#(the anxiety hasn’t gone away yet)

[tomkeirblyth]

WHY IS GETTING A JOB SO STRESSFUL IM ABOUT TO HAVE ANOTHER BREAKDOWN I HATE IT HERE

[sailoryooons]

Bust | KTH | (m)

☾ Pairing: Heistman!Taehyung x f. Reader

☾ Summary: Seeing a beautiful man in the middle of a bank robbery is unusual. Seeing him again afterward is even more unlikely… and yet not unlucky. 

☾ Word Count: 2,211

☾ Genre: Criminal, Smut, PWP

☾ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately. 

☾ Warnings: Bank robbery, light depiction of fear/anxiety, mentions of poor financial situations and money-related stress, recreational drinking, ‘good girl’ petname, explicit language, sexually explicit content including oral (f. receiving), biting, spanking, implied body worship kind of, a hint of overstim, bodily fluids and cum-eating. 

☾ Published: Monday, January 15, 2024

☾ A/N: This is an idea I randomly spoke about forever ago in a TikTok DM with @gimmethatagustd and this is strictly written to ruin their entire life tonight. I hope it works idk osifodigjoijg. 

☾ A/N 2: Tonight is number four for my 100 Drabble Challenge and I rolled number 24 for criminals! I hope you enjoy my depraved thoughts of Taehyung in that GOD DAMN SQUID GAME OUTFIT AT PTD. MY MASK KINK DOESN’T MAKE AN APPEARANCE BUT BE FUCKING SURE IT WILL ONE DAY. HE MADE ME INSANE. 

☾ Disclaimer: All members of BTS are faces and name claims for this story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment or representation of real-life people. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios.

Main Masterlist ☾ 100 Drabble Masterlist ☾ Ask ☾ Song Inspiration ☾

Sweat beads down your back, the trickle of it slower than the clock ticking above your head. Time seems to slow as you sit on a carpet that hasn’t been steam cleaned since the 80s and push yourself against the wall, eyes glued to the open vault. 

It had happened so fast and yet now, it’s like it can’t be over fast enough. Each second that ticks by feels like it takes a year. You cannot hear the chatter of the men inside the vault, but their harsh whispers raise goosebumps on your skin.

At least they haven’t noticed you. Not that you would do much, anyway. You have no intention of going over to push the alarm by the door, too afraid to alert the armed man who stands just outside the vault room on the other side, and far too underpaid to risk your life for a financial institution. 

For a moment, you wish it were you robbing the damned bank. Maybe you could pay off the student loans on your degree you’re not using and run the heating in your apartment during the winter instead of bundling up in several layers. 

Your momentary lapse of delusion passes as the men rush out of the vault, duffles in hand. They’re all dressed in red, black masks covering their faces with shapes on them. You’re vaguely aware that the costume belongs to some sort of show you saw online, but you can’t place them.

Perhaps you’ll watch it now.

“Hurry up,” one of the men barks toward the vault. There had been three inside, but only two came out. “Grab the last and let’s go. Two minutes left.”

They’re gone in an instant. Your eyes dart back to the vault where you can hear the last person inside. Glancing at the clock, you watch the seconds tick by. 

Ten seconds. Fifteen. Thirty. A minute. 

A man dressed in a red suit, hood pulled over his head comes out of the vault. As he slugs it shut with one arm, the bag on his shoulder droops, spilling the contents inside out onto the floor. Bands of cash fall out, thudding around his feet. He swears loudly and bends over, back slipping more to drop cash on the ground.

In his frustration, he crouches and tips the mask up a fraction, shielding his face from the camera above but not from you, huddled on the floor a few feet away.

Your heart skips. The thief is beautiful. Dark eyes focused on his task, a wide nose that fits perfectly on a symmetrical face with high cheekbones, a sharp jawline, and a pursed mouth. There’s a flush in his face from the heat, the tip of his nose an endearing shade of rose.

As if sensing your gaze, his head snaps up. You cower against the wall, realizing now that you’ve seen his face, you’ve doomed yourself. He stalls completely, gloved hand hovering over the cash, eyes boring into you. He arches a brow as if to ask you a question and you respond by shaking your head. 

The thief gives you a cocky grin, nodding before he finishes picking up the money and tossing it into the bag. He looks at you again, a smirk on full display before he winks and pulls the mask back down. “Good girl,” he purrs. “I like that.” 

Despite the situation, your stomach flips. He stands and rushes out, lingering by the door for a second longer to stare at you through the black mask. You can’t see his face, but you know you’ll never forget it, pretty as an angel, dangerous as a devil. 

When the group is gone, you wait in silence, only the pumping of your heart to keep you company. When the cops come and ply you with questions all you can do is shake your head repeatedly. 

I was too scared. I can’t remember. 

-

I was too scared. I can’t remember. 

It is the same thing you tell investigators for nearly two months. Just when you think they won’t keep asking what the man looked like, they finally drop it, handing over the robbery details to the FBI. They were at least a little less callous, caring a little less about how many questions you answered. 

If you had to guess, your unimpressive financial situation even after the robbery was significant enough that you weren’t involved with the robbery. 

It’s hard not to wish you had been. The straw in your mouth belongs to a drink that is far too expensive for you to not wince and it barely tastes like anything. At this rate, you know you won’t get a buzz. You’d love alcohol to take the edge off of the loud club music or loosen you up a bit, but you’re resigned to being sober for the rest of your friend's birthday. 

Around you is a gaggle of men and women, both people you know and new faces trying to pick up your friends. Anyone trying to hit on you has already decided you’re far too grumpy to waste time on, most of their backs facing you as people shout over the music about working in finance.

You wonder if they also rob banks in their spare time. It makes you grin, thinking fondly about the thief once again. You do that a lot.  

Sipping the drink, you glance at your phone. It’s been an hour since you arrived, but you’re wondering if enough time has reasonably passed to excuse yourself. Tomorrow is one of your few days off and you intend to spend it lounging on the couch watching TV instead of nursing a headache.

Someone slides into the space at the bar next to you. You don’t glance up at them, spinning your skinny cocktail straw absently as you stare at the melted ice of your Long Island iced tea. You hoped that once it melted it would turn into a second drink, but it hasn’t. Cold, bitter water it is, then. 

“Why the long face?” You frown at the vaguely familiar voice and glance up, freezing. 

Mr. Bank Robber looks down at you, cocking his head to the side with a wolfish grin. Your mouth pops open in surprise, leaning back a little as you drink him in. This close, he is far more beautiful than you remember, the edges and shadows of his face like a carefully painted fresco. Michelangelo could hardly be talented enough to capture this. 

“You,” you whisper, his grin spreading further. 

“Have we met?” he leans on the bar, dressed in all black. You eye the three-piece suit and the glinting diamonds in the cuff links. His clothes are far finer than anything anyone else is wearing and when you breathe in sharply, you smell a hint of woody cologne. His dark hair is slicked back and you catch the dainty hoop earrings in his lobes. You like the juxtaposition. 

“You know we have.” He tongues the inside of his cheek, turning his head to order with the bartender. His eyes stray to you, raising a brow. You supply him with your answer, “A long island.”

The bartender nods, momentarily stupefied by the heistman’s beauty before walking over to the POS, tapping the screen with the speed and aggression unique to bartenders. 

“Kind of a shitty club,” he mentions, looking around over the top of your head. Sweat clings to your lower back, your mouth growing dry as you watch colors splash on his face. “Your face is too pretty for a place like this.”

“Is that so?” 

“Mhmm.” The bartender puts the drinks on the counter and the man gives him cash, signaling to keep the change. The bartender raises a brow but says nothing, taking the money as he goes. “What’s your name?”

“You probably already know it.” He cocks his head to the side. “I’m sure you looked me up to see if I was a threat or watched me to see what I’d do.”

“You watch too many heist movies.”

“Maybe I watch just enough.”

He laughs at that and your lips twitch. It’s rich, making his face intimidating as he gives you a wide smile and shakes his head. “Alright, maybe you’re right.”

“Can I know your name?”

“For the right price.”

“My silence was a pretty petty, no?”

He bites his bottom lip, eyes dipping down and back up. You sip your drink, feeling a flush of warmth unfurl in your body, most notably between your legs. “I like you.”

“You have to like me. I know your secret.” 

Leaning forward, he ducks down so that he’s murmuring into your ear, hot breath ghosting your skin and making you tremble. “Want to hear more?” Your eyelids flutter as he waits, skin buzzing at his sudden proximity. You nod, feeling lightheaded. “My name is Taehyung. Want to get out of here?”

-

“Fuck,” Taehyung growls, hands skimming your bare sides. You can’t keep still under his gaze, hips squirming and fingers twisting in the sheets. His mouth is swollen and covered in your spit, his eyes blown as a large hand scrapes down to your thigh where he gives you a good slap. “I knew you were a good girl.”

A moan trips out of your mouth. Your thigh stings where he slapped you but he soothes it with the easy back-and-forth motion of his hand, his fingers digging into your flesh. Taehyung is a man starved, having littered your body with harsh kisses and bites, nearly breaking the skin.

You don’t care. You’re feverish for him, room spinning as you sprawl on his soft sheets in a hotel room that is far nicer than anything you’ve ever been in. You burn up like a star, core raging as Taehyung leans back down, pressing your naked thighs open for him as he sucks the skin of your chest between his teeth.

Everything aches. You want him so bad that you feel a cry come out of your mouth, lips wobbling as he laughs against your skin, sinking lower and lower, mouth loud as he sucks at your skin, tongue brushing over the sting of his teeth. 

“Does my good girl need her pussy eaten?” Taehyung rasps, looking up at you where he kneels between your legs. “Is that why you’re crying, hmm?”

Taehyung looks like something out of a thriller. His eyes are dark and hungry, his shadowed face becoming some sort of demon of lust. He’s what you would imagine a dark god. A bacchanal devil, a creature made for sin. 

All you can do is nod in response, feeling Taehyung’s vicious grip on your thighs as he presses you further, your muscles stretching. The strain feels good, as does the slow drip of your cunt down the curve of your ass mixed with his breath.

“So messy,” he murmurs, leaning forward and blowing cool air on your sticky folds. You squirm, the sensation sending you into overdrive as you twist your head to the side, eyes squeezed shut. He’s barely done a thing and you’re worked up more than you can ever recall. “Pretty.”

The slow, soft press of Taehyung’s tongue through your pussy makes you sag. It’s the relief that you so desperately needed, eyes rolling back as he circles your clit and drags his tongue back down. Taehyung is slow as he eats you out, tongue savoring every drop you can give him.

He taps your thigh, drawing your attention to him. He smirks as his tongue dips into your entrance, dragging back up to swirl around your throbbing bud a few times.

It’s impossible to tear your eyes away once you’re watching. Taehyung keeps his razor-sharp gaze on you, bringing his mouth fully to your cunt as he sucks eagerly. There is a rhythm to the curl of his tongue and the sharp suck of his lips, the wet smack of his ministrations driving you crazy.

“Mmm,” he hums, pressing his face in further. He’s messy with it, his jaw and nose covered in shiny slick. He laughs throatily when your back comes off the bed, thighs shaking. “Such a good pussy, just like I knew it would be.”

It feels too hot in the room. Your breaths are coming in too fast and there’s nothing you can do to catch it, Taehyung working you up to a frenzied, frenetic orgasm. You can feel your heartbeat in your ears, pumping so hard that you think you might need to stop.

And then you break.

Your body seizes as you come, a scream ripping through your mouth as Taehyung slurps hungrily at your mess, spurred by your release. You can’t stop shaking as he dives in, unwilling to stop until you’re babbling, nearly lifeless as the orgasm teeters into overstimulation. 

Only then does Taehyung pull his mouth away, trailing wet, cum-spit kisses on your inner thigh, nipping your thigh here and there. 

“Think you can take more?” he asks, slurring his words against your thigh. “Think you can take my cock.” 

You nod eagerly, hand letting go of the sheets and reaching toward him. “Yes.”

“Mmm good. I’m about to bust.” He bites your knee. “And I don’t mean a bank, this time.” 

[woodenanemone]

kamo choso, who can’t stand to look away from you, afraid on the possibility that he might somehow forget what you look like. every time he glances away to look back at the tv, or the food that’s slowly but surely charring to an inedible state on the stove, he misses you. he misses your eyes, your lips, the gentle flutter of your eyelids (it’s worrying how fascinated he is even with the way you blink.), the continual rise and fall of your chest as you steadily breathe in that oh so blessed air. and when he realizes he’s starting to envy a mixture of gases, he looks back at what he’s doing. but it’s as if you’re subconsciously calling his name, swaying him to once again look at you. it becomes so overwhelming that he hasn’t the faintest idea what he was preoccupied with before... and before he knows it, he’s staring at you again, and he’s back at square one.

any moment he’s not looking at you are moments spent in anxiety and unnecessary panic, scared to miss even one lazy yawn from you. he misses you so intensely, he feels with his whole self. even when you’re just a few feet away from him.

“did you need something?” your pretty eyes are now set on him. it’s almost comical how fast he works up a sweat under his arms, paired with an urgent pounding in his chest. he’s embarrassed to be caught staring, nervous under your precious gaze, but he can’t help but observe you even more intently. how can one’s eyes be so complex? it’s such a simple color. plain, really. but a sting in his heart calls your orbs anything but ordinary, so soothing and yet, so agonizing—

“oh, no. no… just— keep doing what you’re doing, hm?” he looks back down at his phone from the opposite couch where he sat, the screen black from its inactive state (he much rather prefers to watch you. and if you aren’t near, he prefers to think about you. …his screen time is astonishingly low.), cold and heavy in his hands. he quickly, but subtly, glances back up to see your reaction.

you throw him a small smile, looking back at the television.

oh, he’s gone, gone, gone.

[s-4pphics]

click! finale (e.w.)

SYNOPSIS: you need a roommate, and you love eggplant. [college au]

WORD COUNT: 4.7k

WARNINGS: photographer/roommate!ellie, ocs an artist with a rep and black, parental trauma, self-worth issues, slight disordered eating, brief alcoholism and hypersexuality, heavy grief, pining but depressed

A/N: finally on break yaassss….. sequel? LOL 

The air around you is strangling. You haven’t left your room in two days. You’re not passing this semester. 

The room next to yours, however, is filled with life. Ellie’s back to blasting her music and banging on walls, but you have yet to cross paths. Not in class, not at home; You haven’t seen her. Pickle never hesitates to scratch at your door for hugs. And kisses. She’s brought you so much comfort, even in times where you feel like you’re undeserving. 

Christmas is around the corner, and you’re alone. Amaya never shied away from taking you home for her breaks, but she’s gone. She hasn’t called in a while; You hope she’s doing okay. 

So, you seek escape in a different way and do what you haven’t in a long time. 

Tears flood your vision, your thumb hovering over a number you haven’t touched in ages. Your hands won’t stop trembling. You’re going to regret this. Your heart's already breaking into pieces at the heart and cloud emojis of the contact. 

Soft paws knead your thighs and you kiss kit-kat’s tiny head as she nuzzles your chin. You’re trying to keep your sobs to a minimum, but they’re tearing your throat to shreds.

Your thumb comes down on the contact and the line rings. And rings… and rings until the dial tone sounds. 

“At the tone, please record your message. When you are finished recording, you may hang up or press one for more options.”

You knew no one would answer. No one ever answers, but still, you listen for her voice. The steadiness of her breathing. You take a shaky breath, “Hi, mom.” Mindless sentences pour out of you like a waterfall. You just sit there and allow Pickle to playfully bite your finger. 

“I, uh… I’m not…” Another sob, “I’m not doing well.” 

You would never say that if she were here. You always masked your true feelings for her sake; She never needed any additional stress. 

Void images of your father reoccur in your memory, “I think there’s something wrong with me… I don’t think I’m a g-good person.” A barbed tongue affectionately licks at your finger, and you try to smile. 

“I… We found a kitty in the snow,” You whisper, “She's the cutest thing ever.” Pickle looks up like she knows what you’re saying, and you weep at her delicate eyes. 

“It was the weirdest thing…” You huff wetly, “It felt like you put her there to stop me from making a mistake.” More tears flood your shut eyes. 

“I just miss you…” Your palm digs into your eye, “and I wish you w-were here. I’m not…” Pickle climbs to rest in your lap; You always did that with your mom for comfort. Another loud sob. 

“I lov— “

You jolt at the loud dial tone, and the line ends. You drop your phone on your blanket and search around your room, the portrait of your mother standing tall on your desk. You need to make another one for her birthday. 

Your eyes travel over your space, and for the first time, you don’t feel comfort. Your mind is racing with thoughts that expose your truth; They’re vile and dirty and they make you feel like scum. A disease walking. 

The dark nights are restless and the days are silent, halls only filled with soft purrs and pattering paws. 

Your home no longer holds the joy that it once did when Amaya was here. Excitement used to burst through you whenever she prepped your movie nights after work, the living room filled with laughter and corny love lines that made your stomach secretly twist with warmth. 

You’re not happy anymore. Anxiety brews in you whenever you walk into the kitchen, the living room, go to feed and snuggle Pickle. It’s fucking miserable in here, and as difficult as it was for you to admit, it’s all your fault. 

It’s almost finals week, and you’re nowhere near prepared. You can’t focus on anything except the treacherous silence of your space. It’s almost like Ellie’s already gone. 

You should be anticipating her departure, antsy to have your space to yourself again, but your chest aches. This past month was anything but smooth, but you wouldn’t trade it for anything. For some reason. Maybe it’s because you got to live your main character moment, even if it was just for a few hours.  

Ellie, as much as you hate to admit it, deserves better. Just like how you deserve to spend your life alone, trapped and secluded with your own thoughts. She should want better for herself; Nothing is worse than being in your presence; Maybe that’s why you have no one. 

You desperately want to do better for yourself, but you’re tired. Your mother would be so disappointed in you. You retire from wallowing and climb under the covers, Pickle clutched tightly to your chest. You hope she doesn’t mind the tears from your tee.  

The portfolio is finished. Ellie can’t stop staring at the booklet enclosed in leather on her desk. 

The online submission process was infuriating, mainly due to her laptop dying during the portfolio render, but it’s done. Her ticket into a life-changing position is no longer hers to judge; It can only go up from here. 

All she needs is that phone call from the recruiting manager and it’s over. She’ll be in the city in no time. She’s excited and jittery; Every buzz from her phone is met with clenched hands and a sweaty forehead. Her disappointment heals when she sees her father’s classic thumbs up emojis surrounded by black and red hearts; Even from miles away, he knows when she needs support. 

Ellie lays her forehead on the leather, sighing in relief for what seems like the billionth time. It’s a surreal feeling, relishing in accomplishments. She's never done it, mainly because her mother never wanted to acknowledge happenings she wasn’t the center of. Hearing congratulations is still a mindfuck years later. 

… Your photos looked stunning. You’re made for this, even if you don’t believe it. 

Ellie will never admit how much energy she put into editing those pictures, specifically the ones you’re in. She spent hours recoloring, scaling, sharpening those photos, and they turned out incredible. Probably some

of the best shots she’s ever taken, and you’re in the center. And your eyes… There’s so much light in those hazel specks. 

Another mindfuck. 

Whenever Ellie comes home, she checks the small space between the floor and door of your bedroom to see if you’re awake. If you’re alive. The relief she feels when she sees a lamp light or shadow eases the tension in her shoulders. 

She never knocks, though. Never. 

So why are you? 

Ellie’s back instantly straightens at the soft pats on her door, heart pounding in her ears. You never knock. 

She’s embarrassed at how fast she stands, chair nearly falling over as she flies to pull her door open. 

She’s met with you; She hopes you can’t hear the shatters from her chest at the sight of your disheveled appearance. Your hair is matted and the brunette river in your eyes are surrounded by redness

“Sorry, I—“ Your voice cracks like you haven’t spoken in ages, “She was lying there and I felt bad. She missed you, I think.” She’s never heard you sound so tedious. You’re always the loudest, goofiest person in the room. Ellie’s brows furrow before following your line of vision. Pickle’s sleep in front of her door, curled like a cinnamon roll. Ellie sighs as picks her up as fluidly

as she can, trying her best not to wake her. 

“You’re gonna have to take her when you leave.” 

Devastation sets in your tone as you stare at the little fur ball, “Why?” She asks. 

“My dad’s allergic.” You whisper.

Ellie peers down when Pickle stirs, “Is… is he visiting?” She asks, just as quietly. 

Your head shakes, “I’m going home.” 

Ellie does an impeccable job of hiding her shock. So many questions race in her mind: going home? Where’s home for you? Is it permanent? Are you moving out? When? Are you and your dad close? 

You’re turning away back into your room, but Ellie blurts out before you can shut the door. “I finished my portfolio! It’s… it’s done. I turned it in.” 

You turn, and your eyes are watery. Your smile is tiny, but genuine. “Congratulations,” you’re so quiet and your voice shakes. Ellie’s mind whirls, “They’re gonna love it.” You take one last look at Pickle, and your bottom lip wobbles. You shut and lock the door before Ellie can say thank you for helping me. 

Ellie’s eyes lock onto the floor, watching your lamp turn off, ears honing in on the shuffling of blankets. She swiftly scurries inside her space when she hears crying. 

Her chest concaves at the sobs echoing through the dark, silent halls. Through the thin wall as she sets the kitty on her favorite pillow to sleep on. She paces around her room and yanks at her pinky. How she wishes to be a fly on the wall; She wants to knock on your door so badly, but she doesn’t know what to say. How to comfort. She's always relied on her father for that. 

So, she just listens with regret and makes her final decision.

If you move from this counter, you’ll faceplant into hardwood. You don’t like the blaringly loud song coming from above, so you down another seltzer. It’s distracting enough. 

You feel yourself leaning forward, so you force yourself back up, practically flung over the counter. You’re never drinking again, you promise yourself. How many times has that one been broken? You don’t remember. You miss Ellie. 

You’re going to fall again, but this time, you’re supported. And not by the counter. You instantly relax at the familiar scent. 

Abby’s mumbling something about something, but it sounds like gibberish. You throw your arms around her neck, inhaling deeply; You miss Ellie terribly. 

We gotta get you outta here. You frown; You don’t want to leave! The party just started! 

Her strong arms wrap around your waist to maneuver you. You’re not sure where she's taking you, but you don’t fight. You simply allow her to snatch your heels off and carry you into the piercing-sharp cold. Just allow her to drag you to safety. You wish it was Ellie. 

The world around you moves in a blur; The pace is making you dizzy. You don’t want to vomit in Abby’s car. When did she get a car? 

“Abby…” 

“Yeah, hun? You good?” She sounds so far away. Your mumbles are incoherent. She's so confused, so she asks you to repeat it. 

You face her from the passenger seat with a sultry grin. You miss Ellie, “I missed you.” Your words are garbled and your hands are as loose as your tongue, shakily landing on her muscular thigh, massaging the skin. 

Abby tenses with a sigh, planting a gentle hand on your traveling one. Her grip tightens when you try to move. “Did you really?” 

That's your green light. Your smile grows as you clumsily unbuckle your seatbelt, “Stop… stop the car.” 

Abby’s foot plants on the break, and you jerk forward. Like the night you found Pickle. Like when Ellie… 

“What’s the matter?” 

I miss my roommate. “I’m horny.” 

Your friend scoffs and shakes her head. Either you’re too drunk or she’s disappointed… Not the reaction you were seeking. Your smile tries to fade, but you force the corners of your mouth back up. 

“No, you’re not.” She snaps, and it takes you a second to catch it. Abby’s upset again. What the fuck did you do this time? Your facade finally falters. Now you’re irritated. 

“How’re y… how’re you gonna tell me what the fuck I am?” You sound like a fucking idiot, but your rage ignites your slurs, “If you don’t want me, why’re you here!” 

“Because you fucking called and I’m your friend! I didn’t wanna leave you by yours— “

“You should’ve!” Your shriek is piercing; You’re shocked the windows didn’t shatter and slice you both. 

