#i feel uncomfortable when strangers are emotional in my presence. so i stay in my room when i’m upset.

[syn0vial]

the whole “treat others how you want to be treated” line sounds so easy, but i am finding things immensely complicated by the fact that, in truth, there are many people who do NOT want to be treated the way i want to be treated and will take offense if i try

[moumouton4]

Teeth And Claws || Irumi Zoldyck x fem!reader

A/n : Prompt 13 of the Smutember 2023

The list of promps is HERE

Smutember 2023 Masterlist ⚜

Warnings : rough sex, biting, blood kink, scratching, mention of cum, 18+ READERS ONLY and wrap it before you tap it

Masterlist ⚜

I don’t give permission to repost my work, if you want to share it just reblogue it

Word count : 600

He was always portrayed as a cold-blooded assassin. One whose victims never saw his face, never emerged from his bloodthirsty madness. Even his own family knew him to be vicious and ready for anything. His little brother Kirua was even his most fervent accuser. But that's the way he was. And most strangers found themselves extremely uncomfortable when his presence made itself known in a room or around a corner.

But with you, on the other hand, even the worst of his personality - which could scare off even the bravest of people - excited and drew you even deeper into his net. His roughness for you was a direct manifestation of the passion for you that burned within him, but also of your strength. He knew that no matter how hard he pushed, you weren't going to break under his force or his bites.

Because yes, he bites you. It's a cathartic way for him to express and release the overflow of emotions that run through him. His white teeth dug into your soft skin like a marshmallow, leaving behind traces of deep violet-blue. It didn't matter to him where - your thighs, breasts, neck, shoulders, belly - as long as he marked you with his imprint on your person, so that everyone would know correctly that you belonged to him and him only.

But he didn't just stick to the mark. When he sank his teeth in, it wasn't just to mark your skin but to touch your soul. Most of the time he didn't stop until the mark was inked, but once he managed to draw a little blood from your flesh. Because it was just at that point that the passion he felt for you drove him mad.

"I-Irumi... p-please I n-need you" you whimpered as your dom boyfriend kept teasing you with his teeth, with rough nibbles.

"But that color looks so good on you" he said, his lips red as he stuck out his tongue to lick some of the blood that had just dripped from your abused skin. He groaned at the taste, he'd already seen blood on countless people and yet "Blood just looks better on you"

But that wasn't his only way of marking you, and no, we're not going to talk about the way he always comes deep inside you, or the way he stays nestled there you to make sure not a single precious drop of his semen leaks out.

We'll mention the way he loses control when he reaches the peak of ultimate pleasure. Your walls squeeze him so tightly that he feels like he'll never stop pouring into you. He clings to you - his body usually so strong - trembling with ecstasy, as if he'll disappear for having felt such great pleasure. Except that in a moment like this, he's out of control, his hips buck uncontrollably against yours and his nails become as sharp as claws as he digs into the soft, immaculate skin of your back.

It's very rare that when you finish making love to him, you don't look like you've just come out of a fight. But then again, that's his way of expressing his passion, and it doesn't mean he's not angry at himself, once the tension and excitement have died down to see the state he's left you in. He's always looking after you, lest your wounds get infected if you go on a mission soon. But be careful, anyone who touches a hair on your head will end up in worse shape than they ever had a nightmare about.

[onmyyan]

Can I get Delmont HC’s for when one of their ex flings or situationships try to get at the Delmont’s again and reader just gets sad instead of jealous ☹️

Oh this was so good my hands started typing before I could stop em!

A/N: Yandere, murder mentioned in Marcos, Manny kills someone,

Starting with OG lover boy, Cas takes your relationship very, very seriously.

Let's set the scene, the two of you are cuddled up at a work party of yours and a coworker you didn't really talk to much comes sauntering over with a smile far too friendly for your liking, it made a nasty feeling settle deep within your gut, something about her gaze lingering on the tall man by your side made you feel uncomfortable.

"Caspian? I haven't seen you in ages! How are you these days?" She'd ask completely ignoring your presence. Your eye flickered from the long legged woman to your now tense boyfriend. Caspian was almost always relaxed and happy with you, so you immediately clocked his off behavior.

"Hey Ana, been good." Was his simple, curt response, his hand moved from it's warm spot on your waist to his pant pocket, (He felt his temper instantly rise and couldn't risk hurting you so he moved his clenched fist to his pocket.) and you felt silly about it afterwards but in that moment, that small action felt like a rejection. The ugly feelings brewing in your stomach made the drink on your tongue turn bitter.

"You look amazing Cas, I see you kept up with our gym routine after all huh?" She giggled as if it was an inside joke between them, her body faced him, now closer than before, and you felt like a stranger intruding on something personal, all too quickly, you felt your throat tighten.

"It's so crazy running into you here, I was just thinking about how much fun we had together, we should go out for a drink later, maybe catch up?"

