#either that or its just the mugs lol

[stanperformanceunit]

I had to do a double take, they have Tim Hortons in China ?

[cr4yolaas]

the weight of words — alhaitham x mute! reader

notes: based off of this tiktok i found a long while ago featuring a poem that serves as the base for this fic <3 i feel like this is very poorly written / rushed and it lacks a good flow but i wanted to get it out asap bc i didn’t have any more energy to write it LOL

tags: italics represent handwritten notes, reader is implied to be rlly smart / top of the class, implied depressive episode (reader), self deprecation (reader), fluff → angst → fluff, may or may not be an inaccurate rep. of mute individuals, ooc alhaitham, not proofread

this was a little more irksome than he wanted to admit.

at the very top of the akademiya, far away from prying eyes, sat a student bathed in sunlight. from a distance, he observed. you held a book in one hand and an apple in the other, while your legs dangled off of the ledge. he couldn’t discern much from your backside.

but what bothered him the most was that you were seated in “his” spot. the spot he always crept away to during lunch, mainly for its isolation and breathtaking view.

without hesitation, alhaitham approached you. he tapped on your shoulder and stared with an intensity akin to the blazing sun in june. “excuse me,” he began. “i normally sit here. i would greatly appreciate it if you moved to another place, as i’m most accustomed to this spot.”

a silence washed over as you stared up at him. your lack of response left him annoyed — did you find this funny?

however, as you set down your book and snack gently, alhaitham found himself surprised for the first time in a while.

a notebook sat on your lap as you wrote rapidly. the man watched quietly.

i’m afraid not. there are countless other spots up here, and i just happened to get to this one first.

a sigh slipped from his lips. while he wasn’t unfamiliar with stubborn personalities around campus, this particular interaction seemed to interest him more than it irritated him. alhaitham nodded and sat beside you, much to your surprise.

he listened as you flipped your page and began writing again, this time taking up less space on the paper.

why do you like sitting here? you passed the notebook to him.

he wrote much slower in comparison to you, however, his handwriting bore an elegance you had not seen before, as if each letter carried a song in the ink. you found it beautiful.

the lack of noise.

his short response made you smile — simple and straight to the point. another thing you deemed wonderful.

he did not hand the notebook back to you, but instead, continued to write. i dislike unnecessary sounds. they serve as useless interruptions. up here, i find that in comparison to the chatter of students, the ambience is soothing. alhaitham placed the notebook in your lap gingerly and looked into the distance, his gaze absent yet his thoughts reverberating.

you continued this back and forth with him for the entirety of the lunch break. the lines engraved on your palms spilled over with ink smears, and you found your dominant arm growing weary. you did not write your goodbyes on the paper, therefore leaving your conversation unfinished. you left with a smidge of warmth in your heart and a smile on your face in hopes of meeting him again the next day.

from afar, you could see the way he sat leaning slightly more towards one side, and the occasional tapping of his fingers against the table as he wrote. he drank from a small mug of what you presumed to be coffee, but rather than holding the handle, he gripped the cup from its mouth. another intricacy that piqued your interest.

he noticed your stare after a few seconds, eyes of jade and clementine meeting yours. without a word, he relocated to your table, sitting directly across from you. “hello,” he greeted softly. “i didn’t know you frequented this place either.” his gaze flickered over to your notebook peeking out of your schoolbag, and when you pulled it out to respond to him, he found himself getting uncharacteristically excited.

i don’t, actually. i wanted a change of pace, but i’m not sure how much i’m enjoying it. you pushed the book across the table to him.

is it too loud to study? that’s surprising.

you looked up at him questioningly for a moment before jotting down your reply. i’m not studying. i’m just here to read. his lips upturned noticeably at your words, an expression you wished to carve into the crevices of your memory for eternity. he was painstakingly beautiful.

alhaitham didn’t respond for a handful of seconds, instead opting to look outside the window to his left. strands of sunlight draped themselves onto his perfectly crafted face and fell between each strand of hair. a view that compared to the one at the top of the akademiya.

a conversation of short responses — ranging from questions about your darshan, to your favorite season, to the books you enjoyed reading — ensued, the evidence splayed onto the paper. you appreciated his company, for it was rare that anyone sought to talk with you.

he asked another question, his curiosity seeping out endlessly. why do you communicate like this?

a thin-lipped smile etched itself onto your lips. the ink of your pen ghosted atop the paper, your hesitation evident. i was born mute. i have no voice, therefore i cannot communicate in a normal manner.

you grew increasingly anxious as he looked at you with an expression that was terrifyingly unreadable. your hands rested atop the notebook, keeping it away from him for reasons you didn’t understand quite yet.

“that’s okay,” he spoke, the baritone of his voice cutting through your shared silence. “i don’t mind it. actually, i think i prefer it. over the grating voices of the other scholars i know, at least.” he went on about his senior, a friend in kshahrewar who apparently could never keep his mouth shut in his presence. you merely listened, soaking in his words and absorbing each syllable that spilled out of the cracks between his teeth. your confession rendered you utterly silent, but seemingly, he paid no mind.

again, your conversation ended without a proper goodbye. your notebook sat still on the table. moments after his departure, you stayed in your seat, contemplating the complications of this newfound acquaintance.

alhaitham’s life revolved around routine and quiet. he needed both to go about his day in an efficient and satisfying manner; otherwise, he would end up feeling rather unfulfilled and bothered.

perhaps that is why he found himself so drawn to you. in comparison to many of his classmates, who were incessantly obnoxious and needlessly talkative, you were quiet, not just vocally, but in every other aspect. your handwriting was consistent and each letter looked just as neat as the other. your responses were similar to his in that they were direct and honest. and, oddly, you radiated a warmth that he could not see in anyone else.

his next encounter with you wouldn’t be for a handful of days. he knew you were a student, thus resulting in his confusion — he had never seen you around campus until that day.

he ran into you during one of his lectures. you sat right beside him in a seat that wasn’t usually occupied. he began to question you with pen and paper, as usual.

since when were you enrolled in this class?

i always have been. this isn’t a necessary class for my darshan, it’s just an extra period for me to increase my credits. i don’t come to class very often.

he quirked a brow up. you fiddled with your pen.

interesting how i haven’t heard of you until now. alhaitham smiled softly at your muffled giggle, one that he had not heard until then. the noise swarmed his chest with a lightness he could not replicate.

you might have fallen too soon.

alhaitham was a simple man, yet alluring all the same. you had snuck away his perfections and imperfections in a different notebook. for instance:

3 - straightforward and direct

21 - prefers tea over coffee

44 - can’t sleep without a weighted blanket

your ever-growing infatuation for him began to blossom in the cavities of your stomach, and soon, it would infect everything above. you could not bear it — nights spent in solitude, where he would discuss his interests (which were minimal) until you fell asleep; afternoons spent in comfort, where you would share a slice of cake to celebrating a particularly difficult exam. he consumed your very being, the neurons that invoked muscular response and the veins that carried your blood here and there; all of it was him. and yet, you could not meaningfully share this with him, your silence embedding your heart in a crevice far away.

it seemed that he got to it first, anyways.

alhaitham asked you a simple question — if you were capable of speaking for a day, what would you say? he had begun carrying his own memo book to conversate — another addition to the list.

you sat in silence for a brief period before writing, every thought and feeling and idea that has ever encountered my mind would leave my lips.

he wrote, then i will give you just that, and more.

when you began dating alhaitham, you found that he was much more eager to “speak” to you consistently. he would write in his same font and present to you a variety of inquiries, ranging from plans for the day to what you wanted for dinner. he was the epitome of a loving man, a far cry from the tales of coldheartedness and brutality you’ve heard of him. and yet, something began to gnaw at your lungs as he did so.

alhaitham was your voice to speak through — he was the monotonous ramblings, the heavy whispers, the gentle laughs; he held all of those for you. seemingly, life became far more breathable.

but your love was just as restricting as it was kind. to speak is to suffer, but to not speak at all is beyond that — it is torture. nights were spent staring at alhaitham’s sleeping figure, questioning whether he truly felt the affection you expressed. gifts, contact, quality time; what good was it if you could not do something as simple as converse with him? it extended beyond him, as well — for reasons unknown, it grew increasingly difficult to communicate with your new professors and classmates, the downturns of their lips as you pulled out a notebook gut-wrenching. you questioned if alhaitham felt the same.

you began to spiral.

a rapid set of knocks arrived at your door at a questionable hour. the sun hung high in the sky, albeit obscured by your curtains. a soft buzz rung in your room.

“i know you’re inside,” a voice spoke from the other side of the wood. he knocked again.

you made no move to open the door, nor to approach it, nor to get up from your bed. in response, the hinges creaked and heavy footsteps neared.

“why have you locked yourself in here?” alhaitham asked, his tone indiscernible. you didn’t see it, but you heard him shuffling around your bedroom. “where is your notebook?”

it was silly. he spoke as if you could respond, and you weren’t sure if you were supposed to be sorrowful or upset.

he pulled the blanket from off of your head, his face indifferent as he witnessed your disheveled state. “i’m not sure what’s going on, but i can assure you i will wait until you’re well enough to speak to me again. i will always wait.” alhaitham set his own memo book and pen beside your pillow. a warm hand held yours, a signal of reassurance. “please get better as soon as you can.”

he turned around to leave, and you could not bring yourself to reach out for him. what would you do? would the words crawl out of your throat, akin to a miracle? or would you plead at him with desperate eyes in hopes he’d read your mind? you did not know. every instance would inconvenience him in some way — that you could not bear.

you did not step foot outside for another week. alhaitham (and kaveh, much to your surprise) had left meals and gifts next to your door, all of which remained untouched. you were in stasis.

each thought had been replaced by a fog so asphyxiating that it had drowned every word the moment it rose to the surface. a bubbling exhaustion boiled in you. you wished to speak, to express anything at all, to apologize for inconveniencing those around you, and to apologize to alhaitham for putting him through such an obstacle.

as if sensing this desire, he arrived at your dorm again, this time with a more gentle appearance and a large bag behind him.

you reached out for the notebook he placed beside you a week prior. why are you here?

he kneeled down beside you, paying no mind to your disheveled appearance, and spoke softly, “i’m sorry.” if it were fitting, he would have laughed at the instantaneous furrow of your brows. “i should’ve realized. and in failing to do so, i have failed you.” alhaitham took the notebook and pen from your grasp, and with an unrivaled delicacy, he held you.

“i would give up my own voice if it meant i could spend an eternity with you,” he began. “i do not care if you lack a voice of your own. you’re still embedded in my heart all the same.”

you had not written to him for days. and yet, he understood everything. he read the words displayed in your features with a familiarity no one had demonstrated.

758 - willing to help me heal.

alhaitham sat across from you, his back hunched over his work and his face framed with a mix of feather-gray hair and wispy sunlight. he wrote with an unmatched fluidity, as if time were escaping him.

he let out a sigh as he set down his pencil and sat up straight. “why must you sit with me if you’ve finished this assignment weeks ago? it’s as if you’re mocking me.”

it’s entertaining. he grabbed the notebook from your side of the table and wrote haphazardly, contrasting his smooth technique before.

it’s really not. i feel as if i’m being ridiculed and observed under a microscrope. it’s horrible, he teased.

you’re smart, anyways. you’ll survive.

afternoons in the akademiya’s library were once suffocating and exhausting. to be surrounded by peers who could only sneer and misjudge and question was unpleasant. now, as you sat with your lover in a soft silence, you felt at peace.

[spiderlyla]

Broken Mugs — Miguel O'Hara

🕸summery: miguel is tottally not jealous that all your attention is on the new intern

🕸warnings: mention of injury/blood. reader is fem.

🕸a.n: this was actually a req from my other blog @spider999sposts lol. hope anon likes it!

He shouldn't feel this way.

He shouldn't feel his chest tighten. He shouldn't  feel his mind clouding. His claws shouldn't be digging this hard into his palm, leaving small scars on his skin. He shouldn't be staring at you this much either.

A yellow glow popped by his shoulder, hiding from sight of the other scientists. Under regular circumstances, he'd shoo her away before anyone could see her, but he was too fixated on keeping his eyes on you...and him. Why on earth would you even glance twice at his direction was his question. He'd been hired for two weeks now but Miguel never saw him getting any work down. He was just...around you. All the time. Making you laugh, touching your arm or shoulder here and there, glancing at your lips. You were as bright as ever, too nice, too friendly, but you were like that with everyone, that new intern shouldn't feel at all special.

"Boss, are you okay? Your blood pressure is going up." Miguel's claws dug deeper into his skin, while his other hand tightened around his coffee mug. The intern –whom he never really bothered to learn the name of– was showing you something under the microscope, his hand resting on your back as you leaned to look. You were laughing at some stupid thing he'd said.

"¿Qué está diciendo que la está haciendo reír tanto?" He rasped out, the burning coffee making its way down his throat. LYLA peeked from behind Miguel's ear, glancing at you. A smile crept on her face. "Oh, I get it. You're jealous."

Miguel's eyes flashed crimson, then returned to their normal brown. "I'm not jealous. That is a childish feeling, LYLA." He whispered. "I think it's a pretty grown feeling, actually." LYLA giggled. Miguel took another sip of his coffee, almost spitting all out when he saw him tuck a hair behind your ear while you spoke to him. You nervously laughed, taking a step back, but continued to talk. "He's distracting her from work." Miguel explained. He had no right to be jealous. He was not your boyfriend, nor were you dating. Sure, there were some glances here and there, occasional hand brushing, the fact that you always kept him company during lunch when everyone was too scared to sit with him, always brought him a snack when you were out to grab yourself one, but there was nothing exclusive. "She should be finishing up her research, for that promotion she wants so bad, he's a bad influence."

[What is he saying that is making her laugh so much?]

"Is he? I think he's helping her. They are at her station, you know? And that sample he showed her, she took notes after seeing it." Miguel scoffed, usually he liked being faced with the facts, but right now wasn't a good time. LYLA grinned at him, "It's okay if you're jealous, you know. You thought you had no competition—"

Miguel's grip around his mug tightened, ignoring the sound of cracking. "It's not a competition. It's not fair for him to compete with me." He grumbled, "Look at him, what does he have that I don't?"

"He's funny, probably."

"LYLA."

"Hey man, you asked."

"I don't know why she likes that damn intern so much," His eyes trailed on the two of you, and on the clock, by now you'd usually ask him if he'd like to join you for lunch break, but you were too occupied, of course you were, that trainee never shut up, did he? "He's scrawny, clumsy, and doesn't know what he's doing most of the time." LYLA popped on his other shoulder, resting on it. "Maybe she finds him cute."

"Oh, please." The mug cracked a little more, "She shouldn't be persuing an office romance. Its unprofessional. Besides persuing an office romance with an intern," He watched him look at the clock, and point at the door, he mouthed you something along the lines of 'do you want to get out of here?'

Miguel's blood boiled.

"...is stupid. And she isn't stupid, quite the opposite. She should be with someone with a stable income. Someone who will treat her good."

"Oh what, like you?"

A loud smash caught the attention of everyone in the lab. You finally looked up at him, your eyes widening at the sight. Miguel looked down, only realising what had happened after the sting of hot liquid dribbled down his arm. He'd smashed the mug he was holding into tiny little pieces, most shards stuck in his bloodied hand. The coffee he'd been drinking caused minor burns too.

"Miguel!" You brushed past the intern and ran over to him. LYLA was no where to be found, but he distinctively heard the sentence 'Thank me later.' being whispered into his ear. You stood infront of him, your face woven with worry. "Your hand, what happened?" You gently grabbed his wrist, inspecting his injuried hand closely. "The mug, had to be bad quality, broke from how hot the coffee is." He knew that didn't make a bit of sense, what a lame excuse from the 'world's greatest genius' as you called him, but he was just a man, and right now, all his focus was on how your skin felt against his, and how extremly close you were to his body.

And at how the intern looked really pissed off.

"Oh, you poor thing, that must've hurt." You pouted your pretty lips, looking at him with those beautiful eyes. "Yeah." Miguel shifted, his expression stoic but his reddening ears betrayed the facade he keeps up around you. "I'll get the first aid kit, I took a nursing class once—Or would you like me to take you to the—"

"You'll do a just fine, I'm sure."

You let go of his wrist to grab the first-aid kit quickly, and Miguel looks over to the intern, who was stomping out of the lab, grumbling under his breath.

He grinned. If this is all it took to get your attention back on him, he'd surely break alot more mugs now.

[mochalate]

[intro] new notification!

msby!atsumu x reader || w/c: 560 Atsumu discovers that the only thing worse than online dating, is dating advice online. a/n: oh look at that, another atsumu fic!! this one is less stressful for me though. its pretty short, with a cute little plot that won't cause me planning paralysis. making edits for atsumu is always so fun <3 i hope you'll read it!!

[chapter 1->]

r/relationship_advice • 3 hours ago

u/fattytuna95

I want to ask out my twin brother's girlfriend.

It's not as bad as it sounds. She's not really his girlfriend.

I'll try to explain.

We're colleagues, sort of. (Me and her— I'd rather starve to death than work for my brother.)

Last month, someone took a picture of us leaving the office. I was only walking her to her car but the person who took the picture wanted to imply that we were dating.

And that wouldn't have been an easy rumour for her to handle, so I got my brother (identical twin) to post a picture with her on his socials.

Obviously, just one picture wouldn't work to convince anyone, so they've been meeting up a couple times a week (they have similar interests, so they were friends already) to be seen together.

Now here's the issue— I never saw her like that before, and I thought it was just fucking annoying to watch people be lovey dovey, fake or not... but one of my other colleagues said it sounded like I was jealous.

And fuck, I am.

Do you think she'd be mad if I asked her out? I reacted pretty badly to the original picture. And I'm worried my brother likes her for real (those photos they're posting are kind of convincing...)

Edit: for everyone asking, no, I can't ask my brother. he'll know why, and if he really does like her I don't want to mess with it. and if he doesn't he won't let me hear the fucking end of it. i can hear the best man speech already.

↑ 25 ↓ •••

u/unicornpoodle • 2 hours ago

lol dude (I'm assuming you're a dude, unless you're a girl who unfortunately is built exactly like your brother) are you sure you like her and aren't just jealous of your brother being happy? fake or not

↑ 50 ↓ •••

u/fattytuna95 • 2 hours ago yeah i'm sure. I cut out a picture of one of my teammates and pasted it over his ugly mug and it made me even angrier. ↑ 35 ↓ •••

u/msbygirlie_13 • 2 hours ago

Oh hey!! I recognise you from the atsumu miya subreddit!! That's so cool you have a twin just like him!! And his brother got a gf recently too!!! (I think they're fr tho lol.)

Okay hmmm this is a tough one. wdym when yuo said 'reacted badly'??? and what was so bad about the rumour in the first place if it's an option for you now???? this is kinda weird ngl.

↑ 42 ↓ •••

u/fattytuna95 • 2 hours ago do you really they're the real deal??? I kind of laughed. And now that I look back at it, I think I might have looked way too eager to put it out there that we weren't dating. like I was disgusted or something. :( I wasn't, I just didn't want her to have any trouble. :( :( I'm sorry, I can't explain the situation any more for privacy reasons. ↑ 20 ↓ •••

u/guiltyassassin_ • 1 hour ago

well you don't have to talk to either of them... you said someone took the original photo. maybe they're still stalking?? ask them what they think?

lmfao you guys are either celebrities or highschoolers with this kinda drama

(also you keep calling your brother ugly, but then say you guys are identical? huh????)

↑ 5 ↓ •••

u/fattytuna95 • 55 minutes ago This is kind of an insane idea, but it does make sense. Maybe I'll do it. (and you wouldn't get it.) ↑ 2 ↓ •••

first chapter tomorrow! please like/reblog/reply/send me an ask if you enjoyed it :) it keeps me going lol [my other fics->] divider: @/cafekitsune

[mothwingwritings]

Can we have Ren/Fox (TPOF) and Mc with a child?Long after Fox decided to stay with MC, they both had a daughter (probably not something with consent and a bit of Stockholm syndrome).The daughter asks her mother how she got the scars and this makes MC have memories of post-traumatic stress.

I was so tickled by this ask that I started manically typing out a response for it nearly as soon as I saw it in my ask box (which at this point, was quite some time ago. Forgive me, I am a mess lul). I wrote the whole damn thing in a fit of passion, excited to release it into the world… But ultimately hated it and thought it was garbo, so I scrapped it and tried again. Wrote a second iteration and thought ‘hell yeah, this is it!!! Sick!’, but then I read it AND HATED THAT ONE TOO AAAHHH!!!

I rewrote this… so much…

But I never give up on my dreams, and you shouldn’t either! Persevere! Don’t give up on yourself! Here’s your daily motivation for the day! Keep writing even it makes you cry!!! :D

Anyway, so I wrote this third one, comprised of new stuff and the stuff I actually did like from the first two stabs, and it ended up being the one. Truly it is a Frankenstein of a fic lol. Regardless of all the reworking, I had a lot of fun writing this and enjoyed the prompt very much!!! I I hope you enjoy reading it just as much. :)

I’m sorry if the writing seems a tad too mature for the reader’s daughter in this, writing children isn’t my forte. ^^;

Due to the nature of this fic, IT IS 18+ ONLY!!! Thank you!

WARNINGS: Incessant mentions of abuse of all kinds for reader and mentions of physical abuse for her child!!! Reader is heavily scarred from said abuse and that’s a main theme in this fic so please avoid if that is upsetting to you. Also, though not the main focus, there are multiple mentions of child abuse in this fic, as well a part where reader goes off verbally on her child, so please be mindful of that as well! Other things of note: reader is a parent in this (which you can probably tell by the prev warning lol), reader getting hurt, blood, manipulation, Stockholm syndrome, being held against your will/isolation, mentions of noncon, sad family stuff :(

Diminishing rays of afternoon light splayed through the open window of your quaint living room, casting a comforting orange glow over everything they touched. The light gave the environment an ethereal and nostalgic feel, wrapping you in peaceful warmth as the sun sunk lower and lower. The loveseat you occupied was plush and inviting, and a mug of your favorite tea stood at the ready on the small coffee table beside you, steadily cooling with help from the last hurrah of winter blowing in gently from the outside. Besides the slight chill, the wind brought with it the heavy scent of freshly bloomed flowers, a delightful precursor to the oncoming spring.

Relishing the rare moment of serenity, you couldn’t help but wish that all your days could be this lovely.

You smiled down at your daughter who sat perched in your lap, happily flipping through the newest gift she had acquired from her Father- a thick picture book full of bright illustrations highlighting various exotic animals. As it lay sprawled across her tiny lap, her chubby finger pointed out each animal she took an interest in, her high pitched voice chirping away as she explained what she liked about the creatures. She got particularly excited when she spotted the page full of foxes, jabbing at the red one feverishly as she exclaimed “its daddy!”

Spotting the foxes began her down a path of assigning an animal to not just herself, but you as well. She didn’t find it fair that only her father had kin in the animal world, even though you pointed out that she technically did as well by sharing half the man’s blood. Your revelation did little to deter her, she wanted something new, something just for herself, and she wasn’t going to stop until she found her perfect soul animal. So she continued on, scanning each page in earnest until she found a creature that suited her.

She ended up picking a bunny for herself, supplying you with a comprehensive reason as to why she chose it. As she explained in great length, skimping no details, you couldn’t help but hold back laughter. She spoke as if she were a professor teaching a class, and you did your best to keep a straight face as she yammered on with her shoddy reasoning, deep down knowing she only picked a rabbit because of how cute they are.

After she was done waxing poetic about bunnies, she continued scouring the book, coming to a halt once she reached the wild cat section. She stopped with a gasp, beaming up at you as she pressed her finger firmly against one of the images on the page.

“Mommy this one is you!”