“That’s how you fucking feel? Really?” 

You try to swallow tears, but they flow. The words you want to say are on the tip of your tongue; Thank you for coming to get me. I’m sorry for being awful. Don’t leave me by myself. 

But none of them escaped. They sit and rot in your throat. You’ve never seen Abby so… 

And she doesn’t let up, “Now you wanna cry? Are you serious?” There’s fire in her eyes; It burns in a way you’re not used to, especially not her, “This victim shit is getting very old— “

“I don’t care!” 

“I don’t fucking care, either! If you wanna keep getting used like a piece of meat by random bitches, then do that! Leave me the fuck out of it!” Abby slams her hand down on the armrest, and the car doors unlock, “Matter of fact, get the fuck out!” 

“Fuck you!” 

“Fuck YOU! Get out! Get the fuck out!” 

Curses and heated exclamations leave the two of you until you wobbly exit the vehicle, slamming the door as hard as your brain would allow. The wind blows like tacks, stabbing through the skin of your bare arms and chest. Abby zooms off, and you scream. 

You dig in your pocket for your phone, ineptly dialing Ellie’s number. It’s fucking one in the morning

“… Hello?” She was asleep. Your heart eases at the steadiness of her tone. 

You’re shivering, “… E—Ellie?” 

“Hm?” 

“I’m… I’m really cold and I don’t,” sob, “I dunno where I am— “

“What do you mean?” She asks abruptly, alert. Your heart flutters. 

You whimper, “I’m lost, I don’t… I’m a bad person— “

“Send me your location. Where’re your keys?” 

“I— I don’t remember— “

“Are you drunk right now?” 

“Yes,” You mumble meekly. This is so fucking embarrassing. 

Ellie sighs heavily, “Just… Is there somewhere you can wait until I get there?” 

You search through tears, finding mostly dark retail stores and restaurants across the street… Except Jack in the Box! The munchies hotspot never fails you. 

“There’s a Jack in the Crack over there.” You point like she can see you. She snickers softly. 

“Go, then. I’ll be there soon, okay?” 

“Wait! Don’t… don’t hang up, please, I’m scared— “

“I wasn’t going to.” 

You closely listen to the shuffling on the other line as you wobbly trek across the street. You sharply inhale at every slip and stumble on your journey, almost sobbing through every confirmation to Ellie’s small are you okay? 

You finally make it inside and thank God that it’s warm. You take a seat and sigh at the familiar jingle of keys. 

“You in there?” 

“Mhm.” 

“I’m coming, send me where you are.” 

“K.” 

It takes you longer than it should’ve to get her the location thanks to the Casa in your system, but she’s on the way… You really want curly fries. Fuck. 

You hate how your thoughts wander, self-loathing at the forefront of your lobe. You take after your father more than you thought: a filthy, lying train wreck. You’ve ruined every glimmer of hope, of positive influence around you, and you’re forced to bathe in the treachery you’ve created all over again. 

“Hey.” 

You leap out of your seat at Ellie’s raspy tone, seeing your hoodie draped over her forearm and keys dangling in her hand. Your tummy growls when you wave. Ellie’s gaze softens. “Hungry?” She hands you the hoodie for you to throw on. You nod. 

“What do you wanna eat?” 

“… Fries,” you croak, “Curly, please.” 

Ellie nods and waddles to the service counter. You watch her backside under her puffer as she pays and collects a small baggie and water before nodding towards the car. You follow close behind her in silence, munching on your snack. 

The ride back home is silent, but for once, the air isn’t deadly. You’re eased back from your breakdown, and it’s definitely not due to the forest in your roommate’s vision. 

You enter your warm apartment and get greeted with soft purrs, Kit-Kat skipping over to rub against your leg. It’s almost enough to make you break down all over again; You can’t believe you have to say goodbye to her next week. 

You kick your sneakers off and squat down to her level, “I love you so much, baby girl. Thank you for taking care of me.” You whisper and pet her head, all the way down to her tail. She meows like she loves you. Ellie shuts the door and watches you silently. You turn to face her. For the first time, she doesn't fidget at your inspection.

Her eyes are much glossier and she’s picking at the skin on her pinky. She wants to say something. 

“You okay?” You murmur, and Ellie nods. You don’t believe her. Her eyes are downcast. Why does she look so nervous? 

The silence is killing you, so you speak. 

“Ellie, I’m… I’m sorry for everything,” You stand and ramble. “I’m the worst roommate imaginable and I-I’m terrible and impulsive and I fucking suck, but I’m sorry… I’m sorry.” 

I also kinda like you. 

Not even your word vomit lets that slip. So, you apologize, sloppily and snot-filled. Tears drip down your face in waterfalls, “I’m— I don't wanna go... and I don’t want you to go…”

Ellie’s timid facade breaks, only slightly, eyes closing gently as she listens. “I know I don’t deserve t-to ask that and it’s not… I wasn’t apart of your plan— “

“You’re drunk.” 

You’re plummeting into the void all over again, succumbing to a familiar, oddly comforting darkness. 

“H-Huh?” 

Ellie’s as firm as a tree, unmoving. Strong. Still. You’re transported back to your first conversation and how intimidated she made you feel. “You’re drunk… and I leave in the morning. I got the job.” 

Drowning. That’s what this feels like. Strangely proud. Oddly suffocating. You’re underwater, but refuse to resurface. “I-In the morning?” 

Her head jerks. “I, uh. I got rent covered. Sorry for the late notice.” She shoves her hands in her pocket. You shake your head, wiping your face with the back of your hand. “It’s okay.” You whisper. “Where’re you gonna go?” 

“My dad’s. He’s a few hours out. The truck comes tomorrow.” 

Your head bobs in acknowledgement, “H-How was the stats final?” She pauses; Her eyes sadden, tilting like an unwatered rose. “You’ll do fine.” She whispers. 

“Promise to take care of my daughter?” You blurt between sniffles, already moving down the hall, ignoring the loud shattering in your heart when you peep all her boxes in the now vacant room beside yours. 

Ellie mumbles your name but you’re sick of ugly crying in front of people. “Good luck with everything.” You mutter with hot feet.

And with the last click of your bedroom lock, you shut out the vine who entangled your heart for the last time. You give into the feelings of loss, the emotions that come with failure, and release them into your hands. 

What could’ve been, your brain hollers while your heart wails. What could’ve been if you weren’t you. 

You don’t remember waking up, but you’re in pain. Physically, mentally; You're hurting. The intensity of it somehow gets worse at the sound of Ellie dragging boxes out of her — the room. 

You just cry. There’s nothing to do but cry. Your phone has been ringing all morning, but you don’t have strength to reach for it. You relish in the deserving pain of your hangover. Tequila hasn’t done shit for you. 

Hours pass, and your home is silent. Ellie’s gone. Pickle’s gone. Amaya’s gone. Abby’s gone. Your mother’s gone. You take their departures as signs. It’s probably time for you to go, too. 

Your shower is incredibly long. You wash and wash and re-wash, wanting the feelings of cleanliness to cascade down your skin, but it never comes. You tearfully accept your lecherous nature and every vile entity attached to it. You’re a vessel for heartbreak and villainy. Forever your worst enemy. You look in the mirror for the first time in days. Just for a second. You can’t stand to see yourself for longer than that, your naked form a reminder of every violation you’ve had to endure since you were fifteen. 

Ellie isn't thinking twice about you, and yet, she terrorizes your mind, trying to convince yourself that your time together wasn’t all bad. You’ll never forget the color she brought to you. Her seed is forever planted and growing in your heart, her roots forcing their way into your system, intertwining with your rough, cracked bones, enclosing around your lungs with each breath. 

Too bad you impacted her in the worst way. You couldn’t even manage to give her a sober apology before she left. It’s hard to accept the fact that you’ll never see her again, but there’s nothing you can do about it now. 

Once again, you’re too late. 

The short lap around your living room crushes your spirit. Somehow, all of your memories are shrouded in emptiness. All the proof of Ellie’s residency is gone… Except the indent of her body on the couch. She always loved sleeping there.

One last heavy exhale. That’s all you can manage before you grab your coat and beanie and exit, locking the door behind you. You keep your head down on the way to the parking garage, hopping into the driver’s seat. The ride to the academic advisory office is silent and swift; It matches the finality of your meeting. 

Tears glaze your eyes when you ask your counselor, “What’s… What’s the first step of withdrawing? Like, from school.” 

-

-

-

CHRISTMAS EVE 

Your fork picks at the pasta noodles on your barely touched plate. The wine is delicious. 

“Honey, are you…” Your dad says softly before sighing, “How’s the meal?” You blink up at him, focusing on the crinkles in his eyes. He seems youthful somehow. Healing looks good on him. 

You gulp down more maroon, “… It’s great. Thank you.” You mutter. You’re not used to talking to him; You’re glad the feelings are mutual. He only nods, head downcast onto his plate. At least he’s eaten. 

He sets his fork down on his plate and wipes his mouth with a napkin, “I hope you like your gift.” He says before standing to place the dish in the sink.

A dark smile spreads behind your glass. 

“Never thought you’d buy me anything.” You snicker sarcastically. “Don’t start.” His voice slices through the kitchen. You hold back your flinch. You’re not ten anymore. 

You shrug, shoulders heavy, “Just saying.” A glass shatters in the sink, and he curses and storms off, the bedroom door nearly swinging off the hinges with a slam. Your smile grows at the booming echo. Like father, like daughter you suppose. 

-

-

-

DECEMBER TWENTY-SEVENTH 

“Are you ready, kiddo?” 

Ellie’s heart is pounding through her chest as she stares out the window. She can’t believe her father hasn’t commented on the bursting organ. “No.” She whispers, adjusting the camera strapped around her neck. She's fighting not to bite her nails; Her dad hates that. 

He chuckles softly, “Yes, you are.” 

No, she’s not. 

The photography studio is fucking huge and surrounded by tall windows that display suited individuals laughing, conversing, perfecting their lenses. She can see the bright specks of neon color on the white floors, white walls, white couches. It’s so much brighter than she ever imagined.

The colors are reminiscent of you. Vivid. Captivating. Beaming like your smile. There are flashes coming from all directions inside the studio and it’s making her shake in the passenger seat. A strong hand plants on her blazer, giving an encouraging squeeze. “Look at me.” 

Ellie’s head turns, eyes locking with her dad’s. 

“I love you. You got this.” He says with confidence. Ellie nods in agreement, but he doesn’t accept it. “Say it.” 

“I got this.” Not as confident. A lot quieter, but getting there. 

“Eh?” Her dad leans in closer, ear pointed at her. She giggles and repeats herself. A little louder. He decides that it’s good enough, pulling her close over the center console. Ellie inhales as deeply as she can, right in the crook of his neck. He plants one last kiss on her cheek before releasing her. She grabs her bag from the floor and pushes the door open, looking over her shoulder one last time. “I love you.” She whispers. He bops her nose with the most delicate grin. Pride is radiating off him, and it warms her from the cold outside. 

Ellie departs with one last wave, shutting the door and skipping onto the sidewalk, walking right up to the front door of the studio. A final peek at her dad; He sends her two thumbs up. She smiles. 

Breathe in, one… two… three… 

When the door pushes open, she's greeted with wide grins and warm hugs. It feels like home already.

Finally... Finally.

BIG ASS TAGLIST LOOOOOL LOVE YALL: @starologist @hrtmal @ohlawdthebirds @villainousbear @timmy-27 @inf3ct3dd @aouiaa @shurisbigtoe @emothurman @lonelyfooryouonly @imelliesgf @baumbii @brackishkittie @littletinyladybugs @r1miese @horror-whoree @elsbunny222 @elliesatchel @makemescreamel @lav3nd3rhaze @elliezflower @ellieloml @ellies-princess @saverdelrey @womenofarcane@muthafuckingstargirl @mina-281 @yuckyfucky @aimformyheartt @elstoy @skylerwhitwyo @sawaagyapong @nil-eena @dewylittlestars @sakiigami @feelsoseencantdream @ellieslittlegf@fictionalgap @liabadoobee @whooknooows @sarahsmileslikesarahd0esntcare @qtgaslighter @p4ison1vy @eviestevie-14 @weaselot @elliewbbg @elsmissingfingers @lmaoo-spiderman @lyssaspengler @elliewilliamsmunch @gummydummykj @kiwikeysblog @juniorsfav @louleele @alittlextrahoney @tohoko@333-starhotline @girlkissersco @saplingkoi @crxmxnzl-c0rpzes @elliew-illiamsmissingfingers @diddiqueen @alexisvs-world @mostlyhornyandsad @lolaaa699999 @elsblunt @niyahlovesu @randomhoex @sunnmoon @elliesaesp @callmewhenyoukan @rubycruzsbitch @deathby1000sluts @skylerwhitwyo

[r0ttenhearts]

Unsaid Words

husband!tighnari x wife!reader

angst, no comfort, established relationship

“archons, (y/n). how careless could you be?”

tighnari roughly grabbed your arm, dabbing a cloth doused in rubbing alcohol as he pressed down on your wound. you had gone out to the forest that morning to look for more flowers to press in your book, only to find yourself being attacked by some fungi and getting your arm scratched in the process. luckily tighnari was on his rounds in that area, but that didn’t make his frustration with you any lesser.

he kissed his teeth as he wrapped your arm in a bandage, glaring at your reddened skin.

“what was so important for you to go and get yourself hurt for? please, enlighten me (y/n).”

you couldn’t help but look at your lap in shame. it hadn’t been the first time something like this had happened with tighnari coming to your rescue. it wasn’t like you couldn’t fend for yourself, you’d just find yourself in the thick of the fungi and you alone were not enough to clear it.

“for my book..” you mumbled, pointing to a brown leather book that sat on the table not too far from you. tighnari stood up without a word, going over to said book and began tearing page after page out. the bright, colorful flowers you had spent years pressing and collecting over several nations now laid on the floor, petals shredded into small colorful bits. something you had started as a small hobby with your now deceased friend, completely gone in a matter of minutes.

“there. now you have no reason to put yourself in danger. i mean, come on (y/n). your silly book of flowers? couldn’t you just ask collei to get you some?”

tears blurred your vision, ignoring him as you couldn’t help but stare at your years worth of collecting now on the floor.

“you had no right to do that..” you whispered, your hands coming up to your face as you quickly wiped away your tears. after each harsh wipe of your eyes more tears would stream down your face.

tighnari’s gloved hand gripped your chin tightly, forcing you to look up at him.

“i do actually. matter of fact i’ll do anything to keep you safe. even if it means taking away things that put you in danger.”

“i’ve spent years collecting all of that tighnari! you have no idea what you’ve done. i’ll never, never forgive you for this.”

“archons, if i knew i’d have married such a boneheaded girl i wouldn’t have married you.”

your eyes widened, your now glossy eyes staring into his. “do you mean that?”

“yes, yes i do. maybe i should’ve gone for a ranger instead of some hobbyist like yourself.” he spoke without thinking.

your sadness quickly turning to anger, tearing his hand from your face. you didn’t bother saying a word to him, leaving the house without a word as he stared at your form as you left, dismissing it as another one of your childish outbursts.

“the nerve of that girl..”

he scoffs as he packs up the first aid kit. his ears twitch in annoyance as he replays the previous conversation. his tail drooping as he remembers your teary eyes. “fuck..”

he sets out to the city, going to the market as he picks up your favorite dessert from a stall. he carries it tenderly in the crook of his arm, remembering your smile when he’d previously given you the sweetly packaged dessert. his guilt kept him at home, waiting at the table for you to return.

but you wouldn’t.

you’d long boarded on a ship that belonged to captain beidou, heading to inazuma. if he was so sure that he didn’t want you as his forever partner, you’d just make it your new “hobby” to explore the nations once again, getting back what was so cruely taken from you.

tighnari stood from the table, his anxiety coursing through his veins as he ran through the city, asking your friends if they knew where you were.

“have you seen (y/n)? she hasn’t come home yet?”

“has (y/n) come by here?”

“have you seen (y/n)?”

‘please .. please just tell me where you’ve gone..’

‘(y/n).. come back to me..’

tighnari laid curled up in a ball alone that night, hugging your pillow as he tried to imprint your scent into his memory. all he felt was guilt in his stomach, his ears flatting on his head as silent tears slipped down his cheeks.

“i have so many things to say to you (y/n).. this ring holds so many unsaid words i want to say to you so very badly..

please.. come back to me.”

taglist: @samarill @darthvada

[hallowxiu]

The Brothers Reacting to You Messaging Your Ex

Nothing flirty/shady. Your ex is reaching out for advice (up to you on the type of advice).

(Also up to you if your ex is a demon, angel, or another human)

Lucifer:

Lucifer’s noticed you on your phone more often than usual. It’s nothing out of the blue for you to be texting, but this much?

He’s a little suspicious and more than that, he’s growing paranoid. 

He knows you’d never do anything to hurt him or break his trust, but still, why are you on your phone so much and who are you texting? 

Finally, when he can no longer stay silent, he corners you in his office and flat-out demands who you’re talking to. 

You notice the anxious expression on his face and you feel your heart tighten in your chest. You explain that you’re in contact with an ex, and before he can panic, you quickly shut down the idea of anything scandalous going on. You explain that your ex simply needs advice for a life-changing event, and once you’re done helping them, you’d drop contact.

You can tell he isn’t delighted with the answer (can you blame him?) but he drops it, content that you’re being honest with him. 

Still, expect to see sudden bouts of jealousy throughout contact with your ex until the matter is fully dead. 

You might notice possessiveness from him as well, though I’m sure that’s nothing you can’t handle. ;) 

Mammon:

With how glued to your side he is, you didn’t have to tell him who you were texting. 

While he trusts you, that doesn’t mean he has to trust the intentions of your ex. 

“Seriously, who do they think they even are? What advice is so urgent that they need the opinion of their ex?” 

You try to soothe his anxiety, constantly reassuring Mammon that you’re only trying to help someone who once meant a lot to you. You even offer up your phone so he can read your messages, but he refuses, saying he trusts you. 

He makes you promise dozens of times to tell him if your ex tries anything fishy though.

“Devildom, Celestial Releam, Human World- it doesn’t matter where they are. If they think they can hit on you and get away with it, they’ve got another thing comin’.”

Despite all his complaining, he’s secretly proud of you that you’d be willing to help someone that you’ve had such a complicated history with. If anything, it only solidifies his feelings for you even more. Not just anyone would be nice enough to help out an ex, but you? Well, he’s convinced you’d help anyone, even if they’ve wronged you. 

Honestly, how are you so perfect?

Leviathan: 

It does not go over well. At. All. 

He doesn’t yell, scream, or ignore you. He just shuts down. 

You told him as soon as your ex reached out for advice; you hadn’t even responded yet. 

Leviathan means the world to you, and being the Avatar of Envy, you know how devastating something like this could be to his self-esteem if not gone about the right way. 

You swear up and down to him until your face is blue that your ex is only asking for advice, and how you would never talk to them unless Leviathan was comfortable with the idea. 

Clearly, he’s not. 

Despite saying you wouldn’t respond to your ex unless Leviathan was comfortable, he mutters under his breath about how you can respond, and how he doesn’t own you or control what you do. 

While he verbally agreed to it, you don’t like how he feels as though he has to. 

You make a point of deleting your ex’s text, showing Leviathan in the process. 

“I never want to do anything to make you uncomfortable. They can get advice from someone else if they need it that badly.” 

The two of you spend the rest of the day cooped up in his bedroom, snuggled up while watching anime and playing games. 

Satan:

Surprisingly, he handles it pretty well. 

Satan can be level-headed when he wants to be, and when you come out and explain the situation, he doesn’t really see any need to worry. 

Still, you can expect to find him at your side more than usual. 

You’re also gravely mistaken if you think Satan hasn’t warned this ex of yours. 

“If I find out you need anything more than advice, I will make sure you have nightmares about me for the rest of your life.” 

He sends the threat from your D.D.D., deleting it afterward so that you don’t see it. He isn’t worried about your ex ratting him out however; most people tend to stay quiet after a threat from him. 

If your ex had ill intentions from the start, you’ll never find out. 

Unbeknownst to you, Satan has his eyes on your ex, knowing their location at all times. 

Like I said, he handled it pretty well if you really think about it. 

Asmodeus: 

Asmodeus couldn’t really blame your ex for wanting to reach out to you. I mean, you’re such a beauty. 

And to top that off, you’re dating him, and he’s also a major beauty. 

Honestly, he wouldn’t be surprised if your ex was actually just trying to get close to him.

At least, that’s what he’s been telling himself to keep from panicking. 

He knows he’s the most desirable demon in all the Devildom, but do you know that? 

Your ex can’t actually think they can win you back, can they? 

He’s been biting at his nails, that’s how stressed out he is. 

You pick up the subtle signs of his distress, chipped nail polish, his hair missing its usual shine, and the slightest of bags under his eyes. 

You sit him down one morning in the kitchen before the others wake, and carefully explain to Asmodeus that there’s nothing to worry about. Your ex only needs advice, and as soon as you’ve given it, you’ll end all contact. 

You also promise to drop all contact if your ex makes any kind of flirtatious comment, and that seems to ease his stress a little. 

“Ha, I don’t even know why I was worried in the first place. After all, how could you fall for anyone but me?” 

What Asmodeus doesn’t say, is that he will hunt down your ex if they try anything. He’ll risk breaking a nail if he needs to. 

Beelzebub: 

Beelzebub is not one to get possessive. If anything, he’s one of the calmest out of the brothers as long as he’s eating. 

He’s always trusted you, and you’ve always known him to have a level head. 

So when you approach him regarding your ex, he’s surprised to find himself somewhat… bothered. 

He can’t exactly word his thoughts, but he’s not happy. Far from it. He doesn’t know your ex, he has no reason to trust them, and they must be your ex for a reason. 

What are their intentions? Do they really just want advice from you?

He’s startled to find himself thinking violent thoughts, wondering all the ways to cook up your ex if they try anything he doesn’t approve of. 

He knows he wouldn’t really do it, but… 

He sits you down before you can. He expresses his concerns and requests that you don’t communicate with your ex, even if it’s a selfish thing of him to ask. 

You, just being happy that Beelzebub is for once comfortable with his feelings, oblige. 

A happy Beel keeps everyone happy, after all. 

Belphegor:

 Belphegor shrugs it off. He really doesn’t care. 

What? Did you expect him to get jealous? 

Sure, he might get jealous over his brothers whenever they compete for your attention, but a total stranger? Yeah right. They’re beneath him; he has no reason to be concerned. 

Belphegor is confident in his abilities to keep you happy and satisfied. He knows you don’t have a wandering eye. 

This person, whoever they are, is your ex for a reason. Clearly, they must’ve fucked up somewhere down the road. 

Why should he worry if they plan on stealing you back? It’s futile and he doesn’t mind watching them make a fool of themself. It’ll make for good entertainment for him to fall asleep to. 

You’re a little surprised by his lack of a response, but then again, maybe you should be happy. You don’t necessarily want a homicidal Belphegor throwing a fit. 

[loveinhawkins]

thinking about Eddie getting arrested, probably sometime around stealing the RV; he has to still know enough, to have already seen The Upside Down and all that entails.

The rest of the group reluctantly get away in the RV, Eddie’s just unlucky—and that fact stings as he’s pushed into a police car, a nasty voice in his head taunting, you’re still running, running all your life, and now you’ve been caught.

He doesn’t know what to expect when being interrogated, tries to cling to his innocence even when guilt threatens to drown him. But they’re not asking about Chrissy or Patrick, not to the level of detail he’d feared—at least, not yet.

They want to know what he told the others.

Eddie doesn’t get it at first. And when he does, he feels sick, because the police aren’t stopping their manhunt with him: they suspect that he got the whole of Dustin’s ragtag party involved in his vague murder-cult scheme; it’s Steve, Robin and Nancy who are the presumed new ringleaders now that Eddie’s been caught.