Caspian stared long and hard at the woman but your emotions were quickly spiraling out of control, you could feel your gut twist at the thought of him entertaining her, and before you could hear his response, you muttered out a barley audible "Excuse me." To the pair, quickly making your retreat to the nearest bathroom, thanking the universe that it was empty because no sooner than you closed the door did your bottom lip start to tremble.

Had you stayed you would have seen the downright murderous look on your boyfriend's face.

In his head he's trying to figure out the best way to turn her down without embarrassing you at your job, it's the only reason he doesn't notice your sudden mood shift.

He was trying to process the woman's audacity, a curt decline on the tip of his tongue, when you suddenly disappeared from his side. In an instant panic, he not so subtly shoves his way past the woman to where he thinks you went.

He uses the tracker on your phone to track you down to the bathroom and fully intended on waiting by the door until you came out, but then he heard the sound he hated most in the world, you sniffling.

Bursts in the door like there's a fire, not caring about anything but getting to you, checking you over. He ignores your gasp and hushed whispers to get out before he got in trouble, and cradles your wet face between his big hands.

"What's wrong Honey? How can I help?" He's staring at you with those big red eyes, brows furrowed in concern, and you can't help the tearful giggle you let out at his behavior.

"It's stupid-"

"If it made my baby cry it's far from stupid." He corrects immediately, thumbs wiping at any stray tears left.

"That woman- the way she spoke to you. I just, I hated how that made me feel and I don't know- I'm sorry, we can just go back to the party okay?" You turn from him to face the mirror and in an attempt to brush past what you considered an embarrassing moment, begin wiping at the smeared mascara on your eyes.

He smacks his teeth at his own idiocy, he hadn't even considered how that stupid wench made you feel in the moment, god what must be running through your mind, he couldn't imagine an ex of yours trying to ask you out in front of him, the guilt swells immediately, he wanted to run back out there and throw that harlot down the stairs for making your pretty face fall the way it had.

Instead he made his way to the bathroom door and clicked the lock in place, you turned to face him but your questions died on your tongue as he made his way towards you with that particular dark look in his eye.

"Forgive me, my love. I didn't mean to make you upset, I just didn't wanna make a scene at your job." He says casually falling to his knees before you, his hands trailing up your calves, to your thighs, finally settling on the thin fabric of your underwear, he stared up from between your legs with the softest look on his face.

"Let me make it up to you Honey."

Gabe has a much more explosive reaction

You two are at the gym, Gabe was sweating and sitting there all gorgeous and shit, he's making sure you watch as he lifts, his veins bulging in his arms as he winks at you. "Be my spotter baby I need my motivation." He grits out with that wolfish smile stretched across his flushed face.

You weren't nearly as athletic as the man and sometimes it felt as if you didn't belong in the gym, but he was quick to snuff out these thoughts, swearing up and down he preformed better on his sets when you were watching, that he needed you by his side even if you weren't working out as well.

He not only wants you around because he can't get enough of you, but he also really wants you to see him be hot, unfortunately that meant everyone at the gym got to see it too.

"I'll be right back baby, gonna go grab you a water." You smile at his immediate pout, the grabby hands he makes as he demands a goodbye kiss, even though you'd only be gone a few moments, but that's all the time the blonde woman stalking up to him needs.

The stranger to you was an old fling of Gabe's, he barely recognized her when she invited herself to his personal space like she was allowed, the only reason he didn't immediately brush her off was because she said his name, he was confused as she neared him, her smile too wide to be genuine.

the blue haired giant was the best sex of her life and despite the fact that she saw his blatant affection for you, she made her move anyway.

You came back to quite the sight, Gabe sat stiffly on the machine he was at, his elbows on his knees as he stared up at the blonde beside him, his face set in that sinfully attractive hardened stare,

The woman currently leaning too close for comfort on his machine looked like someone out of a fitness magazine, she was fit, completely toned and gorgeous, you couldn't help the twinge of discomfort at how close they were, how they looked like the perfect couple.

You neared them awkwardly as her back was to you and heard her say, "It's been too long Gabriel, I miss you, god your body is still insane, what are your benching now 250? 300. You could definitely still toss me around the bed." Her tone was dripping in flirtation, she dragged a finger up the pole of the machine he sat on, leaning down to press her chest together.

Before you could think about turning away from the upsetting sight, Gabe abruptly stood up, his glare dead set on the woman, his eyes flickered to you, immediately clocking the way your shoulders shrunk in, how you seemed to deflate at the situation, he could practically read your mind, knowing how easily your brain went to the worst places, he felt his temper skyrocket at the mere idea of you being upset by this nobody.

"Baby! I think we should end this early yeah? I got a better idea for a workout that involves you, me, and my backseat." He says almost whining as he throws his sweaty body all over you, his arms holding you tight against his body as he kissed the top of your head, rocking into the hug.

