#i can’t promise these designs will stay the same

[bluesgras]

i was making color references i thought i ought to share em!

[finelinevogue]

okay what about something with fiancerry about wedding planning? like putting stuff together/looking at inspo/etc ??

a/n - again… something small <3

word count - ~1k

wedding planning mahem

.’•*,.’>*,~<\*•,.-:’•.~_,*^;-.•*

“I hate that colour.” You frowned at the potential colour of napkins.

“It’s beige. How is that not good?” Your fiancé, Harry, asked.

You were both sitting on the lounge floor, binders, folders, photos and bits of paper laid out everywhere in front of you. No space on the floor was untouched.

“It’s just.. bleh. I’m thinking sage green, to match the bridesmaids dresses.”

“Ooh that reminds me. Gem said her dress needs altering again.”

“Again?” You ran a stressed hand after your forehead and back over your head. “Anything else I should know?”

“Aunty Carole isn’t sitting on the same table as Uncle Graham, she said. Actually, she kind of threatened me to make sure it didn’t happen.” Harry gulped.

“Oh.. for fu– okay, okay.”

You take out a piece of paper from a binder and add these tasks to your never ending list. There were currently 67 tasks on your list to do and increasing in length too.

“And I should probably let you know that the cake decorator cancelled this morning saying the design was too complicated.”

Your eyes felt like they bugged out of their sockets. “Too complicated? Are you kidding me? It’s a bloody white cake with some green ivy on it.”

You groaned and collapsed on your back. You covered your eyes with the palms of your hands.

“C’mon, baby. It’ll all be okay.” Harry said, rustling with some paper.

You shook your head. You breathed out a deep breath, knowing what was coming next. Your shoulders and chest started to shake as you started to cry.

Your hands stayed over your eyes as the tears flowed down onto your cheeks.

Harry must have noticed, even though you weren’t being vocal about crying, because the next thing you knew he was on his way over to you.

“Woah, baby. Hey, hey. What’s up?” Harry pulled your hands away from your eyes and just let you cry without restraint. He stayed sat by your side, holding one of your hands with his.

“This is so shit.” You tried to talk through your sobs.

“What is? The wedding? The planning?”

“Everything!” You exclaimed, but Harry knew you didn’t mean it.

“Talk to me. What’s actually wrong?”

Harry pulled on your arms to sit you up. He sat with manspread legs and you sat in between them, sitting sideways to his body.

“I just.. I just wanted this wedding to be perfect. I needed it to be perfect and now everything’s falling apart left, right and centre.” You blew out a deep breath as you tried to calm your tears.

“Why does it need to be perfect? It’s not worth being perfect if you’re this upset, honey.” Harry explained, which you understood.

“For you.” You said softly.

“For me? Wha– baby…” Harry struggled to understand.

“You have done and still do so much for me, H. I just can’t even begin to explain just how much. This was supposed to be my way of showing you how much it all meant to me.. how much you loving me has meant to me.”

Harry pulled your chin so your face faced his. “Baby, hey. I know how much I mean to you. I see it everyday, from the little moments to the big. Like, this morning, you knew I wanted a green tea instead of a breakfast tea. I don’t know how you did, but you did. Or last week, I asked you if I could go out and see some friends and next thing I know you’ve organised a barbecue for me and them here. I-I don’t know how you could ever think that you don’t already show me how much you love me.”

“I know, I know. M’sorry.”

“It’s okay, lovie. It’s all going to work out, I promise.”

[libraryofloveletters]

Bound By Fate

Jenson Button x Fem!Teammate Reader

series summery: the strings of life connect two people; teammates, friends, perhaps lovers. Even when you think you’ve gotten rid of him, the strings of life pull you back in. some things are just meant to be. 

author's note: this was prompted by god knows what but this is my new passion project. jenson girlies, this one is for you. shoutout to @mev33 for losing her mind over this with me <333

bound by fate taglist!

chapter one: united front

attached at the hip, jenson button and y/n l/n are the unstoppable duo. the same soul in two bodies. all but 4 points separating them. // “where you go, I go. What you see, I see. I know I’d never be me without the security of your loving arms, keeping me from harm. Put your hand in my hand and we’ll stand.” - Skyfall by Adele

chapter two: time cast a spell on you

spending nine months with someone is a long time, especially when you’re forced to be with them. feelings grow, both good and bad.  - “Time cast a spell on you but you won’t forget me. I know I could have I loved you but you would not let me. I’ll follow you down ‘till the sound of my voice can haunt you. Oh give it just a chance. You’ll never get away from the sound of a woman that loves you.” - Silver Springs by Fleetwood Mac  

chapter three: the blame is on you

two mclarens spin out, drivers at each other’s throat but only one’s to blame. what’s said on track doesn’t always stay there. - “It’s my own design, it’s my own remorse. Help me to decide, help me make the most of freedom and of pleasure, nothing ever lasts forever. Everybody wants to rule the world.” - Everybody Wants To Rule The World by Tear For Fear 

chapter four: no grace

jenson can’t take it anymore; the back stabbing, the betrayal. he did what he thought was best and left. on what was supposed to be the happiest night of y/n’s life, she’s heartbroken and upset. — “I didn’t have it in myself to go with grace, so the battleships will sink beneath the waves. You had to kill me, but it kills you just the same. Cursing my name, wishing I stayed. You turned into your worst fears and you’re tossing out blame, drunk on this pain. Crossing out the good years and you’re cursing my name, wishing I stayed.” -  My Tears Ricochet by Taylor Swift 

chapter five: the final tango

y/n and jenson find themselves front and centre, smiling for the cameras in their sunday bests, yet their hearts are in different places. - “it hurts to be something, it’s worse to be nothing with you. I’ve done the math, there’s no solution. We’ll never last. Why can’t I let go of this?” -  Promise by Laufey 

chapter six: secrets of us

when all is said and done, it’s never really over, is it? jenson spills far too much in a tell-all interview that back fires on both he and y/n. - “And you don’t seem to understand, a shame you seemed an honest man. And the fears you hold so dear will turn to whisper in your ear. And you know what they say might hurt you and you know that it means so much, and you don’t even feel a thing.” -  Duvet by Bôa

chapter seven: a chapter of me

four long years have passed, both y/n and jenson are in different places of life but they find themselves at Silverstone, together once again. jenson’s a commentator and y/n’s still a racer. seems the dust has settled. - “Just wanna let this story die, and i’ll be alright. We can’t be friends, but I’d like to just pretend. You cling to your papers and pens, wait until you like me again.” -  We Can’t Be Friends by Ariana Grande 

chapter eight: a glimpse into the past

people come and go, life moves on; that has always been your view. you can’t move on when your past comes back to haunt you. -  “So I ask myself, do I let you go or do I keep you in the frame of my mind? Now I’m growing wise to your sugar coated lies, nothing’s sweet about my misery. Yeah, I finally found what went wrong, i finally found the wrong in you.” - On My Mind by Jorja Smith

chapter nine: twelve steps forward, one step back

the final race of your life, mixed emotions truly. your career was one out of a movie, you’re waiting for the final shoe to drop and when it does, it hits you hard. - “Isn’t it strange? I am still me, you are still you, in the same place. Isn’t it strange how people can change from strangers to friends, friends into lovers, and strangers again?” - Strange by Celeste

epilogue - chapter ten: the last bow

life post retirement is a funny thing, you thought you’d be having fun but you’re bored out of your mind. a solo trip results in seeing a ghost from your past.  -  “I'm sure we're taller in other dimension, you say we’re small and not worth a mention. You’re tired of movin’, your body’s achin’. We could vacay, there’s places to go. Clearly this isn’t all that there is, can’t take what’s been given. But we’re so okay here, we’re doing fine.” - White Ferrari by Frank Ocean 

[urlocalreadermooni]

Aizetsu x Reader

Female!Reader ( Hashira reader )

A/n: I am having a difficult time figuring out what to write nowadays 

A bit of spoilers but also a bit not since it's mixed with imagination. 

Part 2

                                                              Why do I feel this way…

You were sent to go relax in the swordsmith village, along with getting a new sword for yourself.  You were the Moon Hashira, Muichiros older sister. You had been told to go to the swordsmith village with your brother so you were already excited about it! You both were usually very quiet but when together alone, you guys can talk for hours! And I mean hours. One time you went on for 4 hours straight and Sanemi walked in on you two. He never looked at you both the same way. And to inform you reader, You are 18 turning 19 (IN THE FIC).

 You were in a room with Muichiro talking about how you were excited to see how your new swords would be designed since you both got new swordsmiths. But then a demon opened the door and you both turned. You ended up slicing its head as soon as it entered. It was crying when you slashed its head off too. It split into two more demons? ‘Odd.’ you thought and next thing you know, the green eyed clone had a fan that blew your brother through the wall into the forest. You screamed his name as he flew and you stared at the demon in anger. You had charged after him.

A little while later

Now there were 4 demons. One blue eyed, one green eyed that you despised, one red eyed, and one yellow eyed. They were all looking at you. Tanjiro and Genya had made it to the scene, tanjiro got swept away by the yellow clone and Genya fought the red clone. The green one went after Genya as well. The blue clone kept looking at you in a weird way so you decided to fight him. As you approached the Blue clone he backed away. He seemed to have no intention of fighting but you didn’t care, it was a demon! “Please don’t… It makes me sad that you want me dead…” He said softly. 

You let your guard down for a single second. And you get tackled by the yellow clone. You fell to the ground with the Bird? Man? Demon? On you. You got mad and then you heard, “Don’t hurt her Urogi… It makes me sad…” Urogi was his name huh? You felt the yellow clone ‘Urogi’ shift and he spoke. “Aizetsu you can’t be serious! It's a hashira!” He laughed. You heard him speak again. “Besides, It will be fun to rip her to shreds!” Aizetsu clearly did not like the idea by the sound of his tone. “Urogi. It's too upsetting to see someone die like that..” You could feel his talons dig into your back. "you are really hinting that you don’t want to kill this one!”

 You were laying there, listening to this conversation between the two demons. Generally confused mostly, but also a little curious. Why was this demon trying to convince this BIRD BRAIN to not kill you? Odd.. “Let me handle her… It's upsetting that you're hurting her..” You felt Urogi groan and fly off. You got up faster than ever and raised your sword at Aizetsu, the blue clone. You were about to attack until he raised his hands in the air, dropping his spear. Like he is showing you that he surrenders. You heard from behind you. “Aizetsu. What the hell are you doing you coward!” He glared at the red clone. “All of you stay out of this.” He said to the other clones in a harsh tone, but still a bit sad. He started walking closer to you and you were starting to feel uneasy about the situation. 

Why would an UPPERRANK not want to kill a HASHIRA. You were looking at him and he kept stepping closer to you. You wanted to step back but there were other clones watching you, like the red one. You had your sword pointed to his neck and he stood there, close to you. But not attacking you, hands still in the air with his spear behind him. He slowly lowered his hands and offered his hand to you. “I promise I won't hurt you.. That would just be sad..” You didn’t take his hand but you nodded, letting him know that you understood. He had a very small smile on his face after you nodded. You found it a bit cute but quickly shook off that feeling for a freaking DEMON. 

“My name is Aizetsu… What is yours? Please tell me..” Was a demon REALLY asking you for your.. Name? “Why do you want to know my name? Aizetsu.” You heard giggling from behind you, clearly from the one they called ‘Urogi’. Aizetsu looked somewhat annoyed at him laughing. “Because you're different from the others..” Different? How could you be different? Yeah you're a hashira, but in what way were you different? You looked at him confused now and slowly lowered your blade, even though you're not really supposed to. “Different? In what way?” You asked him. He started to get a little more… Excited? It was hard to read him since he looked a bit sad and down all the time. 

“You are more… Cute…?” He sounded a bit confused when he said cute. But you immediately let all your guard down and went bright red. ‘A demon.. Calling me CUTE?!’ you internally panicked. Urogi was laughing so hard in the background. “Aizetsu has feelings… FOR A HASHIRA!” Aizetsu ignored him. Aizetsu, noticing you blushing, felt happy, “So will you tell me your name?” You nodded and spoke, “I-its (Name)...” He smiled a bit more this time. “Cute name for a cute girl.. It almost makes me cry on how cute it is..” You were blushing. HARD. He. Kept. Calling. You. CUTE. “D-Do you even know what cute means..” You said covering your face while dropping your sword. 

Tanjiro slowly made his way back to where you were and yelled your name. Snapping you out of your freak out. You picked up your sword again and Aizetsu grabbed your hand. “Hey hey hey! It's okay! Don’t leave.. That would make me sad..” Tanjiro was confused and fought one of the other clones. You looked at Aizetsu again, he looked cute… And then you started blushing again. He kept holding your hand and you were freaking out internally about it. He pulled you closer to him and knocked the sword out of your hand while you were stunned. “(Name)... Can I keep you?” He asked in a very happy yet sad tone. What. Did. He. Just. Say. “W-what?-” You asked confused, and also very flustered. “You heard me. Can I keep you? If you say no I'll have to kill you..” He said the last part sadly. “If you take him you’re gonna have to take all of us.” Urogi said. 

You sighed and gave in.

“Fine. You can keep me.”

[sergeantbarnessdoll]

Birthday Wish » Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier

Pairings: Boyfriend!Bucky Barnes x Girlfriend!Reader

Summary: Bucky has everything he could wish for his birthday.

Warnings: Fluff, language, two sexual comment (18+), kissing, use of pet names

A/N: Happy 107th birthday to everyone’s favorite Sergeant🩵

Written on my phone. I’m sorry for any mistakes and typos.

Header made by @buckys-wintersoldier

The sun shined through the curtains when you woke up. You stretched and rubbed your eyes. You turned over to see your boyfriend sleeping peacefully. You smiled and leaned up, kissing his scruffy cheek.

“Happy birthday, baby.” You say sweetly.

Bucky groaned and rolled over, making you pout.

“You’re not excited for your birthday?” You asked, laying your head on his chest.

“No. It’s the same thing every year.” He says with a sigh.

“It’s not this year cause we’ve been dating for 6 months.” You say.

“That’s true.” Bucky wraps his arms around you. “I get to spend my birthday with you.” He smiles and kisses your lips. “No party. Just me and you.” He says.

“But-” Bucky gave you a warning look.

“Fine. No party.” You mumbled with a pout.

Bucky kissed you once more before getting out of bed to get ready for work.

“Do you really have to go to work on your birthday?” You asked.

“Yes.” Bucky says, putting on a shirt.

“Can’t you just call Steve and tell him that you’re staying home and spending your birthday with your best girl?” You asked, moving to the edge of the bed and placed your hands on his shoulders.

“I could, but I’m not going to.” He says, wrapping his arms around your waist.

You just looked at him with a pout.

“Stop the pouting. You know I can’t resist it when you do that.” Bucky says, trying his best not to give in and stay home with you.

“Is it working?” You asked, the pout remaining on your lips.

“Nope, not this time, babydoll.” He says.

You groaned loudly and dropped your head against his chest, making Bucky chuckle.

“You’re cute when you don’t get your way.” He says with a smile.

“So I’m not cute enough for you to stay home on your birthday?” You asked, pouting again.

“You’re always cute.” Bucky kisses you sweetly. “I’ll see you later, ok?” He says.

“Ok.” You mumbled.

Bucky kisses you one more time before grabbing his jacket and left. You sat on the bed with a pout on your face. A smile grew on your face when an idea popped in your head. You got off the bed and got dressed. You went to the grocery store and bought stuff to make Bucky a cake for his birthday. You have more than enough time to make it. You put everything on the kitchen counter when you got home. Alpine jumped on the counter, curiously sniffing through the bags to see what you bought.

“I’m going to make a cake for daddy for his birthday.” You cooed, gently rubbing your hand across her soft fur. “But you can’t be on the counter when I’m making it.” You say, picking her up and put her on the floor.

You got everything out of the grocery bags and got to work on making the cake. You got creative while making it. You found a cake pan that’s in a shape of a heart which gave you an idea. You smiled to yourself and grabbed it, pouring the cake batter in it and put it in the oven. You set the timer and patiently waited for it to be done. While you were waiting, you grabbed your phone and texted Bucky.

You: I have something exciting waiting for you when you get home🩵

Bucky my love: What did I say this morning, doll?

You: No party. I promise you that’s not what I have waiting for you

Bucky my love: If it’s not a party then what is it?

You: It wouldn’t be a surprise if I told you🥰

The timer went off when you sent the text. You practically squealed in excitement and ran to the kitchen. You took the cake out of the oven and put it on the counter, letting it cool off before you put the frosting on it. You scrolled through Pinterest to find inspiration. Creativity took over your body, along with excitement when you found the perfect design. You frosted the cake with white frosting and wrote “Happy Birthday, my love” on it with hearts around it in red frosting. You topped it off with a few candles.

“Babydoll, I’m home!” Bucky’s voice echoed through the apartment.

You ran to the door, jumping in his arms and kissed him passionately. Bucky wrapped his arms around your waist, holding you close to him.

“That’s one hell of a way to welcome your man home from work.” Bucky says, smiling against your lips.

You pecked his lips sweetly a couple times before he gently put you on the floor.

“Close your eyes. I have a surprise for you.” You say, taking his hand in yours.

Bucky was about to protest, but he was curious to know what the surprise is. You carefully led him to the kitchen, standing next to the counter where the cake is. You lit the candles.

“Open your eyes.” You say.

Bucky opens his eyes, smiling when he seen the cake.

“Make a wish.” You tell him.

“Why would I need to make a wish when I have everything I could wish for in front of me?” Bucky says with a smile.

You couldn’t help but blush. Bucky leaned down and kissed you softly.

“Blow out the candles, birthday boy.” You say, looking in his beautiful blue eyes.

Bucky blew out the candles and kissed you again.

“What did you wish for, baby?” You asked, looking up at him.

“You know I can’t tell you that, babydoll.” Bucky says. “I got my wish the day I met you.” He tells you.

You smile widely and stood on your tippy toes, kissing him passionately. Bucky placed his hands on your waist and pulled your body against his.