What were you planning? they demand, and Eddie tries to insist, “Nothing!”, but it doesn’t ring true because the group was planning, of course, they always had a plan.

Eddie can only hope that he hasn’t messed it all up.

He knows that there’s something more going on when he’s left alone in a cell, all questioning abruptly halted. He tries to reason that no news is good news, and the fact that no-one else seems to have been arrested yet quells some of his anxiety, but not by much.

Then the world shakes apart.

He lifts up his head from where he huddled on the floor. Sees how dangerously close he came to falling through a sudden, incongruous crack. Blinks.

There’s ash in the air.

Eddie stands. The crack’s run right up the wall of his cell. If he just… pushes…

There.

A Gate.

He hesitates on the threshold.

And maybe this is the moment that starts to chip away at his fear, a distorted self-perception: that this is who he is when no-one’s watching. A coward.

Because this is different from diving into a lake after others, from convincing yourself that you only did it out of shame.

He’s facing this alone.

And even though he’s still terrified, all he can think through his rapid heartbeat is the plan’s gone wrong. I have to help them.

He exhales shakily, sets his jaw. Mordor it is, he decides.

And with no-one there to witness it, Eddie Munson walks into Hell.

[ohcaptains]

as long as it takes.

pairing. abby anderson x female! reader

synopsis. Abby’s generous with her love. She gives, and seldom takes. It’s why she takes her time with you. Why she slowly works you over, dragging you to your eventual release as if she has all the time in the world. Though this time, it’s taking far too long.

an. based off of this request. pls like, reblog and comment. i appreciate it endlessly<3

warnings. 18+. minors dni with this fic & my blog. abby manhandles you (hand on jaw -- not choking), references to anxiety and stress, crying, assplay?...assplay (blink and you’ll miss it) fingering...squirting...

You’re all too aware of the clock on Abby’s bedside table.

The ticking fuels your anxiety, and you glare at the bright red numbers, seeing that it’s been about half an hour. Abby usually got you there in just under ten.

Her record was three. Two and a half, if you minus the time it took to get your pants off.

Fuck. Okay. Ignore the clock. Just focus on Abby.

You huff, turning away from the box and sliding your palm into Abby’s loose mousy blonde hair. She hums, tightening her grip on your spread thighs. 

The echo of the sound makes your belly flutter, and your breathing hitches when she swirls her tongue around your clit again, hitting the edge of the nerve.

Okay, yeah, this is good. Abby is good. Good doesn’t even cover it. She’d had a lot of practice – had you strewn out on her bed like this too many times to count.

She flattens her tongue and swipes it through your folds, broad and unafraid, and the spit from her mouth dribbles down your thighs, pooling onto the sheets.

It was slow and sloppy yet tinged with a desperate edge – just how you liked it. So why was it taking so long? The pleasure is there, but it’s distant, hidden behind the swirl of thoughts that are blocking you from reaching your high.

Abby hasn’t complained once.

Realistically, you know she wouldn’t. Or if she did, it would be in jest, but all you can think about is that maybe Abby wants to stop. Maybe, Abby wants to just get this over with. But she wouldn’t be going this slow if she wanted to…what if she’s just tired? Guilt washes over you, thick and unwavering. You frown at her ceiling, whimpering in frustration more than desire.

Snap out of it, you tell yourself, breathing deeply and closing your eyes.

You try and block out everything but Abby – focus on the sensation of her nose pushing into your clit, her tongue darting over your puffy hole. She circles her tongue around your clit again, stroking long and slow, and you stutter her name, hips bucking up an inch.

Your thighs push at her hands, desperate to clench around her head, but she tenses her muscular arms, keeping your legs spread open. You whimper, trying to fidget, and Abby hums a laugh at you.

“That’s it, baby,” she mumbles, her voice deep and coated in desire, “take it.”

Your fingers tighten in her hair, your body going taut as Abby sucks at your clit, and the familiar wave of pleasure finds you. “Please – fuck,” you moan, tone high pitch and desperate. You turn your head to the side, back arching, trying to grind against her mouth.

“Just – “you choke, clenching tight, “Rightthererightthererightthere,” you whisper all at once, the rush threatening to spill, and you briefly think, finally.

Fucking finally.

It’s been about 45 minutes now, nearly took an hour. There’s a part of you that feels bad. A part of you that wants to shy away and apologise because It’s obscene. It’s embarrassing, really, it’s never happened before, and it’s – it’s gone. It’s gone.

“No,” you whisper. “Fuck,” you curse, shaking your head, trying to get it back. Trying to focus, but your brain has sabotaged your body once again, your high fluttering away from you.

“Shit,” you huff, loosening your fingers in your girlfriend’s hair.

Abby looks up in understanding. She places a kiss on the inside of your thigh. Her comforting voice finds you. “Just gimmie a minute, and I’ll try again.”

She sits back, and the warm light of her bedroom illuminates the slick that’s coating her chin and cheeks. She wipes it away with the back of her hand and rolls her neck and jaw. The ache between your thighs slowly begins to fade, even as you take in her disheveled state.

Her hair hangs loose around her shoulders, kinky from her signature braid and a little frizzy from your wandering fingers. There’s a pink flush to her freckled cheeks, and her lips are swollen and wet. She licks them. At some point in the last 45 minutes, she’d taken her shirt off, and is now topless. She mindlessly rubs her chest, smoothing her fingers over the top of her breasts.

You lazily look up at her, naked from the waist down. The top half is covered with Abby’s loose-fitting tank, and the wide arm holes don’t leave much to the imagination.

“’ ’m sorry, Abs,” you sigh, “It’s not happening.”

But your girlfriend ignores you, too busy reaching her arms up and stretching her thick muscles out. She drops her arms and holds onto the dips of her neck, rolling her head around. The position lets you see the wide bulge of her muscles, covered in freckles and a light sheen of sweat.

“It takes as long as it takes,” she says nonchalantly. The bed dips as she drops between your legs again, “just gimmie another minute, and I’ll get us there.”

She goes to shove her arms under your thighs again, but you cringe away from her, shaking your head.

“It’s been ages already. I’m just…in my head.” She laughs, “Well get out of it.”

She’s joking, but it makes a lump form in your throat.

You look down at her, your pretty, desperate girlfriend, so eager to make you come that she’s willing to spend nearly hours trying to get you there. You try and swallow the lump down, but it won’t budge, and you let out a shaky breath, trying to stop the tears threatening to spill.

Abby hears the change in your breathing and looks up.

“Babe?” “Fuck, I’m sorry,” you splutter, wiping the tears from your eyes. “I’m being silly.” “Oh, sweetheart.”

She says the endearment so softly, that all of your bottled-up feelings come rushing back at once, and you hiccup a sob. You reach up and cover your face with your hands, tears spilling down your cheeks freely.

You’ve been so stressed recently, anxious about a month-long upcoming supply run that you’d helped plan. Abby was leading the charge. Everyone was putting so much trust in you, and it was incredibly overwhelming. No wonder your brain was pulling you every which way.

“Ugh,” you groan, shaking your head. “I don’t wanna cry, I’m just –” you sniffle, and Abby tugs your hands away, holding them in her large palms. Her inner brows are slanted, concern marring her features.

“It’s okay,” Abby tries to soothe, knowing the source of your stress. Usually, her words would bring you comfort. But this time, there’s too much to soothe. “It’s not,” you sob, and Abby sighs. “I know, but stressing about it isn’t going to help.”

Annoyance floods through you, “I know that!” you huff.

The force of your near shout echoes throughout the room, and Abby flinches, jaw tensing.

Your eyes go wide at her sudden clip demeanour. “’ ’m sorry,” you quickly whisper, lip wobbling. Another tear slides down your cheek, and you furiously wipe it away, “’ ’m sorry,” you say again, voice breaking. Abby’s features slowly soften as you apologise for the third time, “’ ’m sorry for being loud, m’ just frustrated.”

“I know,” she coos. The corners of her lips lower. “I know baby, come here.” She tugs your hands forward, pulling them around her neck, and you reach into her, cuddling into her large frame as she twists, laying back on your shared bed. Her wide hands come up under your shirt, rubbing your back, coaxing you to relax your entire weight into her. You nuzzle the side of her head.

“’ ’m sorry,” you sniff, and she kisses the side of your head. “I’m trying really hard to concentrate and it just…slips away from me.” “These things happen, baby,” she whispers, “We Just gotta stop the distractions.”

Abby continues rubbing your back.

Her wide palm drags up the expanse of your back, calloused fingers from years of training rough, but soothing. Her loose hair smells of her vanilla shampoo still, with a hint of smoke and rainwater from being caught out in the woods when it poured earlier.

Her hand continues its languid rhythm, and you nuzzle deeper into her neck, sighing in contentment.

You feel yourself slowly drifting off, losing all sense of reality, until you blearily come to as her hand trails lower, fingertips smoothing over your ass. You don’t think much of it, until she takes a handful and tugs, hitching your crotch up, grinding it against her sweatpants.

“Abby,” you whisper, sound muffled by her neck.

She hums in response, massaging your ass in her wide palm. It’s sort of comforting, but you sense she’s not doing it in that regard, especially as she grips tight, revealing your damp folds to the cool air. You whisper her name again, and she smirks when she hears your sharp inhale.

Abby continues playing with you.

Not really touching but touching all the same. At some point, your fingers move, and you flatten your hand on her chest, just below her shoulder. “Abs,” you voice. She pushes her mouth against the side of your head, “mm?” she sounds. “’ s’not gonna work,” you whisper, already doubting yourself.

Abby tuts, “Not if you keep on thinking like that,” she taps your thigh, “leg up.”

With a huff, you go to move, but Abby gets impatient and tugs it up anyway, pressing your knee into the mattress by her waist. The position leaves you exposed, and anyone walking in right now would see Abby Anderson’s hand trailing over your ass, fingers dangerously close to your damp folds.

She slides the width of her heavy hand between your cheeks, the ball of her palm pushing there, and you jolt, sighing into her neck.

Abby’s fingers move further, pressing against your pussy, and your slick makes her fingers slip, forcing them between your damp folds. Your nerves short circuit. Heat floods between your thighs once again, and you stutter, “F-Fuck, Abby.”

“Mm,” she hums again, cradling your shoulders with her spare arm.

She takes your hair, speaking against the side of your head. The words are muffled, but you make out, still so wet, baby, as she drags her long fingers through your used pussy, fingers sliding over your swollen hole.

You mewl into her neck, clawing at her shoulder.

She doesn’t ask how you want it.

In fact, she’s so lazy with it, so lethargic and slow, that it’s as if it’s not happening at all.

There’s no real big scene, and no real direction to her movement, either.

She just plays with you, sliding her thick fingers through your folds, back and forth, the ball of her palm dragging over your asshole, and fuck, it’s so openly dirty that you have to hide.

Have to push your face into her neck and moan, trying to conceal how good it feels. Abby doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t tease you like she usually does.

At some point, she stuffs her thick fingers against your clit and drags, and you gasp her name, grinding back into her hand. It swells beneath her fingers, but she doesn’t pay it that much attention. It’s as if she’d touched it by accident, didn’t really mean to, because she moves away, instead choosing to push her cupped fingers against your entrance – not inside, just across – and you feel your slick coat her, feel it spread over abs.

You go quiet. No noise, just the stutter of your breath against her neck.

Again, Abby doesn’t say anything. No teasing. No, like that? No, ask nicely and I’ll fuck you with them.

The frustration is still there, but it’s directed at her.

Pressure builds behind your clit, and you want more. Want it quicker than this, so you push back. Try and match her rhythm by rolling your hips. If you catch her fingers at just the right angle, she’ll push against your clit, you’re sure of it.

You imagine yourself spread open on top of her, grinding your cunt back into her hand, the ball of her palm pressing between your ass cheeks, and you’re embarrassed again.

This time, at how much you want it.

Wanna come, wanna come, you whisper into her neck, rolling your hips up. Your clit drags against her abs, and you clutch her shoulder. “Wanna come, please,” you whine pathetically, pussy clenching around nothing.

She’s got you whining and begging, and she’s said fuck all.

Abby’s managed to subdue you, with her quiet, yet commanding aura. She’s got you laying on her, not griping you all that tightly -- you could move if you wanted to, and yet, it’s as if you can’t.

She’s letting you use her.

Her fingers accidentally hit your clit again and your eyes roll back, mouth opening, and you moan into her neck, grinding faster, pussy dragging against the thick of her fingers, moving, fingers scratching into her shoulders, and you’re whimpering her name, a constant drabble, Abby, Abby, Abby, you go, and you’ve soaked her chest, so wet that you’re slipping over her fingers, rutting, drooling her name, saying, please, please please fuck fuck fuck – it’s there, and --

She senses you slip. Senses you lose it, the whimpers suddenly annoyed and irritated. Abby slides a hand under your chin, and knocks it up, clasping her fingers over your cheeks. She makes you face her, forehead pressing against yours, blue eyes wide and intense.

“Come back to me,” she orders.

Her voice catches your attention, loud and commanding in the silent room.

You clutch her broad shoulders, there, you’re there, until your belly bottoms out, and you’re pouting. “Abby,” you sigh, frustrated, eyes closing, and she shakes her head, “No, don’t look away.”

She’s close enough that your noses touch.

“Look at me,” she commands, and you do. How could you not? A warm, comforting rush consumes you. Abby’s everywhere. She’s there. Right there. Eyes bore a hole into your soul as she whispers, “Keep your eyes on me.”

And you keep your eyes on her as she pushes two fingers inside of you, stuffing you, and you hear how wet you are. You gasp at the sudden pressure. The angle gives her easy access to the spongy part inside of you that makes you go docile. She curls her fingers and presses against it. Your eyes roll back, pussy squelching around her thick fingers.

“’ m’ my god, Abby,” you moan, suddenly drunk on her. The clutch she’s got on your chin loosens a little, but she still keeps your forehead pressed against her, fingers pressed tight in your cunt. “That feels so fucking good,” you sob, clenching down. The pressure pushes up at the back of your clit, too. You hold the hand she’s got on your jaw, swallowing, and trying to settle your quickened breathing. Abby bumps your nose with hers.

“Look at me, baby.”

She whispers it, voice strained. Blearily, you blink down at her. Her blue eyes look fucked out – alive.

“No one here but me. No thoughts but me, okay?” she asks, but it’s not a question. She does ask one, though, cocks her head to the side, teasing glimmer in her eyes as she whispers, “What’s my name?”

Her fingers slide out of your pussy, then plunge back inside. You moan, slick pouring over her digits. Abby tightens her grip on your chin, “name.” “Ab-Abby.”

She smiles, proud of you. “’ s’right baby, you keep thinking that.” She drags her mouth to your forehead, kissing quickly, before pressing a messy, wet one to your lips, mumbling, “Keep thinking about me,” then she drags her fingers out of your cunt again, pushing them in and up as she mutters, “Keep thinking about me while I do my fucking job.”

Her words make you sob.

Nearly say thank you, then you can’t say anything at all, as she fucks her fingers into you. You grind your clit into her abs, delirious from the pleasure. The tension coils again – was never far away -- swirling in your belly and pooling in your lower back.

Abby doesn’t let you run from it. Doesn’t let you drift. Her hand continues to be locked around your jaw, and the pressure is constant, reassuring, keeping you tethered to her.

She speeds up, and you chase her fingers, letting out a drawn-out moan. The ball of her palm presses into your ass again, and you clench tight, losing composure.

“Fuck,” you sob, eyes rolling back. Your nails drag over her shoulders, and you let out a pitiful sob as you whimper, “’ 'm gonna come Abs,”

As if on cue, she drops your chin, and lets you press your face into her neck.

She drags the free hand between your bodies, stuffing her hand against your clit while the other fucks up into you. The sudden pressure there makes you see stars, and you choke out her name as your body moves, grinding your clit into her hand.

Your legs are shaking, your heart thumping against your chest, and your orgasm is so close, that suddenly, you’re frightened it’ll slip away again.

“Abby— “you sob again, her name a shaky cry into her neck. You clutch the side of her throat, grinding into her hand. “Please,” you gasp, “please it’s so close, please.”

“Shh,” she whispers into the shell of your ear. “Take it like a good girl.”

All at once, it hits you, blindsides you – grabs and pulls you under.

You go tight. Body locks up -- clenches tight around Abby’s fingers, and she lets out a depraved moan of her own, coaxing you through it.

That’s my girl, that’s my pretty girl, she whispers, tone strained and taut. Her words knock you over the edge, and you sob her name, pussy convulsing, gushing over her hand.

“’m’mygod my god, Abby, so good – so fuckin,” you whimper, riding out your orgasm against her chest and hand.

Your pussy soaks her, wet enough that you hear her fucking her fingers up and out, walls fluttering around her thick fingers as she drags your orgasm out of you. Your legs shake, fingers clench tight around her shoulders as it goes and goes and goes, nerves shot, and you yelp as the sensitivity suddenly hits.

You shove a hand between you to grab Abby’s wrist, trembling, and Abby stops, wet fingers lax in your grip.

The room fills with your laboured breathing. Abby’s chest pushes in and out, the adrenaline leaking from her body as you breathe deep into her neck. Your heart begins to slow, the ache between your thighs slowly dispelling, and it’s then that you whisper, “fucking finally,” into her neck.

Abby laughs. You pull back to see her smiling face, and she’s flushed red, sweat beading over her hairline. “You – “she starts, breathless. She leans back into the pillows, rubbing her forehead. “that was really fucking hot.”

You beam from it, sitting up straighter. Lazily, you glance between the pair of you, and her abs are slick from you, the crotch on her sweatpants damp, too.

“You see how easy that was?” she jokes, grabbing your attention. She wipes her cheeks with the back of her hand, sniffing. “You gotta clean me up, baby,” she sighs, rolling her neck, “I can’t move my arms.”

ao3. more abby. ko-fi. 

[gildedkrone]

meine Sonne

“Why do you keep waiting for him?”

The sunsets are the colours of violet on the metropolis and the drink in your hand has long gone cold. Winters in London are brutal; rainy days and grey skies overcast with the doubts in the heart—forlornly watching the future become present.

“Schatz, I want to know.” The Austrian flag on his arm, with some of its thread loose from the physicality of his job, never once replaced as the man held your patchwork on his uniform as always. He always said, it’s from you—that’s what makes it special.

The patch had been with him through heaven and hell and now, it brings him to the Sky Garden dome in London. The poignant stares are nothing to him as he rests a palm on yours between plates of half finished meals.

His heart is twisting so painfully and pulling into dead knots when he spots the glisten near your eyes and the restraint it takes to hold back, knowing that he hasn’t yet earned the right to wipe away those tears of someone else’s making.  

“I don’t know.” He moves closer and you finish the drink in one go and gloved hands take the glass away from you before it could fall through your fingers and go smashing into the marble flooring.

“I guess I thought I had a chance with him. I—hic—I-He told me I was worth it, once. Back during the mission in Siberia, he came back for me. Even if everyone told him not to, he still came back and I—I just thought we had something.”

König listens.

“I keep waiting for him, because one day, I don’t fucking know, I wish he would just see me—see that I’m here. That I am here, waiting for him. All of his extra duties, I take them. I do everything to show him that I-I care about him and he—”

“He never acknowledges them. He knows I am the one doing all of this for him and yet …”

König grasp on your palm tightens and he offers a napkin.

“Y-you shouldn’t have to hear about this. I’m sorry, König.” The bellow in his throat is building to a fervour; all the words he wanted to say, locked away behind a wall he’s built with his own hands.

For once, König wishes to live without the social anxiety that’s come to shadow his existence.

“It’s not right”—he speaks with such conviction and the mask around his face shifts with the rippling flesh underneath—“it’s not right, what he’s doing to you.”

“I just … keep waiting for him and he never looks back. Not since his sergeant met his death two months ago.”

John MacTavish. König has heard of him before, in passing comment.

“I keep holding out for hope; hope that he would at the very least, tell me, if he isn’t interested at all. His glances make me stay, even if he shows it to others. A few months ago, he even made a toast during a Christmas party. He said my name, you know? I thought I was dreaming, but it was my name he spoke.”

I thought we had something, unspoken.

It’s the hope that destroys us all—König knows this, knows this all too well.

“He gives you just enough attention to keep you wanting him, but never enough to make a move.”

You grimace is sardonic and you agree with him.

“Yeah. I … Is it so much to ask for to be loved?”

No, it’s not, schatz.

“This relationship? It’s not healthy and you … you don’t deserve this. Not you, you deserve far better. Far better than a man who would lead you on, and never give you anything in return.”

“Who else could love me, König?”

Me.

“Don’t say that. I … you are worthy of someone better. You are.” He wishes for the strength to say he could.

The crackle and burst of tangerine and purple across the space draws your attention to the fireworks outside. Cold whips across your jacket and König settles beside you and the night sky lights up with fireworks showering London in splendour you once felt seeing Ghost.

Not anymore. Not ever since that day when he took everything away with him into the afterlife.

Fur tickles your face and a heavy weight settles on your shoulders and it’s warm. König pulls the jacket tighter around you and streaks of gold fireworks echo in his eyes in trails of comet dust of longing.

“You always did love the gold ones. Remember in university? In Norway on new year’s eve, how our friends made fun of us for our awful pronunciation and you said something like … ish leeber dick?”

“Ich liebe dich.”

“Yeah, that one. Could never understand what it meant.”

“It … it means I love you.”

His eyes widen and hope—hope is a firecracker in his hands lit and burning with a fuse to no return; time to detonation is nigh.

“What?”

“Verdammt … I—I … fuck …”

He looks anywhere but at you and when he makes a move, his hands are with yours and his eyes are overwhelmed with emotion in depths of blue seas.

“I … schatz, I … I know it’s not my place to comment on your relationship with Ghost but he isn’t a good partner. You deserve more, more than what he gives you and with the sincerity of someone who wants, loves you.”

He presses on, afraid if he stopped he would never start again.

“Your love is not second rate, second class or anything.” He drops your hands to grasp your arms. “I … I can’t stand watching your throw your love away like that. Not when I’m here.”

His jacket is warm with more than just the heat of the man.

“It’s not fair to make you compete with a dead man for love. It’s not right and Stärke, I—I am here. And … I want to show you what love can be.”

“What love can be?”

“If you let me, liebling.”

Impossibly soft and brimming with yearning, the fuse burns through and the world explodes into colour. Of tears and light overpowering the shadows following him since youth into oblivion, König’s scarred lips are pressed against yours in repressed longing and you are pulled in close by his arm around your back.

Finally, he wipes away the tears and love tastes like the chap stick König uses and more. It’s indescribable, with it depth and intangible strings and he holds on tightly with all of his being.

“Your patch is fraying, König.”

“I’ve got you to fix it up for me.”

Ich liebe dich so sehr, meine Liebe. Du strahlst mit den Farben der Sonne. Ich bin so glücklich, dich in meinem Leben zu haben.

Sei mein und nur mein, Liebling.

Do not edit, reupload or translate my works without prior consent || masterlist

[iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia]

This one has been circling in my mind for a while and I’ve been waiting for the full headcanons to open up for it.

M6 and MC have an argument, and MC abruptly left to clear their head. It’s been an hour or two and it’s begun to storm, and MC hasn’t come back yet. Whether MC returns on their own or the M6 end up going out to find them, they find MC soaked to the bone and freezing cold.

- 🌿

The Arcana HCs: When MC argues with M6 and gets stuck in a storm

-- to set the scene --

It was so inconsequential, you don't even remember what it was about. All you can remember is that you had decided to take a walk to avoid blowing the disagreement out of proportion, and before you knew it, you were a good ways away from shelter and a storm was rolling in. It's impossible to stay warm in the downpour that soaks your thin clothes. When you see your lover again, you're drenched, shivering, and much more lonely and depressed than you expected to be.