"This place just let's anybody in, we should switch to a new gym." His glare turned to the woman, if looks could kill she'd be on the ground. "C'mon ma, let's go before I get belligerent."

Ricky fully ignores the interaction lmao it's so rude

You'd come to the Auto shop with a homemade lunch for your sweet Ricky as he forgot to pack his own and called you to bring him one (he definitely did this on purpose just to see you at work)

You enter the shop and start to head straight to the back before being stopped by a manicured hand snapping in your face rather rudely.

"Hi ma'am, you can't just walk in here, you have to make an appointment." The woman behind the receptionist desk was new, you'd never seen her in here before, she was practically sneering at you, her plastic, customer service smile held no warmth as she tapped her nail against the sign in sheet impatiently.

You laughed instinctually at the tense situation, trying to dispell the awkwardness, you didn't understand her hostility, "Oh my boyfriend works here, he's expecting me." You say offering her a friendly smile, trying to smooth over any unpleasantness.

"Well I'm going to need some identification." She says matter of factly, her body now blocking your path. "uh no?" You said not wanting the stranger to see your information, you'd come to the shop hundreds of times now, everyone knew who you were, everyone but this woman it seems.

She scoffed at your refusal her voice raising in anger as she glared at you, "If you don't cooperate I'll have to call security." She threatened not knowing how deep she was digging her grave.

"My love? What's going on." Ricky's deep, baritone voice suddenly called out from around the corner, he thought it was odd you hadn't appeared yet as his tracker app said you'd arrived at his work minutes ago, it wasn't like you to delay so he listened to his gut and went outside seeing you being harassed by the new receptionist.

His blood pressure rises instantly and he has to fight to keep his hands from yanking her away from you.

He'd only signed off on her hiring because he knew she was infatuated with him, they hooked up once a few years ago and she would do anything to have it happen again, of course Ricky had no intention of fulfilling her desires, he just needed someone he knew would keep their mouth shut if they happened to see/notice something funky with the shop.

But her value immediately diminishes the second she gets in your way, his glare could melt glass as he tells her a simple, but aggressive, "Move." He holds his arms out to you and when you curl into his touch he makes a point to kiss your temple, his focus completely on you. "Are you alright love? What was she doing?" He asks tenderly rubbing your face. The receptionist opens her mouth to respond but Ricky shuts her up with a single raised hand, "She was just asking for my ID, I brought your lunch!" You say excitedly, his gaze grows warm at the adorable sight before he turns to the woman, his eyes dead, his aura dark and imposing.

"Clean out your desk immediately, I want you out of my shop before I come back out here." His tone left no room for argument, almost threatening as he places a hand in the small of your back, gently leading you away. "You didn't need to do that for me-" he cuts you off with an intense, breath stealing kiss, "Of course I did, no one interrupts our time together."

Marcos had always been afraid of his promiscuous past coming back to haunt him, and his violent reaction to this shows.

The two of you had been at a club for a while now, both proper sloshed and sweating, hours of grinding on each other to every song that came on the thumping speakers, he's in heaven with his arms around your waist, his nose buried in your neck as he mouths needy kisses up and down your throat.

You motion towards the bar, your drunk body demanding more alcohol and he begins leading you towards it, his hands never leaving your body.

He all but pushes a guy out of his seat so you can rest there while he gets the bartenders attention. He freezes when the woman turns around. The bartender shoots him a knowing, flirty grin, leans over close and yells over the pounding music, "Hey Marcos baby, you come back for more? I can take my break right now if that's the case."

His eyes flicker to you and his heart stutters at the sad look on your face, be it the copious amounts of liquor you had in your body or how just how gorgeous the woman hitting on him was, you feel your spirits drop, your mind tortured you with images of them together, of him with another, and the insecurities bubble up faster than you can handle, "scuse' me." You drunkenly mutter clasping a hand over your mouth, your stomach felt queasy all of a sudden and you all but ran to the bathroom on shakey legs.

Marcos is seeing red, his mind panicking as he watches you retreat to the bathroom he feels sick himself at the thought of you leaving him, the fear that you may be comparing yourself to such a nothing person, the terrifying thought of this insignificant person making you see him different, it had his chest heaving in a barley concealed rage.

He fixes his burning stare on the bartender, his eyes holding pure malice as he holds himself back from pressing his thumbs into her eyes and slamming her into the bar until it broke.

He says nothing to her, his eyes making her so uneasy she baked away slightly, his mouth felt dry as he pushes and bullies his way past the crowd to barge into the bathroom where he finds you curled around the toilet, he's falling to his knees beside you in an instant, he keeps your hair from your face, a soothing hand on your back as you empty your stomach.

