking out of her during her little hospital stay, and she was all too eager now to explore the tower.

She stood on wobbly legs, almost falling onto him when she tried to take a step. Bucky was up in a flash, ready to catch her, and as she fell against his chest, he wrapped his arms around her. Despite just waking up, he felt fully alert, completely ready to tend to his omega’s every need. 

His omega...he liked that train of thought. 

“We can head up to the common area. It should still be quiet.” Steve said, leading the way out. 

Bucky kept an arm around his omega’s waist as they followed, Bruce bringing up the rear. He wanted to be touching her at all times, constantly in contact so that he couldn’t lose track of her. His instincts were roaring to life, demanding that he do everything in his power to make sure that she was safe and in his line of sight. The elevator ride was tense and full of possessive growling, Bucky constantly shoving Ten behind him to keep her in the corner and as far away from Steve as possible, and everyone breathed a sigh of relief when the doors slid open and they could step out of the cramped space again. 

The common area was empty, thankfully, FRIDAY informing them that the other Avengers were all either working out or in their private quarters. 

“Good,” Steve said, heading towards the couches. “No interruptions. Got it, FRIDAY?”

“Understood, Captain Rogers.”

“C’mere,” Bucky mumbled, pulling his omega down to sit on one of the couches with him. Part of him was feeling a little sheepish and self conscious of his behavior...but the rest of him didn’t give a shit. The others could stare and shake their heads all they wanted, but he’d be damned if he let Ten slip through his fingers again. 

Or whatever her name was. 

Steve and Bruce sat across from them, making sure that they left as much space as possible between themselves and the new omega. Neither of them had ever seen Bucky behaving quite like this--he was on guard, hyper aware of everything around him. He made sure that she was pressed up against his side, an arm draped possessively over the back of the couch so that it was unmistakable that she was with him.

Christ, what had gotten into him? He couldn’t remember ever acting this way about an omega before. 

“So…” Steve cleared his throat, sitting with his elbows resting on his knees.

Bucky didn’t really like the way his posture made him lean forward towards his omega, but he could deal with it for now. “So.”

“What do you wanna know?” Ten asked, plucking at Bucky’s shirt. She seemed to be even clingier with him than he was with her, perfectly happy to be hanging off him or tucked up against his side. “You met my demands. I guess I’m an open book now.”

“I don’t want to overstep my bounds,” Steve said. “We just need to know as much as you’re willing to share.”

“Then ask a question.”

“...Alright.” he cleared his throat again. “You said HYDRA used you to help with Bucky’s ruts?”

Ten nodded, her expression remaining even and cool. 

“Could you tell us more about that?” Steve glanced at Bucky. “Were there ever any other omegas, or anyone we should know about?”

“There were omegas before me.” she answered. “When I first got to the compound, there were a lot of us. They kept us all in big cells, so everyone talked. People said things about how HYDRA was grabbing omegas off the street for their super soldiers, and how the one at our base was the biggest and scariest.”

Bruce raised an eyebrow at her tone. He wasn’t exactly sure what he expected her to sound like while she regaled them with her life story, but he definitely thought there would be a tad bit more apprehension in her voice. She seemed proud of herself, and more matter-of-fact than a lot of omegas would be while talking about their alpha’s previous partners. Or...whatever you called prisoners whose only purpose was to help during ruts.

“And I bet he was,” she sighed, leaning her cheek on Bucky’s chest and looking up at him adoringly. 

“Well, I don’t know about that…” Bucky said, an almost shy smile on his lips. And...was he actually blushing?

Steve was going to lose his mind. 

“You said the other omegas couldn’t handle it? That’s why you were given the serum?” he prompted, trying to keep them on track before he drowned in the sticky sweetness of her happy pheromones. 

“Right.” she turned her attention back to Steve and Bucky let out a quiet huff. “HYDRA didn’t really like to take care of us. And the soldier--I mean, Bucky--would wear them out. So...HYDRA would just kind of let them go. Or put them down, maybe. I never saw it.”

Bucky’s expression dropped. His blush was gone, and he almost looked like he was going to be sick as he listened to her talk.

“But it wasn’t his fault,” she said quickly, glancing between him and Steve. “I don’t think it was ever on purpose, you were just...demanding.”

He gave a groan, leaning his head back against the couch. “You don’t have to sugarcoat it, doll. I’d rather know what I did, at this point.”

She offered a small shrug. “I don’t really remember it being that bad, but I don’t think I ever met you before they gave me the serum.”

“That’s something, at least.” he mumbled, dragging a hand down his face. 

“Why you?” Steve asked. “Did you have any prior military experience, any ties to something the others didn’t?”

“No.” she laughed. “I never even got in fights before HYDRA.”

“Then why’d they use such an important resource on you, specifically? Not trying to take a dig at you, it’s just...well, omegas don’t usually…”

“I know,” she said. “Omegas aren’t supposed to be tough, right? That’s why they only ever let alphas become super soldiers.”

“That’s not what I…” Steve trailed off and then sighed. “Sorry.”

“I told you, they gave me the serum so that I would be strong enough to hold my own. It also ensured I would always be around, no matter how many years passed.” Her fingers found Bucky’s free hand and she took it, absentmindedly playing with the smooth vibranium knuckles. “Having me as a constant meant they could stop spending so much time and effort on always having a new omega around for him. Plus…well, I wasn’t really there, but I heard something about it once…”

“What?” Bucky asked. 

“They let you choose who was going to become your omega.” She said, looking up at him. “They gave you a bunch of scents, and you chose mine. I guess it was the only reason they didn’t, uh...humanely euthanize me.”

His eyes were wide. The thought of HYDRA killing his omega brought a low growl to his throat, his chest rumbling with the vibrations of it. “No.”

“Well, clearly they didn’t!” She said brightly. “My file said I was a kicker.”

“So they gave you, an already aggressive omega, the serum, but never gave you any trigger words or fished around in your brain?” Bruce shook his head. “Surprisingly sloppy, considering who they are.”

“It’s not like they ever sent me out into the world. I stayed in my cell all day, unless I was needed for a rut. Then I went and stayed in a different cell.” She sighed. “And if they ever needed to, they could just use the alpha to grab me.”

Bucky clearly didn’t like the thought of that. He made a frustrated sound, leaning his head back again. “Great.”

“It was never bad.” She let go of his hand, moving her fingers to cup his jaw. “You never hurt me. You wouldn’t. Sometimes, when I acted up, they would make you go retrieve me, because they knew you were the only one who could do it. If they didn’t send you, they would just knock me out.”

“So...that was it?” Steve asked. “Ruts, serum, cryo?”

“For thirty years!” She chirped. “The last time they froze me, they were freezing him, too. They always tried to keep us in cryo at the same time so that I could be thawed out and ready when he needed me. But...I guess they just...left me there?” She frowned. 

“See, that’s what I’ve been trying to figure out.” Steve said. “I didn’t see any signs of a struggle at that base. I’d say they left in an orderly fashion, but the fact that they didn’t take you along makes me think they were in more of a hurry than they made it seem.”

“Natasha might have a better idea,” Bruce suggested. “We can talk to her, try to figure out—“

“FRIDAY, open the damn door or so help me God I will rewrite your entire personality.” A voice interrupted from the other side of the door. 

“I’m sorry, Tony, but Captain Rogers asked me not to.” The AI said. 

“Well, is it an emergency?” The man scoffed.

“No emergency measures have been executed. No security breaches have been identified.”

“Then I’m sorry, but Captain Rogers does not outrank me when it comes to my own robots. Open the door, beautiful.”

She seemed to sigh. “Very well, Mr. Stark.”

Ten perked up, leaning forward slightly. She was watching the door curiously, tilting her head a little when she heard it slide open. Bucky rolled his eyes, grumbling to himself quietly and pulling her up against his side as another alpha strode in. 

“Really? Having a party without me?” the man asked, a smooth, casual air about him as he walked in and looked at everyone on the couches. When his eyes landed on the omega cuddled up next to Bucky, he stopped. “Ah, is this our new guest?”

“Go away, Stark.” Bucky growled. He didn’t like how long the other man’s gaze was lingering on his omega, not when there weren’t any scars on her neck to show who she belonged to.

“Always such a charmer, Barnes.” Tony said, flopping down next to Steve. “Lovely to see you, too. Care to introduce me to your friend? ….No, you’d rather just snarl and forget your words? I knew you were old, but I didn’t realize you were actually a caveman.”

“Tony,” Bruce groaned. “Don’t aggravate him. Please.”

“Why not?” Tony leaned back against the cushions, completely at ease and totally happy to be pressing every one of Bucky’s buttons. 

“Are you Tony Stark?” Ten asked, wiggling out of Bucky’s grip to sit on the edge of their couch. 

Bucky caught her around the waist before she could get very far, though, and dragged her onto his lap. He loomed over her, sneering dangerously at Tony as the other alpha flashed a smile. 

“Bingo.” he said. 

“I never thought I’d meet a Stark,” she admitted. “I always heard about Stark Industries, but I lived too far away from any big cities to ever get to see any of his exhibitions.”

“Ah. You’re from my father’s time. Of course.” Tony shot a pointed glare in Bucky’s direction. “Seems like Bruce left out a few teensy weensy important details on the phone today.”

“Well, it’s been, uh...an ongoing learning experience.” Bruce said sheepishly. 

“Lots of developments, huh?” Tony raised an eyebrow. 

“You could say that.” Steve said under his breath. “We came up here so Ten could be more comfortable while we talk.”

“Oh yeah? What’re we talkin’ about?” Tony asked. 

“They were asking about my time with HYDRA,” she answered, cutting in before anyone else could. “And with...Bucky.”

Saying his name felt odd. Her tongue wasn’t used to it, and her mind wanted to call him alpha, or Winter Soldier. Bucky just seemed so…casual, such a strange thing to call a deadly super soldier. When she heard herself, though, she decided that she definitely didn’t hate it. 