Julian

He originally tried to follow you out, if only because he could tell that you were upset and he didn't want you to have to deal with it alone. Once he saw that being alone was the point, he left it

Of course, being left by himself wasn't helpful. His anxiety began to blow the whole ordeal out of proportion, and by the time the storm hit, he was half convinced that he had ruined your life

It goes without saying that Julian and storms do not mix well

When you finally make it back to the front door of your home, soaked and shivering, it's eerily dark and quiet inside

Julian's curled up in the corner, anxiously wadding his coat up into a crumpled ball in his lap, sniffling because the fire went out

He's leaping up and fussing over you as soon as you walk in

Building the fire back up, bringing you a warm change of clothes and a towel, chafing your cold hands between his for warmth

He's babbling almost incoherently about how worried and frightened he was and it's not hard to realize half of it is the storm

It ends in a resolution shaky with relief, holding each other and slowly warming up as you both agree to try processing better

Asra

They're more than happy to give you space - if an independent moment to yourself is what you need to figure things out and self regulate, then please, have at it! Take your time and be safe

While you're gone, he'll try to take his mind off of things - and then get fidgety when he can't - and then get frustrated when his best option is to just ... wait until you get back

They eventually give up and head out after a couple hours to check on you, not realizing it's raining until they open the door and you're standing right outside dripping wet

All of the heartache is catching up and hitting him right now and he's bundling you inside, eyes full of concern and hurt on your behalf, trying to care for you without overstepping your space

You're freezing! Can they - can they hold you? Only if you want

As upset as he is by the poor state you're in, he's a little relieved that he has the chance to put things back in perspective without needing to scramble for elaborate words to communicate

They love you so much more than an argument - disagreements can be resolved, what matters is you, safe and happy, and loved

Nadia

Fine. Take your space, and while you're doing that, she'll enjoy some time to herself as well. She doesn't take well to feeling brushed off, and this is triggering that just a little bit

Spends the whole time you're gone trying to be productive and muttering to herself about just wanting to fix the problem

Notices that the time drags on, notices the storm rolling in, and stubbornly stands by letting you have what you chose for yourself

And then blaming herself when you return soaked and shivering

This, though, this is problem with a clear solution that she can implement, and she drops everything she's doing to get you into a hot bath and full of warm food and dressed in soft clothes

She's not leaving your side for a moment

But she does want to talk - about how helpless she felt when she wasn't able to reach you to make things right, about how you deserve your space but she doesn't like to feel brushed off

Her tone is disappointed, not in you, but in herself

Highly likely to cuddle you and suggest a spot where you can take your space but she can still reach you in an emergency

Muriel

You needing space is more than understandable. Take as much as you need, he'll be here when you come back

He doesn't love sitting with negative thoughts and feelings, but he's used to it and can handle it fairly healthily

He still worries, though, and when an hour passes and he feels the atmosphere shift, he's getting on his feet and walking out the door to track you down and bring you something rainproof and warm

He doesn't expect you to have walked so far, or for the rain to come down so quickly, or for you to look so small and feel so cold when he reaches you

You can stay upset with him if you want to, but he wants to carry you home. Please let him carry you home

You might be ready to talk about it, you might only want to mumble an apology for leaving without speaking, you might prefer to stay quiet. He'll still hold you like you're made of glass

He'll lay out everything you need and bring you a hot drink, focusing far more on the safety and stability of your home together than the thing that made you upset. You can talk about it later

Portia

She understands you needing space and you're welcome to take it but she hates being left alone to feel strung along and unimportant and she knows that wasn't your intention but -

By the time you walk in the door shivering, she's crying from frustration and working it out by aggressively cleaning out the cottage and making food from Nevivon

The first thing you hear when you walk in is a horrified gasp

She assumed you were fine, you're clearly not fine, don't tell her you've been out in the rain all this time! Get in here, she's fixing you up until it feels like it never happened at all. Talk to her!

Her main impulse is to scold you, considering how much you're accidentally reminding her of her brother right now

More than anything, she's worrying that her love for you might not be enough, that she was too pushy about talking to her and forced you away, that she wasn't clear about her core motive being love

To cut a long story short, she needs a decent amount of comforting too. After the scare, after she's fed and cuddled and snuggled you, she needs some safe, gentle hugs from you

Lucio

He actually thought it would be fine. He's an adult, you're an adult, adults need space sometimes! It doesn't necessarily mean that he did anything wrong -

Okay you've been gone for five minutes and you left really fast and really quietly and the abandonment issues he doesn't want to acknowledge are making their existence felt

He's just going to distract himself and pout in self denial until you get back, and then give you a big hug when you do

YOU'RE FREEZING AND NOW HE'S AS SOAKED AS YOU ARE

What happened? Did you stay out in the storm like that, alone?? Are you that mad at him??? Tell him it isn't so!

It's not, thankfully, but after that roller coaster of emotions he's gluing himself to your side for mutual comforting purposes

He's drawing a bath, and then he's taking it with you. He's getting something warm to drink, and he's drinking it with you. He's hunting down blankets, and he's snuggling under them with you

Sometimes, in life, people make oopsies. He's lucky enough to have a partner who knows how to recover from them with him

[ineedhaikyu]

Chapter Two

Summary: Inarizaki vs Karasuno. Foxes vs Crows. A match between two powerhouses competing for the next slot in Nationals and while tensions were high, Karasuno’s ace couldn’t help but look forward to the upcoming match. Or rather he was looking forward to seeing her.

Word Count: 8.9K

Warnings: A long fic with a huge amount of fluff! Once again Asahi's anxiety will be mentioned. Conversations are prolonged between reader and Asahi in order to establish a well-meaning relationship. Brief description of reader's hair.

A/N: PART 2 to Glass-Hearted Ace!! A lot of people wanted a continuation so here it is!! I had so much fun writing this because I absolutely love the adorable craziness that goes on in Haikyu as well as spreading more love to our gentle giant. Let's keep spreading our Asahi love!!

Part 1

~

3rd POV

Day 2 of Nationals. The second round has already begun with the first match of the day. It wouldn't be long for the next match to start. Karasuno vs Inarizaki. The atmosphere was filled with the same energy of anticipation and eagerness just as it was the other day though multiplied by a hundred.

As this was her third and final year in participating in the Spring Tournament, (L/N) (Y/N) felt confident enough to say she was calm and collected. (Y/N) smiled to herself when she compared her younger first-year self to now. Back then, she was such a nervous wreck. Always getting lost on her way to the restroom or the time she followed the wrong team to the WRONG gym. (It wasn’t her fault that the team wore the same maroon jackets. Good thing that happened in her first year otherwise Suna and the Miya twins would never live it down.)

(Y/N) shook those thoughts away and continued her way to the gym where her team was preparing for their match. She was only gone for a few minutes as she had to fill up the water bottles, but knowing the second-years (Y/N) knew it was only a matter of time before something happened. Luckily, the Karasuno volleyball team hadn't arrived yet when she left but perhaps they have already.

The familiar warm feeling returned at the thought of seeing Karasuno’s team. More specifically the team’s ace. Azumane Asahi. The same guy that caught her eye when he played volleyball. The same guy she met yesterday who saved her from getting hurt. The same guy that made her believe in the lyrics of all those love songs.

(Y/N) wanted to say she was a good judge of character and she had a good feeling about Asahi.

A sweet guy, every bit of a gentleman. Very cute too. Every time his soft brown eyes met with hers, she swore it reminded her of a cute puppy. His smile didn’t bring a few butterflies in her stomach… No. They brought a swarm. Each flap of their metaphorical wings gave her the shivers but the grin on her lips never left when she was with him. Even his hair played a part of her enchantment on him. It’s not often to see guys with long hair, but Asahi pulled it off amazingly well especially when he has it in a man bun. Despite his tough guy appearance, Asahi was a gentle giant with a glass heart. In the little time she knew him, (Y/N) hoped she was able to help him realize his self-worth.

God. It hasn’t been 24 hours and not once has Asahi left her mind. They texted each other last night for almost two hours. The conversation between them flowed so easily. Just like before, (Y/N) enjoyed talking to him. Not once had he made her uncomfortable. Quite the opposite actually.

The next morning she woke up early enough to do research on Karasuno’s team. While Inarizaki’s motto was: we don’t need the memories, (Y/N) couldn’t help but see how Karasuno was like from their past matches. They’re different from any other teams they’ve competed against. Besides, it was nice matching names with faces. Luckily, someone made ‘I’m Awesome’ videos of Karasuno’s starting lineup. She’ll admit whoever made these videos was good as they depicted amazing receives to jaw-dropping spikes.

She recognized Daichi, Suga, and Asahi immediately. Their libero, Nishinoya Yū, looked high caliber and so was their setter. She’ll keep her opinions to herself on Kageyama; she didn’t need Atsumu hearing her say that. They’ll have to keep a lookout on Karasuno’s #10, Hinata Shoyo. He’s on the short side considering he’s a middle blocker but judging by the video, the first-year is full of surprises.

Then again, the Inarizaki volleyball team has a few tricks up their sleeves too.

“Ah. Look, it's her!”

“(Y/N)- senpai!”

“Over here!”

The said manager snapped back to reality and was confronted by the usual crowd of fans in front of her. Inarizaki always show their pride with each event but with volleyball, they took it to another level. Then it doubled with the arrival of the Miya twins. Their popularity soared to new heights and as a result the marching band, cheerleaders, and several students took part in Nationals. Both a blessing and a curse.

The curse part? Well, as much as she loved her school’s support, the fangirls… Well…

“(Y/N)-senpai! Can you give this to Atsumu?!”

“Oh, please give these chocolates to Osamu! I made them last night!”

“(Y/N), is there any way I can get a picture with Suna? Please!”

Yeah… This was pretty much the usual for her but this time it was going too far. Girls ranging from first-years to third-years were blocking the entrance to the gym. She recognized some as fellow classmates but others she was almost positive they came from other schools. And they were all trying to catch a glimpse of their favorite player.

Despite the hectic scene in front of her, there were two girls that caught her attention.

One of them looked the same age as her with beautiful black hair that reached her shoulders and fair skin complexion except for the beauty mark underneath her lower lip. Her gray eyes seemed to sparkle behind her thin framed glasses. The other girl looked visibly younger with her petite frame and blonde hair that was styled with a star hair clip. Right away (Y/N) knew that the girl was a first-year. She could see the way the girl was trembling at the sight of the crowd.

They didn’t look like they were a part of the crowd, but they did look troubled. That’s when she noticed they were carrying water bottle carriers just like her. They must be the Karasuno team’s managers. In the spirit of good sportsmanship, (Y/N) decided to go talk to them.

The older girl noticed her first. She stepped in front of the blonde girl as if shielding her. (Y/N) didn’t let that get to her. Instead, she smiled and introduced herself.

“Hi. I’m (L/N) (Y/N). I’m the manager for the Inarizaki team. Are you two the managers for Karasuno?”

The two girls glanced at one another before nodding in unison.

“My name is Shimizu Kiyoko. Third-year.”

“I-I’m Y-Yachi H-Hitoka! F-First-year m-manager! I-It’s very n-nice t-to m-meet y-you!”

“Hey, there. No need to be scared of me. I’m just a manager, just like you.” (Y/N) tried her best to console the first-year’s anxious nature. It was almost like deja-vu with Asahi. “Are you excited for today?”

Kiyoko nodded, finally feeling at ease with her. “The team has worked hard to get to this point.”

“I couldn’t sleep last night because I was so nervous!” Hitoka added while trying to fan herself in order to cool down her face. “But the team is excited to play against the team that placed second place in the last Interhigh!”

(Y/N) raised an eyebrow. “You’ve done your research. I’m impressed. But don’t worry, we still have some tricks under our sleeves. We know we’re up against a great team.”

The Karasuno managers felt the same warm feeling coursing underneath their skin at the compliment.

“Does that mean you’ve done research on our team?” Kiyoko asked.

(Y/N) nodded. “Of course. I like to be prepared.” Her cheeks began to warm up when she thought of Karasuno’s ace. “You two have impressive players on the team. Are they in the gym?”

“Yes. They’re practicing right now. We went to get some water for the match when this happened.” Kiyoko gestured to the sea of girls in front of them.

“We tried to get through but they’re scary!” Hitoka was practically shaking in her shoes. “The first match is already playing their second set.”

“Man! I swear time flies around here. Come on, I’ll help you through.” (Y/N) gestured to the girls to follow her. “We can’t let our teams forget us.”

“Are you sure?” Kiyoko asked her. “We can find another way.”

(Y/N) shook her head and gave them a carefree grin. “This is the best way into the gym. Trust me, I’ll get us in there.”

“W-Why a-are you h-helping us?” Hitoka stuttered out. “A-Aren’t you scared of them?”

“Well us managers have to stick together, right? And trust me, after dealing with the Miya twins for a year, these girls don’t scare me.”

Taking her word for it, the pair of Karasuno managers followed her. As expected the crowd of girls showed no sign of parting, in fact, it has grown in number. Kiyoko and Hitoka were waiting for (Y/N) to politely ask the girls to move aside, like they did before, but the Inarizaki manager did something quite unexpected.

(Y/N) looked over her shoulder and smiled, “Cover your ears.”

The girls obeyed. Lucky for them. Unlucky for the fangirls.

Because (Y/N) let out the loudest whistle anyone had ever heard. A series of groans and shrieks were heard from the fangirls. Then they all had turned to face the managers.

“(Y/N)-senpai? What was that for?!” One of the fangirls that she recognized as an underclassman.

“Oh, come on guys. I warned everyone last time this would happen.” The manager told them, not an ounce of fear in her voice as she addressed the crowd.

“B-But we just want to see the twins practice!” A girl holding a hand fan with the words ‘Miya Twins’ on it. “We aren’t doing anything wrong.”

“The boys need to warm up. You’ll see them on the court. Do yourselves a favor and find good seats to watch and cheer from.”

“Aww but (Y/N)!” They complained.

“You guys know the rules. Now, please, let me and my friends,” She stepped aside to reveal her new manager friends, “get into the gym. We need to do our jobs as managers. Don’t make me tell Kita-san and have him ban all of you from watching practice matches in the future.”

At the mention of the serious captain and under the threat of closed practices, the fangirls dispersed quickly. Some had the sense to apologize and others wished them good fortune on the upcoming match.

“W-Wow.” Hitoka said in awe. “You knew exactly what to do. That’s amazing.”

Kiyoko agreed before asking, “Does this happen a lot?”

(Y/N) let out an embarrassed chuckle. “Yeah… They’re big fans of the team and they mean well but sometimes their excitement can take it too far. As Inarizaki’s manager, sometimes I feel responsible for their behavior.” She bowed her head and continued on. “I apologize on their behalf for any trouble they may have caused you two.”

The youngest manager out of the three was speechless at the older girl’s sincere words in her apology. They’ve only known the Inarizaki manager for like ten minutes but she proved herself to them that she’s a kindhearted yet self-assured person. One look at her senpai and Yachi knew that they were thinking the same thing.

What Yachi didn’t know, Shimizu was smiling for a different reason. Yesterday, she accidentally overheard her fellow third-years talking. She didn’t mean to listen in and she was about to leave when the topic of the conversation caught her attention. Apparently, a girl caught her friend Asahi’s eye. A girl from the Inarizaki team that, according to Suga, sounded like the perfect girl for her anxious friend. So when the girl’s name came up, (Y/N), Shimizu wanted to see for herself what the girl was like.

Now that she has, Shimizu can see how and why Asahi would fall for her.

“Don’t apologize,” Kiyoko finally spoke up and offered the girl a kind smile. “Sometimes, these things happen.”

“You sure? I mean, this might happen again when we have to go into the main gym. There are some fans of the Miya twins that can be a bit… Fierce. If you want, I can help out. It’s no trouble at all.”

Kiyoko shook her head. “It’s okay, (Y/N). We can handle it. Right, Hitoka-chan?”

The first-year nodded eagerly. “Yeah! We’ll be okay. The guys on our team can be scary too. Ah! I need to tell the team that the first match is already in the second set. It was very nice to meet you!”

The third-year managers watched in amusement as she scurried into the gym. (Y/N) smiled before facing Kiyoko. She offered her hand for a handshake and said, “I know it’s customary for players to shake hands before and after the match, but I do it too with the managers. Let’s have a good game.”

Kiyoko took her hand and squeezed. “May the best team win. No hard feelings, right?”

(Y/N) laughed and nodded. “I like you, Shimizu, but yeah, no hard feelings at all.”

“Please call me Kiyoko.”

~Meanwhile inside the gym, ten minutes earlier~

‘Where is she?’ Asahi thought as his eyes searched the other side of the court. ‘Is she hiding from me? Did he say something that scared her away? What if he creeped her out last night when they texted each other?’

“Yo Asahi!” Suga’s energetic voice scared him back to reality. “Are you looking for someone?”

He didn’t miss his friend’s teasing tone that laced his words nor the way his eyes shined in amusement. Leave it to Suga to tease the hell out of him. Last night, for example, was too much. Even after he told his friends about his time with the Inarizaki manager, Suga still wanted to know everything, down to the last detail. Luckily, Daichi took pity on him and reeled Suga back on a somewhat normal level of interrogation.

But that didn’t mean he was going to drop the subject completely.

“I can’t find (Y/N).” He admitted to his friend. “Have you seen her?”

“Hmm. Not yet. But I wouldn’t worry too much. Her team’s here so I’m sure she’s somewhere around here. She’s their manager after all.” Suga clapped his shoulder. “But if you really want to know where (Y/N) is, why don’t you go ask her teammates?”

Suga pointed to the nearby Inarizaki members that were practicing their spikes. He recognized the Miya twins and Inarizaki’s ace, Ojiro Aran. And while he saw how they played from previous matches last night, it didn’t ease the anxiety clawing its way around his heart. It also didn’t help when one of the wing spikers turned the set into a powerful spike. The impact of the ball being slammed to the floor echoed throughout the gym.

Just the very action scared Suga’s suggestion out the window. There was no way he was going over there and ask about their manager! If they were anything like Tanaka or Nishinoya, then he’ll be ripped to shreds.

“N-No way!” He stuttered out a reply and waved his hands in front of him. The slight blush on his face was becoming more visible by each second. “But I’m worried. What if something happened to her?”

“Her who?” Daichi asked as he came up from behind them. “What’s going on?”

Suga answered before he could. “Well, our dear old ace here, is worried that his crush is somewhere out there dying without him knowing. And he’s too scared to ask her friends where she is.”

Karasuno’s captain chuckled and patted Asahi on the back. “Quit worrying. I know you saved her yesterday, but this isn’t a little girl you’re talking about. She can hold her own. After all, this isn’t her first time here in Nationals.”

“See, Asahi?” Suga, clearly amused by this whole conversation, told him. “There’s nothing to worry about. I wouldn’t be surprised if she walked through those gym doors right now.”

He pointed to the entrance and they followed it only to see a swarm of girls trying to catch a glimpse inside the gym.

“You mean those doors?” He asked his friend. “They look ready to burst in here.”

“Who are they?” Daichi asking the question everyone was wondering.

“Judging by the hand fans, I think they’re fans of the Miya twins. They must be really popular to have this many. That’s annoying.” Suga muttered the last part with a pout.

“Can anyone get through?” Asahi wondered as he avoided eye contact with the girls. Something about them unnerved him somehow even if they wore bright smiles and loud cheers. “They look vicious.”

“They’re fans, not witches.” Daichi stated. “I’m sure they’re nice. After all, they're showing their support to their team.”

“Let it go, Daichi. Asahi is only like this because he misses his dream girl.” Suga jested. “He’s going into withdrawal.”

“I was just hoping to see her. She texted me-”

“Woah! Woah! Texted?! When did this happen?” asked Suga, his eyes wide with this new information. “You’re at the texting-each-other stage?!”

“Was that who you were texting last night?” Daichi asked him.

“What?!” Suga exclaimed. “Daichi, why didn’t you tell me?”

“You were asleep and I was tired.” The captain defended. “And it isn’t my business who Asahi texts. He’s old enough to make his own decisions… That being said, what did you guys talk about?”

“You didn’t tell her our secret weapons, did you?” Suga whispered his question, referring to all the tricks they perfected in the past few months.

“(Y/N) isn’t like that, Suga. She didn’t squeeze any information out of me. We picked up where we left off and talked about normal stuff. We thought it was better than to talk about the match between our schools.”

“And what did you guys text about?” The vice captain pressed, eager to know more.

For some reason, Asahi couldn’t help but recall how he initiated the conversation with the pretty manager from Inarizaki. Actually it was more like he couldn’t believe he was texting with (Y/N) last night. It felt unreal, like a dream. After reading her note, he remembered how hard his heart was beating and how warm his cheeks grew.

Ever since she mentioned it in her note, admitting how he made her nervous, Asahi took some comfort that he can do the same to her and vice versa.

Though, she did prove herself to be bravely spontaneous when she wrote the note and after texting with her last night, he hoped he could do the same. One of his many concerns since starting high school was that girls in his class were always disappointed after finding out his timid personality didn’t match his physical appearance. He’ll never forget the time when one of the girls called him a wuss. It was years ago but the girl’s remark was like a stab wound in the back. It healed over time but it still made its mark on his self-image.

Luckily, (Y/N) wasn’t like any of the girls in his class. She’s so kind when she bought him a shirt as a gift. She’s so understanding when she patiently listened to his problems. She showed compassion when she offered some advice to help ease the anxiety that almost suffocated him. Then there was that beautiful confidence she had in herself. He liked that about her and while he just met (Y/N) yesterday, he wanted to prove to her that he can be confident too.

That’s why he’s been looking for her. He wanted to be the first to greet her. It might not seem like a big deal to others, but it was to him.

‘Baby steps,’ He thought when he was second-guessing himself. ‘What was that saying? Rome wasn’t built in a day. Well, that applies here too. Bit by bit, confidence will grow.’

“Asahi? Earth to ace?”

“Huh?”

“You zoned out there for a second.” A smirk appeared on Suga’s face. “Must be quite a conversation you had with her. Wouldn’t you say Daichi?”

It was always nerve-wracking to have both Daichi and Suga tease him. So it wouldn’t be a surprise if the captain joined in on the teasing. But to his surprise, Daichi clapped him on the back causing him to huff a bit under his breath.

“Well, I think (Y/N) is the kind of girl that can make our dear ace invincible. Make sure to show what you’re made of during this match.”

“Yeah!” Suga encouraged, his hand clapping the ace’s free shoulder. “Let her see how awesome you are on the court.”

“No pressure or anything.” Daichi added, his smile matching Suga’s teasing grin.

“None at all!” Suga piped in. “Just remember she’ll be watching you when it’s your turn to serve. Don’t mess up!”

“You guys aren’t helping!” He yelled at his friends. His face burned in embarrassment.

Daichi and Suga laughed but before anyone could say another word that could cause further humiliation for the ace, Asahi’s saving grace came in the form of their first-year manager running into the gym. He thanked whatever deity who was watching over this episode that spared him from further teasing from his friends.

“The first match is in the middle of their second set.” Hitoka informed them.

Daichi nodded and clapped his hands together. In a loud voice, he announced, “Alright, guys. Let’s get into our uniforms.”

Following the captain's orders, Asahi grabbed his alternate orange jersey and placed it over a nearby chair. He looked across the gym and saw the Inarizaki players putting on their uniforms as well. Still no sign of (Y/N).

“Hitoka-chan, wasn’t Shimizu with you?” Suga asked.

The first-year nodded. “We made a new friend just now. She helped us out when we couldn’t get into the gym. I think she’s still talking to her by the doors.”

Asahi tuned out their conversation as he took off his shirt. In his head, he had to concentrate on calming down his nerves. The scariest moments of his life played like an endless nightmare. Like the time when he was a kid and he had to show his parents the bad grade on his report card. Or the time he wanted to pet the neighbor’s puppy but ended up getting chased by the puppy’s mother. Or how Date Tech’s iron wall blocked every single spike; shaking him to the core so much that he temporarily stopped playing volleyball.