His words are soft and encouraging as he helps you to your feet, uncaring about his expensive clothes being dirtied, uncaring of how messy you look, his eyes are full of love, even a bit teary as he helps you to the sink, as you wash your mouth out he's wetting a paper towel and dabbing the cold cloth to your burning neck, "Oh baby, my sweet girl are you okay? I'm so sorry, come here let me see you."

The moment sobers him entirely, he's calling a deluxe Uber to pick you both up and sending a message to his twin about the bartender, he wanted the bitch dead for even momentarily causing you to frown, he's holding your swaying form against him protectively as he waits for the car, his mind swirling with thoughts of violence and revenge, how dare that waste of air upset you so much? The crime would be repaid in blood.

Manny has the most volatile reaction.

The two of you are a late night, semi exclusive car show, Manny loved watching the races, he stopped racing in them the second you said you worried for his safety but his love for the adrenaline filled sport remained, the classic cars were beautiful and he always smiled so brightly when you indulged his more risky interests.

He loved pointing out the racers he liked or hated, his favorite cars and why, sharing this with you was one of his favorite ways to pass time. You always looked so beautiful under the neon lights, the smell of gasoline in the air.

It's rare for him to leave your side when you're out and about so this happens in front of you, the two of you are cuddled up together, sat comfortably on the hood of his car, his arms around you as you leaned back into his chest, when a woman in leather saunters up to his car.

"Hey Manny, long time no see pretty boy." The woman coo's from her position, her eyes drinking him in, blatantly ignoring your existence.

"Yeah." Is Manny's only response, his grip on your hips tightening before he moves from holding you against him to stepping in front of you, keeping his body between you and what he felt was a threat.

His hair moved everytime a car whizzed by him, but he didn't flinch, his cold eyes trained on the woman from his past.

His voice was clearly irritated, tone leaving no room for friendly interpretation, and yet she persisted, taking a step closer to the tall man who had begun to clench his fists, his body trembling in unfiltered rage.

"You wanna' take another ride? This time if I win, I get my prize up front." Her tone was clear, her implication made more lewd as she looked him up and down.

"Don't talk to me like you know me. Don't talk to me like you're somebody." His voice was dripping venom as he spoke, and if he wasn't furious before, the sad, almost deflated look on your face at her comments made him see red.

The crowds of people were so thick and intense, the loud sounds of the revving engines and screaming spectators only added to his slip of control.

"Relax Manny baby! I'm just teasing you." She puts her hand on his chest and before you could blink the woman's body is flying out towards the road where a car smacks into her with a sick crunch, her limp body is dragged as the car speeds along, unaware of the carnage it caused, screams and shouts of horror come from all around you, people beginning to panic as Manny turns around, all malice gone from his face as he lifts you off the car and ushers you to the passenger seat without a word. "Time to go!" He all but sings as he peels out of the parking lot.

"Holy shit are you okay?" You asked him turning back to stare as the horrifying scene grew farther and farther from his rearview mirror. He placed a shaky hand on your thigh to calm himself as he spoke, "I'm okay baby girl, are you? I'm so so sorry you had to see that." He says, his only guilt came from your date night being cut short.

"Don't be sorry baby, no one could have known that would happen Jesus Christ." You put a hand to your chest trying to ease the fierce beat, he grabbed your free hand, bringing the back of your palm to his lips for a sweet kiss, his eyes crinkling in joy at the thought of her now crumpled body.

"Yeah, accidents happen."

[telvess]

Record of Ragnarok, Hades x Persephone!Reader

Sorry for delay, but my writer's block came back.

*SWF*

— Mother, are you sure it’s wise for me to accompany you? — you looked at yourself in the mirror. Your mother chose a modest toga for you that completely covered your shoulders and neckline and was long enough that nobody could even see your toes — I can wait for you here. Your eyes met your mother's in the reflection of the mirror. Her grim visage was present - cold, distant, severe, just like winter. So different from the mendacious one that’s she usually portrayed. — You’re safest by my side — her voice reminded you of the sound of a branch breaking. Demeter wore a simple black robe, her brown hair was braided. She got walked up to you, stood right behind you and watched your reflection in the mirror with cold eyes. The cold she emanated sent an unpleasant shiver down your spine. — Stay within my arm's reach, or at worst within my sight — she instructed — Come now, child — she took your hand and led you towards the doors.