Bucky’s heart gave a little leap at the sound of his name falling from her lips. He wanted her to say it over and over again, in whispers and in screams, for nobody else’s ears but his. 

“...Buck?” Steve asked, pulling him away from his thoughts. “You, uh, kinda zoned out there.”

It wasn’t until Bucky looked at Steve that he realized his eyes had been trained on the omega in his lap. “Yeah?”

“...Is this seriously how you’ve spent the past day and a half?” Tony asked. “Steve, I’m sorry, and I’m sure you’re just trying to be as helpful as you can be, like always, but I think you should let these two get a room.”

Steve looked at him incredulously. “Tony, really? I’m trying to get to the bottom of why exactly HYDRA would abandon the omega they pumped full of super soldier serum. They can get a room later—“

“Yeah, uh, wonder boy? I don’t think your pal is gonna last much longer before he tries to rip our heads off.” Tony nodded towards a very disgruntled Bucky. “You can resume your interrogation tomorrow, Cap.”

Steve looked to Bruce for help, but he only offered a small shrug and stood, heading towards the door. “He’s right, Steve. They deserve some alone time.”

“But—hey!” Steve protested as Bucky picked his omega up, striding past the two alphas sitting on the opposite couch. 

“Thanks for everything, Steve.” Bucky said over his shoulder. 

Ten squirmed, peeking around Bucky’s arm as she was carried away. “Bye, Mr. Stark!”

“Don’t look at him,” Bucky growled as they walked out the door. 

“Did his father really make hoverboards? I heard once that Howard was promising hoverboards—“

“No.” He said flatly. 

“...oh.” She huffed, slumping against him. “Where are we going?”

“My apartment.” Bucky stepped into the elevator, his grip still tight around her. 

The omega perked up. “You have a whole apartment?”

He puffed his chest out a little. “Course I do. Gotta have a nice place for you, don’t I?”

“So I can stay?” Her eyes were bright and happy. “I can stay there, with you, all the time? Not just when you rut?”

He felt a sad little pang in his heart. When he spoke again, his voice was low and soft. “Of course, sweetheart.”

Then, his eyes widened as he realized what he was saying. “I mean, uh...i-if you want to, that is. I know it’s fast and all, and maybe...would you rather have your own room? Or I can stay on the couch—“

“Bucky,” she cut him off with a laugh, a soft hand cupping his jaw. “You’ve been my alpha for seventy years. I’d say we’re actually moving pretty slow.”

His expression relaxed again, lips stretching into a small smile. “Right. Yeah. You’re right.”

They spent the rest of the elevator ride in comfortable silence, Bucky rubbing his scent glands all over her hair. He wanted to make sure that the next time they encountered anyone else, she smelled exactly like him.

Like her alpha.

When the elevator came to a gentle stop at Bucky’s floor, the doors opened, and he stepped out in front of his apartment door. It opened for him, having already scanned his biometrics, revealing a small, but cozy, living room. 

He set his omega down on her feet, watching anxiously as she stepped into his quarters. Did she like it? Fuck, was it too small? It was too small. She probably hated it. Fuck, fuck, fuck...he had to salvage this somehow. 

“Well, uh…” shit, he sounded too nervous. He wanted her to think he was a strong, capable alpha. 

He cleared his throat for another start. “Welcome home, Omega.” 

Wait. That wasn’t right. Should he be calling her that? No, probably not, it sounded too possessive, too uncaring. He wished he just knew her fucking name, or something. 

“I mean…Ten?”

Shit, he sounded so stupid. He wanted to impress her, not...do whatever this was.

She just laughed, though, turning and looking at him with those eyes that sparkled like starlight. “Amoretta. My name is Amoretta.”

[extasiswings]

“i’ll keep you warm” eddie has a nightmare post-shooting 👀 (or however you wanna write it!)

This was not supposed to be this long...rated M-ish for some mild smut at the end. On ao3 here.

The thing Eddie remembers most about the shooting isn’t the shot itself, or the pain, or even the fear—it’s the cold. The icy numbness of shock curling down his spine, twisting through his veins like tendrils of frost creeping across a windowpane in winter. Cold, as his pulse skyrocketed, his body’s signals all crossed and confused and trying to circulate blood, not seeming to grasp the fact that his blood was seeping out onto the asphalt beneath him, that trying to circulate it faster was just making it worse. Cold, like he was a stupid kid at camp diving into a frigid lake before dawn, except above him was blue sky and a bright sun beating down and the fact that it was Los Angeles in May didn’t do a damn thing to help.

He couldn’t feel it. He could only feel the cold.

Buck, though—Buck, he felt. Buck’s hands burned, on his chest, his neck, his face, so warm that Eddie almost wanted to flinch away, but he didn’t. He was aware enough to realize that if Buck was warm, he was probably telling the truth when he said he wasn’t hurt. And that was good. That was all he needed to know.

The cold—

Eddie’s been through enough in his life to know that his subconscious works in weird ways. After Afghanistan he dreamed more directly of burning helicopters and gunfire, blood in his mouth and smoke on his tongue. Shadows and screams and guilt. After the well his dreams were of Christopher, Shannon, waves crashing on a beach. And Buck. Sunlight.

This time...this time Eddie dreams of drowning. Trapped beneath ice, his hands slamming against it, eventually forced to inhale—water flooding his mouth, his throat, his lungs—cold, cold, cold—

Sometimes after he wakes he’ll spend hours shivering. Phantom chills that won’t go away even when he wraps himself in blankets.

The therapist he’s mandated to see before he can be cleared for work tells him that the brain doesn’t always process trauma by taking the most direct path. Eddie doesn’t know why his has fixated on this. The cold. Maybe it’s just easiest. Because the shooting—

His chest gets tight when he’s walking in open air. Sweat breaks out across his brow when the sunlight glints off of windows. His pulse races.

He can’t breathe.

It feels a little like drowning.

“Do you feel safe?” Dr. Kingston asks one session. And Eddie thinks about freezing in a grocery store parking lot, gripping the edge of a cart to keep his hands from shaking, thinks about Buck curving a hand around his shoulder, solid and warm—

“Sometimes,” Eddie admits. “It depends.”

“Depends on what?”

He tastes the lie on his tongue before it slips out.

“I don’t know.”

*

When the world shut down and Eddie had to leave Christopher with his abuela so that he could keep working without worrying constantly that he was putting his son at risk, Buck’s was the obvious place to go. And Eddie doesn’t know if things would have been different if it had been just the two of them but Hen and Chim deciding it was also the obvious place for them to go meant there weren’t a lot of options for sleeping arrangements.

So Eddie shared the bed with Buck. And it didn’t matter if either of them wound up wrapped around the other, the lines of their bodies pressed close enough to bleed together. If they curled into one another like plants twisting to find the light.

It was...instinct. To seek comfort. Warmth. Touch. Both of them alone for so long, and just needing—

Needing.

They never talked about it—there wasn’t anything to talk about. If it made Eddie’s heart race, if it made him ache for something he hadn’t expected and didn’t wholly understand, if when he returned home alone again his own bed felt too empty, that was his own problem.

Now, though—

Now, he knows. Because he stood frozen on the street and stared at Buck with Carla’s words in his head—make sure you’re following your heart—and realized oh. It hadn’t just been convenience, it had been love. Need and desire and love.

Now, he knows, but doesn’t know what to do with that knowledge, with the awareness he has suddenly. Buck is living in his house, in his space, helping him with Christopher and with his own recovery, making sure he takes his meds and gets to his appointments and does his exercises. Buck is there all the time and it’s a blessing and a curse because Eddie burns whenever Buck touches him.

And Buck touches him. A lot.

He hadn’t at first, right after Eddie came home from the hospital—Eddie would catch him sometimes looking like he wanted to, but holding back, reaching out but stopping himself, and Eddie never asked why. Even now he doesn’t think he ever needed to—he knows what it’s like to be afraid, to be unsteady, adrift, worrying that touching something you expect to be solid will reveal it’s just an illusion. Not wanting to find out if it is.

But Buck touches him now. And sometimes Eddie will wake up to find that Buck’s migrated from the couch in the living room to a chair by his bed, folded in and fitfully asleep. Buck never says, but Eddie’s pretty sure it’s so Buck can reassure himself that Eddie’s still breathing.

Eddie understands that need too. Sometimes he isn’t sure himself.

The first time it happens after Buck’s relationship with Taylor has flamed out—for himself, he and Ana have been over since just after he left the hospital—Eddie finally just gets up.

“Buck.” He curves a hand around the side of Buck’s neck and passes his thumb along the edge of his jaw.

Buck startles awake, looking somehow guilty.

“I didn’t wake you up, did I? Sorry, I know it’s—I can go back to the—”

“Will you just come to bed?” Eddie interrupts before Buck successfully talks himself into leaving the room. “Please?”

Buck’s eyes flick down to his shoulder. He swallows hard.

“I don’t want to—”

Oh.

“You won’t hurt me,” Eddie promises. “Okay?”

Buck searches his face in the dark, but if he sees anything, he clearly doesn’t mind because he nods and gets up from the chair. When they both resettle on the mattress, Buck only pauses for a moment before curving around him like a parenthesis, his arm falling across Eddie’s waist.

Eddie’s breath catches.

“Is this—?”

Eddie closes his eyes and sinks into the embrace. If it feels just a little bit like cheating because he hasn't told Buck how he feels, that’s between him and god.

“It’s fine,” he assures, then adds to make it a little more fair, “you aren’t the only one who needs—you aren’t the only one.”

Buck relaxes at that, his grip tightening a little with newfound certainty.

When Eddie dreams, he doesn’t drown.

*

“You look good,” Dr. Kingston acknowledges two weeks later. “You’ve been sleeping better?”

“Yeah,” Eddie replies. “I stopped having nightmares, so I haven’t been waking up as much.”

He catches the surprise that flickers across her face.

“They stopped completely?” She asks. “Have you been doing something different or—?”