Your eyes traveled to the picture she was rapidly tapping, “An African Wildcat, huh?” You smirked down at the little girl in amusement, “Why did you pick that one for me?”

“Because it looks just like you!”

You chuckled at her enthusiasm, “It looks like me? How so?”

“It has marks just like you do!”

Her innocuous words sent a chill up your spine. Eying the stripes that crossed the cat’s legs, you felt a great unease begin to overtake your body. Her reasoning was not lost on you, the cats coat did quite resemble the jagged scars that covered nearly every inch of your body, and just like the feline in her book, your limbs were the most prominent location of said ‘markings’. You quickly shook your head, not wanting to dwell on it further. In hopes of moving on from the subject, the outpouring of words that flew from your mouth were jumbled and messy.

“O-oh, I see,” you stuttered, clearing your throat to steady your voice, “well you certainly picked a cute animal for me! Thank you baby, it was a good choice.”

She smiled at you innocently, a gesture that usually made your heart melt with affection. But as her tiny hands moved from the book to your arms, that smile did nothing but fill you with dread, the realization that you wouldn’t be getting out of this sticky situation hitting you like a brick to the face. 

“Yeah mommy, the kitty’s marks are just like these ones,” her stubby fingers gently traced the old wounds, a look of reverence reflected on her cherubic features. “They make you look like that kitty mommy,” her little voice cooed, “I like them a lot!”

Your muscles constricted at her words, a slight tremor coursing through you as you involuntarily tightened your grip on her. She took note of this, looking up at your strained features with a puzzled expression on her face.

“Don’t be sad mommy,” she spoke assuredly, “I really do like them! I think they are pretty!”

Her words burned you, scorching the inside of your frozen shell of a body, leaving you feeling sickly and discombobulated. The room around you started to spin in a hazy blur, a wave of nausea making you nearly wretch. Your breathing grew erratic as you tried to calm yourself, inwardly repeating that your daughter was just a child, a little girl barely four years of age who had an incredibly limited view of the world. Her words were not meant to upset you. Her opinions were coming from a place of total naivety.

Yet still, the mental assurance did little to help with the extremely uncomfortable position you now founds yourself in. It wasn’t as if this was her first time noticing your scars. She had mentioned them before, her curious mind trying to piece together the reason that her arms appeared different from your own. Each time she brought your old wounds up you couldn’t help but feel flustered, responding with weak explanations and misdirection to try and quickly brush off her questioning.

The marks came from a silly mistake, or a childhood accident, or from a careless moment when mommy should have been paying more attention. It was always excuses on repeat. How many lies had you told her on this topic alone?

But even if they were lies, it beat telling her the truth. You didn’t want to have to explain where the scars on your body actually came from to anyone, let alone a child, and especially not to your own daughter. How could you possibly word it gently, or in a way that she would understand, when you barely understood why you had them yourself? How could you look her in the eye and tell her that these markings were a permanent sign that you had been very, very hurt and that it was her own fathers hands that inflicted the pain?

Reliving the horrific moments that left your body in such a state was overwhelming enough on its own, but to also have to lay bare her father’s sins, relay to her the unsavory proclivities of a man who she idolized and adored, was not something you were keen on doing.

She didn’t know her daddy like you knew him. She was ignorant to the constant state of concern you lived in, unaware of the worries that plagued your mind and kept you up each night. All the troubles of the hell she had been born into were completely lost on the small, carefree girl.

But honestly that was for the best. You had made an unspoken promise the moment she entered your life that you would protect her no matter what. From the day of her birth onward it became your mission to keep her as happy and healthy as possible.

Ren had broken you, but she did not have to suffer the same fate.

At this point in her life, your daughter knew nothing of her daddy’s profession or ‘hobbies’, and you wanted it to remain that way for as long as possible, if not for the rest of her life. You dreaded each time Ren came home from an auction, terrified he may let casually slip too many details about his ‘lively client’ or that he would carelessly step through the door with the stains of his liaisons still littering his clothes. Your daughter was at an age where she was brimming with questions, and she was relentless in getting answers to each question she asked. Everything had to be explained in complete detail for her to be satisfied, drop the subject, and move on. She was a smart little thing, possibly too smart for her own good. You highly doubted a silly joke or wave of the hand would assuage her whirring mind should Ren grow too impetuous in her presence.

And should her questioning become too pesky, you fretted over what Ren’s reaction to it may be. The more you tried to avoid thinking about it the more you seemed to fixate on the topic, pondering just how much goading it would take from your daughter before his temper would rear its ugly head.  You, above anyone, had firsthand experience in just how volatile the man could be, the scars that littered your body a testament to his turbulent emotions and violent outbursts.

Looking back on it now, it’s a wonder you survived any of it at all.

Ren often told you he loved you, each confession spoken through honeyed words that spilled from his lips easily and often.  And while you didn’t doubt those words (you knew better than to, at this point), you also knew his sweet nothings weren’t merely a term of endearment, they also served as your curse. He loved you, but he also loved your fealty to him, your adoration and worship of him and only him. Should you not reciprocate his feelings as quickly or ardently as he expected, the mere thought of whatever punishment he would concoct was enough to send you into a debilitating panic attack.

There were few things he loathed more than when you flinched from his affection or if you exhibited any sign of distress towards his presence, especially after he had spent so many years going above and beyond to provide for you, devote himself to you. You had learned early on to keel any feelings of aversion you had to his advances, several of your more prominent scars a brutal reminder of that misstep alone.

 If your daughter uncovered the truth and saw her father for who he truly was, if she began to fear him the way you feared him, how would he respond?  If not only his partner, but his own daughter started shying away from him, what length would he go to to correct this behavior?

Dwelling on it made your skin crawl.

But perhaps all of your worries were asinine. Despite his inclination for cruelty, Ren had never so much as raised a hand towards your daughter, even when she did act up. If anything, he was overprotective of her, barely letting her move faster than a brisk jog lest she fall and hurt herself. He hated seeing his little girl experience even a modicum of physical pain, mentioning to you previously that were he able, he’d keep her locked up in a padded room all day and night to prevent any foreseeable accidents or injuries. Surely it was just his idea of a joke, but the insinuation still made you cringe.

It was almost comical, just how greatly the manifestation of his affection for her differed from how he showed his love for you.

His domineering nature shielded her from experiencing any true pain. Every scrape, bruise, and cut she ever received was superficial, nothing that caused major bleeding or left a lasting impression. She had no way of knowing what had been done to you to cause the scars that marred your form, the torment and hell you experienced with each slash, smack, burn. Hell, she probably didn’t even really understand what a scar actually was. All she knew was that her mommy and daddy had strange marks on their skin that didn’t follow any kind of set pattern, weird jagged lines and indents that her soft skin was curiously free from. The mystery of it all was as puzzling to her young mind as it was enticing.

However, some mysteries were best left unsolved, and just as with each other time she brought up this hot topic, you found yourself unable to look into her clear, bright eyes and tell her any semblance of the truth. She may have been forced upon you, but she was your daughter. You loved her, and you refused to be the one to shatter her innocence. You would keep her ignorant for as long as possible, shielding her to the endless nightmare of your daily lives, even if it cost you your sanity.

“Mommy,” her voice jarred you, dragging you from your thoughts, “mommy did you hear me? I said I think they are pretty!”

“T-that’s… I…” You stuttered, struggling to find the right words to say, your voice coming out much smaller than you intended it to. The room felt like it had dropped thirty degrees, your body twitching in response to the sudden chill.

“Daddy told me he gave some of them to you, like this one,” her pudgy, cold finger pressed into the faded heart that resided on your chest, the first of many indelible sins he had etched onto your form. Only the top half of the carved symbol was viewable above the collar of your shirt, so she tugged at the loose hem until she could see it in its horrible entirety.

“Daddy said he gave you this one because he loves you so much,” her voice grew quiet, a thoughtful look in her eye as they drank in wounds you wished you could forget, “Daddy loves me too, right mommy? You think he’ll give me a cute heart someday too?”

You felt as if you had been hit by a train.

“S-top,” the words were forced from your throat, airy and breathless, as if someone was wringing your neck to make them come out, “p-please, just stop talking.”

“What did you say mama,” your daughters sing-song voice responded as her fingers continued to trace and prod your scars, “You are whispering, is it a secret?”

“I told you to SHUT UP!”

As if following your command, your booming voice instantly silenced the small girl. Unused to such a violent outburst from her mother, her happy-go-lucky nature quickly shifted to one of alert, her tiny body going rigid as she stared up at you with fearful eyes.

Seeing her in such a state and knowing that you were the cause of it would normally have killed you inside, making you fall to your knees to beg for the child’s forgiveness. But right now, the thin thread that had been holding you together had snapped, and your words rushed out in a torrent you couldn’t begin to quell.

“Shut up, shut up, shut UP!” You seethed, clasping your hands to your ears to try and block out your own intrusive voice, “Just STOP TALKING about it! What are you even saying? Why would you ever want to look like this?!”

Tears started to flood your eyes, blurring the image of the girl who had quickly jumped from your lap and was now cowering before you. Through your bleary vision, you could see tears were brimming her eyes as well.

“You… You have no idea,” your voice warbled, shaking in equal parts grief and frustration, “You have no clue what you are saying, so just STOP IT. KEEP YOUR MOUTH SHUT AND DON’T YOU DARE SPEAK OF IT AGAIN!”

You slunk from the chair down to the floor, burying your face in your cold, stiff hands. The soft blubbering of your daughter could be heard through your own sobbing.

“I-I’m sorry mommy. I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

Hearing her broken voice began to shatter the spell you had been under, instant regret jerking you roughly back to reality. Your head sunk lower, your body scrunching itself up as tightly as possible to hide from this cruel reality.

Your screams were born from deeply buried feelings of hatred, tucked far, far away as a means of self-preservation. For a moment, you felt as if you despised your daughter, her existence tethering you to this wretched excuse of a life, binding you irrevocably to Ren. But as you lifted your heavy head, glancing up to stare into her young face, a face so very similar to your own, a face contorted in panic and sadness over her mother’s abrupt descent into madness… you realized it wasn’t her that you hated.

It was yourself.

Your daughter didn’t deserve this. She deserved normalcy. She deserved a father that didn’t pose a threat to her. She deserved a mother that wasn’t ruined by his hands. She deserved a happy and untroubled life, not to be stuck being raised in a barbed cage, navigating her way through life with nothing but the shattered remains of a battered woman to guide her.

“I’m so sorry,” you choked under the weight of your overwhelming emotions, snot and tears running freely down your ruddy cheeks and chin, “I’m so, so sorry baby…”

“What the hell is going on?”

You hadn’t heard the front door open, nor had you heard Ren’s jubilant greeting as he entered your home. He had no doubt been upset by the lack of welcome-it was one thing to be ignored by a child, but his doting wife? That was not something he was not apt to look past.

But surely any feelings of annoyance or frustration fled from his mind the moment he entered the room, his eyes falling upon your crumpled, messy form collapsed on the floor. You cursed his arrival, upset that he entered the scene at such a compromising time, right as you were struggling to regain an ounce of composure and properly apologize to the little girl who had done nothing wrong.

“D-daddy,” your daughter’s voice warbled as she barreled towards him, colliding into his waiting embrace. You wiped at your face in a desperate attempt to hide your previous outpouring of emotions, doing your best to avoid eye contact with Ren as his sharp gaze quickly flicked from you, to his daughter.

This had already become enough of a scene without Ren’s interference, it was best to try and begin damage control now. 

“Daddy I-I made mommy cry!” Tears continued to pour from your daughter’s eyes, her face twisting into a look of pure dismay. Her misguided admission of guilt made you recoil, knowing full well it would grant her no favors with the person she seeking comfort from. “I’m really sorry daddy! I didn’t mean to!”

After several endless seconds of silence, Ren spoke.

“… You made her cry?”

His voice was far sharper than it needed to be, further agitating the precarious state of affairs. In most cases he would have offered your daughter leniency, letting her get away with far more than she probably should. However that leniency was null and void if you ended up suffering in the process.  Ren could not forgive anyone that caused you any duress (himself, of course, being the exemption) even if that person was his own flesh and blood.

“What do you mean you made her cry? What the hell did you do to her?”

“I-I don’t know,” she wailed, a fresh wave of tears spurred on by the accusatory tone of her father’s voice, “I just told mommy I thought her marks were pretty and then she started crying! I wasn’t lying daddy, I like them! I think they make mommy look really pretty!”

“Her marks…?” Ren’s look of vexation began to dissipate as the meaning of her words donned on him. He lifted his arm, rolling up his sleeve to reveal his own scars to the little girl. Pointing a clawed finger to them, he leaned down until he was looking her in the eye, “You mean like these?”

As she nodded her head vigorously in confirmation, Ren tutted, “That’s the reason for all the water works? An innocent compliment started all this fussing?” He scoffed, shaking his head, “Isn’t that a little bit… silly?

You tensed at the sound of his barking laugh, your frown deepening as an amused grin spread wider across his lips. You wished that you could say it was shocking for him to have such disregard after finding the two of you in such an agitated state, but it was painfully in character of him to shrug off your misery and suffering as inconsequential.  How he could so nonchalantly normalize this hellish situation he kept you and your child ensnared in, you would never understand.

Your daughter was apparently sharing similar thoughts, as her face began to once more morph into a pre-sobbing scowl. She was no doubt wounded that her father was not offering her the comfort she was seeking, her emotional state already greatly weakened by her mother’s venomous tantrum.

To help quell another round of tears, Ren pulled the child closer, wrapping her up in his arms so that her tiny form was nearly enveloped by him.  “Shhh, no more tears angel,” he cooed sweetly, patting her head gently to appease her, “There isn’t any reason to cry, especially because… Well, you’re right! Mommy’s whole body is pretty, isn’t it? Her marks just compliment the beauty that’s already there.”

Slowly but surely, her tears began to dissipate. Hunched over shoulders loosened, and sniffles and hiccups gave way to even breathing. Like clockwork, her father’s gentle handling soothed her, the same touch that destroyed you offering her salvation.

As if under a spell, the turmoil that had overcome your daughter quickly began to vanish, her sobbing fading into quiet sniffles. Once she was fully calmed, Ren continued speaking, “That’s all you meant to say to mommy, right angel? I’m sorry she took it the wrong way, she’s probably just tired or hungry, you know how mommy gets. She’ll get over it in no time flat!”

Heat spread through your body at his flippant dismissal of your feelings, an indignant blush lighting your cheeks as you gripped your hands tightly at your side. Your previous emotional episode left you all but drained, but your will to fight back against his callous commentary could never truly be contained.

“In fact, I bet she is already over it now,” Ren’s voice took on a jovial tone as he directed his focus solely on you, “Aren’t you, pumpkin?”

With the ball suddenly in your court, you flinched as both sets of expectant eyes fell on you. Your own eyes darted from Ren’s piercing glare, down to your daughter’s wide-eyed look of unbridled hope. You felt much like the rabbit that had been caught by the fox, stuck in a lose-lose situation. Seeing him hunched over her small body as she clutched to him as a life line, openly concerned that her mother may once more reject her while her father remained a bastion of strength and understanding, left you reeling. Either you would get heated again and stay the villain, but possibly hold on to an ounce of your dignity, or concede to Ren and have yet another piece of your soul wither away and die-the price to pay so that your daughter could remain in blissful ignorance for another day.

“Aren’t you, pumpkin?” He repeated himself slowly, enunciating each word. The kindness in his voice serving only as a mask for the threat buried beneath.

“Y-yes,” you responded quickly, shooting them both a smile you hoped was convincing, “I am very sorry, baby. Daddy is right. Mommy is just… tired.”

A serene smile lit her face, your words placating her. Seeing her happy once more helped relieve a bit of the ache in your own heart, making the lie worth it.

“Good, good,” Ren affirmed with a nod, carefully detaching himself from your daughter as he stood, “but you know little one, mommy deserves some love too, don’t you think? She may have been in the wrong, but it’s not nice to make her cry like that. Why don’t you go give her a hug, hm?”

With no further persuading necessary, she quickly padded over to you, hopping on your lap with so much enthusiasm that it nearly knocked the wind from you. Her arms tightly latched around your torso as she smushed her face into your chest, rubbing it back and forth like she was trying to burrow beneath your skin.

“I love you mommy,” her voice spoke clearly, any hint of previous sadness long gone. You sighed, relieved that this dramatic chapter was over as you pulled your daughter closer to you.

“I love you too.”

During this show of affection, Ren had made his way behind you, slinking so deftly you hadn’t even known he had moved until you heard him chuckle softly behind you.

“This is what I like to see,” he spoke with a sickeningly dreamy sigh, “nothing makes me happier than when my two girls are happy.”

He placed his hands gingerly atop your shoulders, trailing them down until they rested on your arms. His thumbs pressed gently against the marred skin, rubbing in a small circular motion in an attempt to subdue you. His claws grazed your flesh, uncomfortably scratching against you as they snagged against your skin.

He planted a firm and lingering kiss to the side of your head, pulling away just enough that his lips grazed the shell of your ear. “There really was nothing to cry about,” he whispered breathily, his words quiet enough that despite your daughters’ proximity, she would have no chance of hearing them. “It’s almost unfair how gorgeous you are, scars and all. But you must know that, right my sweet pet? I tell you all the time.”

Ren took in a deep breath, releasing it in a shaky sigh, “Seeing these scars reminds me of all we have been through, all that we share. They are a symbol of our bond.”

One of his claws pressed down sharply, a small bead of blood pooling around the piercing. Leisurely he began to drag his finger up your arm, a thin red line following in its wake. You shivered at the burning sensation, but deigned to give him any reaction further than that.

“Don’t forget pumpkin, these pretty marks are a reminder of my constant love for you.” He chuckled softly, peppering a few kisses to the back of your neck while his claws slowly sunk deeper, “And right now I am feeling  terribly sentimental, so for old times’ sake, why don’t I add a few more to remind you just how precious to me you are~?”

[storiesofsvu]

Common Cold

Olivia Benson x reader warnings: minor language, that's about it. I did not read through this or edit it, so... not my fault if there's mistakes or its terrible LOL.

Olivia was pouring her coffee in the kitchen when she heard the small cough from around the corner of the hallway, glancing up in your direction as you rounded the bend.

“You coming down with something?”

“No.” You nearly shot her a glare, “my throat’s just drier than the desert.” You stepped up to the cupboard, pulling down a mug and shifted to the coffee machine only for Liv’s hand to wrap around your wrist, redirecting you to the fridge.

“You might want to hydrate first.”

“Fine.” You grumbled, pulling the Brita pitcher out of the fridge to fill the mug up, feeling Olivia’s eyes on you as you drained it in one go, filling it up again.

“I was gonna stop at the bodega for breakfast, unless you want something different?”

“I’m not really hungry.” You replied with a soft sigh and she raised a brow at you.

“What?” You asked.

“You didn’t eat much at dinner last night either, are you sure you’re feeling okay?”

“Yeah. Just a tickle in my throat.” You waved her off, slowly sipping your way through the second mug of water, “Carisi always has extra of that emergen-c stuff, I’m sure I can steal some, kick the ass of whatever this is before it has a chance to sneak in.”

“Alright.” Olivia surrendered, pulling you to her to press a kiss to your temple, “you let me know if you start feeling worse and need to come home early.”

“I’m fine.” You insisted, pulling down a travel mug from the cupboard to fill it with coffee, glancing up at your girlfriend for approval that she gave in the tiniest nod before you added sugar and cream and followed her out the apartment door.

By lunch time, vitamins weren’t the only thing you’d stolen from Carisi, his Fordham hoodie wrapped tightly around your frame as you shivered at your desk. Olivia was on the way back from the break room, glancing up across the bull pen to see you tugging the hood of the sweater over your head before returning your attention to your laptop. With a gentle sigh she wandered over to your desk, placing down half her sandwich.

“Have something to eat, you’ll feel better.”

“Still not hungry.” You replied with a yawn, running your hands over your face, rubbing at your eyes the best you could without ruining your make up.

“Sweetheart…” she perched on the side of your desk, “no offence but you look like hell.” Her hand snuck under the hood, smoothing back a few pieces of your hair. “Are you sure you don’t need to go home?”

“I just didn’t sleep well last night.” You yawned again, trying to keep this one contained.

“Yeah, cause you were up all night coughing.” Liv pointed out and you pouted, “and it’s nowhere near cold enough in here for that hoodie, it’s June…”

“Guess I’m just running cold today.”

“Let me take you home.” She rubbed at your shoulder, “get you some rest.”

“M’fine.” You protested, a small cough rumbling through your throat, “can’t have you taking off in the middle of the day.”

“Alright, meet me halfway then.” She slid off your desk, “I’ve got some Buckley’s in my desk, you take some of that, and go sleep it off in the crib. I’ll wake you up when it’s time to go.”

“Fine.” You whined, pushing back from your desk as you followed her into her office, surprised when she followed you to the bunk room. She’d grabbed a couple of comfier blankets from her office, tucking them around you as you curled up on one of the beds, her hand coming to rest on your forehead.

“You really are burning up. If this doesn’t help I’m taking you home, understood?”

“Yes Ma’am.” You half teased back, yawning again as you nuzzled into the pillow, pulling the blankets and Carisi’s hoodie tighter around you.

“Get some sleep sweet girl.” Liv murmured, leaning down to press a gentle kiss into your forehead before she moved from the room, flicking off the light to hopefully give you a restful nap.

You weren’t entirely sure how long you’d been out; you just felt the bed dip with Olivia’s weight, a cool hand resting on your forehead and stroking your cheek. You groaned, slowly rolling onto your back as you attempted to stretch out your aching body.

“How are you feeling?” Olivia asked softly and you coughed in return.

“Sweaty.” You grimaced, “thirsty…sore…”

“Ready to admit defeat and let me take you home and properly take care of you?” She asked with a soft grin on her cheeks and you looked up at her and nodded. “Alright, c’mon.”

The entire trip home was honestly a blur, you could barely keep your eyes open, your head resting against the cool glass of the car window. Your body was burning, but you were shivering at the same time, your head throbbing and your throat on fire. Olivia’s hand was resting on your thigh, squeezing softly in assurance that you were almost home.

Back in the apartment she helped you change into comfier clothes, chuckling at the way you pulled Carisi’s hoodie back on, claiming it was fuzzier than any of yours. She sat you down on the couch, taking a make up wipe from the packet and cleaning your face before she urged you to bundle up in as many blankets as you wanted.

Your eyes fluttered shut, listening to her pad around the apartment while she collected whatever she deemed necessary. A few minutes later and she was perching on the edge of the couch, her hand soothing up your side, “sit up for me, take these.”

Groaning as you did so, your eyes cracked open, taking the pills from her and swallowing them down with the help of the large glass of water she’d brought you. She left the bottle along with the Buckley’s on the end table, the water on the coffee table so it was more accessible.

“That should help break the fever, help with your head. Try to get some more sleep and I’m gonna make you some soup for dinner, you need to eat, alright?”

You nodded bleakly, dropping back down onto the couch and Liv leaned over you, squeezing you gently and kissing the top of your head. You shivered slightly when she moved away, her body heat vanishing and she tucked another blanket around you in hopes that it would help.

Being as quiet as she could, she looked into the fridge, pulling out what she’d need for some semi homemade chicken noodle soup and was forever thankful for the leftover rotisserie chicken from last night. Vegetables were chopped up and then placed in the pot to sauté along with some garlic and she preheated the oven for some Pilsbury flaky rolls to go along with it, popping the tray in once it was ready. Broth got added to the pot, seasoned appropriately and once it was boiling and the delicious smells were wafting through the apartment she added in the noodles. Glancing over her shoulder she found that you were still dead to the world, curled around yourself on the couch snoring softly and she couldn’t help but smile, knowing that you were at least on your way to feeling better.