“Happy 107th birthday, baby.” You say against his lips in almost a whisper.

“Thank you, doll.” Bucky says, smiling against your lips.

Bucky pulls away from your lips to swipe his finger in the frosting of the cake and tastes it.

“This tastes amazing. I love it. It’s not as sweet as you though.” He says and licks his lips.

“James Buchanan Barnes!” You say, feeling your cheeks heat up.

“It’s true and you know it, babydoll.” He says huskily, the smirk never leaving his face.

You couldn’t help but blush and lean your head against his chest.

“Let’s cut into this cake so I can unwrap my present.” He says, placing his hands on your hips and pulled your body against his, sending a shiver throughout your body.

🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵

-Bucky’s Doll

[ohtobeleah]

Chronos // Robert Bob Floyd

Summary: Bob told you that Chronos carried a sickle, that he used it to cut a hole, a tear in the cosmos between heaven and earth. Chronos did that to separate this world from the next, to separate the known from the unknown.

And while someone by the name of Pete Mitchell told you over the phone that your husband had been involved in a training accident….Well—you felt as if you'd fallen straight into it.

Warnings: Bob Floyd x Pregnant F!reader. F-18 accident. Medical inaccuracies. Birth. Bob Whump, ANGST. Major character death.

Word Count: 6.1k

Author Note: Today is Monday, for most of you it’s Sunday: Please enjoy this oneshot that’s been a work in progress since the 28th of March. ~ Last minute title name change. I’m posting this at 4am my time so blow this up.

First there was a storm of carbon and molten rock which begat granite and soil. Then, the land shook and it cracked and it rose till it spiked the sky. Forest grew and died and grew a hundred times again. And then people grew and died and grew and died a hundred times again. There were storms and seasons and fences and blood. Wonder and vengeance and a whole lot of regret….

And through every grievance, every war, the land and the sky didn't give two shits about any of it. Bob Floyd knew that as he and his front seater, Natasha Phoenix Trance, fell through the sky in a tin bird designed by man, for man to destroy other men….

That it wouldn't give two shits about them either. 

“Extinguishing right engine!” There were far too many sounds coming from every system possible as Phoenix tried to regain control of the F-18 that seemed impossible to wrangle. All Bob could think about in those utterly terrifying moments was you. 

He’d always made it a promise to come home to you. He knew how much you worried about him, how much the thought of being left behind ping ponged around in your brain. How sometimes you'd stay up all hours of the night hoping that wherever he was and whatever ocean he flew across that he was okay. That he was safe and that he;d come home to you. 

Robert Floyd had made you a promise he had every intention of keeping, but he wasn't so sure he could. 

“Phoenix, Bob! Punch out! Punch out!” Maverick shouted through the comms as he chased the rogue fighter jet down. Bob looked around at all the warnings flashing in his face, there was nothing left to save except themselves. 

“Phoenix there’s warning lights everywhere, we’re in hydraulic failure!” All Bob prayed for in those terrifying moments as his colleagues watched on in pure shock horror from the ground below was that he’d get a chance to tell you he loved you again. 

He always told you that he’d come home, that there wasn’t a chance in hell that he wouldn’t. You knew better than to believe Government Property though, Bob knew you knew that there was always a chance. So he promised in the event of his untimely demise that he’d come back to you and wiggle your earlobe. To let you know he made it safe and sound. That you need not worry about him anymore. 

You promised him the same thing, because working from home was just as terrifying as flying a multimillion dollar fighter jet. 

“I can’t control it!” But as the ground grew closer and closer, Bob knew he wasn’t ready to die, he wasn’t ready to leave you behind and he certainly wasn’t ready to not meet his unborn child. 

“We’re going down, Phoenix! We’re going in! We’re going in!” He wasn’t ready to wiggle your ear. 

“You can’t save it! eject, eject!” Maverick shouted again, he was watching on like he’d been sucked into some kind of timeloop. He’d seen this happen before. Only he lost his best friend when to this day he thought it should have been him. 

“Eject! Eject! Eject!” Were the last three words Bob heard escape from Phoenix’s mouth before he was reaching between his legs to pull at the emergency yellow and black striped handle that sent him flying out of the cockpit. He’d been taught how to handle a situation like this, they all had. Every single naval aviator currently on active duty had been taught what to do when they needed to eject. 

But when Bob's head hit the top of the cockpit? He didn’t care for procedures and protocol and what he should or shouldn’t have done in the moment, all he cared about was you and holding on to whatever consciousness he had left as he tumbled through the sky at a rapid pace. Reaching for his parachute in just the nic of time. 

Knowing if he hit the ground where the land had shook and cracked and rose till it spiked the sky that it wouldn’t have given a shit. It wouldn’t have been all that forgiving and it certainly wouldn’t have mourned his untimely demise. 

So Bob faught until he hit the ground with a not so graceful thud, he hit the ground hard—with an almighty groan as his ribs popped and his head throbbed inside his helmet. 

“Ahhh!” He gasped as he clutched at his stomach, forgetting how to breathe as the darkness of tunnel vision claimed its next victim. Unconsciousness overcoming its latest casualty: 

Bob Floyd. 

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

Bob had asked you once when you were wrapped up in his arms in the dead of the night, listening to the storm raging on outside if you knew anything at all about a Greek God called Chronos. When you had chuckled out a soft no as his lips trailed up your neck and his slightly calloused hands roamed your body like they knew every inch, Bob told you that he carried a sickle, that he used it to cut a hole, a tear in the cosmos between heaven and earth. Chronos did that to separate this world from the next, to separate the known from the unknown.

And while someone by the name of Pete Mitchell told you over the phone that your husband had been involved in a training accident….

Well—you felt as if you'd fallen straight into it.

You felt like you'd fallen into the cosmic existence between now and soon to come, plummeting into a realm where time didn’t exist and light didn’t reach. You tumbled into a parallel dimension where nothing made sense, nothing seemed tangible or real. You descended into a world where Bob Floyd wasn’t around. 

“Your husband was involved in an accident during a training exercise this afternoon—“. 

At the sound of Pete Maverick Mitchell’s voice explaining that there had been an accident on base during an exercise—you begun to crack, you started slipping further and further into the unknown because Bob had always said he’d never leave and if he did you’d feel him tugging on your earlobe to let you know he got there safe and sound. 

There was no one tugging on your earlobe though, no soul that had passed on or ghostly figure watching over you. What there was though, was a radiating warmth between your legs. A wetness that shouldn't have been there. 

Had your water just broken? 

“Oh—oh god.” You gasped as you looked down, gripping the side of the kitchen island as you groaned out a prolonged, primal moan. You were in labour there was no doubt about it. “Ahh.” 

“Mrs Floyd? Are you alright?” The voice on the other end of the line asked with a confused undertone as you watched the seconds tick past on the ongoing call. 

“I uh—“ You tried to speak, tried to make sense of what you were hearing, what you were experiencing. Pain in every aspect both physically, emotionally and mentally. “I think my water just broke.” 

“Oh—“ Maverick couldn’t suppress his shock nor could he disguise his sudden state of disbelief. “Oh okay, I’ll uh—I'll have an ambulance come by right away.” You replied with a sharp groan. Doubling over as you felt how hard your stomach had truly become. This was happening, everything was happening all at once and you had lost focus in the pain of both worrying about the state your husband was currently in and the fact your baby was on their way. “Mrs Floyd, someone will be there very soon, I’m gonna stay on the line with you until they arrive.” 

“I need Bob—“ You’d begun to cry as you kneeled on the kitchen floor before you decided that sitting up against the cabinet with your legs outstretched felt a hell of a lot more comfortable. “I need my husband, I can't do this without him.” You felt warm tears streaming down your cheeks as your bottom lip quivered and another painful contraction rippled through your body. Every fibre of your being ignited in a fireball. “Ahhh—I won’t do this without my husband!” 

On the other side of the phone call that had taken a rather drastic turn, Mav looked to Phoenix who was being wheeled into the awaiting ambulance on the tarmac. Bob was next, Pete didn’t have the heart to tell the Weapons Systems Officer that had just escaped death that his wife, who he hadn’t mentioned to a soul beside Phoenix, that his wife’s water had just broken. 

“Phoenix, hey—“ Pete stopped the medics briefly, they looked at Pete like he was risking her life by wasting valuable time. But this was just as important. “What’s Bob's wife’s name?” Pete wanted to know so he could be a little more personal. 

The truth was Natasha didn’t even know, she’d seen the picture of you in Bob's wallet that he’d shown her, but Bob had only ever called you by your nickname. Bob's beloved term of endearment. 

Peach. 

“He’s only ever called her Peach, I don’t even know her name.” Phoenix cried. She was still trying to process what had happened—she felt like the blame was all her own to bear. She’d damn near killed her back seater and she didn’t even know his wife’s real name or that you were pregnant. “I nearly killed him and I don’t even know his wife’s name—“ 

“Hey hey hey.” Mav tried to soothe the clearly shocked pilot. “It wasn’t your fault, it could’ve happened to anyone, Phoenix.” Mav smiled softly as he held the phone back to his ear, he was still yet to call Phoenix's emergency contact, her sister Lily. It wasn’t inherently Mavericks' job to call the emergency contacts listed in Bob and Phoenix’s files, but it was his duty, his responsibility. 

He was going to as soon as he’d informed you, however, Pete wasn’t expecting this call to take the turn it had. “Peach, you there?” 

There was no answer, Simply whimpers. When you’d doubled over in pain in the kitchen you’d left your phone on the island bench top. It was far too out of reach now as you sat trying to breathe through the latest contraction that bodied you. 

“Peach—“ Mav started, but as he did so saw the medics wheeling Bob closer and closer to the ambulance waiting on the tarmac. He couldn’t say anything, not when Bob was still fighting to stay conscious. “Mrs Floyd, someone will be there as soon as they can, I promise.” 

“Bbboooooobb—!” You cried out. “I can’t do this!” It was all too much for you to handle, the immense pressure, the anxiety, the fear of losing your husband. “I can’t fucking do this!” You never thought in your wildest dreams you’d have to do this alone. Bob always said he’d be right with you every single step of the way. And up until right now he had been. 

“Someone’s coming Peach.” Maverick knew you couldn’t hear him, but he couldn’t bring himself to put the phone down. He looked at Bob being wheeled into the back of the ambulance on a stretcher, wondering if his decision to not say anything as of right now was a bad decision. He seemed to always be full of those. 

“Someone’s coming—“

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

By the time Bob was brought back to the North Island Base Hospital, he was very aware that someone would need to call his emergency contact about what had happened. Someone was going to need to call you, he thought it would be best if he was the one who called. 

With a throbbing headache and a few cuts and gashes, Bob let the nurses and doctors tend to his aid without much of a fight. He knew he needed the care, knew it was for the best if he just let everyone do their jobs. He wasn't going anywhere anytime soon and if he put up a fight they would only keep him admitted for longer. 

“You got a partner Robert? A wife or husband that we need to call?” Doctor Austin asked as he shined a light into Bob's eyes, watching carefully as he followed the light side to side. 

“I have a wife–” Bob mumbled, his head hurt from when he’d hit the ground not so gracefully but it wasn't anything he couldn't handle as he sat up on the hospital bed with his legs hanging off the side. Phoenix was laying with an ice pack over her eyes on the other bed. “She’s um, she's pregnant, could go any day now.” Doctor Austin chuckled as he clicked his pen light off and placed it into his top pocket. Sending Bob an all knowing look. 

“And you thought it was a good idea to fall outta the sky?” Bob's ribs hurt when he laughed softly, cupping at his side as he did so, laughing with the doctor who had cleared him and Natasha of any serious injury. “My good man, I can't say that's a good mix.” But there were still observations that needed to be made and a few more tests just to be sure. He wasn't out of the woods. 

“Yeah I think you might be right doc—“ Bob smiled softly. “But can I be the one to call her? She’ll probably take the news a little better if she heard it from me.” 

“I’ll see what I can do Lieutenant.” Doctor Austin nodded as he picked up his charts and headed out of the room, leaving Phoenix and Bob in the heavy silence of the aftermath of their near death experience. 

“What’s her name?” Phoenix mumbled from behind the ice pack she kept over her eyes. 

“Y/n—“ Bob replied softly as he played with the wedding band that was strung through his dog tags. “We’ve been together since high school.” 

“Why do you call her Peach?” 

“Because she’s as sweet as the peaches from the orchard my grandma used to own.” Bob couldn’t stop himself from bashfully blushing, a hume all consuming crept across the apples of his cheeks whenever he spoke about you. “We’re about to have a baby, the detachment was meant to be my last before I could access my paternity leave entitlements.” 

“Rough last assignment—“ Phoenix chuckled as she shook her head in disbelief. Bob agreed silently, it was a rough last assignment. “You don’t talk about her an awful lot do you?” 

“I would—“ Bob pressed his lips together. “Just no one really asked.” It was then that Phoenix realised that she didn’t know an awful lot about the man who had gone down with her. The man who sat behind her and had her back in the sky. Her WSO. “And I guess we’re not here for all that long anyway so I just kept her to myself, she’s a nice reminder that even after the rough days we’ve been having I get to go home, safe and in one piece to the woman I love.” 

“Do you guys know what your having?” Phoenix didn't mean to pry, but she felt an overwhelming pressure to get to know the person she had been flying with since being requested for this detachment. Bob shook his head in response. 

“Nah, we wanted to keep it a surprise.” Just as Bob was finishing his sentences Doctor Austin returned, his face looked all kinds of pale and worry was written in the deep lines across his forehead. 

“Lieutenant Floyd it looks as if your wife was just admitted into the maternity ward—“ Bob's heart stopped beating inside his chest as he listened to Doctor Austin. “It appears that she was contacted earlier about your accident and the shock sent her into labour—“ 

“I uh—I need to see her.” Bob mumbled as he slid off the exam bed and nearly fell to the floor. His knees were so weak from the shock and adrenaline from the accident and now the realisation that he was about to be a first time dad. “I need to see my wife, where is she?” 

“Lieutenant, I know this must be a stressful situation for you but I really advise against leaving until we’ve finished with your own test. We still need to get you in for—“ 

“I won’t miss the birth of my baby.” Bob shook his head in defiance. “No, I won’t leave her to do that alone, she needs me—I know she does because I know how scared she is about doing this alone.” 

“Robert—“

“No no you have to listen to me. I can't let her do this alone because I’ve heard her cry about it in the middle of the night.” Phoenix's heart shattered into a million pieces as she watched Bob plead with the doctor and the nurses that had come in to try and subdue him. “She’s scared I won’t come back one day and today was almost that day and now she’s giving birth to our baby alone after I promised I’d be here for her—“ 

“We can’t let you go, it would be against all my medical advice.” Doctor Austin tried to explain. “I understand the difficulty of the situation Mr Floyd but your health and wellbeing is our number one priority.”

“But you have to let me!! That’s my wife! She needs me! Please—“ You needed your husband, things weren’t travelling all that well in the delivery room. You weren’t ready to have this baby—not if Bob wasn’t there with you. Not if Bob had left you behind, he was too young to die. He couldn’t leave you here by yourself to raise a baby, his baby, on your own. He promised he wouldn’t. 

“Mrs Floyd, you are going to have this baby.” 

“Aahhhhhh! I’m not doing this without my husband!” You groaned out. You were covered in sweat and crying your heart out as one of the labour and delivery nurses held your hand and placed a cool washcloth to your forehead. “I won’t have this baby without him, do you understand me!” 

“Someone needs to contact her husband—“ Everyone from the King of England to the Hounds of Hell could hear you screaming. It had been a rather quiet day for the L&D department. Until the ambulance had brought you in. 

“We can’t reach him, but I’ll try again.” One of the intern labour and delivery nurses replied as she rushed out of the room, she sprinted towards the nurses station in a hurry. So fast she almost went straight past it, she came to a halt with a flustered sigh.“I need you to try contacting Mr Floyd again, his wife won’t cooperate—she’s refusing to give birth to this baby without him.” 

“She knows how having a baby works doesn’t she?” One of the older nurses sitting at the desk rolled her eyes. “That baby, no matter the circumstances, isn’t going to wait for anyone.”

“I’ll let the L&D ward know you’re here as a patient but that’s the best I can do at this stage Lieutenant, I can’t in good conscience let you leave this ward without having run through all the proper medical procedures to make sure you’re fit to return to work.” Doctor Austin wasn’t trying to be the bay guy, if anything he wanted nothing more than to send Bob on his way—but he couldn’t, he wouldn’t be able to sleep at night knowing he didn’t do his job to the best of his ability. “My primary priority is you and Miss Trance here.” 

“You don’t understand!” Bob ran his hands through his hair as his bottom lip quivered. He was holding back tears as he looked up to the ceiling—begging whatever God up there that saved him this morning to work just a little more magic. “She won’t have this baby without me, that was the deal—I needed to be there and now that I’m not—“

“She can’t not have the baby Robert.” Doctor Austin sighed, that was the moment Bob knew he needed out. He needed to get to you, he needed to be there by your side and whisper how beautiful and strong and amazing you are for being a whole person into this world. Because if there was one thing you were, it was strong willed, and you weren't going to have this baby without him. That was a promise. “I’ll go talk with L&D and I’ll be right back.” 

“Tell my wife I’m here!” Bob shouted as Doctor Austin left the room, Bob felt like he couldn’t breathe. There was a pressure mounting inside his chest, like an elephant was perched upon his chest. “I’m—I’m here.” He broke. Tears streamed down his grazed cheeks as Phoenix hobbled over. She’d done a little damage to herself but nothing a little rest and recovery couldn’t fix. 

They were lucky—oh so lucky. 

“She's gonna be okay.” Natasha tried her best to comfort the Weapons System Officer she hardly knew, but Bob was long gone. He’d fallen deep into that hole, the one that the Greek God Chronos had created to separate this life from the next one. He was falling through a helpless paradox of anxiety and fear. You were about to give birth and he was going to miss it. As he crouched down as a whale of pain escaped his parted lips, Bob wished for nothing more than to reverse time.