You just needed to pass the bifröst and your mother would never find you again. The only way to achieve this was to make your disappearance seem like an accident. That would take away any suspicions and give just enough time to escape. After Gigantomachy, the Greek gods had much to celebrate and much more to discuss. Even if your mother didn’t take part in the war, she still was excepted at this huge event. Such an opportunity for you may never come again. But before, you had to pretend to be an obedient daughter who was brainwashed by your mother to the point where you couldn’t imagine life without her. So you did what she said - you stayed by her side throughout the entire event, you didn't participate in any conversations, you didn't pay attention to anything - and you looked as uncomfortable as you could in the presence of strangers. On the last day of the event, Demeter seemed contented, even in her grumpy mood. That’s why when Hera asked for her, she didn't look at you once. — Stay here — she commanded. You watched her approach Hera surrounded by nymphs. They exchanged greetings and then your mother checked you out for the first time. Shortly thereafter, it happened a second time. She lasted over a minute without paranoia taking over. You sat still like a sculpture. Only your heart was betraying you, but Demeter couldn’t hear it. She checked you out a third time, and then fourth almost immediately after. Now, you ordered yourself and with wildly beating heart, you joined the passing group. You tried to move as fast as you could, but your long toga prevented you from doing so. You lifted up your dress, hearing in mind your mother sucking air through his teeth at that shameless act. You were passing other gods and goddesses, nymphs and elves. With a few exceptions, you didn’t recognize anyone. You gritted your teeth, feeling anger rising in your chest. You were so old yet you didn’t even know people in your on pantheon. That conclusion gave you even more motivation to speed up. The others gave you looks of surprise or annoyance, but you were too focused on finding a way out to care. Once you were outside, the fresh air cooled you down. You took a deep breath and smiled. The prospect of freedom together with a thrill provided emotions you had never experienced before. The dark sky was full of stars. Everyone was inside at that moment, so the path to the carriage was clear, but just in case, you walked hidden in the shadows so that no one could see you from the balconies. Each carriage was specially marked, every god had different preferences. Once you spotted the right one, you sneaked right under the coachman's nose and hid in the storage, where they kept luggage case. It was big enough for you to fit, full of someone’s clothes. Now it was time for the hardest part: waiting. Your mother was probably looking for you and pulling her hair out at this point. You knew how cunning she was - you took after her - and you couldn’t help but let your worries grow. What if you never actually outwitted her? What if she knew about your little plan all along? What if she suspected something and just let you have a this luttle illusion of freedom, just to rip this apart a few minutes later?

You didn't know how long you had been hiding at that point. It felt like it lasted for about an hour as your numb body slowly began to ache from lying in the uncomfortable position. You heard voices from time to time, and they grew louder over time as more and more gods began to leave the event for their palaces. Did your mother keep your disappearance a secret? You expected much bigger fuss, and hoped that her uncontrollable rage would get her into trouble… The sigh escaped your lips as the carriage shook and moved. Was this really happening? You didn’t want to jinx it, but the fire of happiness lit in your chest. Please, don’t stop, please, don’t stop… They listened.

You peeked through the crack in your chest from time to time. It was stupid of you, but you couldn't help but see Valhalla getting smaller and smaller by every second. Leaving it behind was one of the biggest steps you had ever taken and it felt great. But the carriage was moving in such slow pace that you had to fight with yourself to not jump out of your hiding place. First you had to pass the bifröst and enter the Underworld in the carriage, then… worry about what to do with your freedom and how not to die on the first day of your life - you repeated to yourself.

The Underworld wasn’t as dark as you expected. At least not where you came from. The sky was grey and brought gloomy atmosphere, that was only enhanced by the landscape of bare rock mountains, but it was less scary and depressing than in your mother’s stories. And you haven't heard or seen any demons yet. The carriage was travelling on a bumpy road, causing chest with you inside to constantly shake. You tried your best to ignore it, but as the minutes passed, your patience slowly wore thin. One time - when the carriage ran over something exceptionally big - and you hit your head on the cover of the chest, you decided that you had had enough and you opened chest with too much force. The lifted hinged lid hit the back of the carriage too hard, the rumble seeming especially loud in the quiet place you were in. You cursed your stupidity and held your breath, hoping the sound remained unnoticed. — Stop the carriage! — you heard a stern voice. You groaned. What should you do now?! For lack of a better option, you decided to hide in the box again. With your heart beating madly, you listened from the inside. You heard the door open, then barely audible footsteps and… silence. You bit your lip, feeling building sensation in your stomach. You didn’t see or hear anything, but your mind told you that someone was right next to your hideout. — You’re waiting for me to leave, aren’t you? — you said loudly. — Yes. That was short and brutal for some reason. Suddenly all your excitement and thrill of unknown disappeared, replaced by embarrassment. At that moment you felt so small, hidden in someone’s chest like a common thief. You bit your lip and stood up, without looking up. But your numb body didn’t exactly listen to you, so you lost your balance and fell with the massive chest you were hidden in. You landed on the ground, among the rocks and dirt.