While she was waiting for everything to fully cook she opened the tea cabinet, searching through the boxes until she found the one she thought you would like the best that had the best benefits to helping a cold. She flicked on the kettle and pulled down a mug for you before picking a wine for herself and poured out a glass, taking a sip of it as she waited for the timer to go off. The soup finished first and she pulled it off the burner, tossing in the chicken, knowing it would heat fine as everything kept cooking, placing the lid on the pot to keep it going. A couple of minutes later and the rolls were being pulled from the oven and she was pouring out your mug of tea.

Behind her she heard a quiet groan, a shuffling of blankets and the slow padding of your footsteps as you paused in the kitchen.

“Smells amazing.” You commented, your voice hoarse.

“Well I couldn’t exactly let you go empty handed now, could I?” She asked with a smile, stepping towards you to cup your cheek, kissing your forehead. “Surprised you’re up already.”

“Have to pee.” You yawned, “but I was out long enough to start feeling better.”

“Good.” She pecked your cheek, “hopefully this is only a twenty four hour thing then.”

“Mmhm.” You nodded before disappearing down the hallway.

You stopped in the kitchen on the way back, offering to help and she simply shooed you away, telling you to get comfortable on the couch while she took care of things. First she refilled your water, making sure it was cold and crisp, then she brought over your mug of tea, followed by a steaming bowl of soup with a bun on the side. Finally she joined you on the couch with her own dinner and wine, settling in beside you.

“What’d you want to watch?” She asked, smoothing your hair back, pressing a kiss to the side of your head.

“Grey’s.” You mumbled back, blowing on your tea to cool it off before taking a sip.

“Alright.” She replied with a smile, picking up the remote to figure out where you’d last left off on your favourite binge. She watched you curiously for a moment as you tried to navigate the bowl of soup without using the table or pulling both your arms out from under the blanket, “you need a hand?”

“I dunno how I’m supposed to do this without spilling it everywhere.” You whined and she chuckled.

“Here.” She reached for the bowl, “settle in however you want. I’ll hold the bowl; can you handle the spoon?” She asked with a tease and you scowled in her direction.

“I’d be mad at you if you hadn’t made me dinner.” You grumbled, coughing a couple of times before you finally managed to get comfortable and could start eating your soup.

Olivia was happy to see you finish the bowl completely, using the roll to soak up the remnants of the broth before she placed it back on the coffee table. She readjusted slightly, her arm coming to rest on the back of the couch, her heart warming as you immediately dropped into her side. Your head came to rest on her chest, her hand automatically going to your hair, softly playing with it as you curled around her.

“Thank you.” You murmured softly, letting out a little yawn as you refocused on the tv.

“Of course sweet girl.” She replied, kissing the top of your head, “whatever you want, you get. You know how much I hate to see you sick; you’ll feel better soon.”

“Promise?”

“I do.” She laid a kiss on your hair, her hand soothing up and down your back, “don’t fight the sleep alright, you’ve seen this show a million times, you already know what happens.”

“Alright, alright.” You didn’t have any energy left to even try and fight with her, your eyes fluttering shut as the strum of her heart lulled you to sleep.

Olivia had said it herself already, it didn’t matter what she had to give up, or how much extra work she had to do, she would do whatever it was you needed to make sure that you were happy and healthy. She loved you; she loved taking care of you and more importantly she loved seeing you shine and you couldn’t do that when you were sick.  She would happily sacrifice an afternoon at work, a dinner out on the town if it meant making sure you knew you were loved.

Even if that meant you passed on whatever bug you had to her three days later and the entire process began again but from the other side.  

______________________

@red1culous @imlike-so-gaydude @altsvu @svulife-rl rl @svushots @lesbianspacecowboy @whispered-tear-drops @wannabe-fic-reader @lawandorderimagines @venablemayfairgoode @whimsicallymad @oliviaswifey @alexusonfire @screenee @mysticfalls01 @beccabarba @littlegaybabe @cmmndrwidw @bumblebear30 @enduringalexblake @molllss @wosoimagines @brienneseveruscalawayfanfiction @solemnnova @infernumlilith @yourtaletotell @australiancarisi @cerberus-spectre @wandas-wife @emskisworld @newyorker14 @lawandorderuswnt @wandasbrat @hbkpop @samwithnoplan @multifandomlesbianic @sia2raw @ladysc @narvaldetierra @dxtery @poisonedcrowns @momlifebehard @holycrapraewth @alexxavicry @onmykneesformarvel @kmc1989 @temp0rary-bliss @prentiss-theorem

[vbecker10]

Hi I was jw if you could do a Loki x reader where they have a huge fight and then reader leaves for a mission to only come back injured. Loki is given a note from her apologizing to him and when she wakes up he takes care of her apologizing as well? Super duper fluffy ending?

Hey anon!! I have two asks that have very similar ideas so I'm doing them together. I'm sorry if it took me so long to get to it that you sent it again but I really do love this idea. I changed a little bit of it and kinda combined both asks. Hopefully it was worth the wait 💚

That's Not What I Meant

Pairing: Loki x female reader

Warnings: arguing, angst, injury, lots of fluff

Summary: You and Loki have an argument but before the two of you can resolve it, you are called away on a mission for a few days. You return from the mission injured and still hurt by what Loki said before you left but he is determined to show you how much you truly mean to him.

A/N: I threw in Halloween stuff cause it's October so why not right 🎃 lol... also, as usual this got away from me and is way longer then I intended 🤷‍♀️

"Its October first!" you say as you flip the calendar on your kitchen wall excitedly. "Do you know what that means?" you turn towards Loki.

He looks up from the coffee maker, "I would say its Saturday but I imagine that's not the answer you are looking for."

"Its Halloween!" you answer with a wide smile. He rolls his eyes but you catch a glimpse of him smiling before he turns back to face the counter. You move to stand behind him and put your arms around his waist, resting your cheek against his back.

He shakes his head and chuckles softly while he pours the fresh coffee into two mugs. "I was under the impression that Halloween was on the last day of the month, not the first," he says.

You groan, letting go of him so you can lean your back against the counter next to him. You look up at him, crossing your arms and say, "Technically yes but... we can do Halloween stuff all month."

He takes a sip of his coffee, "A whole month seems a bit unnecessary. Surely one day is enough."

"It absolutely is necessary!" you tell him, a bit louder than you expected to.

He raises an eyebrow then waves his hand for you to continue. "Very well. What did you have in mind, darling?" he asks.

"Everything... Some of the parks here do hayrides, corn mazes and apple picking. I've always wanted to go apple picking, maybe Wanda could teach me how she makes those mini apple crumbles," you say and Loki smiles, you know how much he loves any type of dessert he can get his hands on. "There are tons of haunted houses we can visit of course," you add.

"Of course," he nods dramatically in agreement which causes you to laugh.

"Oh and I feel like you would like pumpkin carving," you say and he tilts his head curiously. "Because you know..." you make a stabbing motion, "Knives and such."

"That seems acceptable," he laughs then leans forward to kiss you briefly. "Anything else, love?"

"Can't forget watching horror movies with lots of junk food and cuddles or scaring everyone on the team," you tell him.

"How could I say no to either of those?" he smiles as he puts his coffee mug on the counter and moves closer to you. He slips one arm around you and you lean against his chest, looking up at him. "It'll be hard to pick a favorite activity but I don't think you can beat scaring the others," he says with a mischievous grin.

You hit his chest lightly, "Want to try picking a favorite again?"

He kisses the top of your head, "Pumpkin carving?"

"You're the worst," you giggle as you pull free. "The correct answer is horror movies and cuddles, obviously. Just for that, I'm picking out our costumes for Stark's party."

His mood shifts suddenly as the playful smile leaves his lips. He picks up his coffee mug and takes another sip. "There's no need for you to do that," he says in a serious tone, "I won't be attending the party." With that, he turns and walks out of the kitchen.

"You don't want to go?" you ask as you follow him into the living room.

He sits on one end of the couch and sets his mug on the coffee table. "Y/N, you know I don't go to Stark's parties. I never have and I see no reason to start now," he says without looking at you.

"I thought we could go together," you say with a hopeful smile.

He picks up his book from the side table and open its, "Why would you think that?"

"Because it would be fun?" you ask, feeling more unsure of yourself with every passing moment.

He looks up at you briefly and then back to his book. "I doubt very much it would be," he says.

You stand across from him in silence, hurt by the thought that Loki didn't even want to consider going with you. Loki has never been one to socialize with the team voluntarily but you had been excited about the idea of finally having a date to one of Stark's parties.

"I know we've only been dating a few months but... I guess I just assumed you would want to go with me," you say quietly.

"Don't Midgardians have a saying about assuming things?" he asks as he turns the page of his book.

"Well, yea..." you put your mug on the coffee table. "Can you not read while we're talking?"

"You know I'm perfectly capable of holding a conversation and reading at the same time," he says without looking up, you wrap your arms around yourself and don't respond. He finally looks up and slides his bookmark between the pages before setting it on the table. "Better?" he asks in a sarcastic tone.

"Oh, is it rude of me to want you to pay attention to me when I'm talking?" you ask, unable to hide your growing annoyance.

"There is nothing to talk about. I have told you I'm not going," he says. "You're more then welcome to go to that ridiculous event alone." He sits back and opens his book again.

"Its not ridiculous," you argue back but he doesn't acknowledge you as he turns the page.

"And I don't... I don't want to go alone. I want to go with my boyfriend. What's wrong with that?" you ask.

"Are you really going to just ignore me now?" you ask when he continues to read silently.

"I'm not ignoring you, I'm just done with this conversation," he says as he flips the page.

"That's not how conversations work-" you say, rolling your eye sarcastically.

"I don't want to be with you Y/N," Loki says in a harsh tone as he slams the book closed.

You instantly take a step back as his words hit you. He stands up quickly, dropping his book as moves towards you. "Go, I meant I don't want to go with you," he tries to correct himself but your mind has already latched onto those words.

"You... don't..." you whisper as you stand in front of him in disbelief, shaking your head slowly.

"No, no. That's not what I meant," he repeats. "Y/N, I didn't mean that."

He reaches for your arm and you pull away from him. "But you said it," you say, you feel as if you're heart is physically breaking. "Why would you say that?" you ask, close to tears.

"Y/N, I-" Loki starts to explain but is cut off by the sound of your phone ringing from the other room.

You turn from him and walk back to the kitchen to answer it. Loki follows you and tries to take your hand but you turn from him. You purposefully stare at your feet while on the phone to avoid looking at Loki who is growing increasingly upset and nervous.

When you hang up from your call with Agent Hill you ask, "Can you please leave? I have to be ready to take off for a mission in twenty minutes and I-"

"Y/N, I'm not leaving until we talk," he shakes his head. He attempts to close the distance between the two of you again and this time you don't move away. You keep your eyes fixed on the ground as tears begin to surface. He touches your cheek lightly but you still don't look up.

"That's not what I meant," he says again and you nod slowly, your heart believes him but your mind won't let go of this words so easily. "Please look at me," he pleads but you can’t.

"I have to get ready," you tell him again in a hushed voice.

"Can we talk when you get back?" he asks and you mumble ok in response. He kisses the top of your head lightly and says, "Be safe, Y/N."

(Three days later)

You limp slowly down the long corridor and find yourself standing in front of Loki's door. You can tell he's awake, most likely reading, when you see the light creeping out from under the door even though it's just past one in the morning.

You stand there frozen for a moment. All you want to do is feel his arms wrap around you but every time you picture him, you hear his voice echo. He said he didn't want to be with you and although he quickly took it back you just couldn't shake it. His words had burned themselves into your thoughts and refused to leave.

You try to take a deep breath and feel a searing pain spread through your left side. You look down at the brace on your left knee and rub your left arm, just above where the cast was set. Shaking your head, you turn to drag yourself the rest of the way down the hall to your room to sleep.

You get a few feet away when you hear Loki's door open and you stop but don't turn. "Y/N, welcome back," he says quietly.

You can feel your heartbeat picking up at the sound of his voice and you can't help but smile a bit. "I've missed you, love," he says, you can hear he's stepped out into the hall.

"I missed you too," you tell him as you turn to face him. You watch as his eyes move up and down your body, filling with concern.

"Y/N, are you alright? What happened?" he asks, standing close to you. You shrug and tell him that the mission was ultimately successful but you were thrown during an explosion at the Hydra base. You had broken your arm and sprained your knee, in addition to being covered in bruises. You tell him you're exhausted and just want to lay down.

He reaches out and takes your hand, "I know you're tired darling, but come with me." You look up at him quietly, he gently strokes your cheek. "Let me take care of you," he says in a soothing voice.

You smile sleepily and nod, absolutely nothing could sound better then letting Loki look after you right now. No matter what he said before you left, you were still completely in love with him, although you had never been brave enough to say it. You squeeze his hand lightly and he leads you back to his room.

Once inside, he closes the door quietly and picks you up careful not to hurt your side or leg. You let out a small laugh in surprise as he carries you bridal style into the living room. "I can walk," you tell him but you make no attempt to be put down.

"Not without being in pain it seems," he answers in a caring tone.

You wrap your good arm around his neck a bit tighter and kiss his cheek lightly without thinking. He smiles when he looks down at you but you can see it doesn't quite reach his eyes. His eyes are red and glassy, his normally silky smooth hair appears slightly tangled and you've never seen his clothing wrinkled before.

You look around as he carries you through his apartment. His space is usually meticulously neat but there are books messily piled on the end table and floor. You notice a pillow and blanket from his bed have been moved to the couch and there are several empty mugs on the coffee table. He walks through the living room and into his bedroom where the bed you've shared is made perfectly, expect for the missing pillow. You realize its the pillow from your side of the bed that's been moved to the couch.

As if he is reading your thoughts he says, "I haven't been able to sleep without you."

You close your eyes, hold him tighter and whisper, "I'm sorry, Loki." You knew how hard the last few days had been for you but you are quickly seeing how badly it had affected Loki as well.

He kisses your forehead as he gently opens the bathroom door with his foot. He sets you down on the countertop next to the sink.

"I understand you're tired but... I just need you to know I'm sorry," he says. "I didn't mean what I said before you left, you know that right? I was frustrated about the party and it just came out wrong. I-" he tells you and you pull him closer to you. You put your good arm around his waist and move your legs to be on either side of him as they dangle over the edge.

You had spent the last three days replaying what Loki said and you can tell he had been too. "I know Loki," you interrupt him. "I know you didn't mean it," you tell him and he breaths a sigh of relief. He strokes your cheek lightly then leans down to kiss you.

When he breaks the kiss, you hide your face against his chest. "Y/N...?" he asks, running his hand up and down your back lightly.

"I'm sorry I pushed you about going to the party. I know you don't enjoy going to them and it wasn't fair that I got upset instead of listening to you," you tell him.

He puts his fingers under your chin and tilts your head so you are looking up at him again. "I will go to the party, I just want to make you happy Y/N," he offers but you shake your head no and he looks confused.

"I don't want to go anymore," you tell him.

"You should go. I know how much fun you thought his last party was," he says.

You smile at him and run your fingers through his hair gently, "I would rather spend time with you, doing something we both like."

He cups your cheek and brings your lips to his. You kiss him back as his hand slides down your back, holding you close to his chest. You giggle when you pull away to breath, "I meant something like going to a museum... but that works too."

He laughs at your response than says, "Well we still have all the things on your Halloween list to get through."

You nod happily as you yawn then groan in pain when your stretching aggravates your sore muscles. His smile fades and he looks concerned again.

"Let's get you more comfortable, darling," he says and you agree.

You rest against Loki with your eyes closed as you listen to the tub full with water. After a few minutes, Loki carefully helps you out of your dirty, bloodied uniform and places you into the warm water. You let out a sigh as your muscles begin to relax from the oils Loki had added. Resting your broken arm on the edge of the tub, you let yourself sink completely under the bubbles.

Loki's kneels behind you and begins to gently unbraid your hair. He runs his long fingers through your hair and then down your neck to your shoulders, massaging all the tension from your muscles. When he finishes, he kisses you softly. "Just rest now, I'll be back in a moment," he says as he gets up.

You nod with a smile, struggling to keep your eyes open. Just as you are about to drift off completely, Loki returns to being you to bed. After drying off, Loki conjures you a soft pair of green shorts and a black tank top to sleep in.

You giggle, half asleep when he picks you up again and carries you into the bedroom. He lays you on the bed and then gets in next to you. At soon as he pulls the covers over the two of you, you curl up against his side.

Loki wraps his arms tightly around you and whispers, "I love you, Y/N."

For a moment, you aren't sure if you dreamed hearing this words or if he actually said he loved you for the first time. You look up at him and when you see his smile, you know you weren't dreaming.

"I love you too, Loki," you confess happily, right before you slip into a sound sleep.

@michelleleewise @ace-of-gay @high-functioning-lokipath @poetic-fiasco @soubi001 @lokisninerealms @lulubelle814 @lovingchoices14 @justasecretwriter @theaudacitytowrite @klaushargreeves420 @coffeeorsomething-irl @lokisgoodgirl @xorpsbane @avoliax @talesofadragon @lokiandbuckysdoll @animnerd @juulle987 @lokiprompts21 @javagirl328 @kats72 @lokisasgardianvampirequeen @mochie85 @princess-asgard @holdmytesseract @lokixryss @peaches1958 @lokidbadguy @highkeysimpingforloki

Let me know if you want to be taken off or added to this list! 💚

[five-hxrgreeves]

Two Positives Equal a Negative (Or Something Like That)

PAIRING: adam warlock & fem! quill’s sister!reader

WC: 2.8k (again, a long one. I just can’t seem to write anything short!) 

SUMMARY: you’ve always had trouble sleeping thanks your numerous (unfortunate) life experiences. While he hasn’t lived as long as you have, Adam has a similar problem. Fortunately, a Terran phrase that your brother taught you might have the solution that you seek.

WARNINGS: slight gotg three spoilers, fluff, angst if you squint.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: okay, so I accidentally lied and I realized that my last one-shot wasn’t my first official one; I wrote a Natasha x reader several years ago. I just don’t post on here that often so I forgot about it, lol. Anyway, Adam Warlock currently has a chokehold on me so here’s another one-shot for him- the sequel that I mentioned on the last one. I’m tempted to write a Gally one/two-shot, but I’m not familiar with the TMR universe so I’m worried that I’d mess it up.

Also, I know that the phrase is actually ‘two negatives equal a positive,’ but I was drawing on the fact that non-Terrans wouldn’t really remember/understand Peter’s references, and since ‘you’ had only been to Earth during Endgame, you it mixed up.

Part 0 , Part 1

You’d always had trouble sleeping, especially on your father’s planet. There had just been a sense of. . . wrongness that you didn’t need Mantis’ empath powers to feel. It had made you on edge most of the time, alert for the unseen danger that you felt. While this might’ve just been your role as Ego’s protector speaking, you knew that your sister felt similarly. Mantis had once offered to put you to sleep using her powers, which you’d agreed to. Although it had worked, you hadn’t liked the feeling of your emotions being messed with, or the vulnerability that came with sleep. Even though you trusted that your sister wouldn’t hurt you, Ego was a different story entirely.

So, that meant that you were up most of the time with only catnaps and snatches of sleep when absolutely necessary. (Luckily your enhanced stamina helped in this case so it wasn’t terribly detrimental to your wellbeing.) It was hard to hide your unusual sleep patterns on the Milano with your new friends since there wasn’t space to walk around like there had been on Ego’s planet. But the Guardians all had various traumas of their own, so they understood the difficulty of getting peaceful rest. Some nights had even been better than others as Peter would teach you how to play Terran card games, which would then include the rest of the Guardians once you’d learned.

You also liked to sit in the pilot’s chair late at night and watch the darkness of space light up around you. It was funny, really; everyone expected space to be a dark, black vacuum of nothing when it was actually just the opposite. Sure, there was no physical form of life, but space was alive in its own way. As the Milano sailed aimlessly through the stars, you’d pass the orange-red clouds of dust and gas— nebulas. Or the brilliant white-blue of a dying star, or the different hues of blue-black that surrounded you. Space was truly beautiful, which was something that you never tried to take for granted.

But now you were stuck on Knowhere. There were no brilliant colors of space to distract you or friends to play card games with. Mantis was gone— your only source of comfort on those long nights when you’d served your father. You were alone, with nothing but a Zune to distract you as you sat, bored, in the kitchen late into the night. You’d decided on some calmer tunes and were currently listening to the Frank Sinatra playlist you’d curated. A warm mug of tea— which Peter had also introduced you to— sat between your hands as your eyes glazed over, getting lost in your music.

--

As it turned out, Adam wasn’t that great of a sleeper, either. It always felt like there was too much energy running through him to be properly restful— not to mention that, whenever he closed his eyes, he saw his mother waiting for him as he flew desperately towards her. And then the explosion would come, jolting him out of sleep as a reminder of his failure.

With a sigh, he pushed back his covers and stood. Since he was already dressed (his mother had always told him to be ready for anything), he made his way to the kitchen where he’d baked cookies with you. It hadn’t been that long ago, but he already missed the comfortable, homey feeling he’d gotten as he formed the batter into spheres with you standing at his side. You had yet to talk to Rocket about how his comments made you feel, but he knew it was because you respected your teammate and didn’t like making a big deal out of things. Thinking about you now, he sort of hoped that he would see you in the kitchen when he got there— but that was a crazy thought; it was the middle of the night! Any normal person would be in a deep sleep by now.

So, it was definitely a pleasant surprise when he came upon you, sitting at the head of the table. Your earbuds were in your ears, as usual, and you seemed to be deep in thought as you absentmindedly traced the rim of your mug with your finger. He was comfortable enough with you to approach you without hesitation, so he took the chair next to yours and nudged you gently to get your attention.

You jumped, startled by the unexpected presence of someone else in the room. At first you had a wild thought that it might be Peter, who came to keep you company as he often had. You were only mildly disappointed to see that it was Adam instead (and this was just because you missed your brother; you were actually quite happy to see the golden boy.) You took out your earbuds and paused your music. “You’re up late. Or early.”

His golden eyes met yours— something you noticed that he did often; it seemed that eye contact was his way of showing that he was listening to you, which always made your stomach flutter pleasantly. “So are you,” he replied. “Can’t sleep?”

“Nah,” you said with a shrug. “You?”

“Me either,” he agreed.

You sat in a comfortable silence together, one so long that you were almost tempted to  put your earbuds back in. Maybe this was a one-off thing; you’d never seen him before on your sleepless nights. Maybe he wasn’t used to being up at this hour and just wasn’t as talkative as he normally was with you. But you were also curious; what could a supposedly perfect being be troubled with at night? So, you sighed, and against your better judgement (as you hated to talk about your feelings), you asked, “wanna talk about it?”

But Adam also knew how you were, and he shook his head. “No, it’s okay. I don’t mind just sitting here.” He got to enjoy your company, after all, so he considered tonight to be better than most.

You let out another sigh. As much as you hated getting touchy-feely, the night was already very boring; sitting and not talking would only make it worse. “I don’t mind, actually. I’m used to being around other people when I’m up like this. Talking would make the time pass faster.” You studied his expression for a moment, which was unusually unreadable; it always seemed like he had a kind smile or glance to send your way. “We can start off easy, if you want. Are you up like this every night?”

His expression softened at your willingness to go outside your comfort zone, so he answered honestly. (He had nothing that he wanted to hide from you, anyway.) “Most nights, yeah. What about you?”

“Same,” you agreed. You played with the rubber protective tip on your earbud. “Can’t get to sleep or bad dreams?”

“Both,” Adam admitted. “Although it’s usually the first one.”

You nodded. “Same, again, but for me it’s mostly the latter. You remember when I said that you weren’t the first person to try and kill me?” At his confirmation (because how could he have forgotten that?), you continued, “yeah. It’s mostly that. My father was a great parent,” you finished sarcastically.