Because if he could just simply reserve time then he wouldn’t have gone into work this morning. And none of this would be happening. 

***~***~***~****~***~****~****~***

“Desmond, she’s not doing well, at all.” Lily, one of your delivery nurses, pleaded with Bob's doctor to just let him come to your aid. “She thinks he’s dead, something about an accident he was in this morning.” 

“F-18 ejection, he hit the ground pretty hard.” Doctors Austin looked in at you on the bed, in the middle of active labour, fighting every urge you had to push. You weren’t having this baby, not without Bob, the love of your life, your best friend, your husband. “He’s fine, but he’s in for observation overnight and I’m still waiting for his result to come back from his MRI.” 

“If she doesn’t see her husband soon she’s going to need an emergency c-section and I for one am not about to place a panicked mother to be under the knife unless it’s critical.” Lily was your voice of reason. You couldn’t plead with Doctor Austin to let your husband go yourself so she did it for you. “If your patient can walk, hold his wife’s hand while she delivers their child and can sign a waiver saying he waved all medical advice then send him down here before she loses this baby.” 

“You L&D ladies think you know everything—“ 

“Just bring me her damn husband before it’s too late.” 

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~**

Bob felt like he’d been condemned to some eternal hell, time froze as the walls of the hospital room he sat in with Phoenix grew closer and closer. He felt claustrophobic for the first time in a long time. 

“How did the two of you meet?” Phoenix tried to keep Bob's mind from going to places too dark to fathom. He needed a distraction from the fact he was here with her and you were delivering his child. All alone. 

“I was never good at history, she was my partner for this assessment we had in ancient history class once, everyone was doing their research on Pompeii but not Peach.” Bob chuckled to himself at the memory. “No she wanted to do Herculaneum and it turned out to be the only project I ever got an A on for that class.” You were just it for Bob. There was something special about your aura. Your ability to draw him close like a moth entranced by a flame. You took his breath away every time you told him you loved him. 

Your love sent Bob's heart clear out of this world. 

“We kinda just never left each other's side since then.” Bob explained as he sat against the wall on the floor with his elbows on his knees. “She’s always been so supportive of what I do even though I know it scares her more than anything to see me walk out that door every morning and she worries endlessly whenever I’m deployed.” 

“Becoming she loves you.” Phoenix wished she knew a love like Bobs, but her time hadn’t come yet. Bob nodded along as he twirled his wedding band around his finger as it hung from his dog tags. 

“Because she loves me.” 

“Floyd—“ Doctor Austin made his presence known as he chucked Bob a blue hospital gown and cap. “Put those on, sign this form that says you're going against my professional medical advice and follow me, you’re needed in labour and delivery.”

***~***~***~***~***~***~

“Push! Y/n dear you need to push—!” Lily tried to persuade you to push when your next contraction hit but you were too far gone. You weren’t ready to be a mother, not without Bob there to be a father. 

“No! No, I'm not having this baby!” It was the hardest thing to hear as Bob came racing down the hall, his entire body ached from bruises, his head felt heavy on his shoulders from his concussion. But he was okay, he was alive. “I’m not! I won’t! I can’t do this without him!” You cried out in pain as you fought the urge to push, you swore your teeth were about to crush under the force of you clenching. A scream so heartbreaking and primal ripped through you as your body began to betray you. You were fighting nature's course and it wasn’t going well.

“She needs to push—she’s losing too much blood.” One of the nurses stated as a matter of factly just as Bob made it to the door. He froze at the sight of you, how could you look so beautiful in so much pain? He thought he was going to pass out as he took steady, slow steps into the room. 

“I’m here—“ Bob cooed as he came up to your beside. “I’m here Peach I’m here.”

“Bob?” You turned in a delirious state to where your husband's voice had come from. “No no I thought you—“

“I’m okay.” He smiled as he bent over to kiss your forehead and splay his hand on top of your head to push your hair away from your face. “I’m here, I told you I’d be here didn’t I?” 

“I thought you died, I thought you were in an accident?” You could barely focus, you felt so light headed that the world felt like it was spinning. “I thought—“

“Hey, hey you need to push alright? You can push now baby because I’m here and I’m with you and I’m fine.” Bob reassured you as you sobbed and nodded as he kissed your lips softly and held your hand. “You’re so strong, you’re so brave, and I love you so much, please push mama.” 

“This baby is coming whether you're ready or not Mrs Floyd so I’m gonna need you to focus so we can get this baby out.” Lily rounded the bed as she positioned herself between your legs. Bob felt you tighten your grip around his head and everything stopped. Time stood still, your screams were all but drowned out by the excitement and fear in Bob's heart. 

“Yes, Y/n good job. I can see bubs head you’re doing so well! Oh your next contraction I need you to push until I tell you to stop.” Lily smiled as you let your head fall back against the bed. 

“You’ve been telling me to push and now you don’t want me to push!?” You hissed. Bob couldn’t help but to chuckle. He was so amazed by your strength. 

“Yep, that’s exactly what I’m telling you.” Lily chuckled. She knew you were close, barreling towards another contraction. She could see it. “Alright this is the one mama, big push for me and bubs will be here in no time.” 

“Bob! It hurts! Make it stop!” You cried out, Bob wished he could take all your pain and experience it himself. He never wanted to see you in such a state, but your baby was coming, the baby you’d made together. You’d created together late one night or in the early hours of the morning he wasn’t too sure. But what he was sure of was that you could do this. “It hurts!!” 

“Push Mrs Floyd!” Lily shouted. 

“Come on peach push! push!” Bob willed you on as you did. You shouted  and cried and squeezed your husband’s hand so hard he thought you were about to break his damn hand. But this was it. Your baby was coming. 

“Okay okay the heads out stop!” Lily guided you as you let your head fall back against the bed in pure exhaustion. You were dehydrated, covered in sweat and ready to give up. “So I lied before, you’re gonna give me one smaller push to help bubs out Y/n and that it’s—you're done.” 

“I can’t.” 

“No peach you can.” Bob cooed. “You can because you’ve come this far.” 

“I’m not even sure if you're here or not.” You sobbed as you reached out to caress Bob's cheek. “I’m not even sure if you're here with me or if I’m seeing things.”

“I’m here, I’m real.” Bob whispered in your ear. “And we’re having our baby Peach, just one more little push and it’s gonna be you and me and our little one against the world.” You nodded softly and you shut your eyes and groaned. “You can do it.” 

“Alright let’s have this baby! One more small push!” Lily announced as another contraction tour through your exhausted body. 

“Ahhhhhh!!” You shouted and Bob swore you bust his eardrum, but it was a small sacrifice as the cries of the world’s newest human echoed off the walls. 

“Congratulations Mr and Mrs Floyd you have a little baby girl.” Lily handed you your daughter the second she was born. Placing her on your chest within seconds of her arrival. 

“Oh Peach, she's so beautiful.” Bob cried as tears streamed down his cheeks. He swore he’d never be able to love someone more than he loved you. But as you held your newborn daughter on your chest he kinda thought he’d been wrong. He could love someone just as much as he loved you. Your daughter. 

“She's perfect, hi b-baby.” Your voice was all but a whisper as your head lulled to the side. You felt dizzy, lightheaded as your daughters cried softened. “I love you.” 

“Y/n? Sweetheart are you alright?” You didn’t reply but you looked up at your husband with a dazed expression, a tunnel had begun to form, edges of a dark black hole crept its way into your mind.

Chronos hole—the one between this world and the next. 

“Peach?” Alarms rang out as Lily removed your crying newborn just minutes earth side from your chest as your eyes rolled into the back of your head. “No no no no what’s wrong what’s happening to her?” Bob asked as he tapped your cheek softly. “Hey, Peach, no stay with me, stay with me.” 

“Her blood pressure is dropping, she’s haemorrhaging.” Lily explained as she and a bunch of other nurses worked around you. “We need to get her into surgery, Mr Floyd.” 

“Sir, step back—“ An older nurse asked as she placed a hand on Bob's shoulder. He did as he watched Lily take a sample of your blood. 

“I’ll head directly to the lab to drop off the sample.” 

“Just make sure her surgeon has o-negative on the ready.” The only nurse replied as Bob stood there, watching as they wheeled you out on the same bed you'd just given birth in. He didn't even get a chance to say goodbye, he didn't get a chance to tell you how much he loved you. 

“Uh, do I go with her or?” Bob didn’t know what to do, his whole world had been turned upside down and on its head already today, and again it had just flipped once more. There was one nurse left, he didn’t know her name, but she smiled politely at him. 

“No, you should stay here with your daughter, she needs her daddy now.” 

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

First there was a storm of carbon and molten rock which begat granite and soil. Then, the land shook and it cracked and it rose till it spiked the sky. Forest grew and died and grew a hundred times again. And then people grew and died and grew and died a hundred times again. There were storms and seasons and fences and blood. Wonder and vengeance and a whole lot of regret….

And through every grievance, every war, the land and the sky didn't give two shits about any of it. Bob Floyd knew that as he sat with his newborn daughter in the maternity room of the Miramar Base Hospital designed by man, for man to help other men with westernised medical procedures and treatments…

That it wouldn't give two shits about you either. 

“Hey..” A gruff voice came from the doorway, it took Bob all his light and all his remaining energy to look up from his daughter. The light and life of you. “I uh, I just thought I’d come check in on you and Phoenix.” Mav crossed his arms over his chest as he moved into the room. “How’s your wife doing?” 

“I don’t know.” Bob explained as he rocked his little girl, skin to skin was important so he’d stripped off what he could. “She’s still in surgery.” Pete could see the worry written in the lines of Bob's face. But the little girl who cried against his shoulder had him mesmerised. “Sorry darlin, I got you, daddy’s here.” 

“She’s a little beauty isn’t she?” Mav sat down beside the WSO who’d had a longer day then most. “You get a chance to name her yet? Before—?” Mav didn’t have to say before you went into shock. Your body had been through a lot and the nurses believed if you hadn’t held on so long, held back against what your body was telling you it needed to do then there was a possibility that it could have been a rather smooth delivery. Bob took that personally, the only reason you were holding back was because he wasn't here for you when you needed him the most. 

“No, but we’ll name her after, for now she’s baby Peach.” 

“Your wife’s nickname.” Mav replied softly as he looked up. He knew then and there what was about to happen. 

Bob knew there was a Doctor standing in the doorway. He didn’t dare look up. He knew if he looked up he’d be told the worst news of his life. 

Bob remembered that had asked you once when you were wrapped up in his arms in the dead of the night, listening to the storm raging on outside if you knew anything at all about a Greek God called Chronos. He remembered that you had chuckled out a soft no as he trailed his lips up your neck. Bob told you that he carried a sickle, that he used it to cut a hole, a tear in the cosmos between heaven and earth. Chronos did that to separate this world from the next, to separate the known from the unknown.

And while a Doctor by the name of Henry Nardella told him that you didn’t make it through the surgery, that you'd left him and your daughter behind, in a world where nothing made sense without you in it. 

Well—Robert Floyd felt as if he’d fallen straight into it. 

“No, please don't leave me here.” Bob felt like he’d fallen into the cosmic existence between now and soon to come, plummeting into a realm where time didn’t exist and light didn’t reach. He felt like he had tumbled into a parallel dimension where nothing made sense, nothing seemed tangible or real. He’d descended into a world where you weren't around. “No Peach, no.” 

But at the touch of his earlobe, a slight pressure formed at the lobe. So warm and comforting. Bob knew as your baby girl settled in against his chest at the lub dub of his heart beating for you–he knew you were safe on the other side. 

Because you had tugged on his earlobe, just like you promised you would. 

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

[aychama]

Do you have a reference sheet for your Lamb and Nari? 👉👈

Yes I dooo

And narinder new design that I will be using after the end of my first comic

Lambs design probably will stay the same but can’t promise it lol

[tender-rosiey]

I know I know I know! How about flirting headcanons with Nanami Toji and Gojo? They’ve caught the feelz for someone and want to express their newfound interest!

— HOW DO THEY FLIRT?

includes gojo, nanami and toji

a/n: suffice to say that I got carried away also so many people with beautiful minds pls you’re a genius

GOJO SATORU:

you must be one hell of a beautiful person inside out for gojo to catch them feels for you, my dear

so allow me to ask you on a date ;)

okay so, now gojo’s heart is undeniably fluttering and he has to make it known

he won’t even hesitate

BUT I do think that gojo’s flirting can be a bit annoying and sometimes endearing

he is the type to place your stuff on the top shelf if you are short, so he can make fun of your height

similarly, the type to place it in the most bottom drawer so you have to crouch to get it so he can also make fun of your height (even if it’s the same case for himself)

he is such a tease

okay so back to the flirting, HE IS SO ANNOYING ABOUT IT TO THE POINT IT’S JUST TEASING

exhibit a:

“GOJO, DID YOU EAT MY CHEESECAKE?!”

said man takes the fork out of his mouth and innocently stares at you; he places the plate down along with the fork, “I would never!”

“gojo, it literally said ‘y/n’s’, why would you eat it?” you huff, “you have more than enough money to buy seven of it for yourself.”

you stomp away, not waiting for a response cause, frankly, if you stayed in front of him any longer, you will hit him in the face and stab him with the fork he used while eating your precious and beautiful late cheesecake.

“aw, come on, sweets; I was hungry,” he pouts, walking after you, “would you rather I die of starvation?”

“yes.”

he whines and clutches his chest.

“this is not funny, gojo; I was looking forward to eating it all day,” you mumble and look at your foot and gojo’s heart clenches with guilt.

maybe he could’ve found another way to mess with you.

you harshly kick him in the shin which makes him wince lightly, “I am mad at you.”

“I will make it up to you, I promise,” he says before warping out of your sight.

“good riddance, asshole.”

“I am back! did you miss me?” he beams, reappearing once again but this time beside your fridge. you gag in disgust and he ignores it.

“can you check the fridge for me?” he says sweetly to you and you shake your head.

a whine escapes his lips, “I swear it will be worth your time just open the fridge!”

you sigh, irritated and stand up to walk to the fridge, “I will hit you if it’s a prank,” you murmur and open the fridge.

“I remembered that I have a mission soon, enjoy your cheesecakes!” and he is nowhere to be seen. the only thing you can see is seven cheesecakes with a note that says “sorry, sweets; just wanted to mess with you!”

he can also be very sweet and showers you IN TOOOOOOOOONNNNNNNSSS of compliments

exhibit a:

“gojo,” you sternly say, “you can’t keep getting me gifts! i mean thank you but this is more than enough!” you sigh, “you are wasting your money!”

gojo looks at the 8 designer boxes, each containing an outfit with matching accessories, then looks at you, “I don’t think I am wasting money if it’s on you.”

“I don’t need all of this!”

“but you would look so pretty in all of them, I just know it,” his glasses rest on the bridge of his nose as he winks at you.

you splutter, “s-save it for your future lover!”

“I am giving them to my future lover”

exhibit b:

“Y/NNNNNN!”

“gojo, it’s 6am please.”

“but you look super good and drop-dead gorgeous,” he grins, “has anyone ever told you that?”

“has anyone told you that your wrinkles are starting to show?” you smile— more like smirk back, but the man is unaffected.

he clears his throat before leaning on his palm, “you look like a sexy motorcycle that goes vroom vroom.”

you are caught so off-guard that you snort before you start laughing, “w-where did you even hear that?” you wheeze.

meanwhile, gojo just feels like he has completed his life goal and can ascend to heaven peacefully after seeing you laugh like this.

to sum up

gojo’s flirting mainly consists of teasing, jokes and awful pick-up lines that make you laugh

in addition to that, he becomes a little protective of you

like when you are walking in the streets, I just whole heartedly believe that he is the type to pull you to the sidewalk

and he isn’t even obvious about it

like y’all are just walking and laughing about it so he gets a little ahead of you in attempt to be more dramatic with his gestures

but when he is done instead of returning to the side near the sidewalk, he starts walking on the side near the street

IT’S THE HIDDEN THINGS

also sometimes you catch him smiling at someone who bothered you, but you can SEE that smile is nowhere near friendly

he also literally screams about his attraction to you

for example, you hug

then literally after you let go he goes, “THIS IS THE HEIGHT OF LUXURY!”

NANAMI KENTO:

your honor, @callmemirro is madly in love with him and so am I

of course, a word we connect to this man is “respectful”

and he is so respectful even in his approach about liking you

his flirting is a bit more on the subtle side like small little acts of services

exhibit a:

“good morning, nanami!” you beam at the man who just entered.

he returns the greeting with a small smile of his own, “good morning, y/n,” he takes a seat in front of you and takes out two sandwiches that look so delicious.

but you would rather die than get caught staring at the poor man’s food.

“I got you this sandwich; I noticed it had your favorite fillings,” he says putting it in front of you along with your favorite juice.

a grin takes over your face, but your cheeks heat up as you lightly protest, “I appreciate it a lot, but you didn’t have to do that though!”

“I wanted to, plus I think seeing you happy is more than a fair trade for a few yen,” he insists and you silently unwrap the sandwich.

“…thank you,” you murmur.

he hums, “it’s nothing,” digging into his own sandwich.

exhibit b:

the sun was scorching hot and you were about to throw yourself out of a window on the 76th floor just to feel the wind on your skin.

just as you were deciding which tower will you jump off it, you feel a gentle breeze on your face. you open your eyes to see nanami fanning you with a paper fan he made with the newspaper he was reading.

“feel better?” he asks.

you take another paper out of the same newspaper and make a fan as well and start fanning him. his eyes widen slightly, “are you considering this a competition?”

“no, it’s just not fair if I am the only one who isn’t suffering because of the heat,” you smile and he nods, but you can see that his movement faltered a bit when he cleared his throat, looking away.

“oh my god, nanamin and y/n are being lovey dovey.”