Eddie shifts in his chair and clears his throat. What is he supposed to tell her? That he stopped having nightmares when he started sleeping with Buck every night? He’s not really ready to unpack that with his therapist—he’s barely ready to unpack it in his own head.

“Just lucky, I guess,” he says. Dr. Kingston puts down her pen and levels him with a long look that tells him she knows that’s bullshit and is trying to decide whether to push or let it go until another time.

She lets it go.

“Well,” she replies. “I’m glad to hear it.”

Eddie feels like he’s dodged another bullet.

Later, though, he wonders if he shouldn’t have said more. If he shouldn’t have asked questions. Because he goes to sleep and—

The water is pitch black and freezing. Eddie’s eyes sting, but it doesn’t matter whether he keeps them open or not—there’s nothing to see. He kicks his legs anyway, swims up, up, up, even though it hurts to make his limbs work when they’re so cold. There’s a faint light—the surface—and he kicks harder, desperate to reach—

Ice. Nothing but a sheet of ice, solid and thick. His lungs burn from lack of air, his palms beat against the ice—

He can’t keep moving. It’s too cold. He can’t—

“Eddie. Eddie.” Hands seize him from nowhere, almost too warm, and Eddie could have sworn the ice had no cracks, but he’s being lifted out—

“Eddie.”

He snaps awake, gasping. Buck’s face swims into view, worry painted across every line. His hands are on Eddie’s shoulders.

They’re so warm.

Eddie shivers.

“You were hyperventilating,” Buck says. “I thought—”

“Just a dream,” Eddie grits out, trying to keep his teeth from chattering. He still feels frozen. Stupid—it was a dream, it wasn’t real, so he shouldn’t—it shouldn’t be this difficult.

He shivers again.

Buck’s brow furrows deeper.

“You’re shaking—are you cold?”

Eddie sits up and scrubs his hands over his face. He swallows back the denial on his tongue, the urge to run away and hide in the bathroom until a scalding shower makes him feel somewhat human again. Maybe he can’t always be honest with his therapist, but he can be honest with Buck.

“Yes,” he admits. “But it’s not—it’s just in my head. When I got shot I—it’s hard to explain but, yes. I’m cold. Freezing. I don’t know how—”

He cuts off and Buck shifts on the mattress, reaches out slowly so Eddie has plenty of time to stop him if he doesn’t want to be touched, and finally wraps his arms around him, pulling Eddie firmly against his chest.

“I’ll keep you warm,” Buck says quietly. And Eddie—

Something in him cracks. Not like ice during a thaw, but resolve after too much time of being worn down, pressure applied in precisely the right spot. He’s raw and ragged and his scarred heart hardly feels like anything anyone should want, but he’s so tired of pretending he hasn’t been trying to press it into Buck’s hands for a year in different ways. He’s tired of not asking and being afraid and waiting. He’s tired—

Buck makes a soft sound of surprise when Eddie kisses him. But he doesn’t push him away. And Eddie can’t help himself from pressing closer, curling one hand into Buck’s shirt and the other around the back of his neck and kissing him again and again and again, feeling altogether too frantic. He’ll probably find it in himself to be embarrassed in the morning, but want and desperation have left very little room for shame at the moment.

Buck kisses him back. His hands drop to Eddie’s hips as Eddie does his best to climb into his lap.

“Eddie,” Buck pants between kisses. “Eddie—I—” His head falls back and Eddie takes the opportunity to continue his exploration down the exposed line of Buck’s neck.

“Should we talk about this?” Buck finally manages, even as his own hands flirt with the hem of Eddie’s shirt.

Eddie freezes. The answer, of course, is yes. But talking is the last thing he wants to do when part of him still feels chilled to the bone, not wholly alive. He wants to be touched, wants to be consumed, wants to fall into orbit around Buck’s sun and never leave.

And it’s late. Dark. The two of them, the bed, the very room caught in a liminal space where anything could happen, anything could be said, anything could be forgiven. Eddie can’t decide if that’s a good thing or a dangerous one.

His mouth drags along the edge of Buck’s jaw.

“This isn’t because I wanted someone and you happened to be here, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

He doesn’t look at Buck’s face. It’s easier to not, to focus on something else. He stopped going to confession a long time ago, but he never had to look directly at his priest either, always some curtain or other barrier obscuring things, lending the illusion of privacy, anonymity.

“I’m in love with you,” he admits, and Buck’s hands flex on his hips. “I’ve been in love with you. So we can talk about this if you want, but—”

In an instant, Eddie’s on his back, the rest of his sentence swallowed up by the tongue sliding into his mouth. Buck is a warm, solid weight on top of him, pinning him, anchoring him, and Eddie finds he doesn’t mind when it forces him to be in the moment, reminds him that he’s fully in his own body.

“I love you, too,” Buck whispers when the kiss breaks, and then he’s pushing Eddie’s shirt up and off and dispensing with his own—

Shannon was his first. Eddie wasn’t hers and he remembers being glad that at least one of them had some idea of what to do because the second she touched him he was so overwhelmed by sensation that he could hardly think.

This is…not dissimilar. Buck’s chest presses flush against his, all warm, bare skin, and Eddie feels like he could drown in a different way. He arches up, seeking Buck’s mouth again, and Buck obliges.

Eddie’s focus narrows to certain points—the slick slide of Buck’s tongue against his, Buck’s hand ghosting along his ribs, the careful space between their hips and the low burn of heat in his gut that makes him want to close the gap—

His hands slide up Buck’s back slowly, his fingers tracing the knobs of Buck’s spine, the sharp edges of his shoulder blades—they dance along the line of his shoulders too, sketching the breadth that he’s noticed but never allowed his thoughts to linger on. His touch is careful, reverent, as if Buck is a holy thing that his stained, sinner hands have no business touching. Perhaps, in a sense that’s true.

He’s never been a very good Catholic, but sex—sex, desire, love—sex has always been something…sacred to him. In high school, he shied away from the locker room-style conversations about who went how far with whom, kept out of any discussion involving lamentations about still being a virgin at graduation. For one thing, he thought they were usually crass and disrespectful. But mainly he just—he didn’t care about waiting until marriage or anything like that, but he always knew he wanted to be in love. Hence, Shannon. And why there hadn’t been anyone after her.

Until now.

Eddie kisses Buck until his lungs ache, but he’s not close enough, feels like he can’t get close enough. One of his hands slides into Buck’s hair, but the other trails back down, presses lightly on Buck’s lower back as his own hips rock up, seeking friction. Buck swears against his lips and closes the distance—Eddie can feel him hard in his sweatpants and flushes, dizzy at the thought of having made that happen, dizzy at the thought of more, dizzy—

He feels very much like a clumsy teenager again, fumbling his way through on instinct. At least this sort of thing is familiar, even if he hasn’t done it with a man before. Buck grinds their hips together, the friction sending sparks through every one of Eddie’s nerve endings, and kisses down his neck, teeth scraping over his pulse point. Eddie gasps and Buck hums, low and pleased, against his skin.

And then, just as he thinks he’s used to the slow burn of pleasure, Buck shifts his weight and slides a hand down to toy with Eddie’s waistband. Buck meets his eyes in the dark and swallows hard.

“Can I—?”

This time, when Eddie shivers it has nothing to do with the cold.

“Please,” he rasps, and Buck smiles before tugging Eddie’s pants down just enough to wrap his hand around Eddie’s cock.

Buck’s touch is a little tentative at first, clearly unused to the angle, and the part of Eddie that’s still capable of noticing that spends a brief moment feeling grateful that he’s not the only one lacking in experience here. But what Buck may lack in experience, he makes up for in enthusiasm, experimenting with grip and speed and pressure to figure out exactly what to do to make Eddie gasp again, to make him bite his lip, to make him hide his face in Buck’s shoulder to muffle any louder noises he can’t quite hold back.

It doesn’t take long. Even before the shooting, Eddie rarely bothered to touch himself with any sort of regularity, and during his recovery he had even less of a reason to do so, what little energy he had in the first few months better spent elsewhere. He hadn’t realized how badly he needed it. But clearly his body did because his orgasm hits him like a train when Buck spits into his hand for extra glide and twists his wrist on the upstroke. He bites Buck’s shoulder and Buck’s hips jerk and then he’s just floating—boneless, breathless, and utterly wrecked in the best possible way.

Buck collapses on the mattress next to him as Eddie’s catching his breath—Eddie reaches out, his hand skating over Buck’s stomach, and makes a questioning noise. Buck laughs quietly and catches his hand, bringing it to his lips.

“I, uh—I’m good,” Buck promises, and even in the dark Eddie can see his cheeks flush.

Eddie curls into his side. “Really?”

Buck kisses him. “I don’t think you realize how long I’ve wanted to do that. Or how good you look. So, yes, I already—yes. Really.”

Eddie’s lips curve up. He presses a kiss to the edge of Buck’s jaw. As the immediate aftermath wears off, his eyelids start to grow heavy, his limbs moving a little less easily.

“We should probably shower,” he acknowledges, although the strength of the statement is likely diminished by the yawn that interrupts him halfway through.

“Probably,” Buck agrees, but he too makes no move to actually get up.

Pressed against him as he is, Eddie is warm and sated and content. He drifts, skirting the edge of sleep.

“I love you,” he says again. Because it feels important.

Buck hums. If he says something else, it’s too low for Eddie to catch.

When he dreams again, he doesn’t dream of drowning. He doesn’t dream of the cold.

Instead, there’s just light. Just warmth.

Just Buck.

[mrpenguinpants]

Genshin: Roommate HCs [V1]

To be honest, I just wanted to ramble some more and let my brainworms take over. This is sorta late but Happy Valentine’s everyone! I was gonna post this earlier but this honestly took me a long time to write so I moved it to today. 

Once again, this is 90% crack 10% content. Seriously, as much as I love writing this non-serious fics. Why do you people like this?