— Ouch… Speaking of embarrassment… Your head was right on someone’s shoes. To your surprise it wasn’t sandals that Greek gods usually wear, but a pair of leather shoes filled with square patterns. Quite extravagant in your mother’s opinion. You raised your head and saw a very formal outfit; long white jeans, a blazer with patches decorated on the left and right side and a collar that spans all the way to his upper chest. Above were cold, almost indifferent purple eyes assessing you. You had never seen Hades before and had no particular idea of him, but you had to admit: he was a very handsome man, with his noble features, grey hair and a leaf-like pattern tattooed above his left eye. Not to mention his strong aura that floated around and took your breath away. — Oh, hi… — you mumbled with a soft smile, trying to remain nonchalant. Hades didn’t flinch. — Hi — he replied, a note of moderate interest in his tone — You know, if you needed a ride, you could’ve just asked. You smiled and slowly stood up. You couldn’t stand his spiral eyes, so you focused on your toga instead. The fabric was no longer white, and brushing off the dirt didn't make much of a difference. — Thank you, but I wanted to keep a low-profile. When you looked at him again, this time, face to face, you noticed in his eyes sparks of understanding. Your face remained the same, but inside you were trying to fight the feeling of anxiety. He recognized you. — You’re the one that was missing… — said Hades — The girl. You shrugged. — So my mother made a mess after all… — She thinks something happened to you — Hades’ words didn’t match his tone. He seemed intrigued, his eyes looking at you curiously. — I had to make it look like an accident, otherwise I wouldn't have been able to escape — even if he didn’t asked, you still felt obligated to explain yourself — You probably won’t keep silent if I ask you to, right? — I'll probably only mention you if someone asks first. — Oh, I like that! It was probably just your imagination, but Hades’ lips twitched slightly. You smiled yourself. He showed no signs of wanting to betray you, which made the anxious flew away and now it was time to get a better look around. And so you did. The world around you was as ugly as through crack in the chest. The sky as grey and landscape as unfriendly. You could look around, no matter what direction and still see everything, without somebody panting into your neck felt. It was just amazing. You took a very deep breath and winced at the smell of sulphur. — Helheim isn’t friendly place for a lady, especially this young — you heard. You looked over your shoulder at Hades, who was still standing in his previous spot.

— I can take care of myself — you answered, confidently. — I have no doubts — he said, but you were sure it was out of politeness. You knew he found you naive for thinking you had a chance against the demons, but you didn't care. You could be as dangerous as dust to these creatures, and yet you refused to turn back. — May I ask why? You met Hades’ eyes again. — Why what? — Why Helheim? — No one would have expected such a choice. Especially not my mother. At least that’s what you were hoping for. — Demons aren’t friendly and this place is full of them — Hades tried to reason with you again, but it gave opposite effect. You frowned. — Anywhere is better than my mother's prison — you said upset — At least I’ll die seeing the sky. For the first time, Hades' face showed signs of surprise. Only for a moment, but apparently he didn't expect to awaken your anger. He smiled at you as if he was contented with the answer, then turned to the carriage doors. — To the carriage — he said, firmly, stopping right in front of it. Maybe you were very naive after all because you so quickly assumed that he was good? — I’m not going back there — you crossed your arms. — You aren’t going on your own either — you were informed with calmness that made something snapped inside you. — Said who? You were ready to fight if necessary, even against someone as powerful as Hades. — Me, the king of the Underworld — Hades looked at you with such confidence that you realized very quickly how slim your chances were against him. After all he was the one who stopped Titans all by himself… You didn’t move a bit, you just watched him carefully and waited. Hades sighed. — Such a troublesome young lady — he mumbled, more to himself than to you — We’re heading to my palace. You can stay there for a while until you figure out what to do next. You blinked few times a little surprised. Oh? — Why do you care? I’m not your problem. Hades smiled again. — You remind me of someone. — Who? — Get in the carriage — he ordered again, but the sight of your still sceptical expression irritated him greatly — Or I swear, make me repeat myself one more time and I’ll use methods that your mother would kill me for. You burst into laughter, but Hades didn’t share your joy, so you fell silent. You felt like he wasn't joking and he actually wanted to use his strength, but for some reason, part of you, wanted him to do so… how strange that was… — Fine… — you gave up and finally moved. Hades opened the door for you. The inside of the carriage was definitely much nicer than the inside of the chest. You sat down in the soft, red seat on the driver’s side. Hades gave his servant some instructions and joined you soon after. You two saw in silence and just stared at each other. Once the carriage moved, you couldn’t take it anymore and shouted: — Why are you helping me? You must know my mother! Despite your outburst, Hades remained calm. He reached for the glass of wine on the small windowsill and drank some before answering.