“gojo-sensei, please shut up so we don’t get caught.”

and with a sprinkle of quality time

nanami is the type of person you can always rely on and count on them being there for you

he is always there whenever you’re having a hard time and is a rather comforting presence to be around even if he is silent

exhibit a:

recently, a friend of yours was sent on a mission and sadly lost their life. in attempt to feel better, you went for a walk. once you sat on the bench, tears flooded your eyes.

you hear light footsteps approach you and the bench creaks. you look to your side and see nanami beside you. you lean your head on his shoulder, trying to even your breathing.

his hand hovers over your own, hesitant to hold it. you take the initiative to hold his hand and right after that, he relaxes a bit, he starts rubbing your hand with his thumb.

neither of you said anything, but being in each other’s presence was helpful enough.

ANYWAYS, this is about flirting not comforting so sorry baby boos

i also think he would compliment you but NOT COMPLETELY DROWN YOU IN THEM EVERY SINGLE MOMENT LIKE A CERTAIN WHITE HAIRED MAN

his compliments are really heartfelt too

exhibit a:

you’re getting anxious about how you look in the middle of the party. is your hair messed up? is your make-up smudged? do you look miserable?

what if nanami sees you like this?—

“nanami, see! i told you y/n would be here! hi y/n!” gojo screams and you awkwardly wave at him.

nanami looks frozen in place before he quickly composed himself and walks towards you. you both look into each other eyes for a moment, but then he looks away, “you look very beautiful,” soon he looks eyes with you, “I think the stars are very envious of your beauty.”

your cheeks heat up and you let out a quick and nervous, “t-thank you!” which makes the blonde chuckle lightly.

“ugh I am so single,” gojo whines on the other side of the room.

so, subtle, respectful and heartfelt is what his flirting is

he also remembers most of what you say, like even if you briefly mention your favorite restaurant or a place you want to visit

another man I think gets protective but like low-key

FOR EXAMPLE

let’s say you guys are eating lunch together and you drop something on the ground and bend down to get it

HE COVERS THE SHARP EDGE OF THE TABLE WITH HIS HAND SO YOU DON’T GET HURT IF YOU BUMP YOUR HEAD

LIKE KILL ME WHY ARE YOU SO SWEET

also is the type to stare at anyone who makes you uncomfortable until they get uncomfortable and leave you alone

FUSHIGURO TOJI:

hot

very hot big man

i think he might have amazing hugs

anyways

so uh

his flirting is rather straightforward

I feel like he is just the type not to beat around the bush

also doesn’t exactly flirt, he just becomes significantly softer and calmer

acts of service BIG TIME

like opening jars, having your back in a fight, squashing that one little bug that’s scaring you, and glaring at the very rude lady who you were talking to

AND SUCKER PUNCHING ANYONE WHO DARES MESS WITH YOU

exhibit a:

“all I said is that they have a nice as—“

the guy soon meets the ground harshly, to the point his nose bleeds.

toji hisses, “I suggest you go take a lesson in manners, but I don’t think you have the brains to understand anything anyways so it will be a waste of money.”

toji stares at the guy, who’s tearing up, start running away. meanwhile, you are just behind toji, completely speechless, “wow, toji; with just one punch?”

he smirks and puffs his chest until he feels you touch his bicep and looks at you, “hey— what’re you doing?”

“that’s a lot of muscles,” you say in awe, squeezing it lightly.

he coughs lightly before nodding, “there should be or my training would be for nothing.”

“can I touch your abs too?”

you think he might be embarrassed because he is looking away, but you’re probably imagining it. especially that barely visible redness on his cheeks.

also about muscle squeezing, y’all some people straight up SQUEEZE IT SO HARD OR EVEN HIT

like I was flexing mine once for my friend and she just went GRAB

anyways if we are going to talk about an instance of actual flirting then it’s probably something like this

exhibit a:

“toji, your hands are so big; what the hell?!”

he glanced at you before putting it up, “how about you compare them? maybe they aren’t as big as you think.”

you huff before placing your hand on his, “see?! it’s huge!”

he intertwined your fingers before rolling his eyes, “how unfortunate.”

you stare at your intertwined hands, and knowing that anyone from even a mile away can tell that you’re flustered.

“what restaurant do you wanna go to?” he asks nonchalantly.

you snap out of your daze, “wait— you have the money to take us out?”

he glares at you before pinching your nose, “you’re annoying; I hope you know that.”

BUT BUT HE WON’T INITIATE SOMETHING LIKE THAT UNLESS HE WAS SURE YOU HAD SOMETHING FOR HIM TOO

like at the very beginning of his catching feels era, it’s mostly like I said being softer and a bit more caring towards you

later on, the flirty actions pop up such as the hands thing above

or maybe even giving you his jacket when you are cold

and if y’all are in the pinning era then you best believe he will take your hands and put them in his pockets to warm them up

but no way is he going to make eye-contact

I feel like he will be a little shy and awkward with romantic gestures

however, in the end, the wiki page does say that he is a confident man so expect a few bold moves here or there

something like this

exhibit a:

you’re walking towards the spot you agreed to meet at. today, you and toji were supposed to stargaze together and settled on going to that really nice park you passed by once.

the closer you get to him, you notice the set up. the picnic blanket, the food, the candles, and the surprisingly well dressed man who is toji.

“I am here,” you say and he turns to look at you.

“oh finally, do you have any idea how long I’ve been waiting?…”

he is quiet for a moment before a small smirks appears on his face. he walks towards you, and tilts your chin up.

his lips graze your ear as he says, “you really are a sight for sore eyes, y’know.”

honestly, I think whenever you start liking someone, you just naturally develop the want to protect them

so once again, he gets protective, but I think his protectiveness is a lot bolder and obvious than the rest here

as we have seen in the very first exhibit, he just punches his way through life

these muscles ain’t for nothing, bby

also imagine having a 6ft bulky man glaring daggers at you and he is not even trying to hide it

all of that is being directed at the person who dared to take the last box of your favorite snack in the store

taglist: @magenta-cat-drawingss @pompompurin1028 @scul-pted @dazaisdeathwish @requiem626k @nameless-shrimp @shinys-bsd-world-1 @sonder-paradise @ravenina14 @jessbeinme15s-notebook @todorokichills @missrown @shrynkk @simplyxsinned @beautiful-is-boring @bakugossanity @izukus-gf @irethepotato @thekaylahub @luciferspen @aeanya @sweetcloudsimp @moon-catto @fiona782 @ginneko @kisakitwister @iamjustasimpxd @psychopotatomeme @dreamcastgirl99

copyright © tender-rosiey

do not copy or plagiarize or i will break your toes

[spookyquill]

The Thorns In My Throat Are For You

Description: a Hanahaki Disease AU, Reader is in love with Dazai and has been for a long while. They were in the port mafia but they left with Dazai

Word Count: 2263

Part 1

Next Part

TW: Character Death, blood, mentions of sickness, coughing up stomach contents, head over the toilet

~~~

“Odasaku!”

Everything was at a standstill. Oda’s body fell to the floor just as Dazai reached him. It took another minute for your body to react, sprinting to Oda and occupying his other side. 

Dazai gasps at the blood on his hands. “I can’t believe you. You’re such an idiot.” He says, tears welling up as he speaks, but they remain brimming along his eyelids.

You’re quick to apply pressure to the wound on Oda. A gasp threatens to escape your mouth as you feel the deep wound and the blow flowing effortlessly past your efforts. Regardless, you keep your hand planted there. “Why would you go off on your own like this? Why didn’t you wait for backup?”

Oda grunts, raising one hand to rest atop yours, and another hand to Dazai’s, who rests his hand on Oda’s cheeks. “There’s something I need to tell you both.”

“Not like this!” Dazai yells out.

“Wait to tell us after we get you a medic.” You say with a softer tone, not having the heart to yell. You also know that what you said was a lie. Oda was slipping away, and there was nothing that anyone could do for him.

“Quit it both of you!” Oda looks at Dazai. “Remember how you told me that you committed yourself to violence and bloodshed in hopes of finding a reason to exist?” He then turns to you, not giving Dazai a chance to reply. You see the pain in his eyes. “And how about when you told me that you thought you found your purpose in life by serving the mafia, even though you hate their tactics?!”

“Who cares about that now?” Your lips wobble.

“Neither of you will find what you’re looking for.” You and Dazai let out soft gasps in shock. “You’re both smart enough to know that. It doesn’t matter what side you’re on. Nothing in this world will be able to fill the nothingness inside you. Try as you might, but that darkness will always be there.”

A few breaths is all that passes your lips for a moment.

“Odasaku.”

“Tell us what we should do.” Dazai’s voice gives away his grief.

Oda grabs a hold of both yours and Dazai’s in one grip. “Protect people. If both sides are the same, then become good people. Protect the vulnerable. Help some orphans along the way. I know that the concept of good and evil doesn't mean much to you, but at least it’ll make your worlds a little more beautiful.”

A sob breaks from your mouth, tears cascading down your face. You can't control them, and by the looks of it, Dazai’s about to break his composure too.

“You can’t know that.” He says, voice deep as he tries in vain to hold back his tears. 

Oda scoffs. “Of course I can. Because I know my friends better than they do.” He looks at you. “I know what they hide from each other.” 

You stare, wide eyed. He’s known. You don’t know how long but he knows your crush on Dazai, there’s no other explanation for that expression of his. You turn your gaze to Dazai, who continues to stare at Oda as he begins to take his final breath.

That night, when you left the mansion, you both agreed to follow Oda’s advice. You left with the memory of Oda, and his last words carving their way into your heads as a promise. You didn’t return to mafia headquarters. Avoided all territory that the mafia had laid claim to. Coats and accessories were left with Oda as a final goodbye to Mori.

Weeks went pass in a blur. The two of you stayed in an underground facility, designed to house though without a home. Truthfully you could afford a house, but you didn't want to leave any paper trail behind for Mori to pick up and hunt you down from. You picked up community chores for some change every now and then, to blend in with the community and to pave your way to fulfilling Oda’s wish.

One day, as you were coming back from completing a task, you began to cough. It was normal for people to cough, especially considering the air underground wasn’t the best, but what came out of the cough is what surprised you. 

“What?” You stare at the petal in your hand. It’s small, a baby petal that didn't get to continue its growth. It came out of your mouth.

Questions flood your brain but you push them back, pocketing the petal out of sight.

When you enter your home, you see Dazai adorning a soft smile. 

“Hey. You seem happy. What’s the reason?”

Dazai hums. “Oh, I had a chat with someone today. I asked him if there are any job offers out there that can have us help people. He suggested a detective agency in Yokohama. It sounds like a nice place. And to top it off, they have a skilled business permit, which means free use of our abilities!”

You let out a breath of relief. “That’s great!”

“Though there is a slight problem with that.”

You tense up again.

“We have to remain undercover for another 2 years in order to clear our records. But he said he’d put a good word in for us.”

“Oh. I mean, at least it's something to look forward to!” You try to lighten up the mood. Walking up to the kitchen table, you take out the money you earned for the day. “We can do it, it’s not like we’ve been doing it for a few months anyway. What's another couple years for a clean slate?”

Dazai smiles. Your heart flutters at the sight. 

“That’s the spirit!” He walks to the door. “I’m going to take a stroll. Don’t stay up for me.” And with that, he's gone.

You take out the petal from your pocket, examining it further. 

“Why now?”

~~~TimeSkip~~~

You’re sitting at your desk, typing when Dazai approaches you. “What do you say we have a celebratory dinner for our acceptance into the agency? Just you and me.”

Your heart stammers, but you mask it with a playful smirk. “Dazai, are you asking me out on a date?”

Dazai chuckles. “Of course not!” Ouch. “I just want to celebrate the start of a new chapter in our lives!”

With a nod, you stand and follow him out the door. He ends up taking you to a small restaurant. Nothing too fancy.

As you gaze at the menu, wondering what to eat, you can't help but to flick your eyes up at Dazai, taking in his mesmerising features being lit up perfectly by the dim lighting of the restaurant. Unsurprisingly, he notices.

“Is there something on my face?” He questions.

You look up at him properly, a confused expression plastered on your face for a brief moment before it's replaced by a smile. “No. I’m just taking in how much you’ve changed in the years. You look more happy, natural, like you belong here.” You put down the menu. “I don’t know how to explain it. You’re… shining.”

Dazai stares blankly in silence, processing your words. He then barks out a laugh. “What flirtatious words!”

You didn't even intend them to come out that way, now you’re fighting a blush from forming on your cheeks. 

“I didn’t think I had changed that much.” He leans forward, elbows resting on the table and his face propped up by his hands. “Well I think you’ve changed as well. You’re not following any orders now, you aren’t a duckling who willingly follows its mother. You are paving your own path now, making your own choices.” His voice dips a bit lower. “You are becoming your own person, not the one people want you to be.”

Out of everything he could’ve possibly said, you weren’t expecting that. 

“You really think I changed that drastically?” You ask.

Dazai nods. “Back then, you followed me like a lost puppy. If Chuuya hadn’t taken up the mantle, I would’ve started calling you my dog.” You scoff at that. “You obeyed without question, a simple pawn in everyone else's game. Honestly, I didn’t think you would survive long on your own with me. I thought you would’ve continued listening to me without question. But you didn’t. You took initiative. You picked up a sword and started fighting your own battles. You became independent in such a short amount of time I was beginning to think you had been kidnapped and replaced by a doppelganger. But being in the agency, I’ve come to realise that you’ve grown up. You stepped up to the role you needed to take without any guidance. And for that, I’m proud of you.”

Tears shined against your eyes, and you were certain that Dazai could see them, but you fought them from sliding down your cheeks. You were speechless, trying to form any word of a sentence in your mind, but nothing came to. Your mouth was opening and closing like a fish.

Thankfully you weren’t left in embarrassing silence for long as the waiter came by to take your order. The two of you ordered your food and drinks before going back to silence. Although it still felt a bit tense for you, it was comfortable.

Dazai soon struck up conversation, discussing the details of his exam and his opinions of the agency’s members, going on an annoying tangent on Kunikida. 

When the food and drinks arrived, you dug in, enjoying the freshly prepared meal that wasn’t cheap nor was it expensive. It was a nice change from the food you endured the past couple of years. It was refreshing.

You were nearing the end of your meal before you started choking. You cough violently, covering your mouth quickly so as to not spit everywhere on the table. Dazai looked at you with concern. You wanted to assure him you were fine, but your stomach came to interrupt. 

Abruptly, you stood up and bolted for the bathroom, hand firmly clasped over your mouth. 

You slammed open the door, dashing into the nearest stall, barely being able to lock it before turning around and spilling the contents of your stomach into the toilet. You hover your head over the toilet for a few agonising minutes, gagging over the toilet with the occasional violent cough. Finally, you feel something in your throat give away and splutter into the bowl.

Having the time to breathe, you open your eyes, catching sight of the contents in the bowl. You’re accustomed to gross sights and things that make you question your sanity, but you weren't accustomed to the sight of the pristine petal laying gently on top of it all. 

It looked to be a bloomed petal, snowy white scattered with droplets of blood. It was beautiful yet dangerous. 

“What the hell is wrong with me?”

A frantic knock at the door sounds from the bathroom door before you hear it open. 

“Ma’am? Are you okay?” A female server asks. 

Without thinking twice, you flush the toilet. “I’m okay!” You stand up on shaky legs, using the sleeves of your shirt to wipe your mouth. You notice a swipe of blood appearing on the fabric and you quickly scrub at it, trying desperately to make it disappear.

“Are you sure? Your friend said you rushed off without warning. Are you feeling sick? I can call an ambulance-”

You open the door. “No need to be that dramatic. I’m fine, just a wave of nausea.”

The server looks at you with worry. “Has our food been cooked incorrectly? I am terribly sorry, I’ll inform the manager and give your meal for free-”

You rest your hand on the stressed servers’ shoulder, calming her. “No need to stress. I was feeling a bit nauseous before arriving, so I don’t believe it to be your food, I think I may have tried to force myself to eat too much.” It’s so natural to lie, yet it feels wrong to do so. But you don’t want anyone to worry about you.

The server nods timidly. “Well your friend is waiting outside the bathroom for you. He seems quite concerned for your health.”

“Thank you.” You bow slightly to her before taking your exit.

“(Y/n)! Are you okay?!” Dazai bombards you almost immediately, getting close to you yet also giving you some space. 

You sigh, a hand on your stomach as you fight the feeling of post-nausea. “I’m fine. I think I just tried eating too much.”

“You sure it wasn’t the restaurant's food?”

You shake your head. “I’m sure it wasn’t their fault. I’m not blaming them, their food was delicious, I think it’s just been simmering up all day. I might head off for the night, try to sleep it off.”

A few moments of silence pass. You can practically hear the gears in Dazai’s head turning, trying to decipher whether you're telling the truth. After what felt like ages, he relinquishes. 

“Okay then. Let’s get you home. I’ll tell Fukuzawa tomorrow morning that you aren’t feeling well. I’ll have him give you a couple sick days to recover.” He moves to your side, offering support and guiding you out of the restaurant where he calls a cab. 

You can’t focus for the rest of the night, you don't even notice when Dazai tucks you into bed and leaves you alone in your dorm. All you can think about is the white petal decorated with twinkles of fresh blood.