—

Based off my ramblings with Keqing anon: Link

Genshin: Holding Hands [V1]

Genshin: When you’re cold [V1]

Genshin: University AU [V1]

Genshin: Royalty AU [V1]

[Masterlist]

—

[taglist]  <- if you want to be added, please read this first.

@youaskedfurret @diaxfeliz @wintergreen-aix @kaechu @thegayrubberducky @lovelykittycatmeow @yuunoagivesmelife​  @dokidokisama @rokipersonal​@minakohasmanyhusbandos​ @strwbrry-lia @tigerpriestess​ @yuu-yuukurotsuki​ @hanniejji​  @mikeysbike @unionwitch @musekala @sunnshiii​ @stanzastic @akaasea​ @xoneaboveallx​ @adoring-ghost​ @asheseiler​ @childelover​ @dilucsz​ @dai-tsukki-desu​ @thicmitten​ @nonniechan​ @htnicayh​ @genshins1mpact​ 

---

Diluc

What? Diluc has a roommate? Did you blackmail him in living with you? Is that even possible? Did you throw yourself in front of his car because you needed someone to pay for your student loans and the easiest way was to file a lawsuit? In this economy no one would blame you. Diluc seems like such the self-isolated character that would murder his roommate in cold blood but in reality, he act’s detached from the world because he forgot how to socialize and he’s desperately trying to cover it up without choking. That or he’s trying to learn how to astral project. If he could drink away the pain he would but instead he buys 20 packs of grape Kool-Aid and injects it into his veins. 

Does not and will not ever have a normal sleeping schedule. You’ll wake up to him working, come back home to him working, and will sleep to him still working. His daily dose of Vitamin D is from the brightness of his screen rather than the sun and he’s filter feeding at this point. It’s concerning. He’s going to crumble and he’s bringing the world down with him. Through the power of tax evasion. But as soon as he needs to walk out into society, he pulls movie magic and looks like perfection. It’s both physically and mentally disgusting. 

He’s actually is a really nice roommate to have just so long as you give him space. Great cook and knows to clean up after himself. Though he does have crash and burn days where’s he’s completely out of commission. You could set the entire apartment on fire and he would sleep through it. The entire two weeks are dedicated to zombie eye marathons and then he’ll suddenly collapse and sleep for 46 hours straight. When he wakes up from his hibernation he’s the most groggy and nonsensical person. His life blood is coffee because you keep hiding the 5 hour energy away from him because, you know, life is enjoyable and those cancer bottles will actually kill him.  

“University sucks our money out of our bodies faster than our will to live.” 

Beidou [Happy Birthday Queen 💕]

Despite her appearance, she’s actually really strong and it scares the piss out of you when you’re doing something or scrolling through your phone mindlessly and you suddenly get your spine re-arranged when she slaps you on the back to ask what you’re doing. Likewise, when she hoists you up and throws you over her shoulder so you come with her on her 3am convivence store raids for alcohol. It’s either you change now or else we’re walking out of the apartment in your t-shirt and no pants self. She can and will carry you under her arm that way. It’s both incredibly attractive and horrifying at the same time. 

She’s really friendly and a great talker if you’re alright with her “I must hold you in my arms, fresh prince of bel air style”. It doesn’t matter if you’re taller than her, she’s doing it. She does however, get in a bit of trouble from her rowdiness and you often get noise complaints but Beidou just passes them off to Ningguang and everything is fixed. She has ovaries of steel when neighbors rather confront her personally and she’s ready to 1v1 in the parking lot. You’re trying to desperately hold onto her shirt to stop her from pile driving your neighbors for the third time this week but she’s too strong.  

She’s constant party until we die attitude and suffers the hangover in the morning. It’s actually really funny to catch her in her hangover moods because whatever filter Beidou had, which is none, is gone. She really takes “cursing like a sailor” or the next level and the amount of creativity she comes up with is actually impressive. She can be a bit messy but she’s really likeable and always down to go anywhere with you as long as you’ll do the same. It’s a very ride together, we die together situation. You’re my best friend, you’re dying with me. I’ll see you in hell. 

“Imma T pose over my dad and then crash the car into the parking garage.” 

Kaeya

Kaeya on the surface seems like such a chill roommate. And he is for the most part. But he’s such an ass. Your things are his things, no questions asked. If you just bought a really nice sweater or you had leftover food, that’s his now. He’s innocent until proven guilty even if he’s literally holding your lunch. The pure amount of bullshit he can spit out to convince you that no, he did not pull the fire alarm because he wanted an excuse for not going to work, puts him on Shakespeare level. He’s also very pretty, way too pretty, sir can you share some of your genes? 

But aside from that, he’s actually super dependable. You forgot something at home? Sure, he has nothing better to do so he can bring them for you. We’re missing eggs? No problem, he’s just by the store. You’re 95% sure that he just wants to be cheeky and make you thank him for 20 minutes before he actually hands you what you asked for. It’s better for you if you never tell him anything you’re afraid of because Kaeya has no social cues, or more like he throws them out the window, and he’s probably a psychopath. 

He’s incredibly private of his room and things despite his attitude towards yours. You’re convinced he either has a secret lab or that’s where he’s storing the bodies. I was the good guy but due to unfortunate circumstances, I need to stab a bitch. But he’s a really good serious talker for those 3am, because everything happens at 3am, talks about life and the meaning of the universe. It absolutely wrecks your sleep schedule but some of the things you talk about are the most crackhead things like what’s the lowest amount of money someone would have to pay you to walk outside without clothes? It’s a legitimate question. 

“Never before have I been so offended with something I 100% agree with.”

Jean

Okay, what world did you save in a past life to live with his absolutely wonderful woman? Mother Teresa take a load off, take a seat. You have nothing to worry about. She’ll bring home little treats back home and it’s the most wholesome thing ever?? Is this what love and affection feels like? We’ve been starved for so long. She says it’s not a big deal and anyone would do it BUT THE MOMENT SOMEONE BUYS FOOD FOR YOU. IT’S A MAGICAL MOMENT. They are forever stuck in your will until proven otherwise. An absolute ray of sunshine that must be protected. 

She does get super busy so you don’t often see each other or get to hang out as much. She’s a bit of a workaholic but a lot more easier to talk her into taking a break. She’s also a pretty decent cook but she prefers baking and jesus christ, girl can you calm down? Be still my beating heart, I’ve been smitten. Has mother hen vibes that you’re not sure if she’s your roommate or if she adopted you into her family. It’s time to start a petition for the Jean protection squad. Given the opportunity, I would aggressively hold your hand. 

She’s always open to whatever you want to do. Any recommendations or things that you like she will try out at least once despite her busy schedule. She’s lowkey lonely because work consumes her so any time you want to hang out or do something together, she jumps on it like she’s feral. She get’s a bit shy to ask if she can join in on your plans because she doesn’t want to bother you or intrude no matter how many times you tell her that’s okay, she still get’s a bit iffy about it. Please save this girl before she trips. In your arms. Platonically. Just kidding haha. Unless?

“I can’t wait to see you happy and not hating everyone again haha.”

Childe

First impressions of Childe were great, until he opened his mouth and you realized how much of a two brain cell child(e) he was. He has two braincells because they constantly have to 1v1 in his brain. He’s lived with a lot of siblings so he has no social awareness or concept of privacy that you’re lucky if you come home and he’s half-dressed. It doesn’t matter if you’re 2 weeks older than him, he’s going to call you 82 years old and why your bones aren’t being fossilized at this point. He’s such a little shit, this fucker licks the yogurt lid peel.  

He get’s really restless when he’s stuck under house arrest, because apparently 1v1ing in the parking lot of a Wendy’s is illegal for some reason, so he makes dying whale noises until he get’s to go outside again. But he’s actually a really wholesome guy, probably because of his younger siblings, that he’ll sometimes get you something because you seemed down and it’s such whiplash? Who is this man and where did he come from? You’re starting to have a change of heart before he tells you that he got banned from the library for accidently punching the school’s computer. How you “accidently” punch something you have no idea but Childe always comes home with some sort of injury. Maybe he’s just incredibly clumsy. For your sanity, you’re going to go with that. 

He’s actually so uncultured that it’s crippling. You can’t blame him too much considering his upbringing and it’s great that he’s so interested in learning new things but...child no...It makes you want to take your spine out of your ass and rip it like a Beyblade. Watching him take chopsticks and stab his food like it’s marshmallows makes you want to fall into a blackhole and let the chair consume you. 

“I, too, fantasize about beating the living shit out of people.”

---

Is this another tag yourself game cause I resonate with Diluc. I’m crying in insomnia. As much as I enjoy writing these fics I absolutely hate tagging them. I remember I used to have a tag anon but that was back when I wrote for bnha. 

Valentine’s Day was fun tho. I had a drinking game with friends as we played league then ended it off with a movie night. 

[marsbutterfly]

may i request a levi x reader oneshot? maybe like a hurt/comfort something

tyyyy have a nice day <3

Late Night Lullaby

Summary: After a failed mission beyond the walls, you find yourself being unable to sleep. Lucky for you, the door to Levi's office is always open.

                                     Wattpad Version! | AO3 Version!

Another day, another failed mission outside the walls. Except this time you could still feel the titan’s strong grip around your waist, pulling your body towards its massive mouth. 

The cold sweat mixed with the drops of rain drips down your face, a bit of blood warming them up. If it wasn’t for Levi, at this time you would not even be here, you would be inside the titan’s stomach, your body dissolving before it is thrown back up.

Levi has always made sure you came back alive from every mission, even when you were still in the cadet corps. He would always look for you amongst the dead bodies and, once he noticed you weren’t there, he silently hoped that you were alive and not lost somewhere..

You’ve gotten close to death a good few times but something about this one was different. Maybe how close you actually got to being swallowed or because the only reason you nearly died is because of your own mistakes, either way the fear and guilt are still present in your mind.

Days have passed since then but the horrors you see when you close your eyes are very much still there.