The whirlpool of anxiety and dread arrived on schedule in his stomach. Was it getting harder to breathe? Was the air getting warmer? Or was he getting colder? Yeah, no. He was definitely getting colder. His hands felt like a block of ice. Was he this nervous during the Shiratorizawa match? Probably. He made a mental note to trace 人 on his hand, hoping it was enough to settle down his nerves.

He threw his jersey on and was just about to fix his loose hair strands when he heard a familiar laugh coming from the entrance. He looked up to see Kiyoko laughing along with another girl. It was only a glance, a quick one, when he did a double take. He couldn’t believe it.

(L/N) (Y/N), the girl that caused his brain cells to go on a roller coaster ride, was standing there in all her beauty.

She was having a conversation with Kiyoko and by the looks of it, she must have said something funny because it made his usual shy and quiet manager laugh a little. Now he was 100% convinced that (Y/N) had a natural aura that eased people on friendly terms if she was able to hold an amiable conversation with Kiyoko.

Not to mention her smile that complimented her eyes that seemed to shine in excitement. Or how her hair was styled a bit different from yesterday. This time her hair was pinned back from her face with two small side braids connected together where it fell in rhythm with the rest of her hair. It looked cute on her, lovely even. Should he mention that to her or would that be too weird?

SLAP!

“Ow!” Asahi turned around to find the culprit who slapped the (for lack of a better word) living shit onto his back. Nishinoya didn’t have an ounce of shame or regret in his eyes. Quite the opposite actually as the libero was smiling ear to ear. “Nishinoya? What was that for?”

With no remorse, the second-year player ignored the question and asked several of his own. “That’s her, right? The Inarizaki manager? The one who’s talking to Kiyoko-san? The girl you like?”

He could feel his ears begin to burn. “H-How did you know?”

“That’s not important.”

Asahi begged to differ as he thought it made a world of difference now that Nishinoya knows about his crush.

With his arms crossed in front of his chest, the libero continued, “What are you doing standing here? Go over there and talk to her! Be a man!”

“I-It’s not that simple. I need to build myself up before I talk to her. And then I need to think of a topic that we can talk about. Then what type of questions I should ask-”

“Oh come on Asahi! You have to stop acting like a cowardly wimp. Man up and go! She’s right there!”

“J-Just give me a second and I will.”

Nishinoya was just about to retort back when he realized something. This was the first time Asahi was nervous, visibly and mentally, for a girl. Well, scratch that. Asahi was always nervous around girls but this was the first time he seemed to actively try to impress someone. Like the way he repeatedly made sure his jersey was tucked in, double-knotted his shoelaces, and double-checked his hair was safely tied in his usual bun.

So he did what any good friend would do. “You look great, Asahi.”

With a glimmer of hope in his eyes, the ace stood up straight. “You think so?”

“Personally, I don’t care about what other people think about my looks.”

Asahi physically deflated at those words. If only he could borrow some of his friend’s confidence.

“But then again I’m awesome.”

The ace couldn’t argue with that one. But before he could wallow in a pool of anxiety and dread, the libero’s next words saved him from drowning. Along with a strong slap on the shoulder that could echo throughout the gym.

“You’re awesome too. You’re the ace of our team. Take pride in that.”

Asahi took his friend’s words to heart as he stood up a bit straighter. He glanced up to look at (Y/N) who looked breathtaking while wearing her maroon Inarizaki jacket. If only she wore a black Karasuno jacket… He could just imagine the alternate dimension where she could have been a classmate, a close friend, or even something more.

“I… I don’t want to mess this up, Noya.”

Concerned, Nishinoya asked, “How would you mess up?”

“I don’t know! Anything could happen. With my luck, I could trip over myself in front of her. I want to be confident and go over to her and say hi-””

“Alright. Then let’s go.”

Asahi’s mind froze. “What?”

“You heard me. Let’s do what you said and walk up to your girlfriend-”

“She’s not my girlfriend!”

Nishinoya rolled his eyes but the grin on his face showed no sign of leaving. “Fine. The girl you wish to be your girlfriend. We’ll go together. You’ll say hi and introduce me to her because I want to know what kind of girl makes you act this way.”

Asahi could feel his face turning red. “Okay, let’s go. But please don’t say anything embarrassing. Daichi and Suga did enough of that yesterday.”

His friend laughed loudly before slapping his shoulder. “You really need to grow a backbone off the court, especially if you want to impress your crush. But don’t worry, I have your back.”

~

(Y/N) felt as if she met her long-lost sister through Karasuno’s manager. Kiyoko definitely could relate to the ups and downs that comes with managing a group of boys (especially rowdy second-years). But she admired her commitment. Being a third-year, specifically attending Nationals, it was their last chance to help their respective team to make it to the top.

“So, how are you feeling about being here?” She asked as they sat down on a nearby bench. They still had time before the ongoing match ended. Why not take the opportunity and spend time with her new friend?

“It’s unreal. Sometimes it feels like a dream. A lot of people doubted us since we were a forgotten powerhouse. We were devastated when we lost in the third round of the Interhigh to Aoba Johsai. Our only chance to get to Nationals was to win all our matches.”

“Woah, I can only imagine the pressure your team had on their shoulders. More so on the third-years.” She took a chance to look for Asahi. Her eyes automatically found him and she couldn’t help but smile. It looked like he was having a conversation with the libero. “How did you guys manage all that?”

Kiyoko shrugged her shoulders but she had a faint smile before answering, “It was rough. But we didn’t want to give up on volleyball. Not when there was a chance to make it here. It was a risk. Our advisor warned us third-years to take our future into account before we made our decision.”

“And now you guys are here! I have to give you and your team respect, Kiyoko.”

Kiyoko laughed as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Thanks. It’s been a journey and we’re ready to play against the best.”

“Trust me the feeling is mutual.”

“Speaking of feelings,” Kiyoko began with a teasing tone. “I’ve heard there’s a guy on my team that caught your eye.”

(Y/N) let out a nervous laugh as she looked away. “He told you?”

“Not directly but Daichi and Suga weren’t exactly keeping it down about it. Asahi is usually quiet. But he sounded happy when he talked about you. I think you helped him in more ways than one because I’ve never heard him sound so confident.”

“Really?” She couldn’t help but smile widely. “You're not just saying that, are you?”

Kiyoko shook her head. “I don’t know what you told him but it looks like he took it to heart.”

“I just spoke the truth. He helped me so it’s only fair that I helped him too. He’s a gentle giant that needs a boost in confidence.”

“Do you like him?”

“Well… It’s too soon to tell but I think so. Asahi is not like any other guy I’ve met. I just want a chance to get to know him more and vice versa.”

“So like a date before the actual date?”

“Exactly!” It was like Kiyoko and her were on the same wavelength. “Is that too weird? Or is it stupid? I mean, I just met him yesterday and so far he seems like a great guy but like… I’m nervous. He makes me nervous and… Shoot. I’m sorry for rambling.”

“Hey, it’s reasonable to think and feel that way. Take it from me, Asahi really is a good guy. He can be a scaredy-cat sometimes and can be insecure about a lot of stuff but he really means well.”

“I saw that side of him yesterday. He’s the type to shoulder all the blame, isn’t he?” (Y/N) asked.

Kiyoko nodded. “He’s still our ace and he’s been working harder than ever to prove it.”

(Y/N) remained silent, taking in all the information Kiyoko told her. She looked for Asahi again and smiled when she saw him getting clapped on the shoulder by the libero.

“Does that bother you?” Kiyoko asked, a hint of worry in her voice.

Confused, (Y/N) furrowed her brow before asking, “What do you mean?”

“Does it bother you that Asahi is the ace but he doesn’t have an ace-like presence?”

While Kiyoko hated asking the question she believed it was an important one. Girls can be ruthless. She heard the gossip from other girls and how they talk about Asahi behind his back. Calling him a wimp or how he was a part of a gang. As Asahi’s friend, she felt it was her responsibility to see if the girl he has a crush for is actually genuine in her feelings towards him. Because as much as she enjoyed (Y/N)’s company, Kiyoko will choose to defend Asahi over her.

“Should that be important? If anything, it goes to show how different Asahi is. When I saw him play yesterday, I knew he was an amazing ace but when I talked to him and got to know him… I saw a guy who’s not ashamed to admit his insecurities and who’s not scared to admit his feelings. I respect that. And after what you told me of what you guys have gone through, I know Asahi will show his self-worth on the court and show everyone why he’s the ace. So who cares that he doesn’t have the traditional personality of an ace? I think he’s already brave.”

Kiyoko smiled at her. That was the answer she’s been hoping for and (Y/N) delivered it. Her (E/C) eyes matched the conviction in her voice and Kiyoko loved it. Not to mention, the timing was absolutely perfect and she thanked the gods that (Y/N) didn’t notice the two people behind her.

“(Y-Y/N)-san?”

Oh god. She could feel her heart falling to her stomach when she heard her name in that deep voice that made her feel everything all at once. Her face became warm in seconds and she didn’t dare move an inch. It wasn’t until Kiyoko let out a small cough that brought her from cloud nine back to the gym.

(Y/N) took a moment to center herself before turning around to see Asahi. His chocolate brown eyes met hers and she swore the butterflies from her stomach danced between her ribs.

“A-Asahi-san! Hey!”

She quickly stood up, a bit too fast as she accidentally knocked her team’s water bottles out of the carrier. Embarrassed, (Y/N) fell to her knees and grabbed the nearest bottle.

“S-Sorry about this.” (Y/N) didn’t dare look up as she already embarrassed herself in front of her crush and his friends.

“N-No! Don’t apologize. It was an accident.” Asahi kneeled, grabbing the last bottle before handing it to her. His breath hitched ever so softly when her fingertips touched his hand. It was as if the rest of the gym faded away. Being so close to (Y/N), he saw how her eyes were beautiful as he remembered. He swore it was no trick of the light that her eyes seemed to shine like stars in the night sky.

(Y/N) felt so self-conscious about how close she was to Asahi. She hoped she looked okay in his eyes. Usually she wouldn’t care so much on how she looked, but the idea was thrown out the window when she met Karasuno’s ace. His long hair was once again in a bun but this time it was neatly in place, a perfect bun any woman or man could be jealous of. The small scruff of facial hair on his chin suited him very well, giving him a sort of wild, intimidating appearance.

But she knew better because Asahi was an adorable giant with a large and gentle heart. If she was being honest, his presence was like springtime coming to wash away winter’s snow. His warmth was… Indescribable.

How was it possible for him to be that handsome yet so adorable at the same time?

The moment was interrupted when someone cleared their throat. Loudly. (Y/n) looked up to see the libero, Nishinoya, with a large grin. His eyes were bright with excitement and amusement. She can immediately tell that this guy was the mischievous and energetic type. As they stood up, she could have sworn she saw Asahi blush.

“(Y/N), this is my friend Nishinoya Yū. He’s a second-year and the libero of our team.”

While he maintained a normal composure, Asahi was mentally beating himself up. ‘Why would you say that?! She’s a volleyball manager!! Of course, she knows that Nishinoya is a libero! She has eyes. She can see that he’s wearing a different color jersey! Asahi, you’re such an IDIOT!’

While the ace was mentally berating himself, (Y/N) formally introduced herself to his friend. During her introduction, Nishinoya could only gawk. When he heard from Suga and Daichi about his friend Asahi finally having a lucky break encounter with a girl, he couldn’t be happier for the ace. And it didn’t take a genius to see how hard Asahi fell for her.

“By the way, I’ve watched those ‘I’m Awesome’ videos.” (Y/N) brought up and immediately caught the attention from both boys. “That match with Shiratorizawa when you made a double save against Ushijima was so cool. It was so amazing that I had to replay it like five times. I even showed it to our own libero and he literally took my phone out of my hands.”

Nishinoya beamed. “Really?”

His chest swelled up with pride and the thought of another libero studying his techniques was just the icing on the cake, but to have a pretty girl, like (Y/N), praise his skills… Well that’s the cherry on top. He liked her already.

“And Asahi, you were amazing too. The way you were able to smash through Shiratorizawa’s defenses was unreal!”

The warm and fuzzy feeling from his chest exploded and it was as if all the heat rushed to his face. Asahi was sure his whole face was red. He tried to stammer out a reply but Nishinoya beat him to it.

“I know right!” He slapped Asahi’s shoulder repeatedly. “He went head to head against one of the best aces in the country and helped lead our team to victory. We wouldn’t be here without him.”

“T-That’s not t-true-”

“Of course it is!” Nishinoya looked back at the girl who was chuckling at their interaction. “Ignore that. He’s so humble whenever someone compliments him.”

Her eyes met Asahi’s and gave him a knowing smile. Although this was her second encounter with Karasuno’s ace, (Y/N) noticed the trend of Asahi’s friends building him up and teasing him at the same time. She had to stop herself from laughing at the lack of subtlety amongst them. Still, it was cute to see Asahi this way.

“Well,” (Y/N) began, her hand casually tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Asahi was listening intently. “Then I bet this next compliment is going to be unbearable because I thought you looked great during that match. It makes me wish I was there to see you guys play live.”

Nishinoya grinned. “Don’t worry, (Y/N)-san. You won’t be disappointed with our match. Asahi, here, will make sure of that. Right, Asahi? Oh, did I mention how-”

Kiyoko, who was silently watching the entire interaction, noticed the slight panic in Asahi’s eyes. She knew the libero means well but there were times he can take things a bit too far.

“Nishinoya, can you help carry this for me?”

“Anything for you, Kiyoko-san! I’ll follow you forever!”

Asahi was about to stutter out his friend’s name when he saw Kiyoko give a little head gesture towards (Y/N), subtle enough so she wouldn’t see it.

‘This is your chance, Asahi.’ That was the message she was telling him as Kiyoko led Nishinoya away. ‘Don’t mess up.’

“So, um, (Y/N)? H-How are you? You know, with everything?” Asahi could feel the goosebumps traveling up and down his arms at how cringy he felt.

The dark cloud of self-doubt and worry that plagued Asahi this morning has evaporated into thin air the moment she smiled at him. How was she able to put him at ease like that?

“So far, so good. I'm a bit nervous for today. Not the bad kind of nervous but the excited kind, you know?”

Asahi nodded as he knew exactly the feeling (Y/N) was talking about. He was feeling it right now! “I know that feeling very well. I feel it almost everyday.”

(Y/N) chuckled before replying, “At least, you’re honest, Asahi. Most guys usually lie about their feelings.” She glanced back at her own team where she saw Atsumu arguing with his twin, probably over something stupid.

“Well someone did tell me that it wasn’t a bad thing to express my feelings. I’m just following her good advice.”

The smile she gave him was like no other to know that Asahi was really taking her words to heart. Words can’t describe how happy this made her nor the warm feeling she felt stir in her chest.

“So, are you ready to play against us?” (Y/N) asked the ace in an effort to keep the conversation going. “Because we’ve been looking forward to this match.”

“It’s a bit nerve-racking that we’re playing against the team that placed second in the Inter-High. You have great players on your team.”

(Y/N) waved her hand in dismal with a shake of her head. “Oh don’t let that rattle you, that was yesterday.” Her school’s motto rings true in her words. “Besides, I’ve done my research. Karasuno isn’t like it was before. Your team has cool players too and that includes you. All you can do today is challenge yourself.”

Asahi couldn’t help but smile at her. “You’re just full of good advice, aren’t you?”

She beamed while tossing her hair over her shoulder in a joking manner. “I’d like to think so. But seriously, Asahi,” Her hand gently touched his bicep and Asahi didn’t shrink away. “How are you really feeling?”

“H-Honestly?”

(Y/N) nodded, her eyes looking up to him, patiently waiting for his response.

“I haven’t told anyone so d-don’t make fun of me but… I’m scared.”

“Scared of what?”

“I’m scared of failing. I’m scared to drag the team down. I’m scared to lose the trust my team has in me as the ace. I mean, I’ve watched the Inarizaki clip last night and I can’t help to compare-”

Asahi stopped talking when he felt a pair of warm hands wrap around his cold ones. The blush from before came back in full force. (Y/N)’s hands were small and so soft compared to his yet it was enough to calm his fast beating heart. With her holding his hands, it reminded Asahi of the time when Kiyoko held Suga’s hands during the fifth set of the Shiratorizawa match. He remembered how he, Daichi, Nishinoya, and Tanaka became jealous towards the vice captain. Now he was in Suga’s position and with (Y/N) holding his hands, Asahi understood the feelings Suga went through that day.

“Listen to me, Asahi, what you’re feeling right now… That’s normal, okay? You’re not the first ace to feel this way and even if you are the first that just goes to show how considerate you are to your teammates. I can tell you worked hard and you have skilled, trustworthy teammates. That’s why you’re here in Nationals, remember? You earned your spot on the team as the ace and I understand you carry a burden on your shoulders, but you’re not alone. You have your team with you.”

Asahi opened his mouth but no words came out. It was as if (Y/N) took his ability to talk. He felt enlightened in a way. He was pushed so much in the darkness by his own self-doubt, anxiety, and worry that he almost missed the ray of light that gave him hope.

“You with me, Asahi? I didn’t lose you, did I?” (Y/N) questioned, giving his hands a small squeeze. “Or did I say something wrong?”

“Oh! Sorry! No! I mean- Yes! I mean-”

(Y/N) chuckled. “Breathe, Asahi. There’s no need to be nervous. It’s just me. No one special.”

He shook his head. “That’s not true. At least, not to me.”

She blinked. Then blinked twice. Three times. When she realized that she hadn’t misheard him, she swore those butterflies in her stomach made their way to her chest and danced around her heart. The feeling never went away when he met her eyes. His brown eyes took her breath away while melting her heart at the same time.

Still, she wasn’t expecting Asahi to say that and judging by the obvious blush on his cheeks Asahi wasn’t either. Well, two can play at that game.

“Oh? I’m someone special to you? When we only met yesterday? If I didn’t know better, I would say you’re falling for me.”

Asahi felt his Adam's apple bob up and down. He was used to teasing by his friends and the second-years but never before has he felt like this. Wait a minute… Was this teasing or flirting? He hoped for the latter because he didn’t want it to stop.

“What if I am?” He asked, his confidence growing with every word. “Would it be a bad thing?”

(Y/N) smiled widely. “I… I wouldn’t be opposed to it.”

Asahi felt his heart soar to new heights at this. Any anxiety he had began to slowly fade away. His hands were no longer cold but he wasn’t going to stray away from (Y/N)’s touch.

However, the universe thought differently.

“Hey. Do you mind not holding hands with my manager?”

(Y/N) grunted when she felt a strong arm swing over her shoulders. Even without looking, she could tell who it was. The same person who had no problem starting a confrontation with anyone. Not even his twin brother.

“Atsumu.” She warned, letting go of Asahi’s hands, hoping this action would relieve the tension her setter placed around them.

The blond-haired twin kept the same annoying smirk as he met his manager’s eyes. He knew that look very well as he was always on the receiving end of it.

“What?” He asked innocently. “I’m just looking out for you, (Y/N)-senpai. You’re our precious manager after all. Now, is this guy messing with you?”

(Y/N) sighed, closing her eyes while counting to ten in order to calm down. She could only imagine how this must look.

“He’s not. This is Asahi and he’s my friend. We were just talking before the match began. Asahi, this is Miya Atsumu. He’s the setter-”

“Star setter.” Atsumu interrupted as he shook Asahi’s hand, gripping it hard. “An All-Japan Training Camp setter.”

Confused but feeling bold, Asahi matched the twin’s grip strength. He took a tiny bit of satisfaction when Atsumu grimaced the tiniest bit.

(Y/N) raised her brow at them but shook it off. “Sorry about him. He can be a bit much. Anyways, Atsumu, Asahi is Karasuno’s ace. We watched their match yesterday, remember?”

Atsumu gave him an unimpressed look before shaking his head. “Not really. He must have not made a good impression for me to remember. I don’t remember players who suck-”

He was cut off by (Y/N)’s sharp elbow to his stomach. “What was that for, (Y/N)-san?!”

“That’s for lying!”

“I wasn’t lying!”

“Just yesterday you told me he made a lot of great plays. Not to mention, you praised his service ace.”

Atsumu could feel himself blush a little when his manager caught him in his lie. “I… I don’t remember.” When lying doesn’t work, denying is the second best option.

She rolled her eyes while pushing the setter’s head down, forcing him to bow with her. “Sorry about him. He can be incredibly insensitive at times.”

Atsumu twisted his head to look at his manager, quietly struggling underneath her surprisingly strong grip. “No, I’m not!”

(Y/N) sighed before letting go and ignored the glare Atsumu gave her. Instead, she focused on Karasuno’s ace. “I wish we can talk more, Asahi but I need to get the team ready before the match. But I’m glad we had the chance to catch up.”

“Yeah, me too.” He smiled at her, much to Atsumu’s displeasure. “Can we talk later?”

The manager grinned and was just about to answer when she felt a strong tug on her arm before getting dragged away. “Hey, Atsumu! What the he-”

“You said it yourself.” Atsumu pointed out. “You need to help get the team, our team, ready. Let’s go.”

(Y/N) yanked her hand back and gave Atsumu a glare before he could utter a complaint. “Atsumu, be a dear and take this,” She placed the water bottle carrier in his hands. “I’ll be right behind you.”

“But- I, er, we need you. Remember, there’s that thing… That important thing…” His eyes gestured to his hands.

To anyone who didn’t know the Inarizaki setter very well, it may have sounded like there was something urgent she, as the manager, had to do. But (Y/N) knew Atsumu and she almost wanted to laugh at the desperation in his voice. This happened every single time before a match. It was obvious that Atsumu didn’t want to admit his problem in front of Asahi, who had a confused look on his face.

“The stuff is in my bag, inside the small pocket. Just don’t use too much like last time.”

“Yes!” Atsumu fist-pumped before running back to the rest of the Inarizaki team, forgetting the reason he came over in the first place.

(Y/N) chuckled as she watched her friend dig into her bag before turning back to Asahi. “Again, sorry about that. He can be a bit much. But he does have a point, the match is going to start soon.” She offered up her hand for a shake. “Best of luck to you, Asahi.”

He wasted no time in shaking her hand. “You too. Good luck to your team.”

“And whatever happens, win or lose, we’ll be cool, right?” (Y/N) asked, hoping Asahi wasn’t one of those players that completely shuts down and shuns people when they lose. She really liked him so she hoped that wasn’t the case.

“Of course we will.” Asahi promised. “No matter what happens, we’ll give it our best.”

“Good. See you later, ace.”

With one final encouraging squeeze, (Y/N)’s hand slipped away before making her way towards her team. Asahi seemed frozen to the laminate gym floor as his eyes were fixed on her maroon Inarizaki team. His hand was still in the air where he could still feel her fingertips.

“ASAHI!”

He flinched when he heard Nishinoya yell out his name and he almost fell over when he felt the libero hoist himself to do a handstand on his shoulders. It always amazes him how Nishinoya was able to do that effortlessly.

“H-Hey careful!” Asahi warned him. “And what happened to having my back?”

“You were amazing Asahi-san!” Nishinoya praised, stars in his eyes. “And I did have your back. We all had your back. We were watching the whole thing! You looked so cool talking to the girl you like!”

Was it just him or did that last sentence sound so loud?

“Don’t make it so obvious, Nishinoya.” Suga chuckled.

“Yeah, we don’t need Miya Atsumu to come back over here and scare Asahi again.” Daichi joked. “We had to pull Nishinoya back so he wouldn’t go feral on him.”

“I-I wasn’t scared! He just surprised me.” Asahi defended though he wasn’t going to admit that there was a tiny moment of fear when the Inarizaki setter confronted him. “He’s intense though.”

Kiyoko stepped forward. “You didn’t run away. I think that speaks louder than words.”

Asahi swallowed hard. “You think so?”

“Trust Kiyoko on this, Asahi.” Daichi said. “And trust all of us when we say, don’t give up. I know I give you a hard time with you being a coward and all-”

“Thanks.” He said sarcastically.