“What’s happening to me?”

~~~

Likes, Comments, and Reblogs are appreciated <3

[honest-moth-of-silver-grove]

Can I request headcanons for Dammon, Rolan, and Zevlor react to his gn s/o admitting that they have suicidal thoughts?

A/N: Oh, nonnie! *Hugs* This ask was perfect timing because I was struggling with suicidal ideation last week- big time. Me and the kitchen floor were very well acquainted last week. So trust me, I know it’s not easy, but please try and hang in there. These feelings and thoughts, as awful and all-consuming as they are, are still temporary. They will pass. Everything passes eventually. It can’t stay the same forever. So if it’s bad now, just know it won’t always be this way. And in the meantime, I hope these headcanons bring you some comfort. 

TW: Suicidal Thoughts, Mentions of Suicide, Suicidal Ideation 

The BG3 Tiefling Boys Reacting to Their S/O Admiting They Have Suicidal Thoughts 

Dammon: 

Dammon’s taken aback when you tell him. The two of you being a couple has made him so happy, and he’s told you as much. In his enthusiasm, Dammon simply assumed you always felt the same level of elation he did. The fact that you have these sorts of thoughts is all news to him. 

He’s immediately concerned for your safety, worried that any second the thoughts may become too much to bear, and you’ll feel no other choice than to act on them. He contemplates speaking to someone older, someone wiser for advice on what he should do to be a supportive partner. He just wants to get this right. He doesn’t want to add any stress or difficulty to what you’re already going through with any of his reactions or fears. 

Dammon starts checking up on you more often, at random times throughout the day. He’ll take a break from his forging and pop his head inside to find you, wherever you are. Some days he sits with you and talks about the current projects he’s making. Other days the two of you sit in silence, sipping cool glasses of water. Dammon wants to ensure you don’t ever feel as if you’re going through this alone. He wants to show you that he’ll always be nearby, should you need him. 

Dammon will also make you random presents whenever he has a little extra time. It’s not much- a pendant here, or a broach there, a bunch of little things to remind you of him when he can’t be there. 

Dammon suggests you try writing your feelings out in a diary of sorts. And he promises not to peek- it's for your benefit only. His sketchbook helps him so much in trying to overcome a design flaw or difficulty. He thinks, perhaps, if you had more space to expand your feelings and thoughts onto paper, they wouldn't feel as oppressive in your mind.

You find his tail always wrapping around your ankle, or even your waist, when you're at his side. It’s like his tail is telling you what echoes in the subconscious of his mind: Dammon can’t lose you. He’s been through so much already. You have brought so much light and joy into his life. He couldn’t bear to let you go. 

He begs you, to please come to him if you should ever get to a point where you don’t know what else to do. He doesn’t want to lose you. You mean so much to him. Please, let him in. The two of you can weather this together. 

Essentially, Dammon becomes all the more attentive and upfront/vocal about his affection for you. He hopes to shower you in so much love, that the little voice in your head has no chance to bring you down. 

Rolan: 

Rolan is sickened, and just a teensy bit angry. Not at you, but at himself. Hearing you confess to having such thoughts makes him all the more concerned about you. But of course, being the stubborn tiefling he is, Rolan doesn’t know how to say it without sounding like a dick. 

Rolan first considers looking into a spell or enchantment that can do away with such feelings, before you explain to him that, even if that were possible, in the long run, that’s not how these things work. These kinds of things can’t be fixed by magic. And even if there was a spell that might work, it’s not the kind of thing magic should be used to interfere with. This makes Rolan more irritable about the whole thing because he’s spent so long studying, building up his skills to be a wizard. But he hasn’t spent the time working on his emotional intelligence or intimacy prowess. And now, he fears that lack of proficiency may cost him you. 

But he tries! Oh boy, does he try! He’s constantly sending either Lia or Cal to check up on you when he’s too busy to come see you himself. It becomes a bit of an inside joke between the three of you, how large that one vein in Rolan’s forehead becomes whenever Cal or Lia report back to him about you. 

Once Rolan comes to understand you didn’t tell him so he’d be responsible for keeping you under watch, but because you just wanted him to ‘get it’, he becomes much less overbearing in his instructions. Instead of ordering you to go outside for some sun, he’ll offer to take a stroll with you around Sorcerous Sundries. Rather than forcing you to eat every couple of hours, Rolan will show up in your room some night with a select baked goods he picked up from a street vendor for you to share over tea before falling asleep. 

He has difficulty talking about it most days, but he does hold your hands and tell you once, very passionately, that he cares for you, deeply, and he hates to think you were hurting all this time in silence. He asks you to please, please keep sharing your feelings with him. He knows his reactions aren’t always the most encouraging, but he swears that no matter his initial reaction, he will always be on your side. 

Deep down he does want to take care of you, he feels responsible for your well-being. It’s rather similar to how he feels responsible for providing for Lia and Cal. But with you, it’s all the more profound. There’s no point in him studying to become the greatest wizard in Baldur’s Gate if you’re not at his side. Without you, very little would seem worth it.  

Zevlor:

Zevlor is alarmed, and immediately all the more worried about your well-being. Zevlor was already anxious before about the two of you being together, thinking of himself as undeserving. He felt he was too old, too damaged, and too changed to be a man worthy of your affections. Becoming an official couple quieted most of those doubts but hearing you confess that you harbor such thoughts brings all his insecurities back to the forefront. 

Is it something he’s done? Is it something he didn’t do? Is it his fault? He’s already apologizing profusely before you can even get a word in edgewise. You are so incredible, he thinks you’re so brilliant. The fault must lie with him. 

Once you explain how it’s not anybody’s fault, neither his nor yours, Zevlor seems to settle a little. He still worries a great deal about you, probably the most out of all the tieflings, because he knows the exact desperation you’re feeling. He’s felt it before. He’s felt it a few times throughout his life actually. 

As a Hellrider, Zevlor saw a great deal of conflict. And when Elturel fell into Avernus, he was forced to endure even more. There’s so much pain and suffering in the world that when you’re stuck in the middle of it, it often seems like there’s no way out. 

Because Zevlor has felt such lows before, he also knows there isn’t always much you can do to stop it right away. Yes, you can meditate or talk your feelings out or perhaps write them down in a journal or log, but there’s no quick fix. It’s a heavy burden you must carry, even as you look out into the coming horizon. 

The one thing Zevlor knows he can do is help you carry the load. Zelvor reminds you that you are not alone in this fight. Granted, he may no longer be the paladin he once was, but that will not stop him from aiding you the best he can. He’ll pay you extra attention, and spend more quality time with you. He’ll sit with you and rub your back as you cry. And on the days it's all just too much to take, Zevlor will stay in bed with you, his tail curled around your leg, his claws scratching gently through your hair as you lay there hiding away from the world. 

If your feelings ever get worse, Zevlor might consider recommending you speak to someone who perhaps can help, more than he can help you alone. A cleric or a monk, a druid… Anyone. Zevlor knows from his fellow veterans- there are more people out there living with the exact same feelings as you. Perhaps being able to attend a group setting to talk, as he does on occasion with his former Hellriders from Elturel, would help strengthen you on your continued journey.  

Zevlor approaches the situation with much more wisdom and understanding. He works to comfort you the best he can, but he also possesses enough humility to let you grieve as needed. 

[honeyhotteoks]

this night together - chapter five (j.yh + s.mg)

chapter five: not so easy to ignore

chapter summary: things at the studio turn out just about as bad as expected, but wooyoung takes you under his wing and introduces you to some new friends.

warnings: references to a/b/o dynamics such as heat and knotting and designations, alcohol/drinking, angst, sad vibes, but also good vibes?, reference to work place sexual harassment but not like you think

notes: thank you all so much for your kind feedback on this fic. i'm having an absolute blast writing it, and i'm so thankful for all the people giving it a try even tho this genre isn't their thing! that means a lot. this is the last chapter i have written in full, so chapter six may take a little extra time. i'm about to hit a few insane weeks of work, so i'll do my best but please be patient with me. there's a lot more chapters to come though, i promise.....

pairings: alpha!yunho x alpha!mingi x omega!reader

genre: smut, a/b/o/omegaverse, angst, fluff, romance, polyamory

word count: 6.9K

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As it turns out, you can’t just go back to being friends. When you wake in the morning you still feel sick, and your first thought is to wonder if Yunho does too. Maybe Mingi feels the same, but was better at hiding it. Maybe you’ll get to the studio and they’ll take you in their arms like a movie and kiss the breath out of you and hold you close and tell you they should have never, ever driven you home. But you doubt it. 

You’ve been in love before, and you’ve had crushes before that. You’re no stranger to getting tangled up in emotional webs, it’s just usually not with people you work with and it’s usually so much easier to walk away. Or run, as you’re used to doing. This body, this designation, this biology, it makes everything always feel so confusing and artificial. Do you want them or does your omega? Do you need them or is it just the after effects of heat? 

It’s a lot easier when you lie to yourself. 

You’ve been dealing with this biology all your life. That’s all this is, and after a little time and a little distance, your body will catch up to your mind and stop feeling this way about them. 

You take those aching feelings and lock them away tightly and then you get up. You shower, you take a deep breath, and then you buy yourself the fanciest coffee you can think of despite the absolute lack of funds in your checking account. This momentary serotonin will be worth the overdraft fee if that’s where it puts you, you need this. 

By the time you get to the studio, you’re pretty confident that you’re over them, convincing yourself that it was just fun, good sex. Great sex, even, but still just sex. 

But the minute you see Mingi every stitch of the resolve you knit for yourself unravels, and he looks surprised to see you even though it was part of the plan that you’d return today. He leaves the room before you can even open your mouth and try to say something innocuous and you know right then and there you were right all along. It was never going to be that simple. 

Yunho blushes when he sees you, his ears turning a dark shade of pink and for a second he trips over his words addressing the wider group. 

Mingi avoids your touch when you cross his path at lunch, offering you just a quick hello and then he’s gone again. 

Instead of searching for their eyes, you start to get really comfortable with the wood grain of the floor and do your best just to focus on yourself. You’re working on something new, and a week ago you would have stayed late to fine tune your understanding of the choreography with Mingi while he waited on Yunho to wrap up in the back office, but you know those days are gone. 

When practice ends they disappear, and you’re left to pack up by yourself. You give it a few minutes, thinking maybe when the rest of the crew trickles out maybe they’ll come to you, but they don’t. So much for being adults about this. You blink back hazy tears as you pull on your jacket, focused on packing up as fast as you can now just to get the hell out of this room. 

You don’t even hear him coming up behind you. 

“Come on,” Wooyoung says with a roll of his eyes, “we’re going for drinks.”

“I really should get home,” You glance over at him as you finish packing up your bag. 

“I’m buying,” Wooyoung counters, “so you really have no excuse.” 

What you really want is to go home and bury yourself under the covers for the foreseeable future. Every awkward second glance with Yunho was making you want to curl into a ball and every moment Mingi spent pretending he barely knew you made you want to go home and cry. An entire day filled with almost sentences and troublesome glances and all you can tell yourself is that you knew it, you were right all along. 

You don’t answer Wooyoung, and instead you just can’t help yourself, you look behind you towards the back office, but neither of the men you want to see are there. 

“Are you really so afraid of making friends you’re turning down free drinks?” Wooyoung prods your side, “That’s really fucking lame of you,” 

“Wooyoung,” You sigh, your head dropping back. 

“It’s fine,” He says, his voice lilting up in a sing-song, “I thought you were cool,” 

Your jaw tightens. 

“And I’m not usually wrong,” He goes on, “but it’s fine, I’m man enough to admit when I’m wrong, and you, y/n, are lame.” 

“Fine!” You snap up and meet his eyes, “Fine, I’ll come, but just one drink.” 

“Excellent,” He smiles, and you’re starting to get the sense that Wooyoung doesn’t really take no for an answer ever. 

“One drink,” You repeat. 

“Yeah,” He shrugs off, “come on, get your stuff, we’re meeting San at 1987.” 

“Where?” 

“Bar,” He brushes off your question without really answering, “let’s go,” 

Wooyoung turns on his heel without a second thought, and he’s off. You have to jog to keep up with him to get out of the building, and he’s mostly quiet until you hit the evening street outside. He slows to a casual pace and turns his head to you when he says, “You like San, right?” 

The question catches you off guard, “Of course,”

Wooyoung smiles, “He’s definitely all business at work, most of the time, but don’t worry.” 

“Why would I worry?” Your brow furrows, every interaction you’ve had with San so far has been perfectly pleasant, albeit professional.

“I just mean he’s fun,” Wooyoung corrects himself, “he’s just really serious about the work,” 

“You’re all kind of like that,” You point out, “mostly,” 

“Right,” Wooyoung nods, winding his way through an alley and you divert off the main street to follow him as he leads you through the back way to their regular spot. 

“He takes training really seriously,” You offer, “but I think that’s good. We could all hurt ourselves if we weren’t following his plans,” 

Wooyoung grins, “Oh, he’s going to like the sound of that.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Mhm,” Wooyoung lays a hand softly between your shoulder blades to direct you through a small crowd, “follow that up with how handsome he is and you’ll get special treatment forever.” 

You laugh sharply, “Noted.” 

He points ahead, “Just up there,” 

At the far end of the alley is a hanging neon sign, the ‘7’ in ‘1987’ flickering intermittently. It’s not as flashy as some of the other bars or restaurants along the street you’re walking, but that looks to be part of the charm. As you make your way up to the door and inside, Wooyoung is quick to greet a few people on the sidewalk, throw a wave to the bartender, and he throws around names and details to you faster than you can pick up on them. 

San waits at a table in the far corner, two light, wheat beers already waiting on the table. When he glances up from his phone and sees you both his eyes widen but he smiles pleasantly. 

“Hey!” He smiles, standing and pulling a chair out for you, “I didn’t realize you were coming, I would have ordered you something,” 

“I’m not crashing plans, am I? Woo didn’t say,” You glance between them. 

“Not at all,” San shakes his head, gesturing for you to sit, “you’re more than welcome. Seonghwa should be coming too at some point,” 

“Oh,” Your stomach does a little nervous flip flop. 

“Chill,” Wooyoung interrupts your thoughts immediately, “have a drink, make some friends.” 

You smile, taking your seat and letting San push it in for you so you’re settled at the table before he returns to his own place, gesturing for the server’s attention, “What’s your drink?” he asks you. 

“Whatever you’re having is good,” You make it simple. 

San smiles and points to their glasses before holding up a finger and silently communicating to the server that they need one more. He’s more relaxed than you’ve ever seen him, now outside of work full of easy, confident energy. 

“Well,” Wooyoung smiles and takes a long sip of his drink, “this is nice,” 

“Yeah,” You’re not entirely sure what you’re doing here, but you might as well go with it, “thanks for letting me tag along,” 

“Mm,” San’s eyes are trained on the serving staff but he nods, and then stands as your server approaches, meeting them halfway and taking the beer, thanking them profusely for running it out so quickly. When he returns to the table he presents your drink with ease, “There we go,” 

“Thank you,” You nod, accepting the cold glass, and now that it’s in your hand you’re grateful to have the drink after the day you’ve had. 

The sip is calming, cool and crisp, and you sigh as you swallow, not realizing the way you’re being watched by both men. 

Wooyoung’s words nearly knock you sideways, and a tiny piece of you is grateful he waited until you finished sipping your drink, “So, how was your heat?” 

You cough anyways though, just the idea that someone would say it so brazenly, and in public, “What?” 

“Youngie,” San slaps him with the back of his hand, “you can’t ask her that,” 

Wooyoung ignores him, leaning forwards with his elbows on the table now, “The perfume isn’t helping as much as you think,” he says and you blanch, “and I’ve never seen Yunho stare at someone for so long in my life, so,” 

He barely met your eyes all day, and your head snaps up, “He was staring?” 

His mouth quirks up on one side and San swivels his head towards you. Wooyoung nods, “Like a puppy,”

“Fuck,” You breathe. 

Both their eyebrows raise. 

“Sorry, sorry,” You lean back in your chair, hiding your face in your hands. So much for a convenient story about them having the flu. 

“You can curse,” Wooyoung laughs, “I just didn’t expect you to admit it that fast, I thought I’d have to pry it out of you.”

“Oh, this is so bad,” You groan. 

“Why bad?” San asks, “Yunho’s nice,” 

You sigh, still hiding your face.

“He’s easily one of the best guys I know,” San continues, “and there’s nothing that says we can’t date within the company, we’re not idols,” 

“Oh god,” You groan again. 

“Is it so bad he has a crush on you?” San asks. 

Wooyoung breaks into hysterics and your hands fall away, a blank, open expression on San’s face as he tries to pick up on the joke. You wince, shaking your head, “It’s worse than that,” 

“Worse,” San repeats, still slow on the uptake. 

“Woo,” You find his eyes with yours, “please don’t make me say it.” 

He sobers quickly, and takes a swig of his beer, “Right,” he faces San, “Yunho had the flu, but it wasn’t really the flu. They were heat partners.” 

“Oh,” San says, “oh,” 

“Exactly,” You sigh. 

There’s a beat and then San’s brow screws up in confusion, “Didn’t Mingi have the flu too?” 

Heat tints your cheeks pink instantaneously and you look down at your glass, suddenly focused on the tiny bursting bubbles at the top of your beer. You brace yourself for their reaction. 

“Holy shit,” Wooyoung breathes, “y/n, you’re a god,” 

“What?” Your head snaps up. 

“Both of them?” Wooyoung shakes his head, “Tell me everything,” 

“You don’t have to do that,” San interrupts him again, smacking the back of his arm, “he’s needlessly curious, but you know, you don’t have to share if you don’t,”

The words flood out of you, a small piece of you thankful that you don’t have to hold this whole thing inside yourself forever, “I went into heat at the studio,” 

“What?” Wooyoung’s face softens, and you know that he understands just what that means. The anxiety, the fear, all of it. 