When you realize it is yet again past curfew and you can’t close your eyes without being filled with a concerning amount of panic, you decide to head towards Captain Levi’s office in the hopes that he would be able to provide you with any form of comfort.

Quietly, you knock on the door a few times in a familiarly rhythmic way to let him know you are the one on the other side.

“Come in.” His voice is quiet but firm. 

When you open the door, you are received by the image of Levi’s face being illuminated by the candles. His hair is messy, like he has been running his fingers through it in an attempt to focus, the bags underneath his eyes telling you the story of how he hasn’t slept in days.

“You look like shit.” You say and he rolls his eyes, placing down the papers that once rested in his hands as he turns his head to look at you.

But before he has the time to call you a brat or say anything teasingly in return, he notices the tears in your eyes and the slight tremble on your bottom lip and hands. He sighs heavily before standing up, heading towards his unused bed.

You don’t have time to say another word before he wraps you in his blanket, covering you from your head to your toes. You smirk among the tears and you can feel his arms wrapping around you as he places your face on his shoulder.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, smelling your skin through the cloth of the blanket. 

“I can’t close my eyes anymore.” You say, nuzzling your face against him. Levi lets out a sigh and you can feel as he picks you up. Your head rests on one of his arms while your feet tangle from the other one.

You yelp but he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he takes you towards his bed and places you as gently as he possibly can as if you were a doll made out of thin porcelain.

He places your head on the cold surface of the pillow and you clutch to his shirt, puppy eyes desperately pleading for him to not leave you alone. Levi plants a soft kiss on your hand before bringing his hand to your face.

His thumb brushes against the tears that stream down your cheeks and he whispers, “You’re going to be ok. I’ll be right back with something that might help soothe your nerves.”

When the door opens, a cold air current comes from the hallway made of stone and a chill travels down your skin. You pull Levi’s blanket tightly above your chest while looking for any kind of support in his absence. 

The trees dance with the wind outside the window, the shadows tormenting you. With wide eyes, you look around the room constantly making sure no titan has made its way inside the barricades.

You can still hear it in the distance: the screams of your fallen comrades who lost their lives because you used the wrong smoke signal. Because of a stupid mistake you’ve made in a moment where it mattered the most.

The burden you carry from their lives, how were you allowed to live while their families just lost someone important? How were you allowed to come back when half the bodies didn’t? Why were you the only one?

Once you realize Levi has been gone for quite a while, paranoia starts to settle in and you are convinced something bad has happened to him. The worst part is that you don’t even know where he went so you can’t go looking.

You are fully aware that he is humanity’s strongest soldier but yet you can shake off the anxiety that comes with thinking that he was somehow killed or kidnapped on his way towards wherever he was going.

Even without knowing where he is, you decide enough is enough and the worry is too much to bear. So in an impulse, you drop the blanket from your shoulders and rush to the door, turning the knob and pulling it open in one swift move but there he stands.

Two cups of tea in his hands and the lantern hanging from his teeth, his foot is up in the air as if he was about to use it to kick open the wooden door. It takes a second but you finally realize he needs assistance so you remove the light from his lips. 

He thanks you while you guide him towards the table resting by one of the windows. You place the lantern on the surface, far away from his papers, before Levi hands you a cup.

“It’s a very soothing tea, it’s called…” He says but you cut him off as politely as possible.

“Chamomile.” You smile softly, “How were you able to get this? It’s so incredibly rare.”

“I have my connections in the underground, directly from the stash on its way to the richer families who don’t know anything about appreciating good tea when they see it.” He replies, picking his cup up with the tip of his fingers.

Levi pulls the chair further up a bit as an invitation for you to sit and you gladly take it.

Your image is reflected on his cup and you notice how awful you look: your hair is now a tangled mess, the round circles underneath your eyes seem to get darker by the hour and you can’t even remember when was the last time you had brushed your teeth. 

To keep those thoughts away, you take a sip of the sweet liquid. The warmth brings a comforting sensation to your chest and you feel as if your favorite person in the entire world has wrapped their arms around you.

It takes you a second to realize that he did, in fact, hug you from behind. The tea is still in one of his hands while the other holds your shoulders tightly close to his chest.

You feel the warmth of a few new tears as they make their way past your eyes. He doesn’t say anything nor does he need to, all you need in that moment is to feel protected and cared for and Levi has always been the best at providing you with that feeling.

He puts the cup down before kneeling beside you. He places his hand on your cheek and, with his thumb, brushes away the stubborn tears. 

“You are safe now.” He says and you nod, feeling as he places his forehead against yours.

After moving away, he silently tilts his head towards the tea in your hands. You take a sip after the other until the contents of the cup have all disappeared. Once you place the cup down, Levi takes your hand and guides you towards his bed.

The blanket he once put above you now rests on his lap and he immediately uses it to shield your body from the chilly wind that comes through a crack on the window. 

He wraps his arm around you, gently pulling you closer to him until there is no space whatsoever between your bodies. He is warm but especially his hands which touch you so delicately that you feel like a rare flower.

His face is buried on the back of your neck and you can feel his breath against your skin, awakening butterflies in your stomach in a way you have never felt before. But then again, Levi is quite the master of providing you with new sensations.

You can hear the footsteps outside the room coming from soldiers who patrol the hallways making sure everyone is safe. You can hear the flame of the candle as it dances with the wind. You focus on the sound of Levi’s deep breaths before he begins to hum a melody.

It’s a song you have never heard before and yet it feels so familiar. You feel the vibration coming from his throat and you smile, nuzzling your face against his hand. The melody is soothing and you can feel the peace radiating from the man behind you.

Your eyelids are now as heavy as bags of sand. Even with a wordless lullaby, Levi has managed to wash you with a sense of peace and tranquility. While one of his arms is still wrapped around you, the other reaches for your hair as he plays with the wild strands, combing your hair in the process.

“Where did you learn this song?” You ask quietly and you can feel as he smiles before planting a kiss on your head.

“My mother would sing it to me when I was younger.” He says, “It was the only thing that would help me fall asleep.”

“It’s a beautiful melody.” You acknowledge and he nods.

“Not as beautiful as you.” He says and you can feel a happy smile taking over your lips. In this moment, you have forgotten all about the dangerous situation you had just been put in earlier in the day, all that matters is this moment with Levi. “Blow the candle, let’s get you some sleep.”

You do as he says, quickly returning to his embrace. “Thank you for saving me.”

“I will never let anything bad happen to you.” He whispers softly in response. You close your eyes, focusing once again on his breathing. 

Before you have time to fall asleep, you realize his grip around you has loosen up a bit and his breathing has a little more rhythm to it. You realize he has fallen asleep and you can’t help but smile.

You turn around to face him, carefully moving so he won’t wake up. You plant a kiss on his forehead before nuzzling your head on his chest, feeling as he pulls you closer to him in his sleep like you were his teddy bear.

For the first time, you are able to close your eyes and see a beautiful image of Levi taking care of you and you quietly begin hum the song he introduced you to, only stopping when you fall asleep in his arms.

A lullaby is a song known to put people to sleep and, thanks to Levi, you have now found a way to prevent the demons from your past from getting to you during bedtime.

[tsukishimas-shortcake]

Relationship Headcanons

↦ Character(s): Hakkai Shiba x fem!reader

↦ Rating/Warning: No rating though there are some light mentions of abuse (if you have read the manga you are aware of what I am talking about, I’m not going very deep into it though it literally just mentions it), mentions of anxiety attacks (no detail though), fluff, not proof read

↦ Word count: 1.8k (longer than planned, sections are bolded)

↦ Your Momo’s Receipt: Hello~ I’m post yet another TR headcanon and this was requested by the lovely @strawbub I hope this doesn’t disappoint, it did get longer than planned but I enjoyed writing it. I'll prob do a part two that's more of a scenario based on your first date or something since I didn't go into it here. Please note: for those of you who don’t know my blog is currently under construction, meaning I will not be updating my masterlist for the time being.

So how did you guys meet, well mostly because of Yuzuha,

One day in like elementary you’re walking home and you see this super pretty middle school girl just like yelling at this small group of guys

The guys end up running off just because they don’t wanna deal with her or the attention she's drawn to them

Behind her was a boy, taller than her but obviously younger. You didn’t assume they knew eachother though.

The boy and yuzuha began walking in opposite directions because one was going home while the other was going to pick up something like groceries

You’re so entranced by how she stood up to them yet she’s a girl who was far smaller and you end up catching up to her, almost stepping on her heels

You end up absent mindedly following her into the grocery store and eventually she just freezes, turns, and stare directly at you

Your eyes widen since you must’ve been staring and she just goes “may I ask why you’re following me?” And you explain how cool she was earlier. She invites you over for dinner (esp since her older brother won’t be home) and figured it’d be good for Hakkai to meet someone his age

You end up going over but Hakkai didn’t come down to eat so you never actually got to meet him, though from then on you would see Yuzuha every so often, visit every other weekend or so

But no matter how often you came over the next few months, you never once met hakkai,

That was until you both reached the end of your middle school education and we’re about to begin high school

You had gone over because you were going to borrow an old work book from Yuzuha, and when you go to knock on the door the door opens before your closed fist could hit it, instead hitting a firm chest

You blush and quickly apologize but the person in front of you doesn’t move at all, doesn’t say anything and almost looks like they drifted into space with their dead stare

You assume this is yuzuha’s older brother because you’ve also never met him and you immediately turn to walk away but Yuzuha calls over hakkai’s shoulder

“Y/N-Chan! You just got here where are you going?” This was def not yuzuha’s older brother. There’s no way she’d be that happy with him around; oh my god. Realization hit, the guy who you hit (though it was more of a tap) was hakkai.