“Let me finish.” Daichi laughed. “I was trying to say… (Y/N) brings out the best in you. So keep going. Deal?”

“Deal.”

“Alright, let’s go win!”

“YEAH!!”

~Meanwhile on the other side of the gym~

“You done flirting with the enemy?”

“Does that bother you, Suna?” (Y/N) countered as she checked her bag, looking to see if Atsumu used all her hand lotion. (He’s always complaining about his fingertips being dry.) “I thought that’s what you guys wanted? For me to find someone?”

“At least give us a warning. Atsumu said it was that scary samurai-looking guy.”

“Atsumu’s dramatic.”

“Am not!”

Speak of the devil and he shall appear.

“He literally was squeezing my hand off! Trying to ruin my perfect setter hands!” The blond complained. “I call sabotage!”

“Maybe you’re just that weak, ‘Tsumu.”

“Shut up, ‘Samu!”

“So,” Suna interrupted before the twins could start another infinite argument. “You like this Azumane guy?”

“Is he Lucky Schmuck #1?” Osamu followed up.

“Or Unlucky Schmuck #6?” Atsumu mumbled with his arms crossed.

“I think… He’s the one.”

~

[zuppizup]

Linger

Her left hand isn’t right, and she wonders if it ever will be. It’s been funny since the binding, obviously, but she’s noticed it’s been worse since Sea Legs.

It’s not all the time but it’s enough that she can’t help but notice.

Worry.

Her strength and athleticism have always been her most valuable traits and if she can’t rely on them, well then, what use is she?

To be fair, this new issue hasn’t really affected her ability to fight. Not yet anyway, but she can’t help but worry that it might let them down at the worst time.

That sort of thing seems to happen to her.

She could be worrying about nothing, of course. It wouldn’t be the first time she let anxiety get the better of her, but she has noticeable difficulty doing the tricky little buttons of her tunic with her left hand... Even later in the day, after they’ve warmed up by the fire and the pins and needles have gone away, there’s this lingering... numbness, this insensitivity, that she just cannot shake.

“Rayla, are you all right?”

She looks up and finds Callum watching her, a concerned look on his face. His black eye and healing cuts are faint, but still visible even in the low light of the dying fire and he’s worried about her…

“I’m fine,” she waves him off, changing hands as she finishes her buttons with her right hand. “Tired, I guess. Long day.”

Callum nods, sitting down beside her. He pauses for a moment, eyes briefly on the others sleeping on the far side of the fire. “It still bothers you?” He nods to her left hand, as he turns to look at her fully.

She’d told him about the lingering pain back before, but she’s surprised he’s noticed anything now. She thought she was being careful to cover any discomfort.

For a moment, she considers lying to him. He doesn’t need this additional concern but, well, trust and that. “Not all the time,” she concedes. “In the morning,” a shrug. “Sometimes when it’s cold.”

He frowns initially, then smiles softly at her as he reaches for the hand in question.

She gives it to him without hesitation, feeling herself relax immediately as he squeezes her fingers gently and rubs his thumbs across her knuckles.

Feeling herself relax, she finds she can push away the weird sensations in her hand, electing instead to concentrate on the feeling of his skin against her own.

He smiles a little wider, squeezing her fingers gently as he moves closer to her. “We better keep it warm then.”

Linger II

[dreamypqulson]

— my only sunshine

summary: you’ve been struggling in silence but it hasn’t gone unnoticed.

pairing: cordelia goode x reader

warnings: depression, anxiety, self-harm (pretty detailed, be careful)

word count: 2700

venting again lol

Your leg shaking up and down was becoming excessive. You could see the girls next to you becoming annoyed, but you hardly realized that you were doing it. Tears pooled in your eyes and it burned so badly to hold them in. Why does Cordelia have to look at me so much? Why can't she just glance over me like everyone else and let me wallow away in the corner?

Everyone knew that you were Cordelia's special girl. You didn't think it had anything to do with your powers, she just liked you. And you liked her. But that was it; you were both too afraid to acknowledge it. What she wasn’t aware of was your history with mental health, which you tried so hard to conceal from her.

You don't think you were doing a very good job hiding it this time. How could you hide the fact that you don't want to live anymore?

Everyone knew you looked terrible lately. Madison had even pointed it out. Your eyes were dark, and hollow, and you just didn't look like yourself. Madison said you were just a freak that was too caught up in your studies to barely allow yourself some time to sleep, but Cordelia knew that wasn't true. Matter of fact, it was the complete opposite.

Cordelia dismissed yet another class that had completely gone through one ear and out the other. Spacing out is the one time that you actually feel safe and you so happen to be the best at it during class.

Everyone rushed out. You were a little slower because you were so exhausted and picking up your books felt like you were ripping open the cuts on your wrist. You thought you could feel like blood dripping down, but it might've just been your anxiety freaking you out.

"Oh, y/n, could you stay for a minute, love," Cordelia asked when you were by the doorway, ever so sweet but you still bit the inside of your mouth until you could taste blood.

You spun slowly on your heels. You loved Cordelia but you didn't want to stay. You were terrified of confrontation and you just wanted to throw yourself into your bed again.

You didn't respond and kept a great distance between you and Cordelia. She was so warm, she was your comfort, and you ached to have her hold you, but you just wanted the darkness right now.

She still walked closer towards you and you almost started to cry from the nerves. You started scratching at your band-aid covered wrists. You don't know why you do that when your nervous, it just feels good in the moment.

She looked down at your arms, then back up at you. Does she know? Did your sleeve rise when you went to reach for something? "Relax, honey. You're not in trouble. I just want to check on you."

"I'm fine," it came out weak.

She raised an eyebrow at you and gave you that look. Anyone could tell that you weren't okay, it was just a matter of who would be there for you when you fall apart.

Your bottom lip started to tremble. A clear indication that you were ready to break down. Cordelia just watched, letting you control yourself before she made you explode completely.

"How about we take a walk outside, around the house, and get some fresh air, yeah?" You nodded and you were suddenly following her out the door. Anything someone says to you hasn't really been processing in your head. You truly just feel like a leaf being blown in every direction.

It was nice out, slightly chilly with a breeze, but it did not seem to snap you from your state of mind. It was quiet for a minute before Cordelia began talking to you again. You knew she was trying to distract you from your thoughts, but it's not really want you want right now.

"So what have you been up to, missy? Are you still writing?" She looked over at you, gently smiling. She loved reading all of your work, but it had been a few weeks since she had. She's been a little bit busy and you've been locking yourself in your room.

"Yeah, a little bit, I guess." It was a complete lie, but your didn't feel like getting into the fact that you could hardly bring yourself to even get out of bed, let alone write.

She wanted to have a full conversation with you, but you weren't having it. She just became silent as you both finished the walk around the building. She always takes you to walk around the city with her, but she had an inkling that you weren't going to want to leave the property.

Cordelia didn't want to let you go yet. She had a bad feeling and she knew something just wasn't right with you. She felt uneasy. But she couldn't hold you back when you told her you had to go study. You would never pass up hanging out with Cordelia to study, and she knew that, but she just let you go.

When you got to your room, it was all messy. Had you had the energy to keep it as tidy as you always did then maybe your anger levels wouldn't have increased when you walked in. You decided to ignore it and step over the pile of clothes and make your way into the bathroom.

There, you dug through your drawer, looking for the blade that you kept hidden in the back. It was the one place that nobody could accidentally stumble upon it.

You sat down on the closed toilet lid and pulled up your left sleeve. Ripping off the bandaids had not even hurt as much as they should, you didn’t even flinch. You began cutting any free skin on your inner arms that you could. You hated that there wasn't that much room anymore due to all the other cuts, but you just couldn't seem to stop.

Sometimes it made you feel crazy but it mostly made you get some release. You knew you should at least try to stop with summer approaching but getting clean is never your top priority in the moment. Not when your arms start aching for more.

You just sit there with a blank face and watch as drops of blood start pooling at the thin lines and then you start dabbing it away with a tissue and apply some pressure.

Your heart absolutely drops when you hear a knock on your bathroom door. You weren’t expecting a visitor at your room, but living in this busy house, you never really get alone time.

"Y/n, it's me darling. Dinners ready." How could you have been so in your head that you lost track of time. You hardly even had an appetite but you knew that Cordelia was already having suspicions about you. You just had to act like everything was alright.

"Okay I'll be right down." Instead of wrapping your arm up, you simply just ran it under water for a moment and then pulled your sleeve down. It definitely stung, but you were starting to enjoy it.

When you walked out of the bathroom, Cordelia was waiting on your bed for you. You were expecting her to already be downstairs with the other girls, but she clearly had other plans.

"You're always neat, sweetie. What's going on with you?" You shrugged again, and soon, you thought, she's going to forget what your voice even sounds like. You began to walk out your room, and you can hear her shuffling behind you before she finally catches up. "Not in the mood to talk today?"

You'd rather Cordelia just hold you and whisper sweet nothings in your ear without expecting an answer. But at the moment, she's completely worried and just wants you to open up. "Not really, Cordelia."

She lets you slide again, but she can't take her eyes off of you all throughout dinner. She's sitting at the head of the table and you're at the first seat next to her. When you reach for your plate, she notices something that she wishes she didn't. She wishes it wasn't even there.

Your sleeve slides up, only slightly, and she can see smeared crimson on your wrist. Her heart sink and she has to swallow down the lump in her throat. After that, she cannot even look at you, or anyone for that matter, for the rest of dinner. She wasn't angry or embarrassed of you. Just so, so upset over the fact that her girl was hurting so badly.

Dinner finishes fairly fast. You notice there's not much chatter, and it must be from Cordelia's lack of interest in any of the conversation. You start worry that you hurt her feelings. She's always catching up with you and the girls - mostly you - during dinner, but today she hadn't even said a word.

"Y/n, meet me in my room please," Cordelia says, and it sounds almost cold compared to her typical soft voice. She walks away and heads towards her bedroom and your heart completely sinks. You fidget with the hem of your shirt and make way towards her room.

The door is ajar and by the time you're there, Cordelia is sitting on her bed in tears. This is it; she's going to kick you out.

"Cordelia?" You say and gather her attention back to you. She quickly wipes away her tears like you weren't supposed to see that, but there's no hiding her red, puffy eyes.

"Sit down please," she hardly looks you in the eyes. It's terrifying.

"I—" you attempt to argue. She has no part in that.

"Just sit down, y/n."

You sit beside her and it's so close that you bunch up your sleeve in your hand. You're consistently terrified of it rising. "Show me your arm."

"What—"

"Show me, y/n. I know what's going on. I know that you are hurting yourself."

You hug your arm closer to your body and can feel the sting like it's mocking you. Tears are instantly sprung to your eyes and it's clear that this situation isn't just a big misunderstanding.

"No! Leave me alone, Cordelia. What is wrong with you? Why would I ever do that." But you do do it and those words hurt so much. You wouldn't ever be so harsh to Cordelia, but you're not in the right mental state right now.

Cordelia's crying again and all you can think about is cutting up your arm for making her feel like that. You need to hurt yourself to pay for the faults you're causing and Cordelia can see right through that.

Her voice is very quiet and desperate as she speaks, "Baby, please. Please let me help you, I can't just pretend that it's not going on. I care about you too much."

This completely causes you to break down. You never had someone truly care about you. This is something that you've been yearning for forever.

You melt into Cordelia's body and she hugs you tightly, as if she let go, all of the pieces of you would just shatter everywhere. You can feel her tears start leaking through onto your shirt and you know she feels it too. "Please, y/n," she whispers, "I love you. Let me in, it's just me, it's only Cordelia."

You finally pull back and wipe away your tears. It doesn't stop another fresh batch of warm tears to roll down your face. You don't want to keep hiding this anymore. You need help. You need someone. You need her.

You take a deep breath and tug up your sleeve. You can't even bare to look at her face. Ashamed, and embarrassed, and scared. But you hear a sharp intake of breath from her. The bleeding from the cuts before dinner only made it look far worse on your fucked up skin.

"Oh, my baby," she sniffles and grabs your arm, gently. Your heart is too heavy. She's trying so hard to be strong for you. "Why," she looks up at you with watery eyes, waiting for an honest answer.

"Everything's just too much, Delia. I don't want to be me anymore. I hate being me, I hate living!" You started sobbing again and the crack in your voice doesn't go unnoticed. This is new and weird and you don't like it. You don't want to talk about yourself anymore. You can see her heart breaking in half from your words.

"My little sunshine...do you know I love you? I love the person that you say you hate so much." You don't have anything to say to that. Cordelia loves you. And you don't know how, but she does. You don't know how this whole could have any room for the broken half of you. “I couldn’t live without seeing your pretty smile and listening to you ramble to me about all the little things you love. So if you hate living so much, then let me love it for the both of us until you learn to.”

It’s silent for a couple moments that pass by until she looks back down at your arm again. It's a bloody mess and you don't want her to look anymore but she's still holding on. "Can I clean it? Can I do that for you?"

You nod and then you're being walked to her bathroom. It's bigger than yours and the entire room smells like her lavender shampoo that you always love taking in when she hugs you. She helps you to sit up on the counter. Your arm feels heavy from all the attention being on it but she so carefully cleans away the blood and it makes you feel a little bit better.

She covers it with bandaids. Not because she is disgusted by it. She's not at all. She just doesn't want anything infecting the fresh ones.

When she’s done, she lifts your arm up to her lips and, so delicately, kisses the covered cuts. A few tears start rolling down your face again. You’re too emotional for this. “Delia…”

“I love you,” she looks back up to you. Her words are so clear and genuine. “Come to me. I don’t care where we are or what time it is. Come to me whenever you feel like this.” You nod, your bottom lip trembling. She reaches her hand up and brushes her thumb over your lips. “It’s not going to be easy but i’m going to help you. We can make a plan and safe alternatives, anything that’ll help.”

She leans in and kisses your forehead, slow and light and your heart beats a little bit faster. “I love you too, Cordelia,” you croak out and she gives you that little smile.

“Come on, my little sunshine, let’s get some rest, hm?” She grabs your hand and brings you to her own bed. You’ve never slept with Cordelia before but it all feels natural. You lay your head on her chest and her arms wrap around your body. For once, you feel a sliver of happiness that you’ve been deprived of for so long.

The room is silent besides her soft breaths and the sound of cars rushing by. You finally break that silence after a few minutes.

“Delia?”

“Hm?” She peaks down a you and a small smile is present on her face again.

“Why do you always call me your little sunshine?” You say it with a slight giggle in your voice. You love all the nicknames she has for you, but this one stands out and makes your heart warm.

“Because, sweetie, I was in a very similar situation as you. But then you came into my life and suddenly there was light again.”

You looked up at her and bite your lip. You could’ve never imagined a woman like her feeling as terrible as you do. She’s too…perfect. But maybe, suddenly, you won’t feel so ashamed of your emotions anymore. You lean forward and place your sweet lips on hers. Just for a moment, for the first time in your life, you see a bit of sunlight shine through the cracks of your eyelids.

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[queen-of-the-avengers]

Everything Falls Into Place

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.4k

Warnings: fluff, worrying about not being able to adopt a child, anxiety

Request by anon: Aww if steve and vixen settle down imagine them fostering or adopting a child. In their words "adoption helps a kid"

Summary: You and Steve start the process of adopting a child. There are a lot of steps that you have to go through, including a background check. You're worried about your past as Vixen is finally going to bite you in the ass. This is it. This is the other shoe you've been waiting for to drop.

Cat and Mouse Masterlist

Squares Filled: social worker au (2021) for @star-spangled-bingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

x

Tick. Tock.

Tick. Tock.

Tick. Tock.

“What is taking her so long?” you sigh impatiently.

“She’s only been gone five minutes. Calm down,” Steve chuckles from beside you. Steve looks over at you to see you bouncing your leg from how nervous you are. You’re wringing your fingers together to keep yourself from biting your nails. “Y/N, you’re acting like a criminal who just got caught. Take a deep breath.”

“Steve, this woman is the decider on whether or not we have a child. Forgive me if I’m a little anxious.”

Your social worker, Amy, takes another ten minutes before she’s back in the office, and you let out a relieved sigh that she hasn’t kicked you out… yet.

“I am so sorry. We’re extremely backed up,” she says and takes a seat across from you.

“It’s no problem,” Steve smiles politely.

“So, you’re looking to adopt a child? It’s a big responsibility.”

“Yes, ma’am. We’ve actually been wanting this for a while now.”

“Why now? Why not then?”

You and Steve look at each other in thought. Maybe it’s because you two were out fighting in wars you had no business being in. Maybe it’s because you finally came face to face with Zemo again after so many years of being away from him, and you almost killed him. Maybe it’s because even though you think you’re ready to be parents… you’re actually not.

“We felt like the timing wasn’t right,” Steve finally answers and peels his eyes away from you.

“Have you always wanted to have children?”

“Yes, I have,” Steve answers honestly. “For as long as I could remember.”

“And you?” Amy asks.

“In the beginning, yes. I mean, when I was a lot younger. Some shit happened to me and I didn’t allow myself to feel that way until recently. Maybe in the last couple of years? I can’t have children biologically, but I do want one.”

“I never know how to ask this question despite how many years I’ve been doing this, but what kind of parents would you two be?”

“I can’t say for sure. How can anyone know for sure? We’ve never taken care of a child before. There will be obstacles that we might not know how to get over but I can tell you one thing. We will do our very best to make sure this child is loved, safe, and raised to be the best person they can be.”

“That’s a good answer,” Amy smiles and writes in her notebook. Steve rubs his thumb on the back of your hand comfortingly. “This is going to be a long process but I have confidence that it will go by quicker than you think.” She hands over a piece of paper to Steve. “Here is a list of everything I will be needing by the end of this week. Legal papers. You know how it goes. Next will be an extensive background screening for everyone living in the adoptive household. After that will be the in-home interview and inspection of the home.”

You don’t hear anything past background screening. What if they find out about Vixen? They won’t want to give you a child when they figure out how many people you’ve killed. What if they come for the home inspection and find your room of weapons? You’re not getting a kid.

“Okay,” you squeak out.

Steve notices your panic but decides not to say anything about it until you two leave the office building.

“What’s going on?”

“What if they find out about Vixen? The Winter Soldier? My time in Hydra?”

“They won’t--”

“What if they do?” you cut him off. “What if they don’t see me fit to be a mother? What about the guns and shit we have at the house? They’re not going to allow us to be parents with all that there.”

“Baby, you need to calm down. We’re going to do fine.”

His words go in through one ear and out the other. You hear him talk but you’re not listening to a word he’s saying. When you get home, you immediately head to the room with all your weapons and begin taking them off the wall. If you’re going to make this house suitable for a child, you have to make sure it’s safe for one.

“Y/N, it’s going to be fine.”

“No, it’s not. We live in a state where it’s illegal to carry outside your home. We aren’t even allowed to have this many weapons in the house.”

Steve knows you have to do this in order to make yourself feel better. He leaves you to box the weapons while he gets his phone out of his pocket. He calls Bucky, Sam, and Nat to come over because he thinks having them here is going to help you. He has always been the more level-headed one in the relationship which is why he’s being so calm about this. He has faith that everything is going to work out just fine.

“How long has she been like this?” Nat asks when she gets there.

“Since we left the social worker.” They know you and Steve have wanted a child for a while now. “Nothing I say matters.”

“Hey, Y/N,” Natasha says and walks into the room. “You doing okay?”

“No, I’m not. I have to get these weapons out of here. Can you keep them for a while?”

“Sure. You’re going to do just fine. If anyone deserves a kid, it’s you two.”

“No, it’s not okay. Amy is going to come in here and see all these weapons and she is not going to give us a child. This isn’t safe for one. Or she will know I’m Vixen and think wow, a mass murderer assassin doesn’t deserve a kid. Or she’ll know about Bucky, Thanos, and everything else we have done in our lives.”

“Would it help if we helped you?”

“Yeah,” you smile.

Bucky, Sam, Nat, and Steve help clear out the room until it’s bare. This is the room you’re going to use for the nursery. You don’t have any supplies since you’re not sure when you’re going to be getting a kid, so you’ll keep it bare for now. Bucky and Nat take the weapons to hold onto until this whole thing blows over. Your house has a basement that you can put them into only until after the inspections are done.

On the day of the interview and home inspection, you have cookies baking in the oven to give the home a sweet smell. You have been cleaning all day to ease your worries. Steve is nervous as hell but less than you are.

“I think this is the tenth time you fluffed that pillow.”

“It has to be perfect.”

“It is. You are. It’s going to be fine.”

“I know. It’s going to be great,” you smile. Amy shows up on the dot, and you let her in eagerly. “Welcome to our home. It’s good to see you again.”

“Thank you. Wow, smells good in here.”

“I have cookies that just left the oven. Would you like one?”

“No, thank you. I have two more visits to do. Not to sound rude but I’d like to get started right away.”

“Of course.”

You two lead her to the living room and sit across from her. Steve reaches for your hand and pulls it into his lap.

“To start with, why don’t you two tell me what you two do for a living?”

“We are employed with Stark Industries,” Steve says. Happy sends money to every Avenger on behalf of Tony. You don’t need a job when your job is saving people who need it. Does she not know you two are Avengers? “We make about two hundred thousand each every year.”

“Do you enjoy your work?”

“We love it. I can’t see myself doing anything else.”

“What are some of your hobbies?” Amy asks you.

“I love to sew. I love making my own clothes. I actually made my own wedding dress. It brings me peace whenever it’s just me, a needle, and some fabric.”

“And you?” Amy asks Steve while writing in her notebook.

“I like to draw, sometimes. I’ve been practicing more these days. I like to fish. We have a cabin up north that we like to go to when the weather is nice.”

“Tell me about your marriage, and how your relationship is with your significant other.”

You look at Steve and smile lovingly at him.

“There is nothing I wouldn’t do for this man. He has saved me in ways you can’t possibly imagine. He’s my best friend. Sure, we have our ups and downs, but there is nothing we can’t accomplish together.”

“She said it right,” Steve chuckles. “I love her with all of my being. Our marriage has been nothing but great for these past few years. I wouldn’t change it for the world.”

“That’s sweet,” Amy smiles and writes. “Tell me about your relationship with your parents.”

“Both our parents are dead. We don’t have any living relatives,” you answer. 

“To get with the technical questions, why do you want to adopt?”

“I’ve mentioned this before but I’m sterile. I can’t have children on my own. I know Steve wants a family. This is the only way I know how to give it to him. We don’t want to do fostering or a surrogate. We feel like it’s more our style to adopt.”

“What she said,” Steve chuckles.

“If granted the opportunity to adopt, what are your hopes for your child?”

“That they’re a good person,” Steve answers. “That they’ll see someone who needs help and will want to do that for them. Who will love unconditionally.”

“Alright,” Amy writes. “This is everybody’s least favorite section. I’ve done your background checks.” Your heart drops. This is it. This is where she tells you that you can’t adopt. “Now my main concern is your work with Hydra. You are the Vixen.”

“Were,” you correct. “I’m not that person anymore. Yes, I have done a lot of bad things in my life. Things you can’t possibly imagine. That isn’t who I am now. I have healed from that part of me. I got help. I made amends. I got Hydra out of my head. I don’t associate myself with those people anymore.”

“What about Bucky?”

“Bucky is healed, as well,” Steve takes over. “He went to Wakanda and underwent the same thing she did. They’re both trying to move on from their past.”

“That’s all it is, Amy. It’s my past. It’s not my present and it sure as hell isn’t going to be my future.”

Amy goes through more routine questions before she gets ready for the house inspection. You tell her the plans you have for the empty room which will be the nursery. She doesn't say much but she does write a lot of stuff down.

“Thank you for coming,” you say when she is done.

“I’ll be touch.”

As soon as the front door is closed, your smile is lost.

“God, we’re not going to get a kid. Did you see the look on her face when she mentioned Vixen? She knows I’ve killed before. What person would want me to be a mother?”