When you’d first become friends, you’d shared stories about the Guardians’ adventures— even the ones that had happened before you’d joined the team— although they’d mostly been lighthearted in tone. You’d acted like they hadn’t really affected you and had laughed at the fact that your father’s planet had tried to swallow you whole. Adam sort of wished that your father was still alive so he could fight him for you. While his mother had had her moments of parenting issues, he’d never doubted that she did love him; it was clear that this wasn’t the case with your father.

“I’m sorry,” he said, not really sure what else he could say. Despite everything that had happened to you, you were still a good person; you hadn’t fought the Guardians on your first meeting like he had, which already made you better than him. He wished that there was something he could do (such as getting revenge for you) to help ease whatever burden you were feeling as you often had for him, but there didn’t seem like there was anything that he could do.

“Don’t worry about it,” you replied in a blasé tone, already moving on from your heavy things. “Want to talk about your stuff?”

He shifted in his seat, a little uncomfortable to admit his failure to you. He wanted to prove that he was just as capable as you were, and this was one of his worst moments. “I. . . keep thinking about my mother.” His gaze dropped to where his hands were folded on the table, unable to watch your reaction in case you thought worse of him. “How I. . . wasn’t able to save her. I was so close, too. If only I’d been faster—”

You reached out a hand to put it on top of both of his, cutting him off. Yours was much smaller in comparison, barely covering even one of his hands. He looked up at you with surprise, feeling his face heat up at the contact. Your usually jovial expression was uncharacteristically serious as you chided him gently, “stop. Thinking like that never helps, you know. You’ll drive yourself mad if you keep wondering ‘what if.’ I should know.”

While he was relieved that his fears about your reaction were unfounded, he frowned at your last words. “What do you mean?”

You pretended not to notice that your hands were still holding his as you answered, “remember what I told you about the Snap?” At his nod, you continued, “Peter and I were the only ones who weren’t trying to subdue Thanos. My powers are mostly defensive, so they would only anger him, which was the opposite of what we were trying to do. Peter got— understandably— distraught at the news of Gamora’s death and he was practically solely responsible for the Snap.” You sighed heavily, dropping your gaze from him. “As the only other person not doing anything on that planet, I could’ve stopped him, but he was my brother; I couldn’t hurt him. But if I had. . . everything could’ve been so much different. In a way, I was responsible for the Snap, too.”

While he understood your reasoning, he didn’t completely agree with it. You’d filled him in with great detail about the Infinity War, which you’d only learned the missing parts after you’d been brought back. So, he insisted quietly, “Thor could’ve also gone for Thanos’ head, but he didn’t.”

“But Thanos wouldn’t have even gotten to the Terran planet if we’d stopped him on Titan. You see what I mean? These what-ifs really messed with my head— still do. You eventually just have to accept the fact that the situation can’t be changed and learn from your mistakes.” In a lighter tone you added, “I promised myself that the next time I needed to sock it to Peter, I wouldn’t hesitate. Maybe a good hit to the head would knock some common sense back into him.”

Adam chuckled at this, his serious expression lifting. Sensing that you didn’t want to talk about such emotional topics anymore, he changed the subject slightly. “So you’re up every night because of these thoughts? Don’t you need sleep?”

“Yeah, but I’ve got enhanced stamina, so not as much as a regular person,” you said, relieved that he picked up on your hint. “What about you? You’re practically a god yourself.”

He felt his face flush with (pleased) embarrassment at your indirect compliment, even if it was truthful. “That’s part of the problem, I think,” he explained. “All this power. . . it gives me too much energy and. . . I can’t sleep.”

You frowned thoughtfully at your similar predicaments, an idea (admittedly, a stupid enough one that Peter could’ve come up with it) forming in your mind. “Y’know,” you began slowly, “Peter taught me a Terran phrase awhile back. I can’t exactly remember how it goes— it’s like two positives equal a negative, or something like that— and it means that when there’s two good things, it cancels out the bad one. We could try and apply it here.”

He gave you a curious look. “Really? How?”

“Well, since we both can’t sleep— that’s the negative— maybe. . . maybe if we slept. . .” You felt your face burning at your suggestion. “If we slept. . . tog— well, not together-together, I mean— with each— does that sound worse? I—” you struggled to find the right wording that wouldn’t come off as suggestive. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” you added hastily, misunderstanding his bemused expression.

“Little Quill,” he teased you lightly, “you haven’t even gotten the question out.”

Oh. You only felt even more embarrassed. “Do you want to sleep in my room?” you finally managed to blurt out, burying your face in your hands, unable to look at the boy across from you.

Instead of taking offense or making fun of you as you’d expected, Adam seemed to actually consider your offer. “Do you think it would work?”

At his question, you dropped your hands to your lap and shrugged, though your face was still very red. He seemed remarkably unflustered, not that you could tell if he was (damn his beautiful golden skin— wait, what?) “I don’t know,” you mumbled, still refusing to look at him. “I can only sleep if I feel safe, and there’s only one person I ever felt that way with— Mantis. But. . . now I think that includes you, too.”

Adam couldn’t help the bright smile that formed on his face at your words, the thought that you felt safe with him (especially after everything that he’d done to you and your friends) meant more than he could say. The thought that you would willingly be vulnerable in his presence made his stomach feel enjoyably— and inexplicably— nauseous. “I feel safe around you too,” he replied without hesitation. “And. . . I wouldn’t mind trying it.”

--

Not long after, the two of you returned to the room you were renting in the dorm-style building. Since neither you nor Adam had family to speak of (and were also short on funds), you’d both found rooms in a tenant building that had lots of other people, many of whom had lost their homes during the Guardians’ most recent adventures. Luckily you’d gotten a room to yourself, though you had to share basic facilities with everyone else.

“You can sleep in the bed since this was my idea,” you offered. You were still in what you considered your pajamas, so you just had to gather some spare blankets and pillows.

Adam shook his head, against the thought of you making accommodations for him. “I can sleep on the floor. You shouldn’t have to give up your bed.”

“It’s not like I use it much anyway,” you joke, pulling the covers back. “But if you’re seriously against me sleeping on the floor, I guess we could. . . share?”

He seemed not to mind your proposal as he agreed readily, and after taking off his shoes, he made to get in when you spoke again with a confused look on your face. “You. . . sleep in your clothes? No wonder why you can’t get comfortable!”

Adam seemed to not understand your comment. “You sleep in your clothes.”

You laughed a little at his observation. “These are sleep clothes, not everyday clothes. At least take off your jacket,” you reasoned.

But as he did so, you realized why he hadn’t gotten more comfortable: there was nothing except chiseled chest under his clothes. You blushed and tried (but failed) not to stare as he got into bed next to you, admiring the way his muscles flexed with his movement. Luckily he seemed to not notice your attention as he settled next to you. There was a sizeable gap between you two despite the bed not being very big, one that you wished you had the guts to close. (Wait— again, what?)

You wondered how you’d ever get to sleep with all that muscle right behind you (okay, this one you could admit freely), but somehow, in the quiet stillness of your dark room, the safe, peaceful feeling lulled you into the first restful slumber that you’d had since your siblings had left months ago.

--

And if you woke up the next morning, curled up against Adam’s chest with his arm wrapped around you protectively, neither of you bothered to say anything about it.

[nonclassyparty]

tins without labels - prologue (j.wy)

summary: Jung Wooyoung's life was always somehow intertwined with your own. from living in the same neighbourhood as kids to attending the same college; fights, bickering, bruises, teasing comments and tears. Wooyoung and you were never complete strangers but never friends either. Always somewhere in between, growing up with each other but never actually knowing one another. The relationship takes a confusing turn in your third year of college after an injury that places your football career on hold. Lonely, lost and confused, you find yourself at your first college party in the presence of none other than Jung Wooyoung asking him to show you what exactly have you been missing out on. playlist // my main masterlist // moodboard (tba) // click to donate to Palestine

pairing: jung wooyoung x reader warnings: none for this chapter i think! word count: 9.3k taglist: just reply or inbox me if u'd like to be added c: a/n: pls don't say damn when u see that i started another story. listen LISTEEEEEN. i know what u all will say..."bree should u rly be starting another series when u havent finished or started the 4757 bajillion ones that u already posted?" the answer is YES. let me explain myself briefly, this summer has been rly hard for me bc i lost someone who was incredibly important to me and i just can't write...i just can't! everything looks like shit!!! im halfway done with soot and something just isn't letting me continue. i can't write pretty on the outside or literally anything else i've started bc its all simply too sad. writing is draining to begin with despite how much i love and enjoy it but writing angst is k wording my mental health lol! so....i present to you this series, mostly dedicated to myself literally no one asked for this, i just feel like its something i need to write and always wanted to so here i go! it will be a little heartwarming series with lots of humor and coming of age shenanigans and huge chunks of it written from personal experience and i hope u guys read it and like it. i had a lot of fun writing this prologue. (p.s. i literally know jackshit about football/soccer so if by some chance someone that reads this knows their football shit....just let it go pls lmfaoo)

(prologue; when we were kids)

and I couldn't find the words, i couldn't think of what to say and all that I can do is stop and think about the days when all we used to dream about was meeting after school

6 and 8 years old;

Your mom helped you build the snowman.

An entire morning of running around your front yard, laughing and playing in the freshly fallen snow, seeing the air you breathe out in front of you that you pretended was cigarette smoke to make your mom laugh as the cold nipped at your cheeks.

The snowman was almost twice your size (which wasn't a lot, you were a fairly small child) with pebbles stuck in as his eyes and teeth pulled up in a big grin. Your mom found a small bucket in the old shed behind the house which she placed on his head as a makeshift hat and because you didn't have any carrots, there was a small twig stuck at the center of the snowman's face to serve as a long crooked nose.

(The snowman didn't have any arms, a detail that went over your head at the time.)

After admiring the big statue in the farther corner of your front yard for awhile, you finally retreated into the house with your socks wet along with the majority of your hot pink snowsuit. As you kicked off the damp clothes and exchanged them for warm, dry ones and fuzzy socks and then settled in front of the TV in the toasty living room with a mug of cocoa - you couldn't help but feel that it was a happy day.

Which is why when, in the late afternoon, once you looked out of your window to see what once used to be your snowman is now nothing but a big pile of disheveled snow with his plastic hat rolling around the sidewalk and two boys running away down the street with shrill laughter echoing after them, you simply couldn't help but burst into tears.

"Mommy!" You screamed out, running outside your front door in fuzzy socks and your sweater, as dramatic as you were. But you were six and your life still ended and began with coloring books and favorite toys, so a snowman that you made with your mom getting destroyed, surely felt like the end of the world.

Once your mom stepped out after you, about to scold you for walking outside into the cold air with no jacket on, you burst into crocodile tears as you pointed to the spot where your snowman once stood.

"Oh, no." She breathed out with a sigh before grabbing her jacket and slipping into whatever shoes were available by the door (they were your dad's old tennis shoes) and walking across the front yard to collect the small bucket from the sidewalk.

All you could do was stand and watch as you wailed so loudly after your snowman that the entire neighbourhood could hear.

"Honey, it's okay." Your mom tried to soothe you as she walked up the steps to your house, carrying what used to be the snowman's hat. "It's just a snowman, we'll make another one tomorrow!"

But you were inconsolable, bursting out in another wave of loud cries as you stomped your tiny foot and pointed to the house across the street.

"They ruined it! W-Wooyoung ruined it!" You sob, waving towards the boy's house with all the anger a six year old could possibly muster. You knew it was him, recognizing the ugly red jacket he wore this entire winter and his even uglier looking friend, Chanwook.

You weren't friends with Wooyoung. He was older than you and all of his friends were mean. You once tried to play with them when you first moved to the neighbourhood but they didn't want to play with a girl. You cried about that too.

They often teased you. Wooyoung said your crooked teeth made you look ugly!

She sighs again, "And that was very mean of him. But, Y/N, we'll just make another snowman tomorrow."

"But-" You start again, tears still sliding down your face. 

"We'll build him in the backyard where we have a fence, so no-one will be able to touch him." She offers with a smile, hoping you'll finally be consoled enough to walk inside and be safe from the harsh cold.

"But I won't be able to look at him from the window." You tell her quietly, voice going hoarse from the crying and bottom lip already wobbling as another wave of tears began to sunk in. She gives you a sympathetic smile.

"We'll get him a prettier hat and we'll use two long branches to give him arms!" Your mom offers again, trying to butter you up so the tears would stop. "We'll get a carrot for his nose and big pretty rocks for his eyes!" Once she realized it was working, she continued; "And we'll take a picture of you with him so you'll always get to look at him, even when he melts away!"

You peer up at her with a hiccup, finally bribed enough; "A picture?"

She nods, holding the door wider for you to finally walk inside as you inch towards the door, fuzzy socks now soaked, "A picture. We'll send your dad to the mall to develop them."

So, you finally walk inside the warm house again, changing your socks and immediately going to your father's home office to pester him about the camera and just how long will it take for a picture to be developed.

-

"-Y/N, we'll just make another snowman tomorrow!" 

Wooyoung heard your mom tell you as he peers at the exchange from across the street, through his bedroom window, freshly changed into dry clothes after a long hard day of playing outside with Chanwook and now, warming his frozen hands on the radiator.

When Wooyoung saw the snowman parked in the corner of your front yard, just a step away from the sidewalk, he and Chanwook thought it would be funny to ruin it. 

The thing was ugly and had an even uglier bucket at the top of it's head, perfect to kick around the street!

He didn't think too much about it, if he was honest. Just saw a big lump of snow he wanted to kick at until it collapsed, so that's what Wooyoung did. It was just a silly snowman.

Besides, you were already six years old. Far too old to be making a stupid snowman. You should've been going sledding with the rest of the neighborhood kids on the small hill just a couple of minutes away from your street. Wooyoung was mature now, so his mom allowed him to go without a chaperone this year. You were always so childish, no wonder your mom didn't let you go with them. You cried over everything.

But he didn't expect you to cry over the stupid snowman!

It was just a snowman. It would've melted anyway when the weather got warmer! Or gotten ruined by someone else! 

The brief fear of your mom telling Wooyoung's mom about what he'd done struck him. He'd positively get grounded for ruining your dumb snowman if she found out and then the rest of his winter break would be spent inside of the house.

You could always make another snowman. A better one. And since you're such a crybaby, Wooyoung would make sure to tell Chanwook that they won't be touching that one. Leave that ugly snowman alone.

Just so you wouldn't cry anymore.

-

10 and 12 years old;

"It's a shame your mother is dead, maybe if she was still around she would teach you how to act like a girl!" 

Your face flushed in anger as you stared the other boy, Beomseok, his chubby fingers still wrapped around your pencil case which was how the argument started in the first place.

He was in the same class as you and a typical bully. Bigger than the rest of his peers and always using it to his advantage to intimidate and tease them. Today, he took your pencil case and when you asked for him to give it back, he only gave you a gnarly smile and started running around the classroom and eventually out on the halls, screaming taunts at you. It would be a lie to say that you didn't scream some pretty mean stuff back but in your defense, he deserved it.

Now, you both stood as if you're ready to duel as the rest of your classmates and even some upperclassmen gathered to see what the commotion is all about, your fury rising so high that tears spring in your eyes at the mention of your mom as you observe his smug smirk. Obviously, from a very young age, you were bad at managing your anger.

"I hate you!" You scream out, voice high pitched. Then you jump on Beomseok with your full weight, successfully pulling him to the hard hallway floors as your hands curled into tiny fists that started colliding with his face.

And Beomseok, for all his intimidating build, talked an awfully big game just to end up bursting into tears as your fist collided with his nose. He was bad at fighting, you notice, if he could be beat up by a lanky girl almost two times smaller than him.

"I just-" Punch. "-wanted-" Punch. "-my pencil case-" A slap. "-back!"

"Somebody help!" He screams from under you, whining under each attack but his classmates were too busy cheering you on to come to his defense.

Once you start harshly pulling on his hair, two arms wrap themselves under your armpits and pull you off of your classmate. You're standing again and are turned by your shoulders to come face to face with your teacher, screaming at you.

"Is this a proper behavior in school?!" and lots of "Your father will hear about this!"'s and "You're going to the principle's office!" as she started pulling you by your arm down the corridor that was still filled with students.

"Everyone to your classrooms! Now!" Your teacher screams from the top of her lungs as she tugs on you and you follow after her with a frown on your face.

Stupid Beomseok.

-

Wooyoung's stomach hurts from laughing, clapping Chanwook's shoulder who was almost sitting on the floor due to his own fit of pure glee, as he watches Kim Beomseok roll around the floor in pain, clutching his nose. 

There's scratches and bruises already forming on his cheeks, little bit of blood mixed with a lot of big, fat tears. It's hard to feel even slightly bad for Beomseok, when Wooyoung heard how he torments his classmates along with the younger kids during recess. Did it count as bullying if the bully is the one getting bullied?

Maybe he finally got what was coming for him, nobody usually stood up to him and Wooyoung least expected you to be the one to put him in his place.

He deserved it, Wooyoung thinks, after what he said about your mom.

Wooyoung remembers her funeral three years ago, he remembers how much you cried and how you didn't leave your house for a month that summer. He even rung the doorbell to ask if you wanted to come out and play one time which he never did because you were a child and he was much more mature than you, you two had nothing in common. But he felt sad for you.

Your mom was nice, she always brought Wooyoung a chocolate when she'd come for a visit.

 Sadly, they discovered she had cancer when you were only seven and Wooyoung was nine. By the time they discovered it, it was already too far along and your mom passed away on a summer evening while you were outside playing hide and seek. 

Wooyoung remembers feeling so bad how they always made you the seeker that day because you were the youngest kid in the neighbourhood and far too easy to convince that it was simply always your turn to look for the other kids.

Your dad opened the door, smiling sadly at Wooyoung and saying that you weren't feeling well enough to come out and play. Wooyoung didn't try again after that.

The teacher is pulling you by your elbow through the crowd, yelling at the top of her lungs for everyone to head to their classrooms since class should start in a couple of minutes. You silently follow her, face twisted into an angry grimace.

Your hair has fallen out of your ponytail, long strands sticking to your face and Wooyoung is pretty sure that your shirt got ripped during the brawl. 

Wooyoung might've been laughing a bit too loudly because with angry eyes and cheeks flushed, your head whips towards him just as you pass by him.

Wooyoung opens his mouth with a smile, to say something like "Good job, Y/L!" maybe. He doesn't get the chance to.

"What are you laughing at, Jung?" You ask loudly and Wooyoung's laughter immediately dies down.

"Wha-?"

And it's then, that your foot meets Wooyoung's shin in a harsh kick that makes him yowl in pain and makes Chanwook burst into another wave of laughter as his hands grab at Wooyoung who doubles over in pain.

"Y/N!" The teacher screams out again, pulling you back by your shirt and going on another rant, filled with threats of calling your dad to school and something else he can't process at the moment.

Wooyoung is too busy feeling the pain and anger that fills him up as he rubs at the place your sneaker covered foot meet his leg.

"Y/N, you psycho!" He yells after you who is still getting dragged away. You don't even bother to look back at him.

(He still collects your pencil case from the floor and throws it on a desk that a classmate of yours says belongs to you before exiting the classroom and going to his own. Wooyoung tells himself it's for no other reason but just so your dad won't have to buy you a new one. He has enough on his plate already.)

-

14 and 16 years old;

Wooyoung has a girlfriend.

You don't know why that's something that bothers you so much.

Maybe because you don't understand what a girl could possibly see in Jung Wooyoung to willingly let him hold her hand or...God forbid, kiss her. Ew.

That's a lie, maybe even a bad attempt at coping on your part because there's a general consensus in your high school that Jung Wooyoung is good-looking. 

You didn't even think he was ugly when you were younger, when he was pulling on your pigtails and teasing you for playing with dolls. He was cute for an annoying kid back then too with his chubby cheeks and bowl haircut.

He was especially cute now, a recent discovery of yours which you have no one else to thank except puberty. It did wonders on your hormones and it did wonders on Jung Wooyoung too. 

His jawline got sharper the more baby fat he lost and lips grew fuller. His boyish smile was very attractive, even his smile lines were captivating. Wooyoung grew taller as well, not by much compared to the other boys in his grade but he was tall just enough so you'd have to look up to him when you argue but not enough to be intimidated by him.

So, yes, you supposed you'd understand the appeal if it weren't for his stupid mouth and mean words more often than not, directed at you. You threw shots back as well, sometimes even started an argument first if you were feeling particularly annoying but maybe that sums up why you're so bothered.

He started dating Chaeyoung at the beginning of this summer and since you have the fortune (read: misfortune) of living in the house right across the street from Wooyoung's, you were an unlucky witness to most of their dates.

And he was so sweet to her. He'd buy her cheap flowers and ice cream, they'd walk around the neighbourhood holding hands, they'd take Wooyoung's younger brother Kyungmin to the playground in the evenings. Wooyoung would smile a lot at her and Chaeyoung would always smile back.

You even saw them kiss. Just once.

When you were folding laundry in your bedroom, you looked through the window just in time to see their lips connect on Wooyoung's front porch. You quickly looked away, feeling shy and embarrassed, not understanding why you were blushing or feeling so sad all of a sudden.

Why was he so nice to other girls but never to you? You shouldn't think too much about it, the problem isn't you. Chaeyoung wasn't just some other girl but his girlfriend. Of course, he'd treat her special.

Whatever. You scoff as you watch Chaeyoung run to Wooyoung across the quad as you adjust your sports bag over your shoulder. 

She jumps into his arms and you can hear his loud, annoying laughter even to here as his arms wrap around her and he picks her up from the ground.

"What are you doing?" You almost jump out of your skin at the sound of Ryujin's voice as she nosily tries to follow where you were staring at.

Ryujin was the first friend you met since you started high school two weeks ago. She might be the only friend you have for awhile since you haven't really been trying to even get to know your classmates as you were too busy trying out for the girls football team.

You don't remember when you started actively playing football exactly. You always played it for fun with the boys from the neighbourhood (Wooyoung included)  but maybe it was around seventh grade when your dad pestered you into trying out a sport because he didn't know what else to do with you so he packed you up and sent you to a sports camp for two weeks one summer, that you started actually playing.

You went there only caring about your iPad and came back saying you'll be a professional football player.

Your dad doesn't want to say it but you know he thinks it's a fickle dream that will fizzle out with age.

Thankfully, Ryujin shared the same love for the sport as you so for now, you were relieved and content to spend time with her. She was nice.

You didn't need anyone else but maybe it would've been nice if someone who was older, who you were familiar with even if you always fought, would give you a couple of words of useful advice. Regarding the new teachers and subjects and all.

High school was scary.

"Nothing." You answer quickly, turning your back to Wooyoung and his girlfriend and fully facing your new friend.

"Nothing?" Ryujin gives you a suspicious smile, eyes darting over your shoulder once more before she ruffles your hair. You yelp. "Do you have a crush already, Y/N?"

You gently shove her away with a huff, fixing your bangs, "Don't be stupid. These boys are all ugly."

A crush. As if!

She laughs at that, throwing her arm around your shoulder as she directs you both to the field where practice was held, already yapping about her own crush.

-

"Hey, isn't that your neighbour?" Chaeyoung nudges Wooyoung with her elbow, nodding somewhere behind Wooyoung. He cranes his neck to follow the direction before his eyes land on you.

He snorts, "Yeah."

You were standing in the middle of the football field, sweaty and red in the face from all the running, with your hands on your hips as you paid attention to what your coach was yelling towards your teammates across the field.

The school's jersey seemed far too big on your lanky form and your hair was a mess, always slipping out of your ponytail. You were much smaller in build than the rest of the team and it looked funny to Wooyoung.