The hakkai you had only caught a glimpse of in yuzuha’s photos, never talked to or actually seen in person despite going to the same school and living in the same neighborhood

He must hate you. That’s why he avoids you. That’s def why - is what you think

Yuzuha drags hakkai back inside and invites you in; you sit down with them in the living room and watch hakkai visibly relax now that he’s inside his house, his own space, with a pillow behind him and a blanket covering his lower half, he almost curls up into it as he continues to avoid your stare

“Hi hakkai…Kun? Im L/N Y/N” you say and you see his face dead pan once again

Yuzuha can be heard laughing from the kitchen as she comes back in.

She leans over and begins explaining that hakkai literally just freezes with any interaction between him and girls who aren’t in his family

You nod, thinking maybe it’s an anxiety thing? Which is the case with you, but only because he’s been watching you since you’ve come over (not in a creepy way) wanting to and working the courage up to talk to you

The 5th or so time you came over after that encounter he was inches away from introducing himself before the house phone rang causing everyone to kind of “wake up” in a sense

Every time since then he gets closer and closer but isn’t able to say anything; he even realizes he has a crush on you.

The way you sit when you do homework and how cute you look when you’re focused.

How your forehead scrunches up when you’re trying to figure something out and you end up just sitting back with a small huff followed by yuzuha’s signature laughter.

It’s also a huge thing that you get along with Yuzuha.

So enough with first meeting time for the confession.

He ends up confessing accidentally. He didn’t know you were coming over to begin with so he was flustered out of his mind. And how was he supposed to know you hadn’t actually fallen asleep and you could hear him over the tv

The tv was more white noise than anything and the day was hot since it was the middle of summer causing the window to be open and the sound of soft wind and small birds to drift in; this was the hot that makes you tired so you were all sprawled out of just sitting in a daze

So while resting your head on the table you’re dozing in and out but then you hear hakkai begin to speak, something he never really did around you

Now did you and hakkai text? Yes. Did it take him an hour to reply because his brain would explode when you replied to him? Yes. But was it a start to communication? Also a yes.

You hear him say your name quietly before he moved closer, you can feel his gaze on your features

“I like you” is all he says. Simple and sweet. But you sit there in shock, trying not to blush so he’ll have no idea you heard him but he can tell because your forehead scrunches

You heard him and are focused on if you should reply or not. And he knows that.

You open your eyes and just look up at him, he’s closer than expected. His hand close to yours on the floor and he reaches over and grabs it lightly. Hoping you’ll also return the gesture by holding his hand instead of leaving your hand limp inside his.

And you do, thank goodness, and Hakkai almost mentally can’t handle it.

Once you start dating it’s more so just hanging out at his house or yours; however he talks a bit more and you text a lot more. He’s gotten better at replying. It usually takes him like 15 minutes now

He’s kinda stressed about your relationship but not due to anything you or him did

He’s stressed because of the mentality his older brother gave him

Is he even allowed to be this happy?

He finally has someone thats small enough and naive enough that he can protect you; compared to constantly being protected it’s a sudden, strong, yet good change for him

He’s touch s t a r v e d

Yes Yuzuha shows affection; but he stopped accepting her hugs when he was around 8 just because he physically wasn’t able to handle it due to his bruises and such

But with you, even with his bruises and all you take care of him. Able to coax him into using medicines and toning down the physical violence (that he can control himself)

He also finds it super soothing when you lightly brush over his scars (especially those that his brother gave him), it helps him believe that scars are only physical and can fade with help

One thing that stresses him out the most is trying to hide you from his brother. Any time you leave something at the house its easy to pass it off as yuzuha's but when it comes to things like photos he has with you, he can't hang them up, show them off, or have them as his phone Lock Screen, etc. because he just really doesn't want his brother to know and target you since he'll then know that you're his weakness (aside from yuzuha as well)

Sometimes won't explain why he can't hang out and has legit pushed you out of his house before at the last minute notice of his brother coming home

Will always make sure you get home safe though, usually by having Yuzuha go with you since then she can just say you're a friend from school

Your parents love him, though they were a bit hesitant it became a "you always have a place to stay" because they learned about their family situation from you and yuzuha. So expect him to spend the night when he's too scared to deal with his brother. Same with yuzuha. (yes I know this isn't yuzuha head canons but its hard to write for him without mentioning her when they're so close)

We're talking three person sleep overs. Yuzuha and you of course share the bed and Hakkai takes some time to even set foot in your room much less sleep on a mattress that's on the floor

He has a small heart attack every time he comes into your room because he's overwhelmed with everything, he's never been so comfortable and it makes him feel restless. Like he's never and I mean n e v e r been less stressed and slept better than when he does so in your room

The smell, the colors, just being surrounded by you is something that completely changes his mood

Once showed up after he fought with his brother, tears in his eyes and clothes a bit tattered and you just pulled him to your room, and sat down with him.

You laid on your bed with him laying down onto of you, head on your chest as you rubbed his head and only said a few words "its not your fault"

He ends up crying so hard he falls asleep and gets dehydrated and you have to make him drink a bunch of water when he finally wakes up.

NSFW

super fucking careful w you

almost annoyingly so, but you're understanding

He knows that he might be taking things frustratingly slow but he knows that since you understand and know his history that you can help him get through it

Your first time you think you'll have to call it off because he's shaking so bad

"baby... are you sure it won't hurt you?" he keeps asking.

pretty sure that's the longest its ever taken him to finish because he was so anxious

despite being so slow and hesitant, late he isn't too scared to get a bit rougher

but im not talking anything crazy im talking like he's willing to pull your hair a bit or nip a bit harder at your neck.

Please never ask him to do anything like degrade you or some type of harsh physical rough shit, he can't

like literally im 99% sure that if you ask him to choke you or something he will pass out because of the anxiety attack he would have at even the thought.

in short with nsfw though he is sweet boy. He's a switch through and through. Loves when you take care of everything because then he doesn't have to be scared of hurting you.

[haik-choo]

karasuno first years out late w/ their s/o

request: Could you write how 1st years (yachi too pls🥺) going out with their s/o late at night ?

a/n: this is such a cute little concept i -- 

[KARASUNO FIRST YEARS OUT LATE AT NIGHT WITH THEIR S/O]

-tsukishima, kageyama, yamaguchi, hinata, yachi

tsukishima kei.

not gonna lie, he’s often awake late at night. he’s a night owl and doesn’t mind sacrificing his sleep to watch some youtube videos

occasionally, he even goes out late at night, slipping past his parents and brother’s room and softly closing the front door with his headphones covering his ears and his hands stuffed in his pockets

so when you text him at 3am and ask if he can go out with you to the convenience store, he agrees in seconds to meet you at the halfway point between your houses

wastes no time in putting on his sneakers and a hoodie; he wants to get there quickly so that you aren’t left out by yourself

tsukishima knows there’s creeps out there, which is exactly why he jogs to the halfway point and is relieved when he’s the first one there

as soon as he sees you in the distance he fast walks to catch up to you, and slips his hand into yours

he totally brings bluetooth earbuds so that you two can listen to the same music instead of his wired headphones <3 uwu

is always on the lookout for any weirdos, and if he spots someone eyeing you up he shoots them the nastiest glare

eventually wraps his arms around your shoulder while your hand is sitll in his and its that cute little thing where your arms is across your chest holding his hand </3

pays for whatever you get at the store, ignores your complaints and tells you to shut up when you continue to insist on paying

“im trying to be a good boyfriend for once, for the love of god PLEASE shut up”

secretly takes a candid photo of you at some point in the night and sets it as his home screen -- NOT his lock screen, and when you see it he outright denies having taken it

tsukishima: you told me to take a picture of you

you: stop lying i know you’re a closet hopeless romantic 

convinces you to stop at the park and eat the snacks you both got there, music still humming in your ears as the moonlight washes you both in cool tones

tsukishima when he’s alone with you is so soft -- he literally kisses your hand and temple and mutters very softly “love you” 

all in all, tsukishima kei is the perfect night-owl boyfriend to go on snack-runs with 

kageyama tobio.

"why would i go out right now. do you know what time it is. i have practice in the morning”

kags really out here kinda hurtin’ your feelin’s ngl boy doesn’t understand the vibes LOL

honestly you probably woke him up, he’s asleep at like ten every night (even tho he still has homework to do he just flat-out ignores it LOL) 

only agrees to go out walking with you because you said he could bring his volleyball and you’d toss a few for him....and also because he’s a little worried because it’s so dark out

doesn’t walk with you to the park but meets you there LOL

he deadass has his wholeass duffel bad with the ball, two waterbottles, two towelettes, volleyball sneakers and everything

“you know,,,,we’re not playing a game, right, tobio?”