Steve pulls you close and lets you vent. “We won’t know more for a while. Let’s just try and keep a calm head. Even if she says no, we can try other avenues. We will be parents. You’d be a loving mother.”

And wait you did. For two long weeks. You thought that was their way of telling you that you weren't going to have a kid. Until your phone rang and changed your entire life.

“Hello?” you answer frantically.

“Hi, Y/N? I have some news regarding your adoption application.” You and Steve wait with held breaths. “I am very happy to say you’ve been approved. I can’t wait to work with you.”

“We can get a kid?” you ask tearfully.

“That’s the first part of the process. We have sent in your application to mothers who are looking to put their children up for adoption. If and when they pick you, I will call with the next steps.”

“Thank you so much.” You cry when she hangs up. “We’re getting a kid.”

Steve pulls you in and kisses the top of your head emotionally. You have to wait for a birth mother to pick you so until then, you just have to wait. Most couples wait months or even years to get called, but you get a call from Amy only a couple of days later with a date set to meet a birth mother who chose your application among a few others. You’re nervous as hell because what if she doesn’t pick you? What if she hates you as soon as she meets you?

You get to the office where the meetings are held and wait for Amy and the birth mother to come. Her name is Jessica and she is too young to be having a kid. She is only twenty-three and she doesn't want kids at this age. Maybe when she is older but definitely not now.

Jessica walks in and seems to be about six months pregnant. She just came back from meeting a potential couple, so you straighten up and smooth down your skirt to make yourself look more presentable.

“Hi, it’s nice to meet you two. My name is Jessica.”

“Y/N and this is my husband, Steve. Thank you for seeing us.”

“Yeah, I was intrigued when I read about your hobbies and your work with Stark Industries. Did you know Tony?”

“Uh, yeah.” You look at Steve and have a silent conversation through your eyes. If she is going to pick you, she should know exactly who you are. “I hope this doesn’t affect us negatively but he’s Captain America and I’m… Vixen.”

It takes Jessica all of five seconds before she starts crying. This is it. This is where she runs for the hills and gets you blacklisted from ever adopting a child.

“Captain America saved my life,” she sniffles. “I was visiting a friend in Sokovia when Ultron happened. You saved me.” She turns to Amy and wipes her eyes. “I don’t want to see anyone else.” She looks at you with a teary smile. “I can’t think of anyone better to care for my child than you two.”

“I’ll get the paperwork started,” Amy smiles and leaves the room.

You can’t believe what you’re hearing. You’re getting a kid. You’re getting a kid. You’re finally able to start your own family.

x

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[mysteria157]

Chapter 10

Pairing: Nanami Kento x Black Fem Reader

Word Count: ~9k

CW: Profanity, mentions of mental health (anxiety), explicit sexual content

Summary: You catch a glimpse of the growing life within. A home cooked meal and a searing kiss.

Notes: Hi! I have a habit of writing long chapters. That’s just what works for me and helps my pacing for this story. Reblogs, likes, or comments are always appreciated but not necessary <3 I hope you enjoy reading!

Divider: @cafekitsune

Previous Chapter | Ao3 | Next Chapter

It Had To Be You Masterlist

The March air that blew onto your skin when you opened the window to your soon to be nursery was cold and biting. It would be the only way to get the fumes out when you began to paint, a clearance you had to beg Dr. Reynolds for, but she allowed as long as you took long breaks and kept the room ventilated.

It was an olive branch, you supposed.

Your excitement to paint your entire house fizzled out the moment you realized you wouldn’t be able to risk the fumes, so you resorted to picking out colors with Ome and letting Chiyo and Santo paint instead.

Without knowing the biological sex of the baby, it gave you much more leeway for neutral colors and sage was a perfect fit. You had spent a week painting the room and now you were left to stencil out a design on the wall where the baby’s crib would rest.

“Kento was right, you have such a wonderful gift.”

Chiyo’s voice from the door of the nursery was soft and low like her son’s but filled with an intensity that could rival even Ome. You threw a small smile back to her before turning back to your half-finished stencil of a mountain landscape. Your pencil pressed hard into the sage colored walls, the lead bleeding onto the surface and slowly giving way to yet another peak that you would paint white with snow.

“I ordered some food. Why don’t you come take a break and eat?”

The Udon that slid down your throat was satisfying a hunger you didn’t realize you had. This past week, your cravings had increased in variety from simple and ordinary to borderline chaotic. When you craved dill pickles and peanut butter, Yuji stopped by the closest convenience store on his way home to get them for you. When your sweet tooth seemed to skyrocket and the only thing you could imagine was chocolate in your mouth, Gojo had whisked you away to Haibara’s bakery and ordered an entire basket of chocolate croissants. Geto, Shoko, Ome and even Nanami’s parents went out of their way to make sure you always got what you needed. It filled a hole since Nanami hasn’t been around.

In fact, he hasn’t been around for almost three weeks.

Ome had whisked you away from the backyard almost as soon as you had pulled away from Nanami during your housewarming party. You didn’t mind really, using the opportunity to get away so that you could get your racing heart under control. It was already overwhelming to realize that the man you used to loathe for weeks had spent just as long righting every wrong he had done. It was already overwhelming to see document after document in a small black folder of his work, clear proof that your ideas had been acknowledged, put to paper and ready to execute. He had gone above and beyond for you once again, showing you clearly that he would do whatever it took to gain your trust and sincerity.   

But to top it all off with a date of all things? You agreed in a heartbeat.

But as you mingled with your friends in your new home, riding off your high of joy, it crashed as soon as he broke the news that he had to leave on a business trip, eyes angry as he read the text from Yaga that he had just received. Four hours away in Nagoya, gone for three weeks to get the branch under control and effectively putting a hold on your date. He made up for it as much as he could, texting every day to make you feel special.

Kento Nanami: Omelia tells me you’ve gone through three cans of pickles in a week. Please try to keep your cravings under control so that I can cook for you myself.

Kento Nanami: Most of the people here are idiots. Especially the manager. Balding, halitosis, a shirt that is much too small and a very low IQ. Ome would have a field day with him. What’s taken him years, would have only taken you two days at most. If only you were here to put him in his place.

Kento Nanami: I will have missed three episodes of the Kardashians, if you watch ahead of me, I will never forgive you. I have a new brownie recipe to perfect so please wait for me. Or else.

Kento Nanami: I’ll be back tomorrow in time for your checkup. I promise I won’t be late.

Every interaction made the smiles more frequent, the fluttering in your heart more incessant, the heat between your thighs more prominent with almost every single action you took. Kento Nanami with his indifferent gaze and even tone when he spoke had to be doing this to you on purpose.

That had to be it, right?

You admired the neutral brown on the walls as you slurped down another spoon of Udon, the hot noodles sliding down your throat.

“Only one more coat and a day of drying and your house will be ready for your to properly move in.”

Chiyo smiled softly at you, one of her hands spooling a patch of Udon noodles before she elegantly shoved them in her mouth. Her straight black hair framed her face perfectly, fifty-four years of age perfectly preserved with good eating and a modest skincare routine shined back at you as she smiled and began to twirl her fork with another helping.

Since meeting her during the holidays, she had slotted herself into your life in a permanent way without making herself too insistent. She sent you a text once a week to ask how you were, pulled you to lunch occasionally to get you out of your thoughts and away from your home and even offering her own motherly advice when it came to raising a child. She was everything you wanted in a mother. Not too imposing in your life, but still present enough to make herself known in whatever way you needed.

“So, has my son decided to finally be a man and take you on a date?”

Santo’s usually quiet demeanor was loud in your partially unpacked kitchen as you slurped another fork of noodles, green eyes not the same color as Kento’s but still just as intense.

“He has. But he had to leave on business before we could solidify anything.”

Santo hummed, bright eyes looking down at his soup before he pursed his lips and looked up at you again.

“Take charge, y/n. The Nanami genes are strong in our family. Kento should have warned you that a condom and birth control would not be enough. Our sperm is quite strong when it finds the right match.”

You blanched visibly, choking on a long noodle as Chiyo admonished her husband in the background, smacking him on the arm and cursing with a level of Japanese that even you couldn’t distinguish.

“Forgive Santo, darling. He speaks without thinking. But have you two talked about your plans?” You shook your head, the miso broth filling your cheeks before you swallowed the heated liquid. “While I don’t agree with how my husband put it, I will say that taking charge will prove beneficial. I’m happy to know that Kento is such a gentleman and knows how to approach just about every challenge he faces, but when it comes to you, he is a fish out of water.”

You furrowed your eyebrows in response. You hadn’t really thought about your date with Nanami. After he went away for business, you tried to push the thought as far away as you could. What if he finished his trip and realized he didn’t want to go further with you? Maybe he had simply blurted out that question to you in the heat of the moment, riding off both your emotions and your warm arms around his neck in your backyard.

What if you let him in…and it doesn’t go anywhere?

A messy breakup that would only result in weekend visits and awkward holidays and birthdays.

It’s just the baby having an effect on him. Probably just sympathy. When the baby is born, for all you knew, Nanami would become cold and distant again.

The logical side of you could smell the anxiety from a mile away. You knew you were simply overthinking and using anything to keep yourself protected. You opened your mouth to speak but the words didn’t come, the last thing you wanted was to pour out your nervous thoughts to his parents. They had done more than enough for you recently.

You had forgotten the conversation altogether by the time you threw your overnight bag over your shoulder and locked the front door of your home. Until the paint was completely dry and the fumes gone from your house, Ome demanded that you stay with her.

Santo lingered on the curb, eyes on his phone and a pensive look on his face. Chiyo however, stayed by you, not speaking as you shoved your house keys into your purse and smiled softly at her.

“Kento’s been such a nervous wreck, you know?”

She chuckled to herself, jet black hair billowing with the slight nightly breeze. You watched the silky strands flutter in the air, twisting and squeezing each other before resting again on her unblemished cheeks.

“He sends me different restaurants that he’s been contemplating, asks what he should wear, talks about you constantly in his own ‘Kento’ way. I haven’t seen him like this since high school.” She rested a hand on your cheek, her soft and warm fingers melting into your skin slowly. “I know you have a tendency to worry, but please listen to me when I say that Kento may be a little rough around the edges at first. But once someone is deemed important to him, he will never let that person go. While I believe you are much too intelligent and beautiful for any man, I’m glad you’ve decided to glance your way at my son.”

The chuckle that pulled from your chest was abrupt and low, your mouth curling into a small smile as you listened to her. You were lucky that you learned to self-affirm yourself growing up. You had always longed to hear it from your own mother. But hearing those words from Chiyo, a woman who had only known you a few months but had practically treated you as her own, somehow made it so much better.

“Dear, please leave her be. Omelia is expecting her. She’s threatened me one time and I refuse to feel that shame again.”

Chiyo rolled her eyes at her husband’s rambling, brown eyes dancing with playful annoyance before she stroked your cheek and pulled you into a firm hug. Freesias, it was a smell you had been trying to nail down the moment you met her. It always danced around her when she was with you. Such a strong scent but always gentle and soft in your nostrils when it wafted towards you.

“I would love to see your outfit when you have it picked out. Let me know how the appointment goes, honey.”

***

You took another large gulp of ginger tea, ignoring the slight burn and savoring the taste as it trailed down your throat to nestle in your stomach, soothing the nausea instantly. It had been weeks since you last had any sort of nausea or morning sickness. But it had to be today of all days; the day where you would find out the sex of your baby. The day where you would finally see Nanami again after three weeks. You wanted to be clear headed and free of any ailments because the moment he sees the discomfort on your face, he would be all over you.

Not that you didn’t mind a chance for him to be all over you, but not like this.

The sound of your car door opening pulled you out of your anxious thoughts, your head whipping up in the direction of the source, ready to scream at the intrusion. Your tongue dried up immediately when you saw him.

God, three weeks was too long.

Nanami graced your presence in brown khaki pants and a pair of white Chelsea boots. A light brown ribbed short sleeved shirt hugged his broad torso, chest stretching the material and tantalizing you from where you sat. His typical Cartier watch flashed at you, wrapped around an elegant veiny wrist. No glasses today, no sharp part and hair gel, his shiny blonde locks hung free, the tips almost touching sharp light brown eyebrows. That familiar cologne danced up your nose, setting a fire down your spine and making your skin prickle with heat and excitement. Brown eyes gazed down at you, twinkling slightly and showing off the small smile on his full lips. You suddenly felt like a peasant in your simple black maternity leggings and long cashmere sweater.

“Hello there.”

Just the sound of his voice again after so long had you swallowing hard.

He didn’t wait for a reply, simply holding out a single hand for you that you kindly took and let him pull you from your car. The warmth from his touch radiated up your arm, pulsing against your skin and bleeding into the sound of the heartbeat in your ears. His large form hulked over you, casting a shadow on your face from the harsh sun, the tendrils of his cologne begging you to come closer. You cleared your throat and offered a small hello in reply, letting him lead the way as you both walked through the parking lot and inside of the clinic.

You took another sip of your tea, the contents of the large cup dwindling at a rate you were not satisfied with.

“Are you nauseous again?”

His voice held a hint of concern, head reclining against the wall behind you as he lolled his head over to look down at you. His eyes were still stoic and as unreadable as ever to everyone else, but you could see the flicks of worry and anxiety in his irises. You hummed in reply, picking at the flimsy plastic of your cup lid.

“Just today, came out of nowhere. I’ll be fine though.”

You shot him a small smile, your stomach turning at an angle that made you want to lurch forward in your seat. Nanami saw right through your façade, that worry and anxiety quickly flickering to calculating and observing. But he didn’t comment.

The nausea had died down by the time you were reclined on an examination bed, watching Dr. Williams flitter quietly around the room to gather her ultrasound machine and supplies. Dr. Reynolds thankfully had a counterpart with rave reviews in Nakameguro, a woman of color who was just as distinguished, a smile just as warming, and a demeanor all the more reassuring and safe.

“Alright since this is our first appointment together, I just want to run through some general questions so I can get to know you and the baby a little better.”

She ran through typical clinical questions; date of birth, month of conception and possible birth date, your last meal and current issues you wanted to be addressed.

“The second trimester is always said to be a small break from the anxiety of the first. Do you have more energy?” You nodded in reply.

“Appetite coming back?” Another nod.

“Sleep?” Yet another nod.

“How about libido?”

You faltered for only a second before nodding stiffly. Nanami remained quiet as usual from next to you even though you could feel his eyes on you. Dr. Williams’ eyes narrowed just a little, hazel gaze filling with something that made your blood run cold.

Curiosity.

“It’s very common for it to be incredibly heightened during this time. It’s also the best time to connect with your partner.” Her gaze flickered up at Nanami before coming back to you, her satisfaction fulfilled by whatever she saw on Nanami’s face that you were too shocked to look at.

She chuckled gently.

“I apologize, I love to see the reaction on the father’s face when I ask that question.”

You relaxed instantly, shoulders sagging back into the chair, the back of your head thumping on the plastic behind you. Dr. Williams turned her back to you and began to prep the ultrasound machine. With her distracted, you chanced a glance over at Nanami and held in the urge to gasp. His eyes were on you—always on you, you realized—melted irises of heat that had your mouth watering, cheeks pooling with saliva as you swallowed unashamedly as you looked at him. His gaze dipped down at the movement from your Adam’s apple, locking on your creamy skin for only a moment before sliding his eyes back up to you.

And just as quickly as the look was on his face, it was gone, his lips turning up into a natural smile as he slid his chair closer to you. You ignored the heat from his skin, pushed away the urge to grab him by his shirt and pull his lips to yours.

“Now! Let’s have a look.”

You pulled up your sweater, the smooth bump of your five month old baby making you relax quickly. You had not gained a lot of weight, or at least not yet. Your belly was noticeable, but not enough to obscure anything past your hips if you looked down. Your doctor poured the cold gel on your stomach, rubbing it in with the flat head of the ultrasound wand.

The familiar thumping and whirring of your baby’s heart echoed in the room, practically pulling you into a trance as you looked at the tv panel. The barely formed speck you had first put your eyes on months ago was now more detailed. You could see almost every feature through the black and white grainy film; a well-defined head, two arms and hands, curled up feet and a thin sliver of umbilical cord.

Nanami’s smile from earlier began to grow slowly, his own heart pumping louder at the sight of his child so close and yet still layers away and not quite ready.

“Would you like to know the sex?”

You and Nanami both reacted at the same time; you nodding your head furiously and him muttering a strong ‘yes please’ from next to you. You weren’t anticipating his next action as you felt both of his hands envelop one of yours, the shocking warmth making you startle just a little as you looked over at him. His eyes were still on the screen, eyebrows pinched together with a mixture of happiness and satisfaction as he listened and watched your child move and breathe.

Dr. Williams cleared her throat, pulling all attention to her as she narrowed her eyes at the tv panel before smiling gently at you both.

“A very healthy baby girl.”

You giggled, eyes filling with a thin veil of tears as you took in the information. You had always felt a love for your baby but being able to put just a little more detail to it’s—well her—face, made you feel closer to her. A girl who would hopefully have your curls, Nanami’s eyes and calm demeanor, hands ready to explore the world around her.

A soft chuckle huffed from Nanami’s mouth next to you, pulling your gaze back to him and marveling at the sheer happiness in his eyes. He squeezed your hands in both of his, the feeling shooting a zap of electricity down your spine and into your toes. His soft gaze flickered over to you, sharp cheekbones relaxed and defining his face even more as he rested his chin on his clasped hands over yours, lips curling into a small smile.

Even though he was silent next to you as you both walked back to your car, you could feel the energy radiating off him in waves. His mouth never really got rid of the smile, it was toned down and practically nonexistent, but enough for you to see and be happy with. You squeezed the strap of your purse as you stopped in front of your car, fingers digging into the tough material. He ran a large hand through his blonde locks, the bangs pulling back and then flopping back on his forehead again.

“I was going to ask you to dinner tomorrow, but I can understand if you want to postpone if you’re not feeling well.”

The thought of dinner made your stomach twist with a sudden onslaught of nausea. You couldn’t deny that the thought of sitting in a restaurant was not exactly on the top of your list right now if you could help it. And you highly doubted that would change tomorrow.

These past few weeks you had felt stuffy no matter what you wore, puffy and swollen, and generally insecure in your growing body. Your belly was beautiful, the growing roundness only filling you with a maternal instinct that was multiplying by the day. But you couldn’t help but feel…large and unattractive. While your ankles weren’t swollen yet, your hips began to grow, your thighs peppering with cellulite, your stomach stretching with the growing bump of your child, showing subtle tiger stripes that you were sure would darken quickly. As much as you wanted to be out in public with Nanami to eat what would surely be exquisite food, your plunge in self-esteem had left morale quite low.

But you still wanted to spend time with him. Even if that meant curled up on the couch for a night.

“I haven’t really been in high spirits to be out and about. But…I hear you’re quite the cook?”

He lifted an elegant light brown eyebrow, the gesture smooth and unintentionally seductive.

“You want me to cook for you?”

You shrugged in response, your fingernails worrying the material of your purse strap to distract your sudden bout of nerves.

“Unless you’re afraid you’ll disappoint me? You can admit it, I won’t hold it against you.”

He rolled his eyes dramatically, head tilting back slightly towards the sky, full lips twitching at the ends to fight off a smirk. He sighed even more dramatically; his theatrics were clearly at an all-time high today possibly from the riding high of knowing what his child would be.

“I’ve never seen you be so forthcoming with your attempts to play along with me. You must have really missed me.”

Something had to have been driving the words that were leaving your mouth. You were too confident all of a sudden, too daring, too committed to picking Nanami apart to see more and more of emotions and gestures that he never showed anyone else.

And to your joy, he took the bait, his gaze sliding down to you slowly, intense and penetrating and hard to look away from. He crossed the pavement between you both with two strides of his long legs, the air growing thin as you felt the heat from his body grow in intensity as the inches between you both shrank. You refused to flutter your eyes as the clouding effect of his cologne washed over you, invisible hands wrapping around your waist and beckoning you to come closer and give him everything he could possibly want.

The cold steel of your car hitting your back pulled you back into your body, immediately aware of his tall form towering over you. You refused to give in, no matter how much you wanted him to lie you down in the backseat and slide his thick tongue down your body.

Instead you lifted your chin, trying your best to show defiance and ignore the heated gaze that was looking down at you. You could see the mirth in his eyes, his arm pressing against your car, large hand still close to your body.

“And if I did? What then?” His low voice washed over your face, peppermint and a hint of ginger from the tea he snuck a sip of when you weren’t looking. “Hmm?”

You were going to lose this fucking battle and quickly. Your resolve was faltering with every breath you took, every whiff of his smell that practically had you drowning. You were going to make a fool of yourself. You could feel it right around the corner.

He hadn’t moved, his brown eyes sharp and unrelenting as he picked you apart silently, reveling at his effect on you. Your fingers dug into your purse strap further, the sound of the groaning material pulled his eyes to the action before he smirked slowly and slid his eyes back to you. He could tell you were sinking and fast. But you were not going down without a fight. No, instead you lifted your chin again, eyes narrowing at him and casting indifference to his tall frame.

“Cook for me. I expect it to be good.”

He lifted a brow, smirk never faltering.

“And what would you like?”

“Udon, I’ve been craving it. And another batch of brownies.”

He was silent for what felt like minutes, head tilting in contemplation, smirk growing fractionally. The hand on the car slowly drug down to the handle, the sound of the latch disengaging and opening, pushing you closer into his chest that made one of your hands come up to stop yourself from collapsing into him. Well defined muscle and smooth pectorals pressed against your palm, the texture of his ribbed shirt only making you want to rub your hand up and down him.

Damn him to hell.

You cleared your throat and stepped into your open door, his hand falling to his side to give you more breathing room.

“Since you seem to be calling all the shots, what time should I expect you?”

You turned around to look up at him, your eyes still narrowed in challenge.

“Six. It doesn’t have to be done by then, I would like to help if I can. If only to be sure you’re doing it right.”

He pursed his lips, an action you had never seen on him before and it was jarring enough that you cataloged it in your mind for later review.

“Yes ma’am.”

Your blood immediately began to boil, pumping hard between your legs, thighs clenching from his words. He was teasing and the words were only meant in jest, but you couldn’t help but imagine them being whispered to you in earnest, his hands digging in the sheets of his bed, body at your mercy as you rode him into oblivion, snarling at him not to cum until you did.

You could have it if you asked him. Even though your relationship was only just now blossoming, you had a feeling he would make you cum as many times as you wanted if you just pulled him to you and asked.

But instead you growled gently, turning around to climb into your car before the blood made its way to your cheeks and gave you away completely.

“Fuck you.”

He shook out a rare chuckle before closing the door behind you and watching you drive away.

“You look fucking fantastic, stop pulling at your clothes.”

You couldn’t help the eye roll from Ome’s usual ramblings, looking at yourself in the long mirror of her bedroom with frustration. While you wanted to be comfortable, you still wanted to look…a little nice if you could help it.

Ome had insisted on the black leggings and matching long sleeve ribbed sweater in your collection. It was soft and comfortable, showing the gentle curve of your belly but not too tight on your skin. You let your curls hang loose down your back and topped off the look with a simple diamond solitaire necklace and matching earrings.

Ome was glaring at you through the mirror’s reflection, her silver eyes admonishing you from her perch on her large king bed.

“I just want to look nice—”

“You’re fucking beautiful. I hate when you get like this and it’s been a lot more frequent lately.”

Your anger flared as you picked an invisible speck of lint off your arm.

“Well maybe it’s because I don’t feel beautiful, Omelia. I have to hear how I’m overreacting from you and Gojo all the time.”

She scoffed harshly, her body shaking as she rolled her eyes and folded her arms over her chest.

“As if Gojo knows what he’s talking—”

You felt some coil snap as you turned around to glare at her.