He didn't expect you to be into sports, let alone a sport like football. In fact, Wooyoung is surprised that you don't burst into tears when you start arguing with the makeshift referee played by another student. It's what usually happens if you spend longer than a minute arguing with Wooyoung.

And then he ends up being the bad guy for making you cry but no one ever mentions that you sometimes provoke him first as well but can't take it when it's dished right back.

Since you're such a crybaby.

He watches with an amused grin as you bare your teeth at the referee, who is really just a senior that thought it would be a fun time but now he has to stand arguing with you. And to Wooyoung's further amusement, the older boy who is almost two heads taller than you, looks like he's about to shit his pants in front of you.

Hm. Maybe not such a crybaby when it's anyone else but Wooyoung.

"I think she has a crush on you."

He turns to look at his girlfriend with a confused look, growing further confused when she smiles teasingly at him.

"Who?" He asks and she gives him a knowing look before nodding in your direction again. Wooyoung splutters out a surprised laugh, "Y/N?"

"Yeah." She nods excitedly, giggling, "She's cute."

Wooyoung scoffs with an eyeroll, "She's a kid."

A kid who might have a small crush on Wooyoung but still, a kid nonetheless.

He'd be stupid to say he didn't notice that you sometimes stare at him a little too much but what the hell is he supposed to do about that. You just started high school, you probably weren't even aware of what you were doing. It was a childish crush because at the end of the day that's what you are - childish.

Chaeyoung giggles again, the sound is soft and sweet, leaning her head against his shoulder. 

"It's kind of sweet." She sighs dreamily and Wooyoung snorts because nothing about you was sweet, "You're her handsome neighbour, the only guy who's always been close to her since she was a kid, she probably starts those childish arguments with you so you'd give her attention and then writes about you in her diary and-"

"Y/N is the last person to have a diary, first of all." Wooyoung interrupts with a snicker before looking down on his girlfriend who is teasing him, "Second of all, you sound ridiculous."

Chaeyoung lifts her head up from where it rested against him and looks at him seriously, her lips pressed together. Then she starts imitating Wooyoung's last sentence in a deeper voice that sounds nothing like him, "You sound ridiculous-ah!"

She squeals when Wooyoung pinches her at the waist lovingly and it turns to tickling her as he presses kisses to her cheeks.

As they continue to exchange kisses between hushed giggles, the conversation about you is forgotten.

-

18 and 20 years old;

From the moment you opened the door to greet your date, you knew that the whole night would be a complete and utter disaster.

Maybe you watched too many teen movies that romanticized prom night so much that even you ended up believing and looking forward to the glorified fantasy of it but boy, were you in for a rude awakening.

Your prom date was a boy from your Calculus class named Eunwoo. 

To be completely honest, you were convinced for the entirety of your senior year that you wouldn't have a date for prom at all because not much has changed since freshman year.

You still had one good friend (two, if you count Ryujin's friend that says she likes hanging out with you) and your focus was always on football. Add schoolwork and keeping up your good grades and you truly didn't have much time left for socializing.

So when Eunwoo pulled you aside after your football practice and asked you if you wanted to go to prom together with a handsome boyish smile on his face, your excitement for that night skyrocketed.

Eunwoo wasn't exactly a friend but he was nice to you during class, maybe you were wrong but his niceness sometimes even bordered flirting. Already, you were daydreaming about a possible boyfriend to spend your last summer with before you start college.

With a date or without one, you spend the bigger portion of your senior year saving up money for prom night or should you say prom preparations.

Makeup was never your strongest suit, in fact, it wasn't a suit of yours at all. You never wore it. You never did your hair either. 

Even on the rare occasion that you went to a high school party, you never wore anything else aside from jeans and T-Shirts. You were an athlete and you committed to the bit entirely, always being ready to sweat and opting for comfort of loose clothes above anything else.

But you wanted to look nice for prom, pretty. Not because of Eunwoo but for yourself. Prom is only once and you wanted to make sure you do it with confidence. 

All your saved up allowance went on the hair and makeup appointment along with your dress that Ryujin helped you pick out. The dress was quite simple in your opinion, a dark red one with a square neckline held up by two thin straps that clung to your curves and flared out at the bottom.

With your hair pinned up in an up-do with two curled strands framing your face and glitter on your eyelids, you thought you looked very pretty, beautiful even. Hell, it was probably the best you looked in your entire eighteen years of life. You could even put up with the painful heels for the sake of it.

Your dad made you pose over the whole house while you waited for your date to pick you up. First a photoshoot on the stairs, then one on the front porch, then a little in front of the living room fireplace. 

He seemed so excited with his camera hanging around his neck as he followed you around the house.

It was one of the moments you wished your mom was here for but nonetheless, it was much fun with your dad only as well. You were happy.

It all went to shit though once you opened the door for Eunwoo and he started laughing in your face.

"Oh my God!" He laughs, almost doubling over at the apparent hilarity of your appearance, "What are you wearing?!"

You laugh nervously, ignoring your father's glance at you from the sheer embarrassment, "What? Is it that bad?"

"No, no." Eunwoo shakes his head, wiping a stray tear that escaped while he was laughing, "It's just not like you, at all."

"Oh." You give him a sour smile, your fragilely built ego shattering completely. "I was just...trying something new I guess..."

He snickers with a headshake before offering you his hand, "Come on, let's go take a photo?"

After a small moment of hesitation, feeling your cheeks burn from the humiliation, you let him grab your hand and step out on the front porch. Eunwoo places a hand around your waist to pull you closer as you both smile at your dad's camera.

A couple of photos later, you both head towards Eunwoo's car as your dad waves you goodbye. You give him a small, almost sad wave back as Eunwoo opens the door for you. You ask him;

"Do I really look funny?"

"No, you look pretty no matter what." He answers, helping you with your dress. "It's just doesn't suit you I guess, it's not like you."

"Ah..." You say staring at the dashboard as you watch him round the car to get into the driver's seat. You glance back at your dad just to see him get back into your house and for a split second, you want to call the whole thing off and go back inside with him.

Of course this doesn't suit you. You were the girl guys dapped up in the hallways, the girl that was always covered in hoodies and sweatpants and never wore makeup. You must look stupid, all dolled up like this. What were you thinking.

Prom celebration is usually held at a hotel not far from your high school. The ballroom is enormous, with vast marble floors and high ceilings illuminated by golden, shimmery lights. It looks straight out a fairytale with colorful dresses worn by pretty princess and handsome princes in their extravagant suits. Only, you don't feel like a princess at all.

Eunwoo and you find your table and you briefly say hi to Ryujin and her date. Ryujin tells you how amazing you look and you give her the first (and possibly, only) genuine smile of the night.

"So," Eunwoo starts the conversation a few minutes after you settle down at your table with drinks, "Did you decide where you're going for college? Any scouts?"

"I'm leaning towards SNU. Their Women's Football Club is really strong and I feel like they actually get proper investments and budget." You tell him and he grins interrupting your next sentence.

"See, this is why I like you. It's hard to find a girl who knows about sports and is so chill about everything."

Your mouth stays parted, the rest of your sentence (which was really just saying that the fact the male football team was hot contributed to your decision as joke) went unsaid as his words registered. Every "compliment" Eunwoo gives you is starting to come off so backhandedly that you're beginning to realize that while he thinks he has you all figured out - he doesn't actually know you at all.

You give him a fake laugh and pray to God it doesn't sound fake enough for him to notice as you take a sip of your drink.

An hour later, your heels are killing you so much that you've completely given up on dancing. You observe Ryujin on the dance floor with her date, still going at it and sigh with the silent question of when it would be your turn. Instead, you're stuck to the sidelines with shoes that feel awful on your feet and a date that can't stop talking about how it's attractive that you're a "girl that actually eats". Eunwoo's compliments are becoming weirder by the second.

"Should I just take you home?" Eunwoo asks with an amused smile as he observes you taking off your heels for the tenth time since you sat back down.

"Ah, would you mind?" You give him an apologetic smile, feeling like a burden and a not-so-much-fun date, "I'm sorry, Eunwoo, this is unfair to you-"

"Nah, I had a fun time." He shakes his head, downing the rest of his drink, "Next time, just be yourself though, yeah?"

The weirdly phrased statement makes you pause. "What do you mean?"

"You know, you don't have to dress like this!" He laughs, playfully playing with the thin strap of your dress. You subtly move away from his touch. "It's not like you at all. I don't know if your friends talked you into it just to fit in but you shouldn't let them push you around like this."

He's so wrong that you can't speak for a moment but even if you could, you feel like trying to explain yourself to him would be far too exhausting and would lead to nowhere. Nor do you want it to lead anywhere anymore, if you were honest.

"Girls like that are so exhausting." He gives a tired sigh. "Outfits and makeup aren't the only thing in the world."

"Girls....like that?"

"You know! Like, the touchy-feely shit. Everything is about color-coordination and nail polishes with them. God forbid their hair is out of place. What a headache!" Eunwoo runs a hand through his hear before giving you an award winning smile. "That's why I'm glad I got to hang out with you! You're real."

"I'm....real?" You ask with a cocked head as your eyes start to narrow. He's too busy thinking that you like what he's saying so he continues.

"Yeah. You know, you keep it real. You're not caught up in that frivolous, girly bullshit. You're so chill, Y/N." He keeps smiling at you like he just gave you the highest form of compliment he possibly could.

But you can't bring yourself to crack a smile even if someone held a barrel of a gun to your temple at the moment. In fact, you feel like throwing up. You should've know from the start, from the moment he was so unreasonably impressed with your lack of makeup at the beginning of the year.

Eunwoo was one of those guys.

"Um," You slide your heels back on and grab your clutch, "You know what, you stay. I'll go."

"Wait, what." His brows raise in half confusion and half surprise as he watches you stand up from your seat.

"Yeah, I'll walk home."

"Wait, Y/N. Why would you walk home? I already said I'd drop you off-"

"No thanks. I don't want to get in a car with a sexist."

"What?!" Eunwoo reels back, "What the fuck are you talking about?! I'm not a sexist! I respect women!"

You huff, turning to him with a glare. "You respect women who are "cool" and "chill" and basically act like men. You should've just taken one of your dudes to prom if these are your opinions. I'm out."

So, that's how you find yourself in your pretty dress sitting in one of the plastic chairs of a convenience store with a popsicle in your mouth as you watch the cars drive by. You were too embarrassed to arrive home so early, you hyped up prom night so much to your dad - you'd rather lie and tell him you had a good time.

If the night couldn't possibly get any shittier, while you eat away at your cherry popsicle feeling undeniably sorry for yourself, you hear a familiar laugh followed by sounds of shoes scuffing against the pavement towards the convenience store.

Of course. Of fucking course, Jung Wooyoung would show up now, when you needed him least.

You try to make yourself seem as small as possible in the plastic chair, hoping he or his two friends wouldn't notice you (which in retrospect was a dumb hope, you were sitting right by the entrance in a fucking prom dress).

Ever since Wooyoung graduated high school two years ago, you only saw him in passing. He'd come home for Christmas holidays or a week or two during the summers and you'd only catch him skunk out of his house and into his dad's car if you were lucky. Unlucky, that is of course.

Maybe you were hoping he wouldn't even recognize you and although it would kind of hurt (as embarrassing as that is to admit), you feel like it would be a better option.

But since you were on a roll tonight, obviously this is just another thing that doesn't go your way.

"Nice dress, Y/L/N." You hear Wooyoung's voice speak, followed by snickers from his idiotic friends and his own attempt at stifling his laughter as they walk past you and into the convenience store, the small bell above the door signaling their entrance.

That ends up being your last straw. 

You don't cause another fight or yell something back after him, no, you don't have the energy to do that tonight. Instead, you feel like you will cry.

Tears are already burning at your eyes and your bottom lip wobbles, you're not even aware that your eyes follow Wooyoung through the display of the store, watching him as he picks up a pack of beer and heads for the cashier.

He got even more painfully handsome than he was when you'd see him every day before he graduated. His hair was double toned, the top of it black and the bottom strands bleached, brushing the nape of his neck.

You think you could even see a tattoo peaking under his shirt as he moves.

Jung Wooyoung was so not your type. Not that you really knew what your type was but all the guys that you found cute in your high school years were athletes, jocks who were organized and dedicated to their routine which in your opinion showcased their maturity, got good grades and were respected by their peers. Wooyoung was really the complete opposite of that so it was hard to explain why you so weirdly hung up over his approval.

He's still laughing about something with his friends, it would hurt so badly if it was about you, as his eyes dart through the display and connect with your own.

Wooyoung does a double take before his big smile slowly slips and dare you say, eyes soften as he looks at you and his lips part as if he wants to say something. 

It could all be in your head though and you're feeling even worse now that he caught you staring at him like a total creep, so you throw your popsicle in the trash and get up with a sigh, slipping back into your heels and deciding to just go home.

-

"Hey, Y/L/N! Wait up, I'll give you a ride home!" Wooyoung calls out after you, the plastic bag swinging back and forth in his hand. 

He can hear Chanwook's hushed objection which Wooyoung chooses to ignore, instead focused on walking closer to you. You couldn't make it far since you were basically limping in your heels.

"No thanks." Wooyoung hears your response and rolls his eyes. He hasn't spoken to you in the last two years at all but he can see that nothing has changed much - you were still too stubborn for your own good.

You didn't even bother to turn back and look at him, instead you hitch your dress further up and continue up the street and away from the convenience store.

"Y/N, come on. Quit being a brat and just wait for me to bring the car around."

"I said no!" You yell over your shoulder and let out a small yelp when you stutter a bit on your feet. To Wooyoung, you resembled Bambi right now.

"I'm trying to help you!" He yells back, still following you, "Just let me drive you back-"

"Wooyoung, seriously, fuck off!" You turn to face him with red cheeks and teary eyes (maybe that's why he's insisting so badly to drive you home, you simply look pathetic), "I don't need your fucking help!"

Wooyoung reels back at your tone and harsh words and then a wave of embarrassment washes over him when he hears Chanwook and Eunhyuk laugh behind him, at the fact that he just got told off by his little neighbour.

The embarrassment is followed up by anger that prickles at his skin like needles, he scoffs and if there's one thing Wooyoung will be - it's petty; "Fine! Limp home in your stupid heels then, see if I give a shit!"

You don't give him a response and Wooyoung doesn't bother to look for it either, instead turns around on his feet and heads towards his car (his dad's car). But not before telling a laughing Chanwook to shut the fuck up.

But once he's in the car with the keys in the ignition, he stares at the steering wheel in obvious contemplation before letting out a small groan, "Fuck."

Wooyoung turns to Chanwook, "Sit in the back, please."

His friend looks at him in surprise and confusion. "What?"

"Just sit in the back, will you? Please." Wooyoung repeats, avoiding Chanwook's eyes but feeling his stumped stare.

"Wooyoung, you cannot be serious." His friend laughs in disbelief as if reading his mind, looking around before giving Wooyoung another incredulous look, "She just told you to fuck off!"

Eunhyuk is quiet in the back which is a huge relief for Wooyoung, he really didn't need to defend himself to his other friend too.

"I can't let her go by foot in the dark, you've seen her! She can barely walk!" Wooyoung says defensively to both of his friends as Chanwook moves to the back with a huff.

"And that's your problem...how?" Chanwook, like the annoying pest he is, asks.

"It's not...." Wooyoung trails off, trying to look for an excuse as to why he was going out of his way to give you a ride home. "But...but her dad would kill me if he knew I saw her and didn't drive her back. It's only right."

Chanwook smacks his lips obnoxiously loud, "Sure."

Wooyoung doesn't even need to turn around to know that his friend is giving him a very bold side eye right now.

Eunhyuk snorts but doesn't say anything else. Wooyoung is thankful for that at least.

"She probably won't even want to get in the car." Chanwook comments quietly as they reach you on the sidewalk. He ends up being ignored.

Wooyoung rolls the window of the old car down so he can talk to you, he has to say you're walking at an impressively slow pace. "Y/N, get in the car."

He hears you groan dramatically from the outside, "Jung, you're not my dad. Stop telling me what to do."

Wooyoung ignores Chanwook and Eunhyuk's snickers in the back once again, he grows even more irritated, "I'll call your fucking dad right now and tell him you're walking home alone this late. How about that?"

You turn to him with your glossy lips twisted into a scowl, "You wouldn't."

Always ready to prove a point or in this case, lie straight out of his ass, Wooyoung makes a show of stopping his car next to the sidewalk and fishing his phone from the pocket of his jacket before opening up his contacts and beginning to scroll. He doesn't even have your dad's number.

But Wooyoung is a professional bullshitter so he keeps pressing random buttons with a straight face and presses the phone to his ear before turning to you with his brows raised-

"Okay, fine!" You exclaim with an angry huff and start rounding his car as your cheeks flush a pretty pink color. Wait, pretty-? You open the door and angrily plop into the passenger's seat with a glare directed towards him, "Fucking snitch."

Wooyoung ignores you, locking his phone without another word and beginning to drive away.

There's an awkward silence in the car, only sounds being made are those of the plastic bags filled with beer that keep rustling in Eunhyuk's lap.

"This isn't the way to our street." You say and Wooyoung might be crazy but you almost sound a little nervous at that. He glances at you before it dawns onto him. Of course, you'd be feeling nervous.

It's nighttime and you're in a car with three dudes older than you who you don't know that well. Wooyoung didn't even bother telling you about his plan before he started driving. A curse runs through his head before he clears his throat,

"I'll just drop these two off at a party nearby and then drive you home." He murmurs, chest constricting a little when he sees you cross your hands over your chest, a gesture which makes you seem smaller.

"Wait, wha-" Chanwook, gosh he was really pissing Wooyoung off tonight, starts from the backseat. "Woo, I thought you were going too-"

"I will." Wooyoung interrupts him with a clenched jaw as he pulls up to the house where the party is held, "I'll drop Y/N off and then come back, it won't take more than fifteen minutes. Now get out- Wait, give me that bag right there."

Eunhyuk hands him one of the plastic bags and Wooyoung fishes through it and pulls out two blueberry ice creams out of it before giving the bag back to Eunhyuk. Which he bought for himself, of course. Not because he saw your popsicle melting on the pavement or anything.

Chanwook watches with a dropped jaw before huffing, Wooyoung hears him murmur, "Doing it for her dad, my ass-" 

"I'll be right back!" Wooyoung announces loudly, far too loudly, and Eunhyuk slams the car door shut so Wooyoung can drive away.

When he pulls away, the silence in the car is almost stifling so Wooyoung offers you the ice cream, "Here."

You look at him like a second head just popped out of his shoulder before looking back through the window and ignoring him completely. Wooyoung lets out a small groan. So stubborn.

"Oh my God, just take it." He says, placing the ice cream on your lap as he continues to drive. He bites back a smile when he sees you stare at the ice cream on your lap for a long second before grasping it and opening the wrapper so you can eat it.

Wooyoung really doesn't know what he's doing right now.

He doesn't know why he bought ice creams for you, he doesn't know why he insisted on getting rid of his friends first before dropping you off home, he has no idea why he keeps glancing at you every couple of seconds from the corner of his eye and he especially doesn't have a clue why he takes the longer route home.

When tomorrow comes and he wakes up hangover from the party and probably in someone else's bed, he'll give himself the same excuse he gave the boys. He wanted to make sure you got home safely because it's the right thing to do. There was nothing else to it.

But in this moment, right now, in the stifling silence and the breeze that flows through the opened window's because the air conditioning isn't working - Wooyoung notices things that he feels embarrassed to notice, or maybe he noticed them before but never allowed himself to appreciate them until tonight.

Like, how nice your bare neck and collarbones look now that your hair is pinned up in soft curls. A thin silver necklace graces your neck. Or how the two curled strands at the front frame your face prettily. Your eyelids are painted with something shimmery which Wooyoung doesn't know the name of and your cheekbones are a soft peach color intentionally placed there beforehand. 

Your glossy lips wrap around the ice cream cone and you bite off a huge chunk. 

"Why are you staring at me?" Wooyoung can decipher the question even through the mouthful of ice cream as you give him a slight glare.

Because you're pretty. Is what he wants to say, honest and bare, but he obviously can't because you're you and he's Wooyoung. "Because you have ice cream on your nose."

His hands tighten against the steering wheel when he sees you quickly look to the side and wipe at your nose self-consciously. You blush a scarlet red from the embarrassment. Great, now he feels like an asshole.

Wooyoung clears his throat, "Why did you look so sad? Back there, in front of the store."

He has no idea why he's trying to make conversation with you. You two never do that, never did. The closest thing to a conversation between Wooyoung and you would be the arguments you'd have in the middle of the school hallway when he'd tease you for your braces.

Those came off as well, by the way, he can see the pearly white teeth perfectly aligned now as you speak. No longer crooked. Maybe he'd like to see them pulled up in a smile but that's borderline wishful thinking now. You smiling at Wooyoung? Yeah, right.

"No reason." You tell him quietly, slumping in your seat as you continue to eat your ice cream. You sigh with an eyeroll, "Just...prom sucked."

Likely thing to happen.

The key is to go to prom with your expectations so low that you can only go up from there but Wooyoung had an inkling feeling that having low expectations wasn't in your nature.

Besides, you were a jock. He remembers even when you were a freshman, you were already running with the popular crowd without even being aware of it, with the athletes and the cheerleaders. Prom night is sort of a pinnacle of the high school experience for people like you.

Guess it's a bummer that you look like you had a shit time.

He hums, "At the end of the day, it's just another Friday night. Nothing special. So even if it sucked, you'll get over it."

Maybe he wasn't the best at giving advice or comforting people.

You side eye him and he pretends not to see it before you quietly add, "I don't usually spend a year worth of allowance on just another Friday night."

Wooyoung cracks a smile, teasing you being a second nature even if you barely spoke since he graduated, "What? Did you expect a prince charming to sweep you off your feet so you two can dance the night away or something? I didn't know you were into that corny shit, Y/L/N."

He hears you scoff, cheeks still red as you roll your eyes, seriously annoyed, "Whatever. Forget I said anything."

Wooyoung's gives a forced snicker just to annoy you before his smile drops again and his eyes flutter shut for a moment out of pure frustration at his own stupidity, internally cursing himself. If shooting yourself in the foot was a person - it would have Jung Wooyoung's photo and name posted under it.

Why can't you just be nice to her?

The air in the car turns even more awkward and Wooyoung shifts uncomfortably in his seat while you continue to eat your ice cream in silence as you stare through the window.

He slows down in front of your house just when you're finishing your ice cream.

You crumple the wrapper in your hand, place the second ice cream on the dashboard and grab the small bag laying on your lap before grabbing the door handle.

"I hope," Wooyoung starts and when you turn to look at him, he's overcome with a sudden coughing fit which is really just awkwardness and the need to fix whatever the fuck he broke a little even more tonight, "Uh, hope you took some good pictures tonight at least because..."

He trails off, feeling like it was his first time flirting with a girl. Wait, what the fuck. He was not flirting with you. Not even a little bit. Wooyoung was simply trying to pay you a compliment. Simple as that. It doesn't have to be anything more. You don't even need to be friends to pay someone a compliment, in fact, Wooyoung is positive that regular archnemeses complimented each other at least once.

Unfortunately, compliments aren't the norm between the two of you, so whatever nice thing he says feels wrong.

Your brows raise.

"You know," He trails off, scratching the back of his neck in an attempt to seem cool and collected. He nonchalantly adds but his side glances might give him away, fortunately you're too much of a ditz to notice, "You look good."

You stare at him for a long moment, seriously it's so long that he almost changes his mind and adds an insult just so you two would be back in those familiar waters of bickering and teasing each other but then your eyebrows fall back down and a scowl overtakes your features.

"Yeah, right." You mumble and Wooyoung almost feels insulted for some reason but then you continue, "Thanks for the ride."