— I do know Demeter. You rolled your eyes. — Then why? — you kept demanding. — Because I like the sound of your confidence. You opened your mouth, then closed it again. The confusion must have shown on your face because Hades chuckled over his glass. There was something about him that was just… very cute. You felt annoying warmth rising to your cheeks. How embarrassing… You looked away, pretending to suddenly be interested in the mountainous landscape outside the window. — You’re strange man — you muttered. — How so? — If you really know my mother, you know what she is capable of. Hades didn’t seem worried. In fact, he made himself more comfortable in his seat and crossed his legs. — Your dark-robed mother was a friend of my grandmother, who declared war to us not so long ago. I do know her more than you think. Besides, her own daughter chose death in Helheim over her company. That alone speaks for itself. — Hard to argue — you admitted — You know… — a gentleman would offer me a glass… — you pointed to the open wine. Hades smiled at you and granted your wish without a word. — Have you been drinking before? — he asked, observing how you smelt wine and took a small sip. You frowned at the strange taste and shook your head, which made Hades laugh. He raised his glass to make a toast — For the many first times then. You smiled back and drank it all in one go.

[baileylockheart]

Stuck.

Honestly, the more I think about it, the more I feel like I'm in a weird spot. I wish that I wanted to fall in love, but I don’t truly want that. I mean, it's still the fastest way to verbalize it, but what I think I really want is just... Emotional closeness and physical but non-sexual touch. I don't want to be in a romantic relationship with someone. I want deep trust and communication and understanding without guilt or anxiety or fear of being abandoned, and I struggle to picture any of those things in a romantic way. But I've never really been close enough to my friends to see it platonically either, so I'm just stuck.

I feel the want to want someone, and I feel it strongly, but it's more like wanting a piece of a stranger’s soul and hoping they'll take mine, because I know full well I can't imagine anyone in my life that way, and I can't imagine myself being physically near anyone without feeling uncomfortable. It makes me sick to even try to picture myself in love, especially since I realized that I have never once loved a person (in that way). When I think about what I want, I can’t imagine any one person, so all I end up wanting is a stranger who, for all intents and purposes, doesn’t exist. I don’t want a perfect person by any means, that’s not what I mean when I say this. Rather, even if this person does exist, I don’t know them yet, but already knowing them is a vital part of how I picture them.

I call myself aego-demiromantic because it joins a truth and a hope. I mean, if I’m being honest, I’m probably just aego with a dash of cupio, but I'll deny it as long as I can. The truth, aego, is that I can't picture myself in anything romantic, and any attempts to make me uncomfortable, but looking at fiction and using OCs is easy. The hope, demi, is that the reason I don’t feel romantically pulled to anyone is because I haven’t met them yet, but I'll eventually meet someone and make friends with them. Actual, close friends, who are there for each other and aren’t afraid to talk to or even annoy each other. And after that, then maybe, just maybe, I might get a chance at really loving someone in the way that people mean when they say the word “love”. And maybe that's the point. I don't want to fall in love, but I want to love someone. I want someone to mean enough to me that I'm willing to actually let them see me. I want to be able to care about someone enough that I trust them to stay. I want to feel loved and fulfilled because they're in my life - not because they check boxes or because they carry out tasks, but because their presence in my life really means something.

The problem with that is, people who want to date? They want to date. From what I can see, especially in early stages, there is no hanging out at each other's houses and playing video games, there is no sitting in comfortable silence and knowing it's okay not to talk, there is no taking turns rambling about the things you’re passionate about, there is no getting to just exist together and feel good because you add to each other's lives intrinsically. People want outings, active social interaction, maybe something to brag about. And sure. Outings can be nice. But even then, from what I've observed, people aren't looking for a trip to an amusement park where you take turns picking out what to do and enjoy every minute, or going to Dave & Buster's and playing all the games as many times as you can manage, or hanging out at an empty playground while you blast music and pretend to know the names of the stars you're gazing at. No, people want an expensive dinner that you have to dress up for, maybe sex, and then a kiss goodnight as you walk away from each other because the interaction is now complete. A good morning text would be appreciated, but while no one wants to listen to long-winded rambles, everyone will be mad if you don’t text first.

I know that I’m oversimplifying this in a terrible sort of way - I’m framing romantic relationships extremely negatively, and even if I wasn’t, queerplatonic relationships exist. But the problem is that I don’t think that covers it for me. A non-romantic relationship that has a stronger bond than the best of friends? I would do anything for that, don’t get me wrong. I want that. But the non-romantic part doesn't always sit right with me. I think I want to love someone romantically - but I know that the obsessive nature of new romantic love, how quickly romantic relationships crumble, how deeply it seems to tie in with sex, the way people tie their entire identities to their romantic partner, and the way that it’s so easily exploited by everyone from said partner to their families to even the government, that I’d never be able to maintain it. I want to love someone romantically, but I can’t bear the thought of it because of all the strings that are attached to it.

Still, that seems simple enough, yes? “I want to love someone romantically, but I can’t bear the thought of it because of all the strings that are attached to it.” And yet, if you asked me five months ago, I would’ve gagged at the thought.