“This is embarrassing,” You sigh. 

“Then you don’t have to,” San tries again, wanting badly to save you from any further humiliation or pressure. 

You ignore him and hold Wooyoung’s eyes, “Friends, right?” 

He nods. 

You swallow hard and then take the leap, “I can’t afford my suppressants right now,” you start and his eyes soften more, “I thought I had rationed them right, but after the recording it hit me like a truck.” 

“I knew you seemed off,” Wooyoung says softly, “then what?” 

“Mingi found me in the locker room, and then he got Yunho, and they made sure I got out of there okay,” You lean back, crossing your arms and biting the inside of your lip. 

“Sharing your heat was unplanned?” Wooyoung clarifies. 

“Yes,” 

“And it was,” He searches for the right words, “I mean… were they okay? Everything was okay?” 

You know what he’s asking without asking, and you nod, “Completely, it was more than okay, they were…”

“They’re both good guys,” San says, “it’s good they were there.” 

“Yeah,” You breathe, before snapping yourself out of own head and reaching for your beer again, “anyways, yes, so they took me back to their place and now it’s four, five days later and everything’s so fucking awkward,” 

“Hmm,” Wooyoung murmurs, “and it was good?” 

You nod, lips pressed tight together in a line. 

“Oh, it was too good,” Wooyoung grimaces, “yikes.” 

“Right,” You sigh, “and Yunho and Mingi both made it pretty clear that this was a one-time casual sex thing, which is fine, but also you know how heat goes. Everything is all jumbled up now,” 

“Mm,” Wooyoung nods, and then his eyes shift to above your head and he grins, “Hwa, right here!”

Park Seonghwa appears a moment later, a warm smile on his angular face and he pushes a lock of dark black hair behind his ear as he finds an open seat and slides into the table, “Hey,” he greets, and then turns to you, “hi, y/n, nice to see you outside the studio,” 

“You too,” You smile. 

San once again repeats his process for getting Seonghwa a drink, and your stomach tightens as you think about what Wooyoung might say in front of this man you barely know. 

“It looks like I interrupted something,” Seonghwa says a few moments later when everything is still quiet and hanging still. 

Wooyoung doesn’t say it, he just holds your gaze intently and raises an eyebrow as if to say - Can I? 

You sigh, catching Seonghwa off guard, and then you nod. 

“y/n just got back from heat leave,” Wooyoung turns to Seonghwa to explain, “with Yunho and Mingi.” 

You expect a sheepish or embarrassed reaction, someone quick to divert the conversation away from sex, but it turns out you don’t know Seonghwa as well as you thought. He merely makes a noise of acknowledgement and glances to you, “How messy are things, then? They were both being weird today,” 

“I don’t know,” You answer honestly with a sigh. 

“They said they wanted it to be a one-time thing,” Wooyoung says, “but is the problem that you like them? Or one of them?” 

“I can see that,” Seonghwa smiles, “Yunho kind of oozes perfect boyfriend,” 

“It’s not that,” You shake your head, words bubbling up as you try to make sense of it, “it probably shouldn’t have happened at all, and I’m new, I don’t want to make anything weird or uncomfortable, but we spent like four days together… it was intense, and now I just feel like I can’t not think about it when I look at them,” 

“Intense, good?” Wooyoung quirks a brow, nudging you under the table. 

“Woo,” You sigh, “I’ve never felt like that,” 

“What do you mean?” He asks softly, the two alphas at the table going silent to watch you both. 

“I don’t know what it is about them,” You confess, “but the entire time all they did was make sure I was okay, they were so tender and kind, and when I left I just wanted to go back.”

“Oh,” Wooyoung murmurs, “you’ve got it bad,” 

“My hormones are just out of whack,” You shake your head, “you know what it’s like. Have an alpha tell you they want to give you pups enough times and your brain short circuits,” 

Seonghwa shifts in his seat and San clears his throat, but Wooyoung just laughs. 

“Anyways, yes,” You take another sip of your drink, “I spent my heat with them, had the best sex of my life, and now I’m sitting here with a stomach ache because I don’t know where they are right now. I feel like the universe is playing a trick on me,” 

“Wait,” Wooyoung starts to say, but you’re on a roll now, the single beer hitting just a little harder than it should have. 

“Working here, with all of you, was my dream. I just think it’s funny that I haven’t even been here for three months and I’ve already managed to fuck it up, because now everytime I look at Yunho all I can hear is me begging him to claim me, which is insanity, pure and complete insanity,” 

“Wait,” Wooyoung repeats again, hands up and out trying to get you to slow down, “I thought it was casual heat sex,” 

“It was,” You resurface from your own panicked rambling and realize just how shocked the table looks, “what?” 

“You asked Yunho to bite you?” Wooyoung asks, and when you nod he says, “and right now, how do you feel?” 

“Fine,” You knee-jerk answer, “but, a little anxious I guess?” 

“I don’t know how to explain this,” He says, looking to the two alphas for help who both shake their heads. 

“Why do I feel like I’m missing something?” You glance between them. 

“Okay,” Wooyoung claps his hands together, “listen, I have never asked Sannie to give me pups. I have never asked him to bite me, and I have never, ever, gotten all dizzy and sick when he’s not around.” 

“Hey,” San grumbles, “I think she gets it,” 

“I don’t,” You manage. 

“What you had is a lot more than heat sex,” Wooyoung finally settles on, and your stomach drops. 

“Woo,” You shake your head again, “no,” 

“I’m serious!” He insists, “How else do you explain it,” 

“You’re so dramatic,” You roll your eyes and reach for your drink, but find the glass empty, “it was good, really good, but that’s all it was.” 

“He’s not wrong,” Seonghwa interrupts, his deep voice still calm and easy, “sometimes connections are just stronger. Scents match better, you know, everything just clicks. It doesn’t mean Yunho’s your soulmate, but if the pull is there, then there’s something there.” 

You ignore the pull and flash him a weak smile, “Not for them.” 

“Them,” Seonghwa corrects, “both of them?” 

“I know,” You bury your head in your hands again. 

“y/n,” San’s hand lays softly on your forearm, “no matter what happened, Yunho and Mingi are both still the guys from a few days ago. They’re still good men who care about you, even if that’s just as a member of the crew or a friend.” 

“Can I ask a question?” Seonghwa interrupts. 

“Sure,” You sigh, lifting your eyes to his. 

“How do you know they don’t want you too?” 

The question makes you feel awful, and you catch Wooyoung’s sympathetic look in your peripheral vision and nearly lose your composure, but the truth of it is simple. You clear your throat softly and straighten up, “They said so,” 

“Oh,” He nods. 

“And I’m not even sure I want them,” You tack on, “I don’t even really know them,” 

Silence stretches at the table, and San’s eyes flick from yours to Seonghwa.

“Then let’s get another drink,” Seonghwa finally says, “let’s get your mind off it, and let’s have a good night. I know things are awkward at the studio, but don’t let them be. Just focus on the work and yourself and make some friends, and this whole thing will just be a funny story,” 

You nod and sigh, “Okay,” 

“Yeah,” Wooyoung offers, “a month from now no one’s going to remember,” 

It’s around the third bar when someone brings it up again. You’re several more drinks deep, learning so much about the group dynamics that you can’t get while inside the studio walls. Wooyoung is quick to peel back all the layers for you now that you’re actually out with them and not just pushing it off a little longer for the sake of your wallet. 

Leaning across the expanse of the table Seonghwa gets your attention with a drunken tap on your arm and his eyes narrow, “What’s this about you not being able to afford your suppressants?” 

“What?” For a second his words don’t compute. 

“Your meds, your suppressants,” He gestures, a little beer tipping over the edge of his glass, “why aren’t you on them?” 

“I will be soon,” You lean in closer to hear each other over the music, “insurance window,” 

“Ah,” He nods, “so what’s your plan next time?” 

“Next time?” You turn your head so that his mouth is closer to your ear. 

“Next heat,” He clarifies, a little slur in his speech, “while you’re onboarding,” 

Your eyebrows shoot up at his words, “I don’t really know, I guess,” 

“Mm,” He nods. 

“Why?” You scoot your chair closer. 

“I’m assuming you don’t want to,” His voice gets swallowed up by Wooyoung shouting something over the music and you shake your head. 

“What?” You squint, shifting closer, bracing your hand on the table by his glass to steady yourself. 

“Go back to Yunho and Mingi!” He all but shouts, “I’m assuming you don’t want to do that,” 

“Fuck no,” You groan, “I’d rather take care of it myself than deal with feeling like this,” 

“What about me?” He says and you laugh, but you don’t really know why. He clears his throat and shakes his head, sobering himself just a little, “Seriously,” 

“What about you, what?” 

He rolls his eyes, “Help with heat, I help Woo, San and I both do,” 

“Oh,” 

“Only if you need a hand,” He smiles, round eyes shining and kind, “or you know, a knot in this case,” 

You clap a hand over your mouth and can’t help but fall apart into giggles, “You’re serious,” 

He quirks his eyebrow at you, dropping his drink back onto the table so he can draw an X over his chest with two fingers, crossing his heart. 

“What are you doing over there?” Wooyoung interrupts and your head snaps to the side, “Making a blood pact? You’re both trashed,” 

“I am not trashed,” You insist, even though you can feel yourself slipping off the chair you’re on inch by inch. 

“You’re allowed to be,” Wooyoung pushes a shot of soju towards you, “you’re broke and in love,” 

“Wooyoung!” His words strike panic through you, “Seriously, stop that,”

“Alright, alright,” He throws up his hands, “broke and and in lust, whatever,” 

San’s lips curl up in a half smile at his friend’s words. His eyes are closed, and he’s swaying a little from side to side, jerking back to center every now and again when his equilibrium feels too sideways. It’s entirely possible Wooyoung is the most sober one here and that thought makes you burst into laughter. San’s eyes fly open at the sound. 

“I was offering my services,” Seonghwa cuts in, like he had been thinking about what to say that entire time and finally found the words. 

“Your what?” Wooyoung laughs. 

“For her next heat,” He explains, waving his hand like it’s simple addition, “my services,” 

“Seonghwa,” San shakes his head sharply, “stop.”

“It’s not as if I’m with someone,” Seonghwa replies, holding San’s gaze intently, and for a split second it’s obvious there’s some kind of a backstory behind them all or their friendship or just Seonghwa himself that everyone knows and you don’t, but it isn’t the time to ask.

“Yeah,” San says a little gruffly, blinking hard to shake off the alcohol, “well, this still isn’t the time.” 

Wooyoung wraps it up smoothly, “We’re all too drunk for this,” 

“Exactly,” You take a moment of solace in the cup of soju. 

“I mean it though,” Seonghwa tears his eyes away from San and a hand drops onto your knee, “you’re pretty, I’m pretty, just keep it in mind,” 

There’s almost no way he’ll remember this tomorrow, so you let him off the hook with a smile and a hand on the side of his cheek, “Thank you, Hwa,” 

“That’s what f-friends are for,” He hiccups lightly, and then you watch his eyes unfocus as the dizziness floods his vision and he drops his head unceremoniously onto your shoulder, “oh, God, I’m drunk,” 

“There it is,” Wooyoung grins. 

You slip forward as Seonghwa’s weight drops onto you and you brace yourself on the edge of the table, but San swoops in, “Come here, hyung, stop hanging on her,” 

“Hmm?” Seonghwa’s eyes look tired when San gets him off you and over his shoulder, “Sannie?” 

“Yeah,” San softens, “it’s just me,” 

“I think I need to lie down,” Seonghwa murmurs, his head falling onto San’s ready shoulder. 

“I know, hyung, I know,” San softens, and then turns to the table, “can we go?” 

“Yeah,” Wooyoung stumbles as he gets up but then straightens, tucking himself under Seonghwa’s other arm once he gets his feet under him, “y/n, you good?”

You pull yourself up too, knocking back the final shot of soju so it doesn’t go to waste and pulling on your jacket, “Good,” 

In the cool night air outside the bar everything gets dizzier, more watery and hazy, and something in your gut pulls hard. For a brief passing moment you wonder what Yunho and Mingi are doing right now. 

San’s saying something and you shake yourself out of your stupor, “What’s that?” 

“I said, where do you live?” He lets Wooyoung take more of Seonghwa’s weight as he turns his focus to you. 

You give him your address, “I can call an Uber,” 

“I live kind of close,” He nods, “let me take you,” 

“You really don’t have to,” 

“It would make me feel better,” San brushes you off immediately, “we’ve all been drinking, you shouldn’t be alone,” 

“What about him?” You nod towards Seonghwa. 

“I got him,” Wooyoung assures, “we live in the same building.” 

“You sure?” San checks, “We can all go together,”

“It’s the opposite direction,” Wooyoung shakes his head, “and I’m tired, this just makes more sense,”

San nods and then checks on Seonghwa once more, “Make him drink some water, okay?” 

“Yep,” Wooyoung salutes, rolls Seonghwa into an Uber, and then they’re gone. 

Leaving you and San alone on the sidewalk. 

“Let me get a car,” He says, shaking off some of his lingering drunkenness and pulling out his phone. 

Of the three men, you talked to San the least. As the night had stretched on, you found yourself sidled up with Seonghwa or talking across the table animatedly with Wooyoung, but San seemed to give you a little space. He was also the one who commented the least on your recent sexual escapades and now standing in the middle of the street with him and him alone, you have no idea what you’ll talk about. 

You watch as he types into his phone, lets it search, and then his nose crinkles, “Twenty minutes,” 

“Oh,” You push up on your tiptoes to see his screen, “damn,” 

He thinks for a minute and then sighs, “You want to walk a bit? I need to sober up a little anyways,” 

“Sure,” 

“Hungry?” His brows perk up. 

“Definitely,” You smile. 

“There’s places in our direction,” He waves you on, and you fall into lockstep with him as you wind out of the alley and back into the city streets. 

It’s quiet for a moment, and you know one of you has to break the silence, but mercifully he gets there first, “You’re a good dancer, you know,” 

“So are you,” You glance up at him, and he smiles. 

He’s handsome, especially like this with his cheeks tinged pink with the night of drinking and his hair falling in his eyes. He directs you forward across an intersection and then looks down to keep talking, “You pick little things up really quickly, it’s impressive,” 

“I appreciate that,” The alcohol seems to be less pervasive now that you’re out of the loud club and walking some of it off and you sigh, “honestly, I was staying late with Mingi a lot of nights. He was helping me catch up,” 

“Ah,” San nods, “that makes sense,” 

You keep walking. Normally you can get a conversation going without any problems, but with the alcohol and the late night and the fact that you really don’t know San all that well, you’re tongue tied. 

He sighs heavily and looks at you, like he had been weighing whether or not to say something and finally chose to just do it anyway. “Don’t worry about what Seonghwa said,” He manages, “he was drunk, and I’m sure he wouldn’t have wanted to make you uncomfortable.” 

“Oh,” Your stomach knots up, “he didn’t,” 

“Good,” San nods, looking relieved, “he’s a good man, he’s,” San searches for his words for a moment, “not the type to proposition a coworker, that’s not what,” 

“Oh!” It makes sudden sense why San was being so careful, offering to walk you home and trying to keep Seonghwa in check, “No, San, that’s not at all what I thought,” 

“It’s not?” His eyebrow quirks up. 

“No, I mean,” Your gaze falls away from him, “it probably should be, but I know he meant well. Plus, I know you both help Wooyoung,” 

“Well,” San shakes his head, “that’s a little different,” 

“Because you’re all men?” 

He smiles, a little sheepish, “No, I was going to say because we’re old friends, but I guess there’s that too.” 

“Ah,” You turn towards him, “well, really, you shouldn’t worry about me like that. Hwa was just trying to be a good friend, and I’m sure he won’t remember it tomorrow anyways,” 

He sighs, relieved this time, “Good, okay,” 

“Is that what you were worried about?” You ask. 

“Between that and Woo practically interrogating you,” His nose crinkles again, “that part of your life is private, he shouldn’t pry like that.” 

“I would have told him to stop,” You shake your head. 

“I hope so,” He says, “I wouldn’t want you to feel uncomfortable with us after everything you’re dealing with. We like you in the crew,” 

“You do?” 

“Definitely,” He twists to meet your eyes, “you have fire. I saw it in the audition tape,” 

Blush flushes your cheeks, “Thank you,” 

“I’m just being honest,” He smiles. 

You smile back. 

It gets easier the more and more you walk with San. The alcohol slowly dissipates in both your systems, and after a few more blocks the idea of street food seems even more appealing. He refuses to let you pay and you only protest once, albeit weakly, before he gives you a simple shake of the head and takes care of things without another word. 

It’s a thirty minute walk, especially at this meandering pace, but eventually you make it back to your block, and you don’t know what possesses you to turn the conversation back to Yunho and Mingi and everything it means but you do. He’s less shy to discuss it now, especially after enough time getting to know each other and sinking into a conversational rhythm. 

By the time you make it to your apartment walkway, your corn dog is half eaten and your previous anxiety about talking to San is gone entirely. You gesture up to your building, “This is me,” 

“Nice,” He comments, and then he takes a seat on your stoop and looks up at you, expectant.

“What?” You ask at his expression. 

“You weren’t done, come on, tell me the rest,” He leans back against the railing, stretching out his legs. 

“Right,” You remember yourself, flopping down onto the step next to him and running a hand through your hair, “where was I?” 

“Yunho reminding you of your ex,” San prompts you. 

“Ah,” You shake your head, “I mean not really, my ex was an asshole, but… I guess I didn’t know that for a long time. I thought he was nice, I thought he was the right guy.” 

“And Yunho’s nice and the right guy?” He smirks. 

“No, no,” You wave your hands, “fuck, I’m not making sense with this at all.” 

“Can I guess?” San turns his body towards you a little more. 

You nod. 

“When your heat was over,” San’s expression is almost a little apologetic as he addresses it directly, “did you all agree it was just sex?” 

“Yes,” 

“And that you could all be adults about it?” He adds. 

You nod again. 

“And today you were all awkward as hell and avoiding each other?” 

“Basically,” 

“Listen,” San rests his hand on your knee, “I don’t know what your ex did or didn’t do, but they’re not that guy.” 

“I know,” You sigh. 

“But I get it,” San interrupts, “it feels like you had this connection and everything was good and now they’re pretending you don’t exist, and how is that different from any other guy?” 

He has you there. You manage a nod. 

“Well, I don’t know how they feel about you,” He offers, “but I promise you they’re just as embarrassed as you. It’s easy to say you’ll stay friends and that the lines won’t get blurred, but they always, always do.” 

You study him for a moment, at the way he’s speaking so genuinely and it dawns on you, “You speak from experience, I’m guessing?” 

He looks down and away, nodding before he brings his eyes back up to yours, “Yeah,” 

“Woo?” You guess softly. 

After an entire night of watching them lean against each other, touch each other, talk amongst themselves in their little bubble, you’re shocked when his mouth turns up into a sad smile and he shakes his head, “No, Woo and I have figured out how to make this whole thing easy,” 

“Oh,” 

“Wooyoung loves me, but he’s not in love with me.” San clarifies. 

“And you?” You ask softly. 

“He’s my best friend,” San says confidently, “and I’ll never let him be in pain,” 

“But?” You nudge him. 