And then you're out of the car and already moving across your front lawn before Wooyoung can snap out of it and remember to turn the car back on.

-

19 and 21 years old;

"10 more minutes! Y/L/N stop arguing with that asshole and get back into your position before you're out of the game completely!" 

Your coach is red in the face from all the shouting and you know what's good for you, so you keep your mouth shut as you run to your spot, thoroughly ignoring the glare your team's captain shoots at you from your right.

The 'asshole' that your coach is referring to is the referee who didn't count a player from the rival team almost breaking your leg by bulldozing into you - as a foul.

"-stole Eunha's position from her and can't even play properly." You hear a snicker behind you and don't even have to turn to know who it's directed at.

Despite it being only your first semester, you haven't made the greatest impression on your teammates (nor did you try all that much to change that impression). 

So for the time being, when there was no rival team, you were the collective enemy in the changing rooms and on the practice field. A freshman who kicked their friend from the spot she had since she started college. A freshman who thought she was better than the rest of her team. A freshman who didn't know how to behave at times. A freshman that made them run extra laps because she was bad at remembering all the new rules at times.

And now, a freshman that was playing badly and fucking up things for the rest of them.

"Y/N!" A hiss from your right is heard and your eyes zero in on your captain, Jihyo, who is staring at you. "Focus."

You swallow harshly and give her a quick now before focusing your gaze to the front.

In high school, you weren't used to losing. You were a winner, it's what you prided yourself in. Failure wasn't an option when it came to football.

But turns out in college, when all the other players are as good as you, winning isn't as easy.

In fact it’s a lot harder than you thought it would be. Nearing the end of the first half the score sheet is still empty and it annoys all of the players and the fans as well. The weirdest thing is how ball is not even on your team's side of the field most of the time; your defenders did not have a very entertaining start of the game in comparison to defenders from Busan, who already look out of breath from all of the attacks to their side. Not to mention that they keep teaming up on you specifically.

You can’t pinpoint what exactly is wrong and why there was no goal to this point; half of you thinks it’s because you didn’t blend well with the team. 

"Run, run, run!" Yeonjin shouts, when Sinb loses the ball and Busan’s midfielders rush to their side.

The spike of adrenaline energizes you and your eyes zero on the ball, running after it. Mina’s figure passes from your left and both of you corner the midfielder, successfully getting the ball to your side. You have it and quickly pass it to Yeonjin, seeing her signal for the ball. You watch her run off when a body collides with your own and the impact is so strong, you lose your balance, falling down.

‘What?’ You ask yourself in disbelief not understanding how you're sprawled across the grass again, slowly standing up. At first you're shell-shocked but now anger fills you to the brim when you see that it's the same girl who intentionally collided with you the first time, watching you with a smug smirk and then you're just  ready to fight.

 You push back at her and get even angrier when the bitch doesn't fall. 

"Are you going to go tattle to mommy?" She asks with a mocking concern and you can’t hear anything; you even forget that you are in the middle of the game because your anger turns your vision red. 

With a loud groan, you launch towards her and grab her by the shirt, screaming to her face that 'she's a cunt'. There are hands around you, pulling you away, trapping you and not letting you go even when you try to break free.

Jihyo's face is in front of you and you can't register what she's saying but you can see her turn red from how pissed off she is. Maybe it's better if you're not listening to her, if you can't hear anyone actually...but then-

"Hey, number nine! You better not fucking cry!"

At first, you think the loud yell came from somewhere on the field. You thought another player from the Busan team was talking shit. And then,

"Number nine! Crybaby!"

There's some laughter in the audience and it's then that you realize the voice is shouting from the fucking bleachers.

A teammate is already pulling you in the opposite direction but your eyes are glued to crowd sitting on the sidelines, the annoying voice insistently yelling. Crybaby. Crybaby. Crybaby.

The worst part is that the voice sounds so painfully familiar, you just can't put your finger on it. Who.

You're about to let it go. You're about to be the bigger person and not act like a total brute on the field, just let it go Y/N. But then-

"Hey, hey crybaby!" You stop in your tracks, head whipping to the direction the voice was coming from and eyes coasting over the bleachers. "What kind of hill did you roll down from that you don't even know how to push someone back properly?!"

Finally, you spot it. Him. In a red hoodie, making sure to stand out in the sea of blue. It's no wonder the voice sounded so eerily familiar, you've heard it screaming at you for the majority of your childhood and a good chunk of your teen years. 

Because he rolled down the same hill as you with only a street separating you.

When he realizes that you've caught onto him, he gives you that smile. That grin that never led to anything good, pearly white teeth gleaming under the lights of the bleachers as he taunts you.

You blood pressure jumps so, you take a deep breath and....scream;

"Jung Wooyoung!"

[liquidstar]

SEASON 3 TRAILER DROPPED HERES MY THOUGHTS (LN spoilers)

BROTHER AND SISTER OF ALL TIME THEYRE SO CUTE <3 love seeing how their relationship has progressed from beako literally throwing him out a window for stuff like this to her happily playing along its so so so so so cute. genuinely just one of the cutest and sweetest dynamics in the series

hi ram roswaal and fred :) this is probably all we're going to really see of you guys this arc lol

JOSHUA REAL!!!!! but not for long (also otto in the bg foreshadowing all the drinking hes about to do this arc. hes so stressed. poor emilia is trying her best)

julius looks so babyfaced here? they really emphasized his long eyelashes just like subaru has been on about every time he mentions him. they better include the scene where he checks him out, like, if they dont animate subaru looking dead at this mans ass im going to riot

i LOVE this shot of ana. you can really tell shes up to some corrupt capitalist bullshit as we speak. love her for that. wish i had this pic when i made that one money game anastasia video

the red dress actually does look really good on crusch like it compliments the green hair really well but also the crusch we know would not walk around in such a thing so its like. damn looks like the "memories are an important part of identity" story thinks memories are an important part of identity. who knew.

ALSO LOVE FELTS NEW LOOK SO MUCH! the only complaint is i felt (felt lol) like the red brought out her eyes more but the blue also looks cool. three primary colors all being used looks nice too

whatever who cares about all that THE CUNT!!!!!!! THE CUNT IS HERE!!! I CANNOT WAIT FOR ALL THE DRAMA SHE CAUSES TO BE ANIMATED FOR REAL

no fucking way... did they actually...

THEY DID! THEY CENSORED THAT HORRIBLE FUCKING DESIGN OH MY GOD. SHES WEARING SHORTS AND JUST A CROPPED SHIRT. AND CHAPS I GUESS? BUT ALSO A LITTLE SKIRT CAPE SO NO ASS SHOTS... THIS WILL MAKE WATCHING THE SEASON SO MUCH MORE TOLERABLE. i mean not perfect but STILL.

photos taken seconds before disaster lmfao. i still love how chin thinks subaru is a freak and weirdo for being so buddy buddy with him after he and his buddies mugged him. twice. (even more times from subarus perspective. hell he stabbed subaru once) genuinely cant wait to see more of this dynamic its so stupid.

THE FUCKING CUNT!!!!!! also the apples lol

oh you poor thing. you have no idea what next level family drama bullshit awaits. good luck. get ready to kill grandma AGIAN lol

:'( emilia still misses her terrible cat dad and its kinda sad when you know were not getting a resolution on that here either. they both look so sad :(

i cannot wait for garf mommy issues round fucking 2.

THIS CRAZY BITCH!!! I CANNOT WAIT TO SEE THIS CRAZY BITCH ANIMATED. I CANT WAIT TO SEE HOW THEYRE PORTRAY HER MANNERISMS. ESP W HOW WILD PETELGEUSE WAS ANIMATED IN S1. REAL LOONY TOONS BULLSHIT. AND HER POWERS ARE ALSO SOOOOOO MUCH COOLER I CANT WAIT

NO MORE DRESSES FOR CRUSCH YAY

he fucking bit it. yeah i guess thats what dogs do tho.

YOU. DIVORCE MAN. KILL YOURSELF. SLASH SERIOUS.

the empathy powers will have a glowing eye effect. very cool but i hope they dont show it too much in the first scene bc like in the LN i think its cooler if you dont know why everything is so... Wrong.

i dont rly have anything to say i just think ferris looks cool covered in blood. imagine being healed here like doctor catgirl will see you now

emilia be nice. that crazy bitch might be your mom. just like how the previous crazy bitch was in fact your dad.

THEY CHANGED UP CAPELLA'S DESIGN TOO honestly tho her being sexualized makes sense w a lot of the themes (the way its intentionally meant to be perverse and gross in a way explicitly stated) so i didnt mind as much and she still IS here but. this is still an improvement imo just a better outfit looks cooler. bug.

NAUR I DONT WANNA WAIT... OCTOBER.... AUGH

[itjazzbicch]

Never Happened

Pairing: MKX Erron Black x Reader 

First time writing for Erron so I hope I did well! (I'm obsessed with MKX Erron so here we are lol)

Summary: Faking their death, the reader had been in hiding for a long time, only returning to Outworld because of the war between Kotal and Mileena, her motives a mystery to an old friend who discovers her and they both agree that nothing ever happened...

Warnings:  Swearing, some flirting, hinted that they used to have an intimate relationship

Word Count: 0.7k 

There was inevitably going to be a wild turn of events given Mileena and Kotal were waging war over Outworlds' thrown and what exactly was that wild turn of events?

Me.

I had to stay hidden for one more night, in an untouched forest. Given the creatures that called this forest their home, it made for a good hideout if you had the survival skills that were necessary, which I did.

Everything was going according to plan. All that was left was to weather through the night, till a specific piece of my past came back for me.

Hearing some leaves crunch, I had high ground in a tree. In the darkness, I couldn't make out who it was, but I found it strange that they made it to exactly where I had been.

It was as if we were reading each other's minds, making our presences known as I pulled out my dagger, blocking a bullet, the gun that went off giving away their identity.

"Well shit," Erron huffed at me, finding my eyes in the moonlight under my hood, "It's a ghost."

"I figured you of all people could figure out I've been alive this whole time, cowboy." A long, long time ago, I faked my death in order flee Outworld. I had only returned because of this war Mileena and Kotal had caused, but I wasn't there to choose sides as Erron assumed:

"Mileena must be pullin' every card she's got, hu-"

"Who said that I was here to aid, Mileena?"

"What are you doing here then?"

Erron and I's past was complicated to say the least, but there was always this something between us. It'd been there since the day we met and with the look in his eyes, we could both feel that it was still there.

"So many questions," I huffed, not letting my motives out and teasing him, "Can't even say hi to an old first? Also, I'd appreciate an apology for trying to kill me just now."

"But I didn't," He chuckled, swirling his gun back into its holster, "And if I wanted to, I could've."

"Yeah, right," I laughed, recalling, "Remember the first time we met, and I kicked your ass?"

"As nice as it is to catch up and all," Stepping up to me, he was done playing games, direct and stern in his tone, "I'd like to know why someone who's supposed to be dead suddenly reappears when a war is breaking out."

"I'm not here for what you think I am, Erron," Staring deep into his eyes, I wasn't going to answer him; he didn't know my extensive past, thus why I was there, instead explaining to him, "I know that you're short on time and the story would be too long to tell. So, let's just pretend this didn't happen? Hm?"

"I don't think so," His fingertips were ready at his holster again; he must've been on edge, "I don't know what happened when you 'died' but I know this shit is way too coincidental."

"I see where you're coming from," Sighing deep, this was my one last effort to try and convince him before either fighting or retreating, my hand resting against his mask to pat his cheek, "But I swear to you, I am not your enemy."

The spot he had for me started to soften up, the emotion in my eyes showing I told no lies, longing to see his face, pinching his mask and whispering softly:

"It is nice to see you again, although it's not how I imagined."

"You owe me," Revealing his face, he hadn't changed a bit since the day I met him, smiling even though he was mean mugging me, his voice dying to a growl, "If anyone knows-"

"No one will, because this never happened, remember?"

Exchanging smirks, I had to giggle because it felt like old times again, hooking an arm around his neck for a soft hug, kissing his cheek and promising in my whisper:

"When the time's right, I'll tell you everything, but for now, this never happened."

"Alright," He mumbled, fixing his mask as I began to walk away, stopping at the slap I felt on my ass, quickly turning to look at him chucking, "What? Nothing happened."

Even I had to laugh, blowing a kiss before I disappeared into the night, "You haven't changed a bit, cowboy."

2023 © itjazzbicch — do not repost or translate my work. Likes, reblogs, and comments are always welcome 

[elliewiltarwyn]

Elilgeim "Ellie" Wiltarwyn

B A S I C S

Name: Elilgeim Wiltarwyn

Nicknames: 'Geim by childhood friends; Ellie by Mia at the end of ARR and by everyone (or at least those she knows) halfway through HW; El by her partners

Age: 24 in ARR, hc'ing that it's four years to the end of 6.0 and then another year or so to 6.55 -- so at present, 29ish

Nameday: 9th Sun of the Sixth Umbral Moon

Race: Sea Wolf Roegadyn

Gender: (trans) female

Orientation: Lesbian

Profession: Conjurers' Guild member, then Warrior of Light; would probably still be a conjurer, or scholar or even a writer in non-WoL AUs

P H Y S I C A L     A S P E C  T S

Hair: Red, usually shoulder-length when down, but in a ponytail most of the time. She usually brushes it until it's silky and clean, but recently somebody *coughdefinitelynot@oneiroycough* mussed it into a really messy kinda-butch look and she's found herself really liking it :V

Eyes: sort of the same slightly-cool blue as the tumblr dashboard you're probably reading this on >.>

Skin: Seafoam green-ish

Tattoos/scars: Slightly-pale red streak across her cheekbones and nose. Plenty of scars, one light one over her eye from Pearl Lane and more all over her torso; Zenos gave her the two biggest ones, one on her side at Rhalgr's Reach and one directly in the middle of her chest in Ultima Thule.

F A M I L Y

Parents: Father was Wiltitar, a retired Storm Captain, most well-known for retiring from and renouncing piracy and throwing his support behind Merlwyb Bloefhiswyn's Galadion Accord; met an untimely end in an alleyway mugging. (This does mean her surname should be Wiltitarwyn, and there's no good in-universe reason it's not. >.>) Mother is Keltbryda, a renowned and well-loved physician who mysteriously vanished, thought dead. Near the end of EW... Ellie discovers she was actually summoned to Sharlayan to lend her skills to the ark project. They definitely have a very normal conversation about this.

Siblings: None by blood, but she does have a childhood friend from school that she considers a sister this friend does not exist yet beyond that concept

Grandparents: A little too far back for me to think about >.>

In-laws and Other: None, really, because...by the time she marries her partners, none of their blood families are in their lives anymore either >.> (technically I think Lily's family is still alive, mom and nunh and two younger sisters, but she hasn't seen them in years)

Pets: Fat Cat is definitely canon, although I haven't figured out its name yet. also debating whether Rudy photobombing their holiday photos and stealing her nameday cake is canon and he just lives with them now.

S K I L L S

Abilities: Surprisingly in tune with the elementals of Gridania (though not enough to be necessarily okay with them) and thus fairly skilled at white magic/conjury. After a Very Certain Event in HW, she picks up a claymore and learns how to swing a greatsword and becomes even more in tune with her inner darkness. She picks up the reaper arts for EW, then post-EW drops them and learns martial arts from Lyse and her contacts in the Fists of Rhalgr.

Hobbies: Reading and studying, training, picks up sailing and fishing after EW.

T R A I T S

Most Positive Trait: An extremely strong and confident sense of justice/conviction of what's right and wrong.

Most Negative Trait: Gets tunnel vision frequently and is quick to leap to the most direct solution, no matter how unfeasible or unwise.

L I K E S

Colors: Red red red red red almost all the way up and down lol, and black for accents. Blue's a close runner-up, though.

Smells: the coast of Vylbrand, the steel of bloodied armor, coffee

Textures: Aetherwoven robes and corrugated steel; calloused hands and rough skin; surprisingly soft almost-silky hair

Drinks: Coffee, either pitch black or very specifically a spoonful of milk and one sugar cube

O T H E R    D E T A I L S

Smokes: She did occasionally during the period of her life she spent on Pearl Lane, and will maybe take one if offered in the present, but she doesn't of her own accord anymore.

Drinks: Nope, even before the events of MSQ she did not have a great tolerance; after the multiple attempted poisonings (and as the one who was specifically blamed at the bloody banquet) she swears it off entirely.

Drugs: Not of her own accord again, but she will if offered recreationally.

Mount Issuance: Her red chocobo named Typhoon; she also uses the Garlond GL-II on loan from the Ironworks as long as she doesn't crash it. She's come close a couple of times.

Been Arrested: Likely a few times when in Pearl Lane, then less so as she got better about avoiding them, but not since becoming a conjurer.

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thanks for the tag @oneiroy!! I'm not sure who all's done this so uh forgive the double-tag if it is one, but I will tag... @eidingate @amons-hat-enthusiast @idalenn @starrysnowdrop @akirakirxaa, and of course you 🫵 if this strikes your fancy!

[in-hav3n]

Ok so hear me out. Would you please write me this fantasy:

This one is kinda more fluffy but I have that stupid PHOBIA of insects and spiders and moths. I need him to either get rid of the bug for me or kill it for me or something. Makes me feel so single imagining a cute little domestic scenario like that, and him laughing at you screaming and the way you stand so far back from the quarantined area watch from behind a door and he smiles at you acting like a little girl (not in a weird way btw, like he imagines briefly what you were like as a child in a cute way) and how you initially scream BLOODY MURDER, probably knocking shit down and then plundering down the stairs aggressively shaking down your clothes saying “IT FEELS LIKE ITS ON ME” and he is in the garage or something and hears the commotion and comes in looking ALL KINDS OF FUCKING FOINE. Then he just effortlessly gets rid of it, but pretends to throw it on you maybe or if not that he pretends to be afraid of it like you before just getting rid of it. The era I’m picturing… um, like 2003. Gimme some beef😏

THANK YOU FOR EVEN CONSIDERING THIS AND YED. If you create this, good things will happen to you, thags just how it works tbh.

𝐒𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐌𝐄

WARNINGS : horrible spider lol

It was a rainy Sunday in San Fransisco. Winter was slowly coming, bringing a smooth and fresh atmosphere to the city. After sharing delicious breakfast with your boyfriend, you both decided to go back to your own businesses of the day. James went to his garage to do some handy work on this new old car he recently bought while you decided to spend more time in the kitchen, enjoying this morning peacefulness.

You grabbed a coffee mug and sat down at the table to read some local newspaper brought by the postman yesterday. You weren't really in a hurry this morning and it felt good. You just wanted to enjoy this tranquility you couldn't have during the week. But someone else asked for your attention first. A slight bark and a head bump reminded you that it was time to feed your dog Disco.

"Oh I'm sorry buddy, you were outside and we forgot you", you said to him, quickly getting up to put some food into his plate. "What horrible owners are we, uh?", you scratched his ears and he completely forgot your mistake as soon as he started to devour his meal.

You gave him one last little smile before going back to your reading. You took a sip of your hot beverage and let out a sigh of satisfaction. Being at home was the best feeling in the world. James would be there for at least a month and you already planned many things to do. Including best cuddling sessions after weeks of separation. What you did last night actually and the thought of it is enough to make you smile.

Twenty minutes later, you were still reading, humming a song you had in mine for a while as you were turning the pages. You could also heard James' electric devices from the garage but you didn't mind. You liked when he was busy and when he was at home. You always missed his presence so much.

But suddenly, your smile faded, as soon as you felt something on your bare leg. You froze for a short time, wondering what it was. Probably Disco moving around but...then you realized he was sleeping peacefully near the dishwasher, belly full.

You froze more. If it wasn't Disco, then what could it be? You didn't dare to check and let your mind giving you a picture of the thing that probably was on you. Maybe just a envy to scratch your skin, after all you shaved two days ago...but then, your mind brought you less funny pictures. What if it was a bee? A fly ? A moth ? Or something worse like...a spider ?

You gulped and didn't move. You wanted to see if this feeling was your imagination or if something was really on you so you leaned a bit on your chair but you couldn't see what was under the table. You was kinda reassured when you didn't feel anything for a while when brusquely it moved again. And now you started to panic...

Your breath just increased and you looked around, searching for a solution. You closed your eyes when you felt this "thing" literally walking on your skin...You couldn't take this anymore. With a gasp of fear, you quickly pushed this horrible thing from you, shaking your leg the best you could as you back your chair away in a full speed.

"Oh my god, oh my god!", you mumbled as moving around, searching for a safe place somewhere, far from the monster and landed standing on the couch. Disco looked at you with curious eyes and tilted his head on his side, asking you what was going on. You panted hard, waiting for a sign of the beast. Until it finally showed up, walking peacefully before stopping near your chair.

When your eyes landed on it, you felt another rush of fear. It was a big black spider, with horrible long legs. It could have had the size of a tarantula cause it was absolutely big. No way you were going to kill it by yourself.

"JAMES!", you shouted as loud as you can, when you heard a silence coming from the garage. He wouldn't have heard you with his machines. You heard some other noises and screamed for his name again, adding a little "QUICK ! HELP ME". With that you were sure he'd come in a hurry. And two minutes later indeed, heavy footsteps were heard and then the door was opened.

He looked around, thinking he'd find you in the kitchen but then noticed the chair on the floor and your presence in the living room. "What are you doing there ? Is there a problem, I heard you screaming", he explained with a frown, wondering what you were doing on the couch.

"Oh James please help me!", you begged, almost shaking of fear. "You have to kill it, please!".

"What should I kill ?", he asked again, still curious about the situation.

"This horrible monster near the kitchen table! Please, please do something, it's a big tarantula, an horrible giant tarantula", you explained as pointing out the place where it was. James frowned and walked in the direction, searching for the "monster" you were talking about. He stopped near the beast and suddenly cracked a laughter.

"This monster?", he knelt down to observe it closer.

"James, are you mad ?! Go away from that thing and smash it please!", you begged when you saw him. Was he crazy? Intrigued too, Disco woke up to check what James was doing. "Ha! Wait, Disco is too close baby, please push him away and do something!".

"Sweetheart, calm down...it's only a little spider...", he said softly as he got up, searching for something to smash it while Disco was sniffing it.

"Little spider? Are you kidding me? This monster was on my leg, I can tell you this isn't little AT ALL!", you replied, scratching your legs like if you could still feel it on you. James giggled more and finally found something to smash it with. He kneeled again and you looked at him, hoping this horrible beast would be out of this world very soon.

When James tried to smash it the first time with one of his shoe, he missed it. And you saw the spider walking faster in your direction. Without thinking twice, you screamed loud and high as you can as you jumped faster over the couch to run till the stairs where you finally stayed, feeling safer.

"James please, you can kill a beast with a fucking gun from afar, don't tell me you can't kill this fucking spider !", you begged again, scanning every movement of it to see if it wouldn't come in your direction.

'Hey I do my best!", he replied as he walked to the spider, Disco following him as well. He focused on his target and let his shoe falling down on to, finally smashing it down. "Got it!".

You sighed of relief when you see the horrible beast wasn't on your floor but stuck on the back of his shoe. What a luck James was at home, you wouldn't have been able to do that on your own. You'd have probably stayed outside till he'd have come back home...

"Nothing to worry about baby. It was just a little spider. You know this couldn't have killed you, right ?".

"Oh no, she could have! Believe me! I know this horrible...AAAH!", you screamed louder, jumping from the stairs when James came closer to tease you. He ran after you with his shoe exposed.

"Are you sure?", he said, giggling like a goofy.

"James! C'mon stop this!", you begged, almost like a little girl but it was stronger than you. Insects, and spiders actually, were your biggest fear. "I really ask you to stop, please!"

"Oh c'mon", he chuckled and put the shoe away, near the main door. He'd get rid of the spider later. Instead he came closer to wrap his big arms around you.