“yeah???? and??? what’s your point”

acts nonchalant but is totally having fun and is lowkey glad you asked him to go out so late because it’s cool out, there’s no one to bother him, and you just look...really good under the stars

he’s not a cheesy person but...god you just take his breath away sometimes. not that he’ll ever say that though

you ask to take a break like thirty minutes in because you are LITERALLY dying meanwhile he hasn’t even broken a sweat (”you’re already tired? maybe you should workout more” “shut UP kageyama”)

you both sit on the bench, and you’re lowkey waiting for him to reach for your hand but they’re just folded in his lap as he stares out in the nothingness of night

kageyama can’t take a hint. we know this. he’s incapable of knowing what you want unless you flat out tell him; so you have to be a very honest person

he doesn’t even really initiate skinship, not because he doesn’t want to, but just because it never really crosses his mind

plus he doesn’t feel the need to constantly show affection because he thinks it’s obvious that he likes you

despite this, he is good at spotting weird people, and he’s pretty protective of you, so you’re completely safe with him. trust him, he’ll keep you safe

all in all, have patience and stamina because kags will play volleyball with you until you pass out. also, he loves you 

yamaguchi tadashi.

is in bed by 11pm but doesn’t actually go to sleep until two am because he’s scrolling through tiktok on his phone

sees your text about wanting to go out for a late night walk and maybe go through the little forest near your house and automatically sends a text that says “ill meet you at your window! can you pack some snacks? :)”

he walks all the way to your house, even if it’s more convenient to meet halfway because he wants to protect you! he’s not the strongest nor is he the most intimidating, so all he really has to offer is his presence

despite not being strong nor scary, yams literally has eagle eye. you can’t tell me that he can’t read people in a heartbeat -- he’s extremely perceptive 

also texts you to not bring a jacket because he’s bringing on of his own for you !!! so sweet what the hell

he waits at your front door and when you step out he automatically pushes his volleyball jacket into your hands and he takes the bag of snacks from you and sticks out one of his hands UGH such a gentleman

lets you ramble about anything and stares at your side profile as he listens 

joins in with a few quips here and there but ultimately is pretty quite and lets you speak or lets the silence cozy into the conversation

sees that there’s a guy sitting on a bench up the road and he switches places with you so that you’re further away from the stranger 

also wraps a protective hand around your waist until you both are past the random dude but yams will glance behind yall every once in a while

when you two reach the mini forest he ends up taking the lead claiming that he knows a good spot

and damn, he’s right

it’s a little clearing that is illuminated solely by the moonlight and he sets the bag of snacks down beside him before sitting down himself, apologizing for not bringing a blanket that you two could sit on 

pats the spot next to him so that you sit right beside him and he leans back with his hand on yours ONGMIRG 

is the super cheesy type and tells you that you look really pretty and that,,,he kind of wants to kiss you

you: *experiencing heart palpitations* and you did this for what. 

yamaguchi: ...because i love you?

you: *K.O*

all in all, yamaguchi is the boyfriend that completely indulges your late-night escapades <3 

hinata shoyo.

is either completely fast asleep and doesn’t see your text or was awake and not planning to sleep for the next five hours, no in-between

but if he’s awake and sees your text, he agrees right away and asks where you want to meet up and what time because homeboy probably has to bike to get there AgAGAGAGA

literally doesn’t even show up in sneakers. he’s wearing sandals and shorts with a short sleeve top 

“i came in my pjs”

“i see that.”

asks if you two can bike around instead because he doesn’t want to have to wheel his bike around for like an hour 

he tells you to hold on tight because the bike was built for one person, and when you press against his back his warmth is literally so,,,comforting 

has no sense of awareness and will scream going down a hill in the middle of a neighborhood, no fucks given

so, no, he doesn’t notice any weriod people even if there are some around

you always end up running into some weird people and you get new interesting stories every other day because let’s be honest hinata is a magnet for crazy shit and crazy people (usually crackheads) 

you both just ride around as he talks about his day, usually his sister always comes up in the conversation( “she asked me to marry you the other day” “doirhgAEROIHFGRE SHOYO WHAT” “what? i told her i would. i keep my promises!”)

after like thirty minutes he begs for a break and you stop at a little 24/7 ice cream store that is run by the sweetest elderly couple

you share a sundae because you don’t want to eat too much this late at night

he plops on the bench right outside the store with his bike leaning against the metal handles, and h snuggles up to you and watches you scroll on your phone

he talks a little here and there, but for the most part, he goes quiet, and it’s during this time where you’re unaware of his gaze that he just takes his time drinking in your features in the yellow light of the lamppost 

he can’t read the mood most times, but this time he does, and he stays quiet, and he thinks to himself

that he really will marry you one day

all in all, hinata gives you the impulsive young teenage experience of late night bike rides while eating his fair share of ice cream

yachi hitoka.

another either or, except this time she’s either fast asleep or stressing over homework and the nine tests she has the next day

when you ask if she can go on a walk with you she’s hesitant because she doesn’t want to get in trouble with her mom and she’s a total goody goody and terrified of doing anything reckless; but then she remembers that her mom was on a business trip and so she, very cautiously, says yes

you: good. i’m outside your door btw

yachi: i never had a choice did i

you have to meet her at her house because she’s way too scared to walk by herself at night; she might even make you factime her as you commute because she’s worried for you

jumps at every little thing, even the crows cawing make her shit herself

instictively grabs onto your sleeve and nervously look around the entire time, to the point where she doesn’t hear what you say

so you offer to go to a little cafe that’s still open and right away she nods

she’s so adorable, she bows really deeply when you two walk into the store and apologizes for it being so late

and finally, because you two are safe, she’s calm and smiling as she sips at her strawberry smoothie

awkwardly and very shyly reaches out for your hand on the table and gently lays her palm on yours

canon: yachi totally has freckles and you can’t convince me otherwise 

her face is red and her freckles are just on display you can’t help but coo at her and tuck some hair behind her ear because god could she get any cuter?

you two end up staying for like a hour and a half and very shyly she asks if you could walk her home 

and this time on the walk she’s not overly cautious and seems to enjoy the nighttime breeze and your hand softly clasping hers

does that cute thing where she lays her head on your shoulder or arm while you both are walking and looks up at you through her eyelashes and asks if you could give her a kiss on the cheek </3

you: stop. please. im going to die.

when you’re at her door she literally just stands there awkwardly for a few seconds before tilting her head upwards and pressing her lips to yours and then promptly running inside

video calls you three seconds afterwards to make sure you get home safely 

all in all, you might need to be the impulsive one, but yachi enjoys spending late night time with you more than she admits. also please kiss her thanks      

[kitacco]

teenage talk.

pairing: gn!reader, nanami kento.

genre: angst.

summary: a silly game and abrupt thoughts.

cw: angst, suggestive (implied), age gap.

wordcount: 3.2k.

! part two. !

when you’re twenty, you’re eager to turn any circumstance into adventures. still young, yet oblivious of the real world, you and your friends’ only wishes were to party and play.

you weren’t as wild as your friends. but after leaving your parent’s house for college, and upon meeting your friends, you had decided to let go of anything holding you back. growing up with quite strict parents, constantly watching over you, you had grown into a reserved, introvert teenager. if somebody were to ask you, till this day you didn’t know how you ended up joining this group of crazy adolescents, but you were. and it was the most fun you’d ever had.

your friends were bold, completely shameless of their desires and goals. it was no surprise that the four of them were in that age where everything unattainable looked fun, and that’s how you found yourself sitting around a table in a pretty glamorous bar. the five of you knew exactly what you were doing on that bar that night.

“you think one of us would be able to pull an old guy?” all your friends’ eyes pop open, eyeing your friend sitting right behind you. you only open your mouth, taken aback, as she giggles. “i mean, of course not some grey haired man, no, i mean, some guy in his thirties probably? you know, those ones that seem to know just enough about life, and with money and experience.”

“you mean, a good in bed guy, that could may or may not be married?”

“if that’s your type, i’m not judging you,” the table laughs, but the idea doesn’t seem to entertain you as much as it does to them.

were you scared of the idea of a guy ten years older than you? absolutely. but not only that, you were also scared of the fact you did find it thrilling at some extent.

“should we try? whoever does it first gets free dinner for a month.”

and with that ridiculous reward, you find yourself seated by the staircase, casually looking at the business men and women sharing a few drinks.

you’re alone, just like the rest of your friends, each one of them around the place, trying to find that man.

you’re not trying, of course you’re not. you’re waiting, impatiently, for one of them to go complete the mission so the rest of you can go home and simply laugh about it tomorrow as an anecdote.

you never participated in these kinds of quests, at least not actively. compared to your friends, you weren’t really that intriguing, opting to always stay on the low (not like anybody would take a chance with you either). yet, that night, all your friends are watching when a tall, blonde man approaches your much smaller figure.

he’s quick to pull out a cigarette, and your heart slows its rapid beating. it probably wasn’t a good idea to walk out to the balcony of the bar, yet there you were, and that man, the only two standing by the rails and watching the people down the bar. you don’t realize you’re eyeing him until he extends a cigarette right in front of your eyes.

“no, thank you, i don’t smoke.”

you’re sure your face has turned red. why’d you tell him you didn’t smoke? with a simple no, thank you, he would’ve taken the hint.

he doesn’t seem to mind it, though, simply chuckling as he puffs the smoke.

“aren’t you too young to be here?”

you frown, turning to face him. his back is pressed against the rail, and you’re suddenly aware of the warm exceeding from his body.

“i’m twenty,” you answer, glancing at him.

he brings a hand up, shoulders raising too.

“my bad, you seem quite young.”

“aren’t you too old to be talking to young girls, then?”

“i’m twenty-seven.”

it’s three years less, you think, and the thought calms your nerves.

“so,” he starts again. “what brings such a young girl to a bar filled with old working people?”

“for some fun, i guess.”

“oh, some fun?” he searches for your eyes, but by the time the words leave your mouth, you realize what you said. “what kind of fun?”

you hesitate. would telling him the truth be a good idea? maybe. he’ll think you’re just a silly teenager and eventually he will leave, by that time one of your friends will have found the man they’re looking for and all of you will be walking back to your apartment. it was the perfect scenario.

“my friends want to see if they can get with a business man,” you mutter, and the man’s shoulders shake, laughing quietly.

you weren’t expecting it to sound that childish, but now that he laughed, you realized how immature the game was.

“you wanna get with a business man too?”

he’s looking straight at you, the cigarette long forgotten, and so is any hint of sense within you.

you can feel your friend’s eyes on you as you walk out of the bar, following the blonde man.

he assures you he didn’t have any drinks, and opens the door of his very luxurious car, driving to his place in silence.

he’s quick, and with adrenaline pumping through you, you find yourself gasping for air, tangled between grey silk sheets on a massive bed.

when you wake up, he’s not beside you.

you don’t know the time either, as you take a peak around the room and looking for your clothes and phone you had hoped were on the floor. the light coming through the thin curtains is enough for you to know is at least past eleven in the morning, and the loud noise of keys crashing against what you’d guess was ceramic and heels against the marble floor you remember from last night, the blonde man appears through the door.

wearing a grey suit, his hair no longer messy like the last time you had seen him in the middle of the night, dress shoes and your clothes in hands. he approaches you slowly, the heels of his shoes echoing. the noise of the street barely audible, yet still present. 