“It was a long time ago,” He shakes his head and for the first time all night you know he’s told you a lie, but you let it pass. He shakes off the momentary lapse and continues, “but I know how you’re feeling.” 

“Then how do I make it right?” You ask him. 

“Sometimes you can’t,” He says honestly, “sometimes one person just feels so much more than the other, and you try to make it work until you bend so much for them you break.” 

“I know what Woo said,” You shake your head, “but I’m not in love with them. I’m not.” 

“I trust you,” San nods, “you know yourself better than Youngie.” 

“It’s just this thing inside me,” You confess, and maybe it’s the alcohol or the lateness of the hour but you feel safer here on your stoop with him than you have in a long, long time, so you keep confessing. “I wish sometimes so much that I could just be a beta, that I could forget all about this and just know for sure. I’ve… never known anything for real and how am I supposed to trust anything I feel if my body just decides for me.” 

He’s quiet for a moment, but then he says, “Being an omega is a beautiful thing,” 

“Don’t,” You shake your head sharply, “I’ve heard that one all my life,” 

“It is,” He insists, “all of it’s beautiful. Every part and piece of us is, alpha, beta, omega, all of it.” 

“San, that’s not,” 

“I know what you meant,” San says softly, sliding his hand into yours and giving you a squeeze, “and it would be easier to be a beta, and to not have to wonder every time. Does the person you like feel right because you like them or because something about them is a good biological match?” 

“Exactly,” 

“Believe me,” He squeezes you again, “I get it.” 

Tears prickle in your eyes and you swallow hard to clear them, “Then how do I make this work? How do I go back to the studio and put this behind me?” 

“Is that what you want?” He checks, thumb stroking along the back of your hand. 

“Yes,” You sigh, “it doesn’t even matter how I feel or don’t feel, I can’t take that risk here,” 

“The work is more important,” He finishes for you. 

“Yes.” 

“Then don’t let them in again,” San says simply, “not like before. Be friends, but keep things professional. Get some distance from this whole thing,” 

“I have a feeling this is not the advice Woo would be giving me,” You smile. 

“No,” San laughs, “Wooyoung would tell you to open yourself up to the great mystery of being loved or something,” 

“And you’re not a romantic,” You smirk. 

“No, no,” He shakes his head, “I am, but being a romantic doesn’t mean you have to let people hurt you. I’ve seen Woo get his heart broken a dozen times now, and he keeps trying. He’s the strongest person I know, and I love him for it, but it’s not the only way.” 

“So what he said at the bar,” You tuck your unfinished food into the little bag and leave it to the side, “what he said about my heat?” 

“I mean,” He shrugs, “y/n, this isn’t your first time. Don’t listen to him,” 

“But Seonghwa,” You remember the way Seonghwa agreed, like a scent match was the stars aligning. 

“Fuck them both,” San shakes his head, “just because you had a connection with them doesn’t mean they’re the only people you can connect with.” 

Your eyes fill with tears again and he shakes his head when he sees your hazy eyes, brushing your jaw softly with his fingers. You swallow hard and sigh, breath hitching in your chest, “You know what’s funny about this?” 

“Hmm?” He brushes your jaw again. 

“I don’t even want to date right now, I just,” You shrug lightly, “I want to work. I want to have friends. I want to go out and meet people or stay in if I feel like it. I don’t want to sit on the couch pining or walk on eggshells at the studio,” 

“y/n,” San steadies you, his voice low and calm, “listen to me, okay?” 

“Okay,” You murmur. 

“You have work to do, so focus on it. You have friends, including me, and Woo, and Seonghwa, okay? You come out with us… or don’t,” He smiles and squeezes your hand, “and the studio will feel weird for a little while, but trust yourself, it will fade.” 

“It will,” You nod, “you’re right,” 

He nods, holding your gaze a little longer until he gives you one more squeeze. San shifts back to give you a little space, his hands leaving you and clasping together to hang between his legs. He smiles, “Do you feel any better?” 

“Yeah,” You run your hands through your hair and let out a long, tired exhale. 

“Sobered up?” He checks. 

“Mostly,” You nod, checking your watch, “but it’s so late I’m still going to be feeling it tomorrow,” 

“Mm,” He nods, “we aren’t starting until eleven though,” 

“True,” 

The night is drawing to a close, you can feel it. You don’t really want to be alone with your thoughts again, but you’re also so tired you think you might drop on the spot, so you start to pull away and hope that you’ll be able to fall asleep the minute you hit the pillows. 

He pushes himself up to stand and offers you a hand to help you to your feet, “Should I walk you up?” 

You shake your head, “I got it,” 

“I’ll wait until you get in,” He smiles and nods. 

You make it two steps up before you turn back to him, “Thank you, San,” you tell him, “for everything tonight, really,” 

He smiles wider, his eyes crinkling up and he nods again, “Don’t thank me, just remember what I said.” 

“I will,” 

“And y/n,” He calls after you as you start back up the path, “sleep well,” 

“You too, Sannie,” You give him one last look before you push open your apartment door and start up the steps. He doesn’t budge, making sure you’re in the door before he pulls out his phone and starts his short walk home. 

Coming home this time doesn’t hurt the same. 

You hope for more of the same tomorrow. 

You hope every day that it fades away, little by little. 

[deathbecomesthem]

Crawling to the Finish | Part 1 of 4 | 2.6K

I am queuing up all 4 parts of this story, and they will all be released throughout the week on the dates that are indicated on the Materlist. This story is already completed, and I do not intend to revisit it for editing. My emotional labor on this one has already been done.

Warnings: There will be lots of descriptions of medical stuff. The reader is physically disabled due to an undefined accident. Major bone trauma. Lots of talk about pain. Later parts are going to have smut, because disabled people have sex like everyone else.

Summary: You have to go back to school while still recovering from surgery. Principal Higgins is determined to make you as comfortable as possible, so he assigns someone to help you get around.

A/N: The physical disability described in this series are my own. The experiences are very close to what my own. Be kind.

This one goes out to CJ - you helped me carry my books my junior and senior years of high school because you got to leave class early. You were a real one.

 **

The crutches rubbed the skin of your armpits raw. You’d tried everything. Your mom has sewn pieces of flannel over the arm rests to try to make it more comfortable. It didn’t matter. The only solution was to give it time, let your skin grow tougher. These crutches would be your best friends for the foreseeable future.

The immediate concern after your initial recovery was getting you back to “normal” life. That meant school. The thought of trying to wade through the crowds at Hawkins High while balancing on your crutches was enough to send you into a fury. It was so unfair. Your parents and the administration were determined to make it work.

You would be allowed to leave your classes 5 minutes early, working your way through empty hallways. You could carry your backpack to your classes, despite the rule about keeping them in lockers. You can’t imagine trying to rest your tender hip on the cold desks that could be found in every classroom, but Principal Higgins has a solution for that. One that you’ve promised yourself you’ll never use.

“I’m not sitting on a donut.” Your mom has tried to show you how much more comfortable you would be sitting on a donut designed for hemorrhoid pain. “I’d rather die. I’ll deal with the pain.”

Dealing with the pain was something you always did. You learned early on that complaining about it wouldn’t make it lessen, it just made the people around you make sympathetic noises that set you on edge.

Being on edge is your new normal. Everything set you off. You took everything personally. If someone was overly nice to you, you took it as an insult. Everyone wanted to help, but you wanted to do it yourself. You were so tired of people using you to make themselves feel better. “Oh, I helped that poor cripple girl today when she was struggling with the door. Aren’t I special?”

So, you taught yourself how to do everything – with adjustments. Because you didn’t want to miss out on more than you had to. You gained stamina. You once crutched 3 miles with a group of friends to watch a fireworks display. It almost killed you, and you couldn’t lift your arms the following day, but you did it. And you watched those fireworks with your head rested in your boyfriend’s lap. He never asked if you were ok. He never suggested that maybe he should have stayed back with you and watched them from the back of his truck. So, you did it, and you hid the pain.

It only reinforced the idea that you had to be better at pretending to be fine when that same boyfriend cheated on you while you were in the hospital recovering from surgery last year. You had insisted he not miss junior prom because of you, insisted he take your friend. Megan was one of your best friends, and she was more than happy to do it. You didn’t know that they’d been secretly fucking for months.

Your brain knew that he was a dick, and that what he did was fucking awful. You also knew that you were a burden to everyone around you. Of course he wanted out, but how do you break up with a cripple without being an asshole? The answer was that you didn’t. But that was last year, and this year you didn’t have to worry about boys and friends. You just had to worry about making it to graduation. Fuck the rest of it. You would crawl onto that stage if you had to.

**

The first morning back to school after the most recent surgery came halfway through your senior year, 3 weeks after having your sixth major hip repair surgery. The previous five were failures. This is a last-ditch effort with a new surgeon. As soon as you turned 18, you left the pediatric orthopedic surgeon you’d been seeing for the last 5 years – he was one of the best in the country – to see someone new. Someone that wouldn’t attach the expectations of pediatric care with your treatment plan anymore. You need a life, and you’ve already lost so much time.

When you saw the new doctor, he looked at your images and said, “this is a mess.” One 6-inch rod attached to your thigh bone and at least 8 pins holding the failed hip fusion in place. His treatment plan was, “let’s take it all out and see what happens.” He promised if you gave it a full 6 weeks to see what happens, he’d do a full replacement. He’d give you your life back.

 So, you let him have his little experiment with you. You let your parents hope for some miracle, let them ask their church friends to pray for you. You give your doctor the agreed upon 6 weeks to ”see what happens”, and then he’ll take that diseased bone out of your body and replace it with metal, plastic, and ceramic.

Today is the day you crutch your ass back into high school and try to have a normal day. Completing course work at home has been a breeze, but the district is determined to not be labeled as unfriendly to disabled people, so you’re here now. The first three periods are ok, it’s English, Algebra, and a typing class. Painful, but bearable. The fourth class of the day, American History, started with a bang.

Mr. Willis is a short man with a perpetually annoyed expression. He is known for openly mocking his female students. His room smelled of onions, and his short sleeved white button up shirts always sported yellow-green armpit stains. The onion smell was always worse when he moved around the room, his arms lifted high in the air to get a point across.

 The class starts, as all classes do, with a roll call. Perfectly reasonable, nothing out of the ordinary until he reaches your name.

“Y/N – you’re gracing us with your presence today?” His eyes are glaring at you from behind his desk. “That’s a shame.” He stands and walks over to you, his stench trailing behind him, “I need you to go to Vice Principal Brobeck’s office immediately.” He has a disciplinary slip already filled out in his hand.

“What?” You can’t help your tone; it’s confused and annoyed. How could you possibly be in trouble when it’s been weeks since you last sat at this desk.

“Your truancy needs to be addressed by the administration. A string of unexcused absences. Go!” He barks out the last, finger pointing to the door, and you can’t help but scoff at him.

“Uh, fine, I’ll go. Can I ask you, though, are you blind?” You wave your crutches at him while trying to maneuver and get your backpack over your shoulders. “I had surgery.”

He prattles on about your tone and lack of respect to your back as you crutch your way down the long hallway to the administrative offices for the school. You were exhausted already, and adding another trip around the school with your heavy backpack left you feeling angry. You could feel hot tears of frustration burning behind your eyes while you stumble a little at the office door.

The secretary has you take a seat in one of the soft cushion chairs in the entryway, which is a small mercy for your sore hip. Someone is sitting next to you, but you barely register his presence in your current state of distress and pain.

“Uh, what the hell did you do to get sent down to the office?” His voice is playful with you, but you’re not in the mood to engage with anyone.

“My existence in this building is enough, apparently.”

Before he can manage a response, the Vice Principal’s door opens, and he calls your name. The boy in the chair next to you tries to help with your bag, but you just snatch it out of his hands and throw it over your shoulders before crutching into the inner office.

“So, Mr. Willis says you’ve been truant. Do you have an explanation?” You can tell by his glassy eyes that he’s just going through the motions without actually taking in the situation sitting right in front of his face.

“I’m sorry, are you serious right now?” This gets his attention. You can practically see smoke coming out of his ears at your attitude, until he really takes a look at you. The crutches, the obvious pain in your face. “I’ve been out for 3 weeks because I had surgery. I’m back because Principal Higgins insisted the school could accommodate my needs. Call my parents if you want.”

He has your mother on the phone in an instant. You imagine her sitting at the kitchen table just waiting for a call from the school, which is probably exactly what she’s been doing. She’s devoted years to your recovery. As soon as Mr. Brobeck says the word “truant”, you can hear her yelling through the phone line, demanding to speak to Principal Higgins. So it goes.

**

The boy is still sitting in a chair waiting for whatever punishment is coming for him when you exit the office with both principals at your heels. Higgins is falling all over himself apologizing, promising you’ll have no more problems with Mr. Willis when he spots Eddie.

“Munson, you want to get out of detention?” Your eyes are drawn back to the boy, finally taking him in fully. He’s shaggy haired, wearing leather and denim with big rings adorning his hands. A metalhead. In Hawkins.

“Uh, yes sir.” He’s standing wearing an open face, ready to accept any terms that are offered to him. Your assumption is that most of the staff at the school would use any excuse to give him detention or get him expelled.

“Y/N is going to need someone to help her get from class to class,” You start to protest, but Higgins speaks over you, “how do you feel about taking on that responsibility? You’ll have to leave your classes a few minutes early and make sure she can get around the school without a problem.”

“Of course. If that’s ok with her.” He looks to you. You have no choice but to agree, how can you say no with him looking at you like that? His eyes pleading.

So, it was decided. Eddie Munson, the problem child of Hawkins, would escort you between classes. The assumption from Higgins is that you’ll be happier with a little errand boy helping you, but this boy likes to talk.

“So, what’s with the sticks?” He’s sitting with you while you wait for the hallways to clear before heading to your next class. Would it be rude to tell him to leave me alone?

“It’s complicated. I had surgery a few weeks ago. I’ll probably have another one in a few weeks.” It’s all you can offer.

“Woah, that sucks. Are you new? I don’t know if I’ve ever seen you here before.”

“Not new. I’ve lived in Hawkins forever.” You could explain that you’ve been in and out of school for the last few years due to your accident and subsequent surgeries, but you don’t have the strength. It also bores you to think about having that conversation with someone new.

“Really? How have I never seen you before?” He’s trying to be friendly. Don’t be a dick to him.

“I don’t know, maybe you’re just not very perceptive.” It’s a low blow, but he laughs at it, which is promising. “Listen, I’m really drained. Can we just sit here?”

“Yeah, no problem. Sorry.” He looks genuinely apologetic, but something about this interaction is different than what you’re used to. He’s not looking at you like you’re broken. He’s talking to you with interest, not pseudo sympathy.

“It’s ok. Ask me questions another time.” You let your head lean back against the wall and try to block out the noise in the room, and the pain zipping down your leg. This last surgery was a short one, but it left you drained. You feel loose, like your body is coming apart without the metal holding you together. You think it must be in your head, and remind yourself that you only need to get through a few weeks of this. It’s nothing, a few weeks is nothing.

 **

You and Eddie have lunch together at his regular lunch table, which you agreed to because he promised his friends would leave you alone if he told them to. And they did, mostly, even though you got a lot of side eyes. Especially from the younger ones. You could see them practically vibrating with the need to talk to you. Especially the one in the hat. You can tell he’s gonna go for it before his mouth even opens.

“So, Eddie tells us he’s helping you get around for your classes.” The kid is being casual, and it’s so endearing, you can’t even be mad. A pretzel hits the kid in the face, Eddie looks like he’s ready to leap over the table and strangle him.

“Down boy, it’s ok.” You give him a little smile, so he knows you’re not mad. “Yes, Eddie’s helping me so he can get out of detention. It works out.” You give the kid the best smile you can manage, which you’re sure looks weak on your blood drained face.

The boy nods a little and says, “That’s a sweet deal for him, though, isn’t it? He gets to leave classes early and he gets out of detention.” Another pretzel is lobbed at the kid’s face, and now you’re giggling.

“You’re definitely right, I’m not sure what I’m getting out of it.”

“Can I ask –“ before the words come out of his mouth, Eddie is walking over to put his arm around the boy’s shoulder.

“Dustin, what did we talk about?” Dustin, you’ll remember that.

“You said that you had a friend joining us and we had to leave her alone. But –“ Eddie tightens his grip, but Dustin persists, “BUT, I just want her to know that as a fellow disabled person, she can talk to me! Ok, I’m done now.”

The rest of the lunch period goes by without any incidents, but Dustin does slide over half of his oatmeal cookie to you at one point with a giant grin on his face. You mouth a little “thanks” and give him a weak smile.

Eddie gets you to and from the last few classes of the day, and even walks you out to your car after your last class. As the day goes on you, you decide to accept his help with as much grace as you can. Especially because the situation is actually helping him too. It makes it easier to swallow. Less like pity.

“Well, I’ll see you in the morning, Ilene.” His delivery of the joke is lame, and you let it hang in the air for a minute, letting him squirm. “You get it? Ilene?”

“Yeah, I get it Eddie.” You let your face fall, casting your eyes to the floor of your car. “That’s really insensitive. Maybe I should tell Principal Higgins to get me a new errand boy.” You’re trying to bite back the smirk his lame joke is threatening to bring to your mouth.

“I’m sorry, I thought it was funny –“

You’re giggling at his panic, “Eddie, that joke was so lame, it offended me. Do better. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

[holylulusworld]

Designed by pain (7)

Summary: Broken hearts are hard to put back together. 8 years ago, Dean lost something he didn’t even know he had in the first place. Will he get a second chance?

Pairing: former AU!Dean Winchester x fem!Reader