“While Gojo can be obnoxious and annoying, he’s also been nothing but nice to me and the people he cares about. I get that you hate most men, but Gojo has been around you too much and tried too hard for you to still be this way. You’ve been nothing but a piece of shit to him! I don’t mean to defend a man but Jesus!”

She was struck silent, eyes wide and filled with disbelief, her head inclined back as if you had yelled in her face. Her perfect eyebrows were furrowed in confusion, full lips opening and closing as she tried to find the words to speak.

You shook out a deep breath, shoulders relaxing and guilt filling you quickly.

“I didn’t mean to snap at you. But someone like Gojo has been trying to even get you to speak normally to him for almost six months now. Give him a chance before you completely resign yourself to ignore him forever. Then you’ll have a valid reason. And I…I haven’t felt confident in my body. I love that I’m pregnant, I do. And I love that I’m growing a life inside of me. But I hate how everything is changing, I’m starting to get stretch marks and my cheeks are more puffy, soon my ankles will swell and I’ll look like a whale. I don’t feel beautiful, Ome. I appreciate your encouragement, but this will probably take me some time.”

You turned back to the mirror, too upset to look at her, and began to tug at your sleeves again.

“I know. I’m sorry. I get so worked up when you talk down on yourself. It only makes me hate your mother more; you were always good at making yourself feel confident, but she should have done that too. I know you’re going through changes so a lot of what you see is hard to comprehend. But you’re glowing, y/n.”

You shook out a small humorless chuckle, your fingers fiddling with the seam along the sides of your sweater.

“All I will say is this, you could have any man you want. Almost every guy in high school tripped over their feet when you looked their way, but you were always focused on grades and getting ahead. Kento Nanami, one of the most distinguished directors of our former company, was able to get all up in that.”

“Ome—” you admonished her, fighting the giggles in your throat as you rolled your eyes to glare at her playfully. She was smiling, pearly whites shining back at you as she reclined on her bed, both hands behind her back.

“I’m serious. That week we were there for the summit, it was almost revolting how many females batted their eyelashes at him. And he turned them down so well even I was impressed. A tall man with a sexy ass voice and an indifferent stare, appearing aloof but capable of taking everyone down a notch with only a few words. Excellent taste in clothes and watches, muscles that make you wanna drool. Men like that have to strap their cock to their leg before they put their pants on.”

You choked on a laugh, your anxiety popping like a bubble before you walked over and kicked her leg.

***

The smell of bread hit your face the minute Nanami opened his apartment door for you.

He was doing this on purpose, there was no other way around it. Black pants, socked feet and a grey short sleeve shirt that hugged him perfectly. Fleshed out pectorals, his biceps stretching the sleeves, a ghosting of abs beneath the fabric. Loose blonde locks framed his sharp face, a few tendrils falling across his forehead as usual and making him look relaxed but also just as rough.

You hated him.

You didn’t, but God how you wanted to in this moment.

“Smells good.”

He didn’t offer a response, pulling the door open and stepping aside so you could walk in. His kitchen island was decorated with different ingredients; a basket of homemade Udon noodles, a small area with dashi and mirin for the soup base, a glass pan shiny with cooking spray and ready for the brownie mix that would surely go inside. A large pot was simmering on the stove, something inside clearly frying and filling the kitchen with the smell of dough that hit you a few minutes ago.

“Would you like a sous chef?”

“No.”

His tone was gentle but firm, a large hand settling on your lower back as he guided you to one of the chairs perched at the island. You settled in the chair, smiling softly at him as he pushed a small pillow down behind you.

“For your lower back, I imagine it’s a little sore. I’ll rub it later.”

You bit your lip at the promise in his low voice, stomach clenching in anticipation as you watched him walk across the kitchen to the fridge, opening it up and setting a small bowl of edamame in front of you. You stayed silent, eyes following his hand as it moved across the counter, long fingers dipping into a bowl of Himalayan salt before he sprinkled a little of it over the green vegetables and pushing it closer to you.

“Eat. A small snack to tide you over so you don’t drool on my granite while dinner is prepared.”

You shot him a narrowed gaze before relenting and popping a stalk into your mouth. He seemed satisfied with the action, a quick emotion passing over his face before he turned around and pulled a kettle from the stove and a glass cup from the cabinet next to him.

You watched the muscles in his back contort and flex, thick bands curling around his shoulder blades and pushing up against the fabric as he poured hot water into the cup and turned around to push ginger tea in your direction before turning back to his position at the stove.

You felt your chest fill with heat at his actions, a blanket of protection falling over you and relaxing your nerves almost instantly. The lapse in conversation had allowed you to finally take in your surroundings. Besides the busy activity in the kitchen, you could hear the faint echoes of jazz music from his living room, pulling your gaze in that direction and landing on the vinyl as it turned slowly, pushing the tonearm up and down as the needle ran over the small ridges and bumps of the record.

The television was playing but the volume was muted and the familiar face of Kourtney and Kim Kardashian bickering over something made you snicker.

“This is a rerun. We both watched it.”

“I like reruns.” He spoke to you softly from across the kitchen, his back still turned to you as his hands moved in the motion of stirring something in the sizzling pot in front of him. “Besides, I’ve missed three episodes and you promised to watch them with me.”

You bit down into another croquette as you watched him mix the soup base together, biceps curling and flexing against the fabric of his shirt, tantalizing you from across the countertop. You swallowed a large chunk of the savory bread, your tongue suddenly too thick in your mouth. Nanami for the most part was his usual silent self, asking you questions occasionally and throwing you soft smiles when you weren’t looking as you ate your fifth croquette of the night, eyes rolling in satisfaction before narrowing at him when you finally caught him staring.

To be honest, Nanami was nervous. It made no sense to be, you both had seen parts of each other to pull away any sort of veil of illusion.

When he blurted out his question of dinner to you three weeks ago in a moment of vulnerability, he hadn’t imagined you would say yes. And since then he had spent too much time on his phone trying to find restaurants. He had tried to picture the layout of his closet to compile an outfit while he laid in his hotel bed night after night, pestered his mother far outside of his character about what she thought you would like. He had finally had it all figured out and one look at your nauseous face yesterday and all of that shattered instantly.

But you had surprised him like always; looked up at him with a fierce gaze and demanded he cook for you. And he agreed immediately, bending to your will without a second thought and slowly reminding himself that this was only the beginning of being prepared to do whatever you asked of him. He reveled at the opportunity. He had never been one to want much; he knew what he liked in a woman. Intelligent, capable, self-assured and motivated, not afraid to speak her mind and state what she wanted without batting an eyelash. You had barged into his life and the minute you had barked at him in his office, showing him just how fierce you were, he knew he was a goner.

Some men would say that he was quick to be ‘whipped’. But Nanami always found that those men were idiots anyway, using their sharp comments to mask insecurity and a small dick. Even Gojo, for as obnoxious and arrogant about his looks and prowess as he was, was quick to give almost anything to the rare girlfriends that he did have.

He couldn’t even say hello to you when he opened his front door earlier that night, trying hard to swallow the drool in his throat and keep his eyes from roving over your form as you looked up at him with a teasing gaze.

His father had told him about the ‘glow’ that his mother had when she was pregnant. He had even read up on it through the various pregnancy books around his home, but you were truly shining. You always were, but it was almost blinding when you hit your second trimester. Your hair was longer, curly locks hitting the middle of your back when he happened to catch it down. Your skin was smoother than usual, cheeks a little more rounded when he caught you smiling occasionally. Being able to see your belly in the clothes you wore stirred something in his gut that was a mix of admiration and primal lust that he was beginning to question. He did that. Kento Nanami did that and could now watch you grow the life he helped make.

His thoughts were only getting bolder, more arousing, and more loud every time he was around you. He marveled at your fumbling form every time he was a little too forward. He knew you felt something for him, he could practically taste it in the air when you were around. He didn’t want to scare you away but if he managed to get his hands on your thighs tonight, all bets might be out the window. Just a little taste and maybe you would relax just a little more into him. Trust him a little more. Smile at him a little more.

“The Nanami men are insatiable once they find someone they want to be with. For Heavens sake, please go easy on her, Kento.”

“Are you sure I can’t help you with anything, Nanami?”

Your voice pulled him from his father’s teasing thoughts, the picture of his mother smacking him in the head put a small smirk on his face before he turned around to look at you. Your lips were slightly shiny from the grease of the croquettes you were eating, eyebrows pinched in worry and hands perched together on the countertop.

“Call me Kento. We are having a child together and I’m cooking for you. All sense of professionalism left a long time ago.” He refused to smirk at the blush that colored your cheeks before you cleared your throat and shot him an exasperated glare.

“And no, I don’t need your help. I just need to cook the Udon and dinner will be served.”

The restraint to hold back groan after groan as the Udon slid down your throat was practically an art. It was perfect, just what you were craving and it seemed to be endless as he placed another small helping into your soup base when you were running low, long fingers elegantly holding chopsticks as he stirred the noodles and soup together before tapping the side of your bowl and pulling back to his own food. The smell of the brownies was growing stronger by the minute as they cooked in his oven, the promise of chocolate growing closer and closer.

***

“I wish you would sit down.”

His raised brow admonished you as he took the empty bowls from your hands and shooed you out of the kitchen. You wandered to his record player, content to watch the vinyl spin slowly and hit your ears with slow jazz as you listened to him wash dishes behind you. Your eyes roamed down to his collection, admiring the many different records of jazz, classical, and even R&B. Every time you were around him, something small only stood out to you more.

“Kento Nanami likes R&B?”

“You sound very disbelieving.”

His voice was quiet from the kitchen but still carried over to you. You didn’t respond, satisfied to look through his collection in silence, a small smile on your face as you learned more and more about him. The sound of him cleaning faded into the background as that familiar warmth roared back to life in your chest. You heart began to flutter as you swiped through each collection, stomach filling with butterflies at the thought of him showing his daughter each one, playing it for her day after day as she grew.

“I should apologize to you.”

The sudden timbre of his voice made you turn around to find him already perched on the couch, both arms extended along the back, his shirt stretching deliciously across his torso. He looked like straight sin, but his eyes held a sense of worry that made you stop any traitorous thoughts from forming. You made your way across the living room, sinking into the soft couch next to him and offering a curious tilt of your head, your curls cascading over your shoulder at the action.

“Why?”

“You look very nice tonight. I thought it the minute I opened the door but I…got quite nervous and didn’t say anything.”

He swallowed softly, brown eyes glancing at his television screen as a means of distraction before flickering back to you.

“Kento Nanami admitting to being nervous? I thought I would never see the day. I should mark the time.”

He hummed in disappointment, eyes narrowing at you.

“Do not tease me. I was raised to be a gentleman and I wanted tonight to be nice for you. For us both.”

“A gentleman would not have done any of the things you did that night. Making a woman cum three times even while drunk? That’s quite an accomplishment.” He shook out a deep chuckle, rolling his eyes even though his cheeks peppered with a hint of blush.

“Besides, I look no different than any other day. I didn’t notice.”

A flash of indignation colored his features, heavy and instant, his eyebrows furrowing, eyelids blinking in astonishment. He turned more to you, arms leaving the back of his couch and falling into his lap.

“Why must you constantly say things that do not make sense?”

His gaze was sharp and serious, posture stiff and unyielding as he stared down at you.

You shrugged and looked away.

“It’s just the pregnancy, there are just some things that make me uncomfortable about myself. I’m not used to having stretch marks or knowing I’m going to get bigger. I just haven’t felt confident recently, but it will pass, Kento. I’m—”

“Beautiful.”

Your tongue curled into the back of your throat from his response, esophagus clenching together, heart skyrocketing in your chest. You remained silent as you watched him push your curls off your shoulder, the warmth of his hand blazing a trail down the skin of your arm and boiling the blood in the tips of your fingers.

“Your stomach is growing our child, getting bigger by the day and I love every second of it. Your cheeks are fuller when you smile. You will probably begin to get stretch marks that I can’t wait to rub oil to help the scarring. Your ankles will probably swell, and I’ll be there to massage them to help you feel better. These are all normal changes, but they make you more beautiful than you already are, y/n. I’ll be here to tell you that every day until you believe it.”

You couldn’t help the small smile that morphed on your face, his words always making the fluttering in your body increase at alarming rates.

“Gosh, you really must have missed me.”

You meant it to be a small joke to put the attention back on him while you got yourself under control. You pulled your bottom lip into your mouth, your teeth biting into the flesh as a distraction for your brain so your heart could come back down to normal sinus rhythm.

But all too quickly, you watched him lean closer to you, his body hot and buzzing. You didn’t speak as you watched his dark brown eyes blow out slowly. You stayed frozen when you felt his thumb press against your chin, pulling down to watch your bottom lip slip from the clench of your top teeth. His eyes roved over your face, analyzing every inch, stoic gaze taking you in with an air of nonchalance that was blanketing a heavy layer of lust. When he met your gaze again, you didn’t gasp at the thin ring of brown that looked back at you.

“Is that okay? That I missed you these past three weeks? Am I allowed that?”

You swallowed hard, your heartbeat pounding in your ears as his hungry gaze never left yours.

“I…I suppose that’s okay. I can allow that.”

He hummed in satisfaction, the vibration rattling the barely functioning brain cells in your head. Muscular arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you into his lap immediately. You held in a squeak at the immediate change in position. He was under you, his warm body bleeding into your skin, soft cologne shooting up your nose and pulling you further into delirium. Even with you on top of him, he still was a head taller than you, his form imposing and looming, head inclined down toward you as he remained silent. His gaze was still sharp, blonde locks on his forehead messy and wild. You wanted to push them out of his face, feel the thick hair between your fingers and watch it flop back into place again.

You wrung your hands together at your sides, nerves making them tremble slightly before you felt Nanami gently grab them both and set them on his chest to help ground you. You wanted to squeeze his muscles, run your fingers down his chest and dip between every crevice of his abdominals. God how you wanted to.

“What else am I allowed then?”

You didn’t have time to stop the blush before it came, coloring your face with shame as you picked apart the innuendo. You would allow him to do just about anything at this point.

“I…well.”

You cleared your throat, trying your best to shoot him an annoyed glare.

From the way the corners of his lips twitched into a smirk, you had clearly failed.

“That depends, Kento. Name your price.”

He hummed playfully in contemplation, his large hands smoothing up your back, burning your skin and making your eyes flutter.

“A kiss. Nothing too scandalous.”

You felt one of his hands tilt your chin up to face him.

“Unless you would like it to be.”

There was a ringing in your ears, faint but incessant in your head as you tried to pull your soul back down to your body. You didn’t know why you were resisting so much. Maybe it was fear that he would have you again and then not want you anymore. Maybe you were afraid to disappoint him. Your lips were chapped, cheeks burning and slightly sweaty, chest heaving against him, definitely not the picture of lust.

You held your ground, his last teasing sentence playing in your mind over and over as you spoke.

“Not too scandalous then.”

His lips were on you as soon as you finished speaking, soft and full and overwhelming. Without the haze of alcohol, it was so much more powerful. His lips practically made yours dance, telling you where to go and how to tilt your head. The gentle dig of his teeth in your bottom lip made you clench your hands into the fabric of his chest. Large hands squeezed your waist, pulling you impossibly closer before one trailed up your back and buried into the hair at the nape of your neck.

You felt him tug firmly, pulling your lips from each other with a loud smack, your heavy breathing filling the air and then stuttering to gain control as you felt him trail his lips down your neck. His full lips were wet as they kissed against your skin, pulling it into his mouth before digging his teeth into the flesh. You blushed hard at the choked breath that rushed out your throat, head still inclined to the ceiling as he kept a gentle grip in the hair of your nape.

You knew what was coming, had dreamt of it ever since that night. Nanami could get progressively nasty and fast. It didn’t take long and you didn’t hold back the whine that slid from your mouth as you felt a thick and hot tongue lick a slow trail up your neck, tantalizing and eager, pressing into the salt of your skin with the promise to be everywhere else if you let him.

“K-Kento.”

You were practically dripping in your leggings, your cunt throbbing and ceaseless as it ground against him. Your jaw dropped open as you felt him hard and thick beneath you, pressing through the crease of his pants.

The hand in your hair slid down to your ass, joining the other before he squeezed hard and pressed his lips to yours again. Your vision was swimming and you wrapped your arms around his neck to bring him closer and ground yourself into the present at the same time. Anything to fight the onslaught of lightheadedness as you felt his lips open yours with a gentle give and his tongue slide into your mouth. You could still taste the Udon and tea on his tongue.

You didn’t care about the whimper that left your throat. You couldn’t give a shit as you rocked your hips against his, the slick arousal making you slide in your panties as reveled in the firmness of him beneath you.

You tried not to care as the sound of the oven beeping made you both jump. You pulled your lips away from him, your eyes sliding to the open kitchen. Nanami didn’t seem to care, his lips sliding back against the skin of your throat, worrying the flesh between his teeth.

“Kento. The brownies.”

“Let them burn.”

His voice was rough, thick and heady as he spoke against your throat. You felt your cunt throb against him in response, an action that he clearly felt before he rutted his hips up into yours.

Even though the lust was practically suffocating you, you had been craving those brownies the minute Nanami slid them into the oven. Your pregnancy cravings were hard to curb once they made their intentions known.

How you loved the girl growing inside of you. But she had proved yet again to be a cock block.

You pushed him away playfully, marveling at the subtle pout on his face. Blown out pupils narrowed up at you. He was the very picture of a boy who had been deprived of sweets before dinner; petulant and miffed, but still going to listen.

“Fine, fine.”

He sighed out the words, sliding you off his lap before he stood and disappeared into the kitchen. You turned to look at him over the couch, the action making the muscles in your lower back croak in soreness. You winced silently, cursing internally at yet another thing in your life keeping you from getting laid.

You thought the twinges in your back would disappear after a minute or so. But by the time Nanami joined you in the living room ten minutes later, they had only intensified. He set a plate of freshly cut brownies on the coffee table in front of you before sitting back down next to you.

“What’s wrong?”

Sometimes you hated how observant he was; your face was straight as an arrow but he saw right through it. Even though his brain was riddled with sinful thoughts, his concern for you made it all fizzle away.

You sighed in defeat.

“My lower back. It’s hurting a little. I didn’t mean to kill the mood.”

A familiar eyebrow lifted in response before he leaned down and pressed his lips to yours softly and briefly, pulling away with a playful smirk on his face.

“What an odd thing to say. You're here with me, my mood will always be better than what it was before.”

He offered you nothing else as he moved you to sit between his legs with your back to his chest. You watched in silence as he turned on one of the episodes of the Kardashians he had missed, placed the plate of brownies into your lap, and gently pressed his fingers into your lower back.

One of his hands smoothed your curls from your back and over a shoulder to be out of the way and you felt his lips press to the side of your neck before he watched television with you in silence. Your heart fluttered for what felt like the millionth time in the two days since he had returned, chest filling with warmth as you took a big bite of a brownie and settled further into him.

[l0vergirlwrites]

no pressure ; matthew murdock

warnings: mentions of sex, anxiety, few swear words, suggestiveness, comfort!matt

matthew & you as a couple was sill fairly new.

he hasn’t been in a serious relationship since electra, & you have never been in one either. so, you both had a lot to catch up & learn. besides learning each other’s love languages, favourite foods, hygiene habits, etc, you both still struggle with communication at times—especially when it comes to going to the next level in your relationship: intimacy.

for matthew, he’s had his fair share of intimate nights with partners, but you—you have never gone that far yet. & by knowing matthew’s history, you felt embarrassed & discouraged in telling him your inexperience with intimacy.

you tried avoiding the conversation for as long as you could, just telling matthew that you wanted to “take things slow & easy” for a while. & it did work… but only for five months.

it all started when matthew pulled you into a kiss after some lawyer ball the firm was invited to attend. the whole group, consisting of foggy, karen, matthew, & yourself had dressed up in your best attire to enjoy an evening of cocktails, expensive appetizers, & networking connections.

the whole night was a success, but matthew couldn’t help but feel his mind race at the thought of the way you felt tonight.

your perfume

your dress

your touch

he wasn’t sure why, but he couldn’t help but feel like he needed to show you how you made him feel… in other ways.

so when you both arrived to his apartment after deciding you’d spend the night at his, matthew tapped your chin & held your cheek, pulling you into a long kiss. your clutch fell out of your hand & thumped onto the ground as your hands held onto the lapels of his suit jacket.

“you,” kiss “were” kiss “amazing tonight” matthew mumbled as he continued to kiss your lips, eventually leading you to smile, teeth clashing against his own for a moment.

“shouldn’t i be saying that to you, mr. murdock? those other lawyers thought you were the shit” your compliment made matthew laugh into your neck as he peppered kisses along your skin, his hands running down towards your thighs as you leaned against his wall.

“say mr. murdock again & see where that’ll get you, won’t ya?” he teased, only to kiss your lips again when you repeated it, turning your giggles into heavy breaths.

soon enough, you were making out on the couch—hands holding whatever they could. yours were in matthew’s messy hair while his were on your ass, firmly holding you in place as you straddled his slack covered lap.

each kiss, each breath, each touch—you could feel yourself getting lost in the feeling of bliss, & you knew matthew was feeling it too. it wasn’t until a kiss on your neck made you bite back a small moan, & make you grow quiet & stiff in matthew’s grip.

he could smell your arousal building throughout the last while on the couch, but the tension bubbling on your skin made him pull away from your neck & raise his hands to your waist. “what’s wrong? did i-i do something? do you want to stop?” he asked carefully, his concern dripped with nothing but love.

but you thought the worst of it.

staying still in his lap, you felt your mouth grow dry. “n-no it wasn’t you, i just uh… fuck. i don’t know how to say it” you rushed, running your hands over your warm face in embarrassment.

with an end outing rub on your waist, matthew tutted. “sweetheart, you can tell me. i’m a big boy, i can handle it” he assured, sensing you peeking through your fingers before they dropped to your lap.

silence over took you for a moment as you fidgeted your fingers, hearing matthew let out a nervous breath.

“i’ve never had sex” you blurted, awkwardness rising in your chest at saying your fear out loud. “& i’m scared you won’t want me… it’s stupid i know—“

“it is stupid” matthew cut you off, shaking his head a little when he took one of your nervous hands into his.

“how could i not want you because of that?” matthew genuinely asked, not sure of where this idea of yours came from.

he knew it possibly stemmed from insecurity, but he needed you to say it.

shrugging your shoulders, you felt yourself caving into your body. “i never dated anyone…never hooked up… never had a boyfriend… no one has ever wanted me until now” you trailed on, your lips in the shape of a frown at hearing your loneliness be spoken about out loud.

matthew’s lips also frowned at the sound of your heartbeat slowing in a sad tempo, so he pulled you closer to his chest in a hug. you hid your face in his neck, eyes shut & breathing slow as you tried to relax. his hands worked their way along your back until one hand cradled the back of your head.

“i don’t care that you’ve never had sex before. that isn’t a deal breaker for me. never has been, never will be. okay? i’ll always want you y/n…” he told you firmly, trying his hardest to make you understand that you could trust him, be vulnerable to him without shame.

he felt your nod your head before a sigh slipped your lips. “i-i want you to be my first, i really do. i just don’t know when i’ll be fully ready” you confessed, hoping that he wouldn’t be questioning if he did something wrong.

“& that’s okay. i can wait for you, y/n. wanna treat you good when you want it, yeah?” he kissed your head once he felt the tension in your shoulders subside & you held onto him tighter.

“thank you” you pressed a kiss to his neck, your nose soon rubbing over the spot tenderly.

“no,” he paused, bringing your face to be in front of his. “thank you”

with your anxiousness dissipating in the air, you kissed the palm of matthew’s hand. “lemme treat you to a shower hmm? with the fancy body wash?” he suggested, just wanting to be close to you in a way that you both have done on multiple occasions—it was his way of showing you that things were good.

leaning into his touch, you couldn’t help but smile & feel warm. you felt lucky that he was so understanding.

“yeah, i’d like that”