“good morning, had a good night?”

you smile, rolling your eyes. “sort of,” you respond.

he hums, placing the clothes on the bed right beside you. 

“i washed your clothes, and found your phone, it was at least forty missed calls.”

it takes a while, but after his comment, you realize what exactly you’ve done. there was no way out of the expecting looks you’ll get from your friends once you get home, that it almost, almost, makes you wish you could stay there for a little longer.

“thank you,” you answer finally, taking the phone in your hands.

you’re quick to dress up, at this point not really minding the possibility of him staring. you had already showered - he had helped you right before sleep. the man observes you, quietly, as if there was something he was waiting to say, or for you to say, you weren’t sure.

“so, you won the bet.”

“it wasn’t a bet, told ya’,” you mutter, glancing at him. he lifts his hands, smiling. “just a quest.”

“and what were the rewards’”

“free dinner for a month,” now that you hear yourself, all this trouble really was not worth the reward. but you already did it, and to be honest, you did not regret it a single bit. you only wished he didn’t either.

“i could invite you dinner, if you’d like.”

you chuckle, perplexed at his invitation, “sounds good to me.”

it’s silent for a while, maybe two or five minutes where you look at each other. it’s not like he’s intending to do something, nor are you. he doesn’t have anything to say, you don’t either. but, it feels nice. sharing a moment with him felt nice.

it was rushed, you knew it. this man was your first encounter with a real man. you hadn’t even dated guys while in university, your last boyfriend was back when you were 12 or something. you blamed it in the lack of experience, the desire to feel loved, or appreciated. it didn’t matter, for now, all that was in your mind was him.

“i’ll drive you home, is that okay?”

you nod, unable to form a sentence as he stands tall again, walking out of the door.

it’s no surprise, and as you expected, your friends were pressed against the big window of the principal room in the apartment. you had to admit you were at fault; after sending a text through the groupchat assuring them you were alive, you also added he was driving you home. you ignored their replies, having to turn your notifications off as your phone vibrated against your lap, the man eyeing it with humor on his face, probably guessing something was up involving your friends you talked so much about.

“here it is,” you inform, the car sofly coming to a stop. he’s quick to notice the girls that are quick to hide behind the curtains.

he laughs, “they sure are eager, aren’t they?”

“yeah, they’re probably shocked.”

“shocked, why?”

“i’m not really good with these things, normally,” you say, your voice turning small as he eyes you, tilting his head as he expects you to explain why you think that way.

“then, make sure you tell them all the details.”

your face heats up, pushing yourself out of the car. he watches you, quick to grab your bag and keys. “i can’t make any promises.”

as the both of you had concluded, your friends wasted not time sitting you on the couch and making you all kind of questions till the night approached. because of this, your phone was left by your bed, silently lighting up as the man had texted you around six, asking how things were going.

“who would’ve thought,” one of your friends exclaimed, leaning against the couch by your side.

“to be honest, i saw the guy approach you, and then talk to you, but i thought you’d turn him down.”

you chuckle. honestly, you couldn’t remember why you decided to entertain the conversation and followed him into his car. it’s not like you were complaining, that had been the best decision you’d made in a while. 

finally, you managed to convince the girls that you’re tired, excusing yourself from the interrogation. as much details as the man had asked you to tell, you couldn’t bring yourself to tell them exactly everything that you’d done, the embarrassment and memories taking a while to hit you, but once they did, you realized it was something you didn’t want to have a conversation about; they really didn’t need to know.

once in your room, you heard the footsteps of your friends following right behind, each one of them going to their rooms. picking up your phone, and blinded by the brightness of the screen, you saw the time, and the text awaiting you.

‘how about tomorrow’s night?’

your fingers typed fast and right after, you buried your phone under your pillow. 

the following day, already afternoon, you quietly got ready. you didn’t tell your friends you exchanged numbers, nor that he’d invited you for dinner, simply telling them you were going to a get together with your classmates. it’s not like that was a lie, to some extent, they were aware you attended those kind of events with your university and extracurriculars, therefore, they didn’t question it.

after reaching the lobby of your building, you could recognize the white car parked right outside.

“missed me much?” it’s the first thing you say as you climb inside the car, smiling.

“you caught me.”

the ride is silent, like the moments you two had shared. it’s not uncomfortable, it’s not nerve-wrecking nor unbearable, it’s like the both of you enjoyed the silence shared. the radio’s playing lowly, and in no time, he parks outside a rather striking restaurant you’d never even heard about. you guessed men like him had a little more experience when it came to these kind of places.

the restaurant wasn’t full, neither empty. low, sombre lights decorated the spacious place, and a quiet, sublime sound of chords accompanied the atmosphere. 

“reservation for nanami kento.”

you turn to watch him again, a little dumbfounded. that’s the first time you’ve heard his name.

following the waitress that walked you both over your table, seated by the grand windows that surrounded the restaurant, and with less light than the rest of the place, you took your seat in front of him.

“it’s the first time i heard your name.”

“oh, really?” he seems to be genuinely astounded. “i am sorry, i forgot to tell you my name.”

“how’d you forget something as important?” you laugh, taking a sip of your water.

“got my head over the moon, i guess.”

you observe him. you don’t try to understand what he says, and he doesn’t explain either, continuing with some small talk about your life.

the night goes by fast, faster than you’d wished, and to no surprise, you’re once again tangled between silk sheets, this time, both your hands wrapped around his arm, snuzzling to his warmth. the situation repeats itself at least three times a week for a month. your friends don’t ask you, and you don’t tell them either. only keeping it a secret between nanami and you.

you’re not surprised, you enjoy his company, and wish he does enjoy yours as well. you guess he does, since every friday night he’s phoning you, telling you he’s picking you up in twenty minutes, to which you’re always anticipating. awaiting the moment you get to wrap your arms around his neck and let him take over your body. not only that, after a month following the dynamic, he invites you out during the day as well, always buying you gifts or walking with you around gardens. when he embraces you, taking your lips without a sound but your breathing and beating of your heart against your chest, you smile, and let yourself fall.

stupidly, you have to add.

fall stupidly fast.

things don’t always go well, and you’re aware of that. relationships were hard enough, and whatever you two shared, was more complicated. wearing one of his shirts and with a hairband keeping the hair away from your face, you sit on the couch, thrown off by the look nanami is giving you.

“you would’ve wanted me to be married?”

“i didn’t say that,” you chuckle, but there’s no humor behind it, just complete confusion by the change of his tone. “i was just asking.”

“that’s messed up,” he mutters after a while, turning back to the movie you both were currently watching. 

it was late in the night, and after the both of you had your fun, you asked him if he’d want to watch a movie with you. you were starting a new semester the following week, so there was a possibility you wouldn’t be able to each other as often as you were currently. he complied, like he always did, but then, you got a little bored of the movie, and decided to let the night cloud your thoughts and get more personal with him. 

the question was absolutely innocent. he should’ve known. you simply admitted you were curious to know if he was married in the middle of that first night, driving on his car back to his place. it’s not like you were hoping for him to be having an affair with you; if that were the case you would’ve taken a step back and turned away. that’s why, once you got to his place, and confirmed he was single, you followed him. as simple as that.

nanami wasn’t drunk, maybe a little tipsy from the wine you were sharing, but not drunk. still, the question took him off guard, and the thought of you attempting to look for a married man made his blood boil a little.

“i bet your friends wanted you to fuck some married men,” he said in a whisper, but you heard him clearly.

“what? why’d you get angry all of a sudden?”

“why’d you say that then?” he stands tall, walking off to the kitchen.

you follow him though, confused as to why he was reacting that way. “i just thought we were sharing a little more about each other!”

“yeah, and you just admitted you wanted to ruin a marriage.”

“what? i never said that! why are you overreacting?”

“why are you so childish?” 

the proximity of his face to yours makes you stumble back, frowning. for the first time, he seems to be genuinely angry, but you’re unable to understand the cause. still, his comment doesn’t go over your head. “i’m childish?”

he continues his way to the counter, grabbing the glass of wine he’d left behind. he doesn’t respond nor looks at you, his shoulders dropping.

“answer me.”

“you want me to answer that? you literally slept with a random men for a kid’s game, isn’t that enough for an answer?”

“no, say it again,” you insist, heavy steps drawing near him. “say it to my face.”

you think he won’t say it, you expect him not to. you’re waiting for him to snap out of it and realize he’s making a big fuss out of a misunderstanding he’s brought upon you two. of course you’re waiting for him to apologize for it, that’s the reason why you like him, because he was mature, considered, he wasn’t like guys from your classes or from high school, no, he was better. in your eyes, he was better.

“you’re childish.”

there it is.

no, you weren’t expecting it. and there��s no doubt, as your hand collides with his cheek, you’re only confirming his thought. you don’t care, in that moment, you can only think of the fact you’d thrown yourself to a man that sees you as nothing but a teenager.

“yeah, you’re right,” you mutter. “i was childish to think you were more than a one night stand.”

pulling the shirt over your head and slipping inside your jeans, you grab your phone and lash out of his apartment. he doesn’t follow you, he doesn’t call your name, and you don’t look back for one last word; like you came in, you rush out.

your friends are quick to engulf you in a tight hug, whispering to your hair and telling you he wasn’t worth your tears. you don’t cry because of him, though.

doesn’t take you long to get over it, wondering what was exactly you were crying for. quietly seated by the window as your friends bid you goodnight. you’re left contemplating the lights outside, the same lights you’d contemplate by his window.

you guess that’s what being a teenager is all about.

heartbreaks, misunderstandings, one night stands, mistakes, regrets, isn’t that you’d longed for so long? he was right after all, wasn’t it foolish to believe you’d manage to stay any longer by his side? 

so, as another week ends, you find yourself leaning onto the same rails as a month ago. wearing the exact same outfit, you look around. it doesn’t take long, and like nanami did, a tall man approaches you.

and the cycle starts again.