Warnings: angst, language, past break-up, arguments, daddy Dean

A/N: This was an alternative idea for the first chapter of my Bucky story: Monster-in-law masterlist. I decided to use it for a story with Dean.

Designed by pain masterlist

Designed by pain (6)

“Dean, a word,“ you square your jaw watching your son show Dean all the cars on his shelves. Dean doesn’t hear you, engrossed in listening to his son’s explanations. “DEAN!”

“Mommy, we are busy here. We are talking about manly cars,” your son huffs and turns his attention toward the stranger he let inside your house.

“Bud, you shouldn’t talk like that to your mom,” Dean sternly says. “We can talk about your cars later.”

“Promised?” Your son sniffles when Dean turns around to walk out of his room.

“Promised, bud,” Dean looks over his shoulder and nods. “We will talk about your cars as long as you want to.”

“COOL!” Your son clasps his hands together and grins. “You’re so cool, Mr. Dean!”

Dean chuckles, and you get even madder. How dare he come here and play the cool guy. Of course, your son is all over Dean. He has no clue that the very same man left you and his son when things got complicated.

“There you are,” Sam joins you and Dean. He still holds the toad in his hands, helplessly lifting the poor thing. “What do we do with that toad now?”

“TOADIE!” Your son shoves you out of his way to snatch the toad out of Sam’s hands, but Sam lifts the toad so Michael can't reach it. “I’ll show you my room now.”

“Great,” you glare at Sam. “Why didn’t you put it in the garden, Samuel Winchester? Now I’ll never get rid of that thing!” You jerk your head toward Dean. “And there is the toad.”

Sam snorts. “I can bring the toad in the garden. My brother is another story,” he sighs deeply. “Again. I’m sorry, Y/N.”

“HEY! Sasquatch,” your son grunts and tugs at Sam’s jacket, “give me back my toad. Toadie is my friend, and you can’t have him.” Michael purses his lips and holds out his hand. “Give him back!”

“Michael, stop that,” you tut. “We don’t yell at guests. Sam will bring the toad back into the garden. Toadie wants to go home. Our home isn’t their home.”

Your son pouts. His lips wobble, and he sniffles silently. “I wanna keep Toadie!” He grasps Dean’s hand, tugging lightly. “Mr. Dean, please tell Mommy that a man must have a toad. All the cool guys have toads.”

Dean looks at your son holding his hand. A smile crosses his face, and he holds his hand a little tighter. “Sammy will bring the toad to the garden. If Toadie wants to stay, he’ll wait for you in the garden. But maybe he’s got a family and wants to go home.”

“You think so?” Michael sniffs. He wipes his eyes with the sleeve of his shirt and sniffles. “But…I’ll miss him. He’s my friend.”

“He’ll always be your friend, bud,” Dean crouches down in front of your son. “Sometimes we must let people go, even if we love them very much. And sometimes, people we love leave us.”

“O-kay,” your son nods and gives Dean a cracked smile. “Maybe he comes back to me. OH!” He gasps loudly. “What if he brings his family too?”

“No way,” you shudder at the thought of the toad coming back with the whole family. “Toadie will go back home and be a good toad.”

“How about I show you pictures of my Baby? I got them on my phone,” before you can take his son away from him, Dean wants to make sure to get to know the little boy better. 

“He’s got thousands of pictures of his car,” Sam snickers behind his brother’s back. “You’ll get tired looking at all of them.”

“YES!” Michael grins. “I love cars, mister. I bet Mr. Dean has the coolest pictures of the coolest car in the world.”

You purse your lips and clench your fists. Dean already snaked his way into your son’s heart, and you don’t know how to undo the damage he did within not half an hour.

While Michael guides his father out of his room, you stare at the toad in Sam’s hands. You’re unsure what to do now that Dean came here to get to know his son.

“I should bring the toad out, and … uh… maybe I can distract Michael so you can talk to Dean. I know you’re mad at my brother, but please at least talk things out. If you need a clean cut, do it. I’ll bring him back home and make sure he’ll leave you alone.”

“He broke my heart,” you don’t look at Sam. “Not only because he didn’t contact me or stopped me from leaving. He flirted with that woman, and let your mother walk all over me. We were so in love with each other and suddenly everything was different.”

You sniff and wipe your eyes. “I only thought about the life growing inside of me. The baby he didn’t know about. The whole day I tried to find the perfect moment to tell him. It never came, though…”

“I know this doesn’t mean anything to you,” Sam softly says, “but Dean never was happier than with you. After you left, he wasn’t the same. He had some affairs, but I think he was never in love with any of the women he dated. Dean only ever loved you.”

“Sure,” you snort. “He loved me so much that he left me…”

You storm out of the room, determined to get Dean out of your house. Even if it means making a scene in front of your son.

“You!” You stop in your tracks when you see Dean and your son on the couch. Your son is looking at pictures on Dean’s phone, grinning from ear to ear.

“MOMMY! There are pictures with you in Mr. Dean’s car,” Michael runs toward you, Dean’s phone in his hands. “You look so cool.” 

He grins and shows you the image on Dean’s phone. You’re sitting on the hood of his car, winking at Dean. It’s one of the last pictures Dean took of you.

“Uh…that was a long time ago, baby boy. Mr. Dean and his brother want to go now. It’s almost dinner time, and you still need to bathe and brush your teeth after dinner.”

“Mr. Dean must stay!” Michael purses his lips. “I want him to stay in our guest room and we can eat pizza and pie.”

“Michael, I—” you swallow thickly when your son starts to sniffle. It breaks your heart watching him bond with the man breaking your heart. 

“Pizza and pie. Pizza and pie,” your son chants. “Please, mommy. He’s cool and nice. Mr. Dean wants to show me more pictures of his car, and you!”

“What…no…he can’t…” Your voice cracks. “What about his brother? We can’t send his brother Sam away.”

“Hmm…” Your son nods thoughtfully. “Mr. Dean can sleep in your room, and his brother at the guest room.” Michael grins. “Right? You got a big bed all for yourself.”

“I can sleep on the couch,” Sam hastily says. “Or maybe…uh…there is a hotel nearby. I can get me and Dean a room. We can leave after dinner.”

“I can stay for dinner,” Dean finally says. “But you can’t ask your mom to share her bed with me, okay.”

“But…” Michael sniffles. “You will come back tomorrow for breakfast. Right? We can make pancakes and … oh! You must try mommy’s pancakes. You’ll marry her if you taste them!”

Your son’s words hit you right in the chest. Daggers sent to your fragile heart. If only… you think while your son plans a wedding and to keep Dean around.

“I’ll call a hotel and,” Sam gives you an apologetic smile and pats your shoulder, “I promise to get him out of your house. At least for tonight…”

Tags in reblog.

[frownyalfred]

I can’t help but wonder where Dick Grayson is in your A Coral Room universe. What happened? Did he get to stay with the circus this time due to pack law or something? That would probably be one of the best outcomes for him I think, I just miss my Blue Bird :(

I’ve been ducking a few similar questions about Dick since I really don’t want to ruin people’s fun ideas/hopes. But the truth is, I’ve been envisioning a pretty different world for Dick in that series.

He and Bruce parted on difficult terms when he was still very young (just around Dick’s presentation) and didn’t ever call each other pack. Dick was Robin until he presented alpha, and he left Bruce around that time for a variety of reasons. Most of them reflect Bruce’s fear of alphas, fear of his own designation, and his need to reject all dynamic from his own life in order to pursue his mission.

Jason and Dick never overlapped. They never even met. By the time Bruce had softened enough to take on another pup, Dick was a young alpha on his own in Bludhaven. He probably read about Bruce’s adoption in the news, and it probably hurt like nothing else. Because Jason was getting what Bruce had refused him — a chance to be pack, to be close to him. To have an omega carrier defend and love him.

But Bruce couldn’t handle an alpha in his own house that wasn’t pack. And by the time Jason was coming around to presenting, we could see those same anxieties surfacing again. From both him and Jason. The same need to keep all pack bonds at arm’s length.

Dick is his own vigilante in Bludhaven, but likely on a much smaller level than someone backed by Bruce would’ve been. He has his own pack. He’s a kind and balanced alpha, despite carrying all this hurt and rejection.

I haven’t written him into the main storyline yet because 1) the first and second fics were about Bruce and Jason respectively 2) I’m still somewhat working off the BVS framework where there was only ever one Robin and 3) people have been really really pushy about it. Like somehow the work I’m putting out isn’t good enough to read because Dick isn’t there. As if Jason’s side of things can’t stand on its own without Dick or Tim even.

Dick will show up, I promise. But I also stand by the plot and characters of the existing story and I think they’re worth reading too. It’s hard to set up a newly healed world with Jason and Bruce without giving them time to be their own characters first. Bruce is technically a bad guy for Dick — but as we’ve seen, he’s been doing a lot of healing. He’s a complex character now.

Okay, whew. Tiny rant over. If you’ve sent me an ask about Dick’s appearance in this story in the last few months, I apologize. I was getting close to 5-6 asks a day about it and it was making me sad. Hopefully this explanation helps a little.

[atinylittlepain]

June - the prologue

joel miller x f!reader

joel miller masterlist

He finds her, intent on the same thing he is. Soon she will have a scar that matches his, a secret shared between them.

warnings | 18+ dark themes surrounding suicidal ideation and attempt, canon-typical violence and gore, eventual smut

a/n | I want to try something a bit different with this new series. I can't promise how frequently I will update this, though I will intend the chapters to be read as snapshot moments of the story. Please take care in reading this, I know that it is dark and tender material I am touching.

artwork used: Moonrise by Józef Chełmoński

series playlist

..................................

He’s not going to miss this time. He’s older, and though his hands might be more unsteady, his mind has never been so clear, so intent, so ready. He’s not going to miss this time. 

There’s nothing left. Truth, a fire, a scorched earth between him and the kid. She was going to find out eventually, and deep down he always knew that. What began as protection decayed into deceit, the lies he told her wrapping around his throat, caught in a trap of his own undoing. And his brother, a vision of everything he couldn’t be, of every particular way he managed to fail. There’s nothing left.

Simple and clean. He doesn’t take a horse, hiking out into the foothills outside Jackson, rolling bruises of purple and blue in the moonlight. A pistol, quick and glinting on his hip, the weight a reminder, a chant, a prayer. Soon, soon, soon. He walks until he’s certain the sound won’t be heard from inside the walls. Simple and clean.

The click of a bullet snapping into place. The gun is smooth and cold in his hand, easy, easy, easy. But the sound doesn’t come from his own movements, ears pricking, head turning, a beat of recognition. The click of a bullet snapping into place.

He recognizes her. Another loner, like you. All downturned eyes and quick movements, clipped answers and unsure questions. New to Jackson, to not killing, killing, killing. He recognizes her.

She’s crying. Close and short sobs that don’t shake the mouth of the gun pressed to her temple. Tears that run like quicksilver down her face, swimming so much she probably can’t see him. She’s crying.

The crack of a bullet leaving a gun. That ugly snap and snarl of steel designed to shred. Muscles tense and jolt, an unwilling embrace of bodies toppling into the grass, cool and sweet with the night. The crack of a bullet leaving a gun.

She missed. He’s holding her and blood is smearing onto his shirt. Sobs crack into a yawning yelp, cursing him with her pain, cursing him with her failure. His heart contracts, expands, beyond capacity, beyond belief. She missed.

He carries her back. She screams in his ear until she doesn’t. Leave me, leave me, leave me. Her temple is an angry yawn of a wound, a grotesque graze that gristles and glints in the darkness. He carries her back.

There are people shouting. The gates tear open and a wave of hands and questions passes over him. Her eyes are closed, head slack against his bicep before she’s taken out of his arms. There are people shouting. 

There’s an ache in his back. All night, all morning, slumped in a chair, staring at a closed door, waiting for an answer he’s not sure he wants. Not sure why he wants. Straightening, unfolding when the door opens. Good news, good news, good news. If you hadn’t, if you hadn’t, if you hadn’t. A glimpse, bandages blooming red and pink flowers. There’s an ache in his back. 

She’s not happy. He stays until eyes open, rimmed with resignation, snapping into steel on him. Hoarse, cracked, a voice that demands he listen. You shouldn’t have. Shouldn’t have, shouldn’t have, shouldn't have. She’s not happy.

He can’t remember. Why he was out there in the first place. Like sleepwalking, and waking up to a living ghost. Her eyes wide, wide, wide. He can’t remember.

Something like warmth. Like care, like need. He visits her every day. Her bite dulls and her sneers soften. She lets him swallow her anger. Something like warmth.

No name. A question she refuses to answer, and one he won’t ask to anyone else. Lips set in a thin pout, eyes narrowed when he does. No name. 

June. The month he left with a gun and came back with a woman. He calls her it, and she answers, a quiet turn of her head when he sees her around town. Where a bandage now lays, soon there will be a thread of silver along her temple that matches his. June.

June, June, June

[sixlane]

tricks up sleeves and all that

rosekiller microfic | 1,180 words | magician Barty, single dad Evan

The first thing Evan thought when his daughter told him she wanted a magician at her birthday party was how did I raise a child who enjoys close-up magic? It wouldn’t have been his first choice, probably wouldn’t have even been his last. He would’ve gone with something classier, more elegant, like a tea party or a day at the museum. Something to live up to the extravagance of previous years. Sure, Eleanor is only seven but that doesn’t mean she can’t enjoy the finer things. 

So, in between meetings and phone calls, Evan researched children’s birthday party magicians, and as you’d expect, not much was living up to his standards. After days of sifting through resumes and background checks, he was eventually able to find a well-designed website with good reviews and speak to a representative who promised to send their best.

This is why Evan is so confused when he opens his front door to find a tall, lanky man in ripped jeans and a worn out t-shirt, his look complete with ruffled hair, an eyebrow piercing, and excessive amounts of tattoos. 

“You must have the wrong house,” Evan says. He thinks he should probably close the door but something about this man is intriguing. He wants to look for just a second longer.

The man leans back to check the address beside the door. “You’re Mr. Rosier, right? I’m here for the birthday party. I’m Barty, the magician.” 

Evan raises a brow. “You don’t look like a magician.”

“Were you expecting a full tuxedo? It’s like 95 degrees out.” A tilted grin spreads over his face, showing off a pointy canine. “Here let me show you.” Before Evan can back away, Barty is reaching behind his ear and producing a shiny quarter, flipping it between his fingers confidently. “Ta da.”

“That’s hardly magic,” Evan says, crossing his arms. He better get a full refund if this is the best they had.

“No, you’re right. That’s just the decoy.” He raises his left hand, and between his thumb and pointer finger he holds Evan’s watch, which had previously been secured to his wrist.

Evan’s mouth drops open slightly. He hadn’t even felt it. “That’s not magic either, that is literally stealing.” He snatches the watch back, putting it on.

“It’s the art of misdirection,” Barty explains. “I do a dumb coin trick, and while you’re paying attention to that, I do something more impressive. It’s like, the basis of all magic.”

Evan doesn’t even know what to say. This man has just pickpocketed him on his own front porch and now he wants Evan to let him into his house? 

At the same time Evan is getting ready to slam the door in Barty’s face, Eleanor appears at his hip, smile wider than a mile across her face.

“Is this the magician, Dad?” she asks, tugging at his shirt while she bounces up and down.

“You must be Eleanor,” Barty says, squatting down so they’re at eye level. He’s performing now, Evan can tell. He lights up and his smugness from before is washed away. “Would you like to pick a card?” 

Eleanor nods enthusiastically.

Barty pulls a deck out of his back pocket and starts shuffling. Evan watches the way his fingers move deftly around the cards. Bending and flipping them expertly before fanning them out in front of her.

“Okay, go ahead. But don’t tell me what your card is, just show it to your dad and put it back anywhere in the deck.”

Eleanor does as instructed and shows Evan the card, ace of hearts, before sliding it back in.

“Thanks Eleanor, that’s great.” He starts shuffling the cards again, adding in flourishes here and there. Evan watches intently, trying to track his every move, see where he might be switching cards out or taking a peek, but he moves too quickly for Evan to stay on top of everything. “Now Ellie, can I call you Ellie?” Eleanor giggles and nods her head. “Your dad here,” he tilts his head up at Evan, “has already seen me do a trick similar to this, but I think I can put a new spin on it, what do you say?” 

Eleanor looks up at Evan, affronted. “Dad! You’ve been playing with the magician without me?”

Evan hears Barty try to stifle a laugh and feels the beginning of a tension headache spreading behind his eyes. “I was just making sure he was up to our standards,” he grits out.

“Don’t worry Ellie, your dad was just doing his due diligence.” Eleanor looks appeased and waves her hand in a motion that tells Barty to continue. He does one last shuffle and then reaches behind Eleanor’s ear. When he pulls back, he has the ace of spades in between his pointer and middle fingers. “So Ellie, was this your card?” 

She looks confused and a little disappointed. Evan holds himself back from kicking Barty directly in the face. “Um… close,” she says. “Mine had hearts on it.”

Barty looks at the card. “Huh. You know, sometimes the cards don’t always do what we want them to so we have to shake some sense into them. He starts waving the card quickly back and forth. When it comes to a stop, Barty holds the ace of hearts where the ace of spades had previously been. He smiles in triumph. Evan still kind of wants to kick him in the face.

Eleanor lets out an excited squeal and rushes forward to tackle Barty into a hug. “Can we keep him, Dad?” she screams directly in Barty’s ear. He doesn’t even flinch.

Evan lets out a resigned sigh. He’s really never been able to deny Eleanor anything, so he steps to the side, opening the door wider, a smile tugging on the corners of his mouth. “Of course Eleanor. Go gather your friends in the living room. Barty will be right in.” He places a hand on her head as she runs by.

Barty stands up and straightens his pants out, sliding the deck back into his pocket. “Good enough?” he asks, shrugging a shoulder.

Evan scrutinizes him for a second, running his eyes over every inch of the man. The line of his cheekbone, the curve of his neck, the way his thumb rubs a circle into the side of his pointer finger. There’s something about him. Evan hasn’t heard Eleanor scream that loud since Pandora got her a bug collection kit for Christmas last year. 

“I want you to know that I keep a detailed inventory of everything in my home, so if you steal something I will find out, and you won't be happy about the consequences.”

Barty smiles, something mischievous glinting in his eye. “We’ll see about that,” he says brushing past Evan to make his way into the living room. Evan closes the door behind him. Right before Barty turns the corner, he throws something over his shoulder. Without thinking, Evan catches it. His wallet. With the ace of hearts sticking mockingly out of the top.