"I warn you, if you have this damn fucking spider with you, I'll kill you", you warned him, already preparing yourself to run away again. But James wrapped his arms around you, reassuring you.

"Don't worry baby", he gently said, amused by your attitude. "I have nothing with me, I just want to protect you against a tiny spider". You snuggled into his beefy arms and hid your face against his comforting chest.

"That's not funny at all, you know how much I fear those monsters", you mumbled, asking for some comfort he gave you soon. He rubbed your back, whispering some "hush" near your ear.

"I know baby and you're so cute when you're afraid like this", he smiled and kept doing his gestures to comfort you. You blushed a little but he couldn't see. At least, he thought your childish's reaction was cute. "And you know I'd protect you from any threat...big and little threats", he said.

"This is my man!", you answered, feeling safe in his arms...

A/N : Thank you sweet anon for your ask! I'm sorry for the delay, I needed some time to feel the inspiration coming back :( Hope you'll enjoy it, I had fun writing this!

[borahaerhy]

Flawed - myg

Genre: Fluffy asf, slight angst

Warnings: self-harm scars, and that's really it lovelies.

Word count: 2K

Request: can you write one where yoongi is y/n’s neighbor (either he recently moved there or she did, doesn’t matter) and y/n is pretty introverted and has had a tough life. she deals w self-harm (if ur not comfortable writing this part its totally fine, you can skip it or u can just make it so that it was in the past and she doesn’t currently do it anymore) and depression. she’s a painter but is always self conscious of her paintings/drawings but he sees them and appreciates them, they become good friends, and both open up to eachother, their windows are next to eachother in a way so they always meet up on the roof that’s connected to their window(idk if i’m making sense lol) and they lay there talk and stare at the stars. you can end it however u want but this is the gist of what i was thinking (also, if you do decide to write the SH part, u don’t have to write the act of it, just him maybe seeing them and her talking about it and him comforting her about it) and ofc if u can make it fluffy lol

Ofc!! I hope you don't mind the direction I took it :)))

These small moments of peace are what keep you sane. 

A good book, a new favorite song, rainy days spent on your sofa watching movies. 

The small moments in between are what really matter – between the chaos and excitement, where nothing really matters more than how warm you are bundled up under your favorite blanket or how the breeze moves through you perfectly on an evening walk. 

This moment was one of those moments. 

Sat on the small chair you had on the fire-escape you’d turned into a nice enough little balcony. A warm cup of coffee clutched by your cold fingers as the autumn morning breeze chilled them. 

The apartment across from yours had been empty for some time, not that you minded at all. Their fire escape was no more than 10 feet away from yours, the buildings almost hugging in this gridlocked city you moved to. 

But today it seemed your peace was over, as you could see through the window that someone was moving in. You sighed briefly as you stood, empty mug in hand as you stepped back into your apartment through the small window before closing it behind you, catching a glimpse of who you presume would be your new neighbor. 

He peered at you through his own window, a small curious smile playing on his lips as he gave you a small wave. 

You returned it, giving a small smile of your own before you turned away. 

One of the thing’s you found yourself grateful for was the size of your apartment. It wasn’t large or glamorous by any stretch of the imagination, but you had enough room for a small art studio in one of the bedrooms. 

You smiled to yourself almost unconsciously as you eyed down a blank canvas, the gentle features of your new neighbor flooding your mind, and you wondered for a moment how often you’d have to run into him. 

-

You leaned against the front door to your apartment as it shut, a deep wave of relief washing over you to finally be home. The late-night shifts at your job always had been the most draining, and today was no different. 

You slid off your jacket after you finally managed to push yourself from the door and hung it on the rack. As you reached up to hang it, the sleeve of your sweater raised up slightly, revealing the scars you’d long-since stopped collecting. They served as reminder as to why you stopped, but from time-to-time, they seemed more to be egging you on rather than reminding you why you stopped. 

Another small sigh left your lips as you gently rubbed over your wrist, before pulling your sleeve back down. 

After making yourself a cup of tea and grabbing your sketchbook, you headed over to the window and climbed out onto the fire escape. You sat down and brought your knees up, resting your sketchbook on them as you opened up to a fresh page. Your new neighbor had decorated his own fire escape with plants and fairy lights, a very nice sight in comparison to the empty one it’d been days before. 

You began to sketch the scene in front of you, looking up every so often to refresh your memory, but this time when you looked up, the man that’d waved at you a few days prior was standing in front of you, a cup of coffee in his hands as he stood out on his fire escape; looking at you with another one of his small smiles. 

“Hope you don’t mind, I used yours as inspiration,” You sat confused for a second before realizing he was referring to your own “balcony”. 

“Not at all, gives me something new to look at,” You smiled, going back down to your drawing, copying down the way the vines of one of his plants wrapped around the railing. 

“What are you doing up so late, anyways?” He asked, now leaning over an un-occupied portion of the railing. 

“I could ask you the same thing,” you responded, not looking up from your paper. 

“I just got off work,” you smiled, looking up briefly with the intention of getting another look at how the lights were hanging, but instead just looked at him and back down again. 

“Me too.” 

-

As weeks passed, you’d gotten to know the man with the pretty fire escape, Yoongi, pretty well. You both got off work around the same time and made your way out so you could talk to one another, and tonight was no different. 

“You can’t just tell me that you paint and then refuse to show me anything you’ve painted, that’s just cruel!” You giggled, pulling your jacket closer to your body as the cool air nipped at your skin. 

“I wouldn’t say cruel, I was just making conversation! How was I supposed to know that you’d want to see it?” You smiled lightly, a blush creeping on your cheeks as you looked up at the night sky, Something Yoongi and you had started doing so you could point out different constellations to one another, and now continue doing so you can talk for more  time without having to sit up. 

“Who hears about someone doing any form of art and doesn’t immediately want to experience it? That’s like going up to someone and telling them you have fresh-baked brownies but and not letting them have any,” 

“What if I made the brownies for myself? I didn’t go through all the trouble of baking a whole pan of brownies just to hand them out to people, I made the brownies so I could eat them.” 

“Ah, an artist who creates for themselves, keeping the beauty of their creations to themselves while the rest of the world remains blissfully unaware of what it could be experiencing. Truly the most cruel act I can imagine,” His voice was more serious than his previous digs at you, but even without looking at him, you knew he was smiling as he spoke. 

“That’s a lot easier to say when you don’t have art to hide. When it’s just yours you can appreciate it, the work you put into it and the flaws that make it yours. But when showing it to others, they might not have the same appreciation for it,” 

While it was true that there was a point in time where you desperately wanted the world to see what you’d spent so much time creating, that time has long since passed; the words of the ones you’d shown your art to etched into your brain and no matter how much you tried to shake them away, they still cling in your memory. 

There was a silence, not an uncomfortable or long one, but one where you both sat and thought about what was said, still staring up at the stars that twinkled softly. 

“I make music, you know,” You looked over at him, suddenly less engulfed in the way the stars shone and more interested in whatever Yoongi had to say; yet his gaze remained fixed up at the sky. “I never wanted to show anyone until one day I did, and now…” he was silent, but you could see his lips begin to curve upward before you decided to turn your attention back to the sky.

“Well now I let the world listen, and in return, it thanks me.”

-

You were honestly half-asleep on your sofa when a gentle knock on your door startled you back to the land of the living. You stood up and paused the show and threw your blanket over your couch, having no idea who could possibly be here and how judgmental they would be about blanket-placement. 

You opened your door to see Yoongi, smiling somewhat nervously. You turned and peered at the time on your stove, surprised that it was already nearly 3 in the morning. 

“Sorry, I hope you don’t mind, I just thought we could like actually hang out, instead of just sitting on the fire escape,” he noticed your hesitation and quickly spoke again. “I meant like out for a coffee or something, you don’t have to invite me in-” 

“Yeah sure, sorry, I’m still half asleep. You can come in while I change,” You stepped aside and opened your door a little further to allow him in. “Make yourself at home, I’ll be right back,” 

You smiled as you closed the door and swiftly moved back to your room to but on something more inappropriate than sweatpants and the oversized t-shirts of one of your ex’s. 

You walked back out to the living room, but he wasn’t there. You furrowed your brow briefly before you realized that there was only one other room he could possibly be in. You ran to your studio, the lights now on with Yoongi staring at all the paintings you had propped up against the wall. 

“These are…” He trailed off, never taking his eyes away from your work to acknowledge you were even in the room. 

“Not really that great, I know, but they weren’t really meant to be seen-” 

“Y/n, these are amazing,” He looked at you now, his smile shining brightly before he looked back at them, almost in disbelief at how good they were, at how good you were. “How have you never shown these to anyone?” 

You silently leaned up against the wall, thinking back to the last time you had shown someone. “The last person that saw anything I made had a very different reaction than you,” He tore his eyes away from them and moved them to you, confusion strewn about his features, as if he couldn’t fathom anyone seeing your art any differently than he had. 

“It was a long time ago, anyway,” You looked down at your feet, shifting awkwardly as you tried to move on from the tense moment. “He just didn’t really like anything that wasn’t perfect, and everything I make is full of flaws.” 

“But that’s what makes it beautiful, isn’t it?” He asks, taking a few steps closer to you. “Like with most things, the more flawed; the more human that they are, the more beautiful they are,” He was right in front of you now, taking in your features as you did his, much different now in decent lighting and not from completely different buildings. 

He was much softer than he seemed from the fire escape. His eyes warmer and cheeks fuller, he almost seemed ethereal standing in front of you, praising the art you poured your heart and soul into. 

He reached out for your hands, pulling your sleeve up slightly where he feels the healed-over ridges of what once was the worst pain you’ve ever felt, and your heart jumped; someone seeing both your art and your scars within the same 3-minute window of time being much too vulnerable for you. 

He looked down at your arm, wanting to fully see what he was feeling, not fully believing his first thought when he felt them. 

Your arm pulled out flat in front of him as he gently pushed your sleeve up further to reveal more of the scars that littered your body. 

“More of that flawed, human stuff,” You spoke softly, trying to make a joke that came out sounding a lot more depressing than you had intended it to be. 

He brushed his thumb over it softly, realizing he’d stumbled into much more than an art studio when he came over for an innocent cup of coffee. 

Moving almost as if he had no control over his actions, his hands moved to your cheeks and his lips to yours, engulfing you in a kiss that portrayed so much more than words ever could. 

The voices in your head telling you all the negative things about yourself fell away as he filled you with positivity; filled you with reassurance and understanding that no one else had been able to offer you with all the words that they knew. 

He softly pulled away, your foreheads connected and his hands still cupping your face as you opened your eyes to see him already looking back at you with his warm dark eyes. 

“And all the more beautiful it makes you.”

[honey-dew-woo]

I have another Bradley x reader request. Could you please write something where the reader brings their newborn to see him at work bc they are sick of maternity leave and miss the action (how they got the clearance idk lol) and Bradley just shows the baby off to his team? And then maybe if you aren’t sick of me yet another one where the babe is a little bit older and Bradley shows them the inside of a plane? I’m living for your content.

So its not exactly your request, but it did inspire me a lot, so its very similar to your request, if you want me to make another one that's more to a T your request, lmk! Also, this is going to take place a few years after the mission. Enjoy! <3

Warnings: I haven't editted it yet! LOL

Masterlist

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Maybe Being Suspended Isn't That Bad

The sight of the once black coffee now turning to a lighter brown as the cream mixed with a swirl of the wooden stick I held in the cup on the counter before me could only bring a small, yet content, smile to my face. Even with it being 9:00am, it was a well deserved coffee. I tapped the small wooden stick on the side of my mug before throwing it in the trash, careful not to spill any of the hot liquid onto my flight suit as I took a sip.

"Captain Bradshaw." I heard a voice muse, as I turned to the door, mug in hand. "As I live and breathe." Hangman winked, being pushed into the room from his spot in the door frame, Phoenix following in behind him.

"Captain Seresin." I teased, laughing before taking another sip, moving out of his way and to the break room's couch, allowing for him and Natasha to get their own coffee. "Where's Bob this morning? I thought he was gonna give a seminar to the new WSO's." I asked, as my back met with the cushion of the couch.

Natasha shrugged at me, but Jake actually responded. "He got sick this morning. Threw up right after waking up." He spoke casually, as he mixed sugar and cream into his coffee. This caused both Natasha and I to turn to him, both of our eyes wide as we offered shocked smiles at the blond.

"What?" He asked, raising his eyebrow and looking between the two of us before walking out of the room with his coffee.

"I take it Carole didn't want to go to school today?" Phoenix smiled, taking a sip of her coffee as she sat on the couch before me.

"No, but when does she ever? I left my phone at home too just getting her in the car is a struggle." I laughed, before Phoenix and I were snapped out of our conversation by a Lieutenant bursting through the door. They were out of breath, hunched over as they gathered themselves.

We both stood up, concerned. "What is it?" I asked, placing my coffee mug on the table. "Lieutenant Evers, what is it?" I asked, as the younger male looked up at me.

"Captain Bradshaw," he panted, before continuing, "Admiral Simpson needs you in his office," the lieutenant managed before needing another breath, "With Rooster as well. ASAP." He let out, sitting on the chair that Phoenix pulled out for him, offering him a water bottle.

"What did you sprint here?" Natasha asked Evers, concern lacing her voice before she turned to me. "Bradley's landing now. I'll cover your class. You're going over the Uranium plant mission, right?" She addressed, nodding her head towards the windows, as I saw Rooster's plane landing.

Distracted as I looked out the window I responded to her. "Yeah. I want them to try a similar, modified version of the course." I trailed off as my brows furrowed as another Lieutenant explained to Bradley, who had just hopped out of his plane, that we had been summoned to the Admiral's office.

It couldn't've been but five minutes later that we were both sitting in the Admiral's office. "Captain Bradshaws." Simpson nodded, his hands folded on his desk as Bradley and I looked to each other, soft smiles before returning back to Cyclone with confusion. "Why can't either of you answer your personal cell phones?" He sighed, only adding to Rooster and I's confusion.

"Sorry, Sir. Bradley was flying and I left mine at home." I explained, my brows furrowed as I looked to Cyclone. "Why?" I pondered, still remaining respectful to the Admiral.

"Your daughter's school called. She's been suspended. They want both of you to attend a meeting with the Principal and pick up your kid. They didn't say anything else. You've been approved for leave." The Admiral spoke, placing his glasses on his face before going to read paper. "You're dismissed." He nodded to the both of us.

We could only look at each other out of confusion before heading out to my husband's blue bronco. Neither of us bothered to change out of our flight suits, but we did put our aviator sunglasses on for the drive. "What the hell did she do?" I spoke, crossing my arms as we pulled up to the school.

"I don't know. What do five year olds get suspended for anyway? Stealing a juice box?" Bradley asked, looking at me seriously. I burst out laughing as he whined, lightly hitting me on the shoulder. "I'm being serious!" He insisted as we exited the car.

The metal doors of the school opened with a creak as Bradley and I walked in. The main office was the first on the right, and I followed Bradley in. "Hey kiddo." He smiled, speaking softly at our daughter before going to sit next to her. She looked fine, and I silently thanked the heavens for that. She smiled up at her dad, hugging him as he sat in the chair next to her.

I walked up to the desk lady, who looked at us confused, and I could understand. Two people walking in with flight suits on had to be confusing, especially for someone who probably doesn't even know what a flight suit is. "Hi. We're the parents of Carole Bradshaw. We were called about her suspension?" I asked, before snapping my attention towards the Principal's office door, watching an angry silouette in the door.

"You can't let whatever monster did this to my sweet Billy get away with just a suspension! I demand to meet with their parents!" I heard a woman's voice, and I turned to look at my kid. It wasn't an angry look more of a 'what the hell did you do?' look. She smiled sheepishly up at me, as her dad looked at her with a face of shock and concern, but his was less serious as he towered over the girl, leaning forward to actually be over her before smiling at her and winking.

"Is that them? Are they here-" An angry man's voice this time spoke, bursting out of the Principals door to see me and Bradley, in full flight suits- as Bradley wrapped an arm around Carole protectively.

The man was in a full suit and tie, he looked as if the only thing he was missing was a brief case. His angry eyes glared at Bradley, and Rooster's own gaze harshened, as if he was dealing with Maverick when those two weren't on good terms. Carole looked up at her dad concerned, and then turned to me when her dad didn't look down at her. I smiled as I met her gaze, kneeling down and opening my arms as she ran over to me, leaving her dad's lap.

The room was tense, and I picked up my daughter, holding her on my hip as she rested on my arm and hip. Bradley stood up shortly after Carole left him, holding his head high as he refused to break eye contact with the other man. "Billy wait outside. The adults need to have a discussion." The unknown man spoke, as the principal rushed out. I truly felt bad for him, he was a smaller man, glasses on his face as his age showed through his balding head.

"Let's all just calm down." He spoke, smiling weakly in attempts to defuse the situation as he stood between the two men. 

I smiled in pity at the short man, before setting Carole down next to me, holding her hand as he hugged into my leg. "Bradley." I spoke, as my husband whipped his head to look at me, his gaze softening. "Calm down." I smiled, calmly. Rooster nodded at me, taking a breath before turning to the principal, now ignoring the man in the suit. 

"Thank you, Mrs. Bradshaw." The man smiled at me, as if I had just paid off his student loans. "Now please, can we all sit down. Children too." He spoke, nodding to Carole and the other little boy, who I suppose was named Billy. 

The unknown man huffed before walking back into the office from which he had formerly burst out of, his child following behind him. The principal then offered a soft smile, as if to apologize, to Bradley has he held the door open.

Rooster gave the man a nod, and Carole and I could only follow as the Principal closed the door behind us. There were four chairs in front of the large wooden desk, the man from before and his wife sat in the two farthest from the door, their son standing on the other side of his parents.

The principal brushed past us and sat on his desk, and Bradley motioned for me and Carole to sit, opting to stand. I married an absolute gentleman. The man who I had to sit next to huffed, rolling his eyes as he crossed his arms at Bradley's action.

Rooster payed him no mind, now stand behind me with his hands on the back of my chair, as I wrapped my arm around Carole, who leaned her head against me as we all looked to the man sitting across the table. "I'll start with introductions then." The principal spoke, smiling at us. "As you know, I'm Mr. Clearwater. This is Mr. and Mrs. Morris. Mr. and Mrs. Morris, this is Captain and Captain Bradshaw." The principal nodded, as Bradley and I awkwardly smiled at  the prudish couple next to us, who could only meet us with narrowed eyes.

This wasn't awkward. Nope. Not one bit. I turned my head towards Mr. Clearwater, and I brought my left hand up to Bradley's, him grabbing mine with no hesitance. I swept my thumb across his knuckles as the principal flipped a laptop on his desk, showing a video feed of a camera on the playground. 

The black and white film showed the little boy, who was now hiding behind his mom, approach Carole. Carole had been playing on the swing set, the camera facing her, so we only saw Billy's back. The video shows him pointing at her, and then she hops off the swing set. I watch my baby approach him, and the boy pushed her shoulders back. She then launched herself at him, and I could feel both mine and Bradley's eyebrows raise. The video stops as teachers rush over and pull her off the poor boy.

"So, Carole is facing a week's suspension." Mr. Clearwater addressed, as Bradley and I now had serious faces on.

"Okay, but what about the little boy?" Bradley asked, eyes focused on the man opposite side of the desk, ignoring the harsh looks of outrage from the Morris couple.

The question shocked the principal, who seemingly had to a double take. I squeezed Bradley's hand, to show him that I full-heartedly was with him on this. "Sorry?" The principal asked.

"What about Billy's punishment?" I asked, pointedly. "I mean it's clear he started the altercation. He shoved our daughter first, are you not going to do anything about that?" I spoke, letting go of my daughter and my husbands hand, crossing my arms. Rooster nodded from behind me in agreement. 

Mr. Clearwater opened his mouth to speak before Mrs. Morris cut him off. "Mister Clearwater!" She scolded, her face angrier than I think I've ever seen anyone be angry, "You can't seriously be suspending our son! That little monster," She sneered, pointing at our daughter, at which I leaned forward, pushing Carole slightly behind me as I narrowed my eyes at the foul woman. She turned her head back to the principal before continuing, "attack our pour baby boy." She cried, holding her son, who tried to squirm out of her hold. 

"Carole, Why did you attack Billie?" I asked, turning to my daughter. She looked up at me, with sadness in her eyes.

I could only offer a small smile to try to tell her I wasn't mad at her, just curious. "I can't tell you. You said never to say bad words." She responded, looking up at me.

Bradley ran his head down the back of her hair before addressing her, "You can some, just this once. What did he say to you?" He spoke, smiling at Carole with nothing but love in his eyes.

The little girl took a heavy breath, moving her gaze from her father to me. "He said that I was lying when I said you and daddy were pilots for the navy when we were talking about careers. He said that it was-" She paused, taking a breath and breaking eye contact before gazing back at me, "bullshit. And that you were probably just janitors or something." She spoke, as I held her arms, nodding.

I nodded, smiling at her before she opened her mouth again, this time shakier, "H-he also said," she stuttered, looking down as she kept speaking. My heart broke to see my baby girl this sad, "that if you guys were pilots that you were," she breathed, wiping tears from her eyes as I placed my hand on her cheek to console her, "shitty pilots and would probably crash and die." she finished, crying by now as I held her in my arms.

I looked briefly to Bradley, who now held an aura of seriousness about him, as his father had died in a plane crash. I held my baby as I looked angrily to the principal, eyebrows raised. "I think that's all we need then. Billy will retain a week of suspension, and while Carole did not provoke the other student, she still did attack him so she will also be facing a week's suspension." He finish, nodding at us as the Morris family stormed out, the mother practically dragging her son by the hand.

I sighed, picking up my daughter and handing her to Bradley as we made our way to the car. "Carole, you know we're not mad at you right?" I asked, turning around from the passenger seat as I looked at Carole, who sat proudly in the back in her car seat. 

She nodded at me, opting to stay quiet as she played with a doll, petting its hair. "I love you, baby." Rooster spoke, turning around from the drivers seat as he winked at Carole.

She smiled up at her dad, softly but still looked at her doll. "I love you too. I'm sorry."

"Don't be, princess." He spoke, his eyes now focused on the road before us. "Do you wanna come to Mommy and Daddy's work? You can see Auntie Nat." He spoke, glancing every so often in the rear view to look at our daughter. 

This seemed to do the trick, as Carole immediately brightened up, the earlier events forgotten about. "Yes please!" She cheered, almost jumping in her seat as I turned back to smile at her before facing front again, aviators resting on my face once again as I glanced at the time.

By now it was around 11:00, and I was feeling hungry. "Carole what do you say we go get McDonalds for lunch?" I smiled, facing my daughter who cheered once again. Bradley laughed, shaking his head as he moved to turn into the nearest McDonald's parking lot.

And one big mac, one ten piece nugget, both with fries and Sprite, and one kids meal later we were all at base. Bradley and I walked in, Carole holding Rooster's hand, her other hand holding her Happy Meal box, as she had little shades on her face. They were kid's aviators, that she insisted on having after her father and I wore our own so much. 

"Aunt Nattie!" Carole yelled, seeing a group of Lieutenant's all listening to Phoenix, as they stood in front of the runway, seemingly they were about to go suit up. The little girl dropped her father's hand and tenderly placed her Happy Meal box on the pavement beneath her before running up to her honorary aunt.

 Natasha spun on her heels, bending down slightly with arms wide open, grabbing the five year old and spinning her in the air, before allowing the child to rest on her hip. "Hello my favorite niece. Would you like to tell your mommy's class what they should always remember before they fly?" She asked the girl in her arms as I handed Carole's happy meal to Bradley, who didn't have a class right now. 

Carole perked up, smiling as she moved her head to address the group of Lieutenant's. Half of them looked like they would melt at Carole as they admired my baby. It would be the first time for this class to see them, as they were only three weeks into their course and it was the first time in awhile that Carole would visit Rooster and I's work. "Don't try to dogfight Auntie Phoenix or Momma C/S. They will always win. But, you can always beat Uncle Hangman!" She nodded as she explained to the Lieutenants.

Bradley and I burst out laughing, wondering when the hell Natasha taught her thought. "Yes Ma'am." A few of the Lieutenants sounded, giggling. "Alright. With that message, I'll give you back to your main instructor. Captain Bradshaw." She nodded at me, as I smiled and thanked her as she still held on to Carole, her and Bradley heading toward the break room.

"Right then. Did you guys just finish the simulated mission, or were you about to start?" I asked, as Lieutenant Evers was quick to respond.

"We just finished." He informed, taking his aviators off.

"And?" I asked, expectantly as I raised my eyebrows from behind my own sunglasses.

"No one succeeded." Arrow, a younger female Lieutenant, admitted, as I clapped my hands together.

"Alright then. Let's review." I spoke, opening the door to the base as the Lieutenants followed me, heading to the mission review room.

I was halfway into breaking down Arrow, Jackal, and his WSO Hotdog- Lieutenant Evers-, who had lost one too many eating contests,  before being interrupted by a knock at the door. I opened it to find Carole resting in Bradley's arms. I raised my eyebrows in confusion, but a smile put on my face from being greeted with my two favorite people in the world.

"How may I help you?" I asked, quirking my eyebrow at Carole.

"She said she wants to go to Mommy's class. So I figured I'd ask if you have an empty seat for us." Bradley spoke for Carole, who smiled shyly into her fathers chest.

This prompted a chuckle from me, as I opened the door wider. "I think I have a few empty seats in the front just for you, missy." I teased, winking at my daughter as I pinched at her arm. Bradley smiled at her, before turning to me to peck a kiss on my lips before entering the review room. "Thank you Captain Bradshaw." He teased, walking in as the Lieutenants faces brightened up at my daughter.

"Anytime, Captain Bradshaw." I nodded, a goofy smile on my face as I took to the podium once more. "Alright, where were we?" I asked my class, before smiling as I held up my hand, the clicker for the presentation behind me clutched in between my fingers. I narrowed my eyes briefly at the screen, before pausing the video. "Alright. Decision time.  Arrow, Jackal. You two were up against Phoenix in my F-35. You hadn't started the mission yet, when Captain Trace entered the scene as a bogie. What was your decision?" I asked, crossing my arms as I turned back to the Lieutenants before me. They didn't answer.

I sighed, placing the clicker on the podium before me. "Who was mission leader?" I asked, my hands now on the podium as I shifted my weight to my arms. Arrow raised her hand. "Alright Lieutenant Brookston, it's on you then. What did you decide to do when Hotdog alerted you of the bogie?" I asked, looking at the female pilot before me. 

"He didn't, Captain Bradshaw." She responded, chewing gum as she glanced over at Jackal and Hotdog before returning her gaze to the front. "They abandoned me without giving me a heads up to take Phoenix on a one-on-one. I continued en-route to the mission and hit the target. I then bailed out of the climb when I hit 8G's, ma'am." The Lieutenant explained.

I raised my eyebrows as I looked over at Jackal and his WSO. Expressing nothing but how unimpressed I was on my face, as I nodded at the pair. "What have you been taking notes from a younger version of Captain Seresin? Do you really think it wise to abandon your wingman to take on a superior aircraft on your own?" I scolded, as I crossed my arms.

Evers held his head low, listening to me as his gaze met the floor. Jackal looked up at me with a fire in his eyes. "It's not the plane ma'am. It's the pilot." He spoke, determined as I narrow my eyes at the lieutenant.

Carole raised her hand from where she sat next to her father. I looked away from the Lieutenant to point to my kid. "What's up Carole?" I asked.

"Isn't it always better to fight with your wingman than abandon them and try to prove that you're better than your enemy? You always say that its better to stick with your friends than to try to go out on your own!" She cheered before sipping her McFlurry. 

Rooster looked at her shocked, as the rest of the Lieutenants also had looks of shock pass over them. "Jackal can you explain why my five year old knows how to dogfight better than you?" I asked, as the young Lieutenant huffed. Smiling, I glanced at my watch to notice it was time for the cadets to have a break. "You're all dismissed." I smiled, as the Lieutenants left the room in a hurry, many of them high fiving Carol on the way out.  

I smiled at Carole as Rooster played with her and an airplane figurine that was lying around. "Carole, which plane is that?" I mused as my baby looked at me, and looked back at the plane. She narrowed her eyes in concentration, making a funny face and pursing her lips.

She looked between me and the plane, as if it was some kind of trick question. "It's an F-18." She determined, nodding as she handed with back to her father, who had the biggest grin on his face as he looked over at me. I smiled, closing my eyes as I nodded to her.

"That it is, sweet girl." I spoke, as Natasha and Jake walked into the room, the four of us- well usually five with Bob, would often use the break time as a lunch and get-together. To talk about cadets, and just generally hangout. 

"Uncle Jake!" Carole cheered, making her way out of the blue seat before running up to the blond male.

"There's my favorite girl!" Hangman cheered, picking up the small girl as Bradley stood up. Jake held the small child in his arm, resting her on his hip like how Phoenix and I did previously. "Oooh! A McFlurry." He teased, picking up her drink as she whined and hit him on the shoulder. "Ow. ow! Stop it! Here!" He laughed, handing the drink to Carole as he set the girl down in the blue chair before him. "Now I know how Billy feels." He muttered, causing Bradley to chuckle, as I sighed at the pair.

Carole sat clueless to the joke, sipping her ice cream shake before looking up at Phoenix. "Auntie Nat?" She asks, as Phoenix turned from where she stood.

"What's up, sweetheart?" Natasha asked, running her hand through Carole's hair.

"Why do you and Uncle Jake and daddy fly F-18's and mommy gets an F-35? That seems unfair." She pointed out, placing her drink in the cupholder as she crossed her arms judgmentally. I swear I saw Rooster sneak out his phone to take a photo of her in this position.

Natasha thought for a moment before responding. "Because you can't tell anyone, but your mommy flies better than everyone else here, so they gave her a better plane. But your mommy is super nice and shares with her friends, so sometimes she lets me fly her plane." She explained, squatting before the girl as Carole nodded, as if affirming the knowledge Natasha was telling her.

"But how do you fly without Uncle Bob?" She asked, confused.

"Your mommy's plane is just that good." Natasha spoke, before tickle attacking the small girl.

Carole giggled, and turned towards me after Natasha let up. "Mommy!" She called, as I looked at her.

"Carole!" I responded, as Bradley had moved to the computer that held my presentation, wrapping it up and shutting it down for me. 

"Can I see your plane? Like can I sit inside of it?" she asked, stars in her eyes looking up at me. God I was so screwed. That little girl could ask for me to give her the world and I don't think I could say no.

"Of course!" Bradley spoke, before going to grab his daughter, and carried her out of the room, winking at me as he walked out.

"So she's suspended from school." I spoke, as Hangman and Phoenix sat down, both turning to me with looks of shock.

Jake gave me a weird look. "What did she get suspended for? Saying a potty word?" He teased as Natasha jabbed him in the ribs. "Ow." he spoke, looking at the black haired girl, betrayed. 

"Nah. She launched herself at this little shithead who talked about me and Bradley not being pilots, or good pilots at least, and saying that we would die in a jet crash. Honestly I don't know how to even punish her for that, because I'm pretty sure Bradley and I would do the same thing if someone said that now." I explained, as I sat down on a chair with wheels in front of the duo.

"Just do the whole 'violence is never the issue' thing." Phoenix suggested, as she took a sip from her water bottle. I nodded, before wheeling across the room to my computer, closing it and sliding it in my bag.

"It'll probably be what I end up doing. I just don't want her to think Bradley and I are mad at her, you know?" I explained, as the two nodded in agreement. "You know she still asks when she can go to Uncle Jake and Uncle Bob's house." I teased, smirking up at Hangman.

Phoenix turned towards the blond, a giddy grin lacing her face as she wiggled her eyebrows at him. "She can sleepover today honestly. Bob said he's feeling better. I can call him right now and ask if you and Rooster want a night off." He suggested, pulling his phone out of his pants pocket.

"Honestly, you can take her for the night if you'd like." I nodded. "She doesn't have school tomorrow, so I need to find someone to watch her. I might pin her on Mav and Penny if they're not too busy." I thought. "Alright, you call Bob. I'm going to go stop my husband and child from stealing my third baby." I joked, referring to my plane as I walked out the door. Phoenix followed me, as Jake gave me a thumbs up from where he was standing on the phone at the back of the room.

The walk to the jet hangar wasn't long, and I soon found my baby sitting in the pilots seat, an oversized helmet barely resting on her head as she put her hands on the controls. "Wooosh." Rooster spoke, grabbing the helmet by one hand on the top, whirling her around as she giggled. 

"Why are they so cute?" I complained to Phoenix as we walked up as she giggled. She walked up to the plane as I checked my phone, a text from Hangman confirming that Bob would love to have Carole spend the night. 

I smiled as I walked up to the trio, Phoenix now making fake coms with Carole as Bradley greeted me by wrapping an arm around my waist. "How would you feel about her spending the night with Jake and Bob?" I asked as he looked to me, Carole happily distracted with Phoenix as she wore her father's helmet.

Bradley smiled at me, pulling me closer to him as he whispered in my ear, still making eye contact. "I'd love some alone time, Mrs. Bradshaw." He teased, winking before he tickled me. 

"Bradley!" I scolded, jumping as I jokingly pushed him away, only for him to pull me closer, kissing me on the temple.

"Yeah. I think a night with Jake and Bob would be good for her." He spoke, smiling as he watched Carole go 'pew pew' with the plane. I swear I could watch his heart melt as I pressed a kiss to his jawline.  "I love you." he spoke, looking at Carole before turning his gaze to me.

"I love you too." I smiled up at him, pressing a kiss to his lips before being interrupted by Carole.

"Ewww!" She whined, causing Bradley to rush up and grab the helmet off of her, Rooster peppering her with kisses, despite her best efforts to shoo her father away. I smiled, watching my husband and my baby goof around as I could only gaze at them with love and admiration in my eyes. Maybe being suspended isn't such a bad thing.

[creative-caramel-coffee]

The Bear || Chapter 2

Pairings: Wanda x R || avengers (platonic) x R

Word count: 3K

TW: swearing, violence, hangover, injury, fainting (more like getting knocked out but ok), implied trauma, vomiting, medical inaccuracies (maybe maybe not), concussion (+ adjoining symptoms)

Summary: You join your uncle tony in the avengers, it wasn’t your original plan but you never planned for your powers either so here you are. Now your at the avengers tower and falling for the girl of your dreams. With a haunting past and interesting abilities can you navigate your way through the challenges of being a hero? After a mission gone wrong and a cruel twist of fate the team starts digging for answers. Can tony keep them from finding out the truth?

PART 1 || PART 2 || PART 3 || PART 4 || PART 5 || PART 6 || PART 7

A/n so far i have four chapters planned out for this series so i hope you guys like it lol

The next morning when you woke you were grateful for nat making sure you hadn’t made a complete fool of yourself. Your splitting headache subsided slightly with the pain medicine and still in your pjs you slipped on your fluffy triceratops slippers and shuffled out into the kitchen. Wanda’s breath caught in her throat when she saw you. You were so cute with your bed head and pj’s with the cutest slippers she had ever seen.

“Ahh theres the party animal.” Tony said slapping you on the back.

“Too loud.” You groaned “need coffee.” After nudging tony away nat pressed a warm mug of coffee into your hands.

“Im not sure how how you like it but its better than nothing.”

You took a sip humming at the taste as your shoulder slumped in satisfaction. “Perfect nat thank you.” You said shuffling over to the table and sitting next to Wanda.

“It’s Clint’s morning to cook so we’re having pancakes. I hope thats ok.” Nat said sitting on your other side.

“Sounds perfect.” You grinned.

“You obviously don’t know Clint very well then.” Nat teased and laughed when she felt a burnt pancake hit her in the back of the head thanks to Clint.

“Shuddup” he huffed and went back to cooking pancakes.

About half an hour later the team was sat munching on the pancakes Wanda had cooked after Clint nearly set the tea towel on fire trying to fan the pancakes which were also on fire.

“Damn these are really good thanks Clint.” You teased and Wanda rolled her eyes zapping you with a small flick of red magic. You burst out laughing and nearly choked on the pancakes but nat started smacking your back hard enough that you stopped. She handed you some water and you shot her a grateful look as you took small sips.

You were about to make another comment when Jarvis piped up.

“Ms Maximoff, Ms Romanoff and Ms L/n director fury is requesting your presence in the meeting room.” Jarvis said and you groaned in sync with Wanda as nat stood up.

“Duty calls.” Nat winked and dragged you and Wanda out of the kitchen.

It was a simple mission really. Nothing you hadn’t done before with tony before … well … before everything. So far nobody had seemed to question your ability to fight like a pro or the way you naturally seemed to have all the experience to match some of the older team members like Natasha or Steve even. But they had just assumed tony had trained you or more likely paid someone else to train you. They could not have been more wrong. But you preferred it that way.

You threw a few things in a bag before stripping down and changing into your new suit tony had designed. By spinning your ring on your left pointer finger left then right then left again the suit appeared starting at your finger tips and then melded over the rest of your body. It was red and black. Kind of like peters suit but the mask was a skull mask. You weren’t ready for the world to know who you were and you had valid reasons for it. Throwing a few knives onto your belt and a gun on your waist you stepped onto the jet a few minutes before Wanda. Wanda did a double take at your outfit. She had to admit you looked pretty badass. Black combat boots, your mask, your suit and an old tactical jacket with the logo ripped off the sleeve and chest made you look awesome.

As you stepped off the jet you walked up to Wanda deciding to take a chance and get some adrenaline running. You whispered in here ear your lips almost touching her neck. “I love the outfit, but I’d love it more on the floor of my room later tonight.” With that you went on your tiptoes and kissed her cheek. Wanda flushed, the two of you had been flirting for a while but nothing so outright as of yet. Until now. Wanda couldn’t wait until the mission was over. Carefully she tried to retrain her mind trying to focus on the mission.

The mission was going well, good even. Nat had taken the floor above and Wanda the floor below. You were in the middle. Te hydra base was nearly empty on a skeleton crew. Things were going too well and you knew your luck would run out soon. Rounding the corner and walking down a long hallway you stopped and pressed against the wall hearing voices in the room beyond the door.

“Nat” you whispered into the earpiece. “I’ve got company.”

“Ok I’m coming, Wanda meet me at y/n’s location. Do not engage until we get there.”

Your luck however had finally run out as the door opened and the men saw you.

“Shit” you swore and pulled out your gun. Dodging the bullets and taking out the guards was second nature although you were a bit rusty. Once most of the men had fallen or run you entered the room cautiously. When suddenly a guard appeared from nowhere and punched you in the face. Your mask cracked and fell to the floor. Your cheek bled from where it had cut you. Quickly you took the man down. After taking a minute to breathe you heard a slow clap. Your body stilled, swivelling on your heals you pulled you gun on the man and froze. It was him. The man who had haunted every night terror you had since you escaped. Your blood ran cold. Ice stilled in your veins and you were afraid your heart would stop beating. Hell it felt like it had. Your breathing stuttered and you didn’t register Wanda and Natasha arriving still frozen in place.

“Guards.” The man said and before any of you could react a burly man threw you into the wall. Your head collided with a sickening crack and you fell slumped on the floor, back still against the wall, out cold. “Y/N!” Nat yelled and ran over to you while Wanda jumped into action and fought off the two men who escaped.

Nat held you close to her in her lap and check you over. She knew you would have a nasty concussion and a hell of a headache when you woke up. But what concerned her most was that you froze. She had never seen you so afraid before. And it puzzled her why this seemingly random hydra scientist had such an impact on you.

“Wanda can you cover us?” Nat said into coms “we need to get her out of here she’s out cold.” Nat said and Wanda agreed.

Careful not to jostle your head nat scooped you up and carried you bridal style in her arms out the room. Carefully she jogged slowly making sure the action wasn’t moving your head too much until you could be properly assessed by Bruce back at the compound. Wanda stayed close behind making sure to cover the three of you and taking out any of the guards along the way. Nat had actually just gotten what they came for moments before you ran into trouble so at least the mission was a success in some senses.

When the three of you finally reached the jet Wanda carefully took you from Nat’s arms who gave a tight nod before going to pilot the jet. She would be back once they were up in the sky and she could put Jarvis in control.

Wanda laid you down on the floor with your head in her lap. The jet didn’t really have anywhere else for you to lie down so the floor was the best option. She carefully stroked the hair from your eyes and inspected the cut on your cheek. It wasn’t deep but it was bleeding. Reaching for the first aid kit without standing up she used her magic to bring it over. Carefully she cleaned the cut with some anti sceptic before putting on a plaster to keep it clean. And because you wouldn’t know any better she pressed a small kiss to the bandaid and stared lovingly down at you. Sure she was worried you hadn’t woken up yet but you looked so peaceful lying there. Carefully she checked your pulse and was glad to feel it strong adjacent her finger tips. She hummed and went back to running her hands through your hair. She paused momentarily as your eyes fluttered but stayed shut. Carefully you opened them winced and then closed them again.

“Don’t stop” you murmured and Wanda smiled softly before running her hands through your locks again. “‘S too bright” you mumbled and used your arm to cover your face. Wanda carefully pulled your arm away.

“No none of that. You need to be carefully y/n/n you probably have a nasty concussion and we need to get you to Bruce before you start touching your head.” She said and pulled you closer to her front as you were now fully curled up in her lap. Tears pricked your eyes as the headache hit you in full swing.

“Aww bubs come here.” She said hating to see you in pain. she pulled you closer again and you hummed into her stomach as she still was carefully stabilising your head. Wanda giggled slightly at the vibrations on her skin and hummed in content. Soon after Natasha returned and sat beside Wanda.

“You two look comfy.” She smiled.

“Shhh too loud.” You whimpered and both girls hearts broke for you. Nat hadn’t been speaking loud at all you simply had one of the worst headaches you had ever felt in your life. You buried your face into Wanda’s stomach again and missed the concerned looks the girls exchanged before looking back at you. They smiled slightly at the soft snores they heard coming from you a few moments later.

“Should we wake her up?” Wanda asked concerned

“No she probably needs all the rest she can get its a long flight home anyway. Also here take this you never know if she’ll need it.” Nat said handing Wanda a plastic sick bag.

“She might be sick?” Wanda asked raising a brow and badly hiding her concern. Nat simply shrugged.

“It can happen with bad concussions so its better to be ready than be covered in it.” She said masking her own worry better than Wanda could.

You slept for a few hours before you felt the plane start to descend. Without opening your eyes you felt yourself being lifted from the floor and the warm tingling of Wanda’s magic surround your head as she carried you inside keeping your head stable with her magic. You turned you face into her chest and she chuckled slightly.

“You sure are cuddly aren’t you.” She said smiling softly and you simply gave a sleepy hum of agreement.

“Come on cuddle bunny lets get you to Bruce baby girl” she said mind running back to the way you had kissed her on the jet before the mission. She wanted more but knew you needed help first. She would ask you to be her girlfriend later your head was more important right now anyways.

Nat’s silent footsteps followed Wanda as the three of you headed towards the med bay, nat had alerted Bruce already that you were coming. They were almost in the clear, nat still had the sick-bag in her hand as you stepping into the lift. However your stomach and head did not like the jolt as the lift began to move and nat noticed your face pale as the nausea peaked.

“Y/n/n? Are you ok?” She said carefully. You shook your head as a spike of pain hit and a slight green tinge took your skin.

“Gimme that.” Wanda said urgently as she used her magic to put the sick bag under your chin. Because she didn’t have any hands free nat quickly went to help Wanda. Guiding the sickbag to your chin and holding it there with her nimble fingers. A second later you threw up into the plastic sick bag and sobbed slightly as it made the pain in your head worse.

“Shhh shh shh” Wanda shushed whispering encouragement and sweet nothings in your ear as you heaved again. Nat frowned at you feeling bad you were sick and she couldn’t help. Nat held the hair from your face as you finished and went limp in Wanda’s arms. Body no longer tense as you stopped throwing up. Nat brushed the hair from your face and e your eyes fluttered they knew you were awake ad hadn’t passed out again, you were simply exhausted.

“Are you done y/n/n? Not got any more?” Nat said carefully

You weakly hummed a no snuggling further into Wanda’s chest. Nat took the bag away deciding to believe you. She wasn’t grossed out she and Wanda had seen much worse. She tied off the bag and as the lift opened the two of them stepped out, you still in Wanda’s arms as nat went to find Bruce and discard of the bag.

Wanda went to set you down on the bed, freezing when you began to whine as she was concerned she had hurt you.

“Y/n?” She said sounding alarmed, if you were sick again she didn’t have anything else to give you. “Whats wrong sweetheart?” She asked carefully.

“Stay” you said in a small voice as you tugged the collar of her shirt. She was pleasantly surprised and sat on the medical bed with you laid on-top of her. A moment later nat and Bruce arrive and nat raises an eyebrow but doesn’t say anything but Wanda’s cheeks heat regardless. Bruce hurries to your side gently positioning you so he could see your face and he began to feel the back of your head. After hearing you were thrown into a wall he wanted to first check the site to make sure there was no bleeding.

Satisfied there was just a large bump he laid you against Wanda again. Wanda hummed and noticed nat was holding another sick bag, she raised a brow at her and nat mouthed ‘just in case’. Wanda nodded and drew circles on your back and Bruce shone a light in your eyes to check the pupils reaction. After a few more tests and a scan, Bruce determined that you had a bad concussion which made nat scoff as she predicted it from the start.

He said you were free to go back to your room but to stay away from screens, bright lights, loud sounds and to rest for a bit. He then turned to nat and Wanda and told them they would need to monitor you just in case due to the severity of the concussion. Bruce said that if you got worse or they grew concerned to check in with him and if needed bring you back to a reevaluation. He rattled off a short but concerning list of possible symptoms to expect but reiterated concussions were different case by case. He handed nat a couple more sick bags before discharging you with some pain medicine. Wanda sighed as she realised you still weren’t going to let go. She stood with you in her arms still. Its not that she didn’t want to spend time with you but she did simply want a shower. This time the lift didn’t seem to set you off but nat was ready regardless. As Wanda walked into the room you were glad you had put your drawings of her and nat away before you left. Your sketchbook was on the bedside table along with your pencil-case of essential supplies. You clung to Wanda who sat on your bed.

“You take a shower I’ll take the first shift.” Nat said peeling you out of Wanda’s arms and taking her place on the bed.

You nuzzled into her still only half understanding what was going on.

“Thank you i wont be long.” Wanda said shooting nat a grateful look as she headed for the door.

“Take as long as you need we’re gonna have our hands full with this one.” She said jabbing a thumb at you while you began to snore softly in her arms. Wanda held back her desire to coo at your cute form, instead she settled for a shower and slipped out the door.

You barely remember nat feeding you the pain medicine but you do remember it tasted like burnt cardboard and paint. As an artsiest you had eaten your fair share of paint, accidentally of course. Painting before lunch and then it getting in your food. Only small amounts though nothing harmful.

Wanda returned a while later and swapped spots with nat who carefully handed you to her and by some small miracle you stayed asleep. Wanda prayed you would stay that way until nat returned from her shower, she knew how to care for people and despite being experienced she felt out of her depth with you, she didn’t want to make a mistake and hurt you in anyway. But she knew she wouldn’t.

MASTERLIST