For as long as I can remember, I have had “crushes” from time to time, and by “crushes”, I mean hyperfixations on how people present themselves, but no deeper interest in any part of them that didn’t fit that image. Once I became aware of this, I realized that I’d never actually been romantically interested in a person before, I just didn’t know how else I could surround myself with my hyperfixation. The more I looked at love and relationships, the more I realized that I would absolutely hate being in one. The more love songs I listened to to try to counteract this, the more I felt like romantic love was damaging because clearly, if people feel this strongly, they must be so reliant on their partner that they can’t imagine existing as an individual. The general sentiment was, “why would I subject myself to this sort of mental anguish on purpose?” I couldn’t figure out why people would want to flood their brains with stress hormones and lose rational thought for someone who wouldn’t even treat them well. In my head, the relationships that worked out with all parties happy were a severe minority. Of course, if those involved were happy, I’d be ecstatic for them - it just wasn’t something I typically imagined happening. As much as I thought it was fun to pair up fictional characters, as much as I had reformed my ability to enjoy love songs, and as much I supported those around me who were happy in their relationships, I was genuinely disgusted by the idea of falling in love for myself.

That is, until about five months ago, when an argument with a parent led to the simple idea that I can’t express my thoughts on something that I haven’t experienced. That led to probably the most emotional week of my life, and the general consensus was that I’ll never be able to understand love or heartache unless I go through them firsthand. I hated that intensely. What do you mean? Are you trying to tell me I can’t empathize with my friend who’s trying to recover from a breakup? Are you saying I can’t get chills when I see someone tear up while singing about wanting to be in love again? How does that work?

Ever since then, I’ve been constantly in this loop of wanting to love someone more than anything but not wanting to touch romance in its current state with a ten foot pole. I wish it was as simple as “I want to love someone romantically, but I can’t bear the thought of it because of all the strings that are attached to it”, but the truth is that I can’t even tell if this yearning for the ability to yearn is really me, or just a fabrication borne out of spite. It hurts enough that I think it’s real, but I have no solid way to check. Do I want to want to fall in love, or am I pretending in an attempt to understand the world? I can’t tell, and that scares me.

If a stranger asked me if I want to fall in love someday and framed it as a yes or no question, I’d probably say yes. It’s the easy answer to cling to because it feels so much better and so right in comparison to just saying no, and it would also be far easier to deflect judgement that way. It seems like the default answer, right? And yet, I don’t think it’s true. I want to care about someone. I want to be close to someone. I want to love someone. Somehow, despite all of that, I feel like it would be disingenuous to claim that it’s because I want to fall in love, and even more so if I say it's because I have a lot of love to give. I have the capacity for it, I have to believe I do, but the amount of love sitting there and waiting for someone to find it is shallow at best because I don’t even know if it’s meant for a person or an idea that I made up to make myself feel better. Still, I think that how I phrased it in an old Threads comment actually explained it far more succinctly than this entire explanation of said comment ever could’ve.

“I wish I wanted to fall in love because as much as it would hurt, everything would make so much more sense that way”.

[cassynite]

wip wednesday

today was basically just one long drawn out fart noise but at least i went back to my roots (daefic) and finished a scene, even if it is once again a chapter ahead of the place i need to be working on. behold: the back half of dae's shitty birthday party

--

Hours after, when the fog of drink has lessened the presence of ghosts, he sits at a table across from Sparrow and tries to maintain eye contact as they continue their interminably long drinking game. Sparrow's not doing well--she's struggling to stay upright, in fact, and should have cried surrender some five glasses of wine ago.

Daeran's own head is floating, his veins thudding with alcohol--he should have ended this three glasses or so ago, but at this point it's a matter of pride. He's going to knock Sparrow out or they'll have to carry him out, and he's not sure he cares which.

Ah, well. At least the last few hours have been entertaining. Or were entertaining, at least--the fun has grown a little thin, and certainly their audience, enraptured by the stalwart Knight-Commander letting loose, have grown bored. It's only him and her left in the main hall now, the rest having trickled outside to get some fresh air.

Gods, does he want some fresh air.

Later, he'll wonder if he imagined the conversation, conjured it out of nothing but the buzzing wine and his own strange thoughts about ghosts in the family manor that would not even come out to see him one last time. A drunken vision or truth, he is still surprised when Sparrow, listing to the side, fixes him with a glaze-eyed stare.

"You're allowed, you know. To do whatever you want with it."

"Excuse me?" Words are clumsy in his mouth, but he might not have done much better if he was sober. Sparrow's expression is open, disconcertingly so, naked in a way he'd only ever seen before in minute flashes when her emotions got the better of her. It makes him shift in his seat, uncomfortable, like he's looking at something he shouldn't, or like she is reciprocating an openness he hasn't realized he is giving himself.

"What happened here is yours," she says in the same intense, earnest voice. For someone who seems loathe to string more than five words together, the wine has made Sparrow very verbose. "It happened to you. No one else. And no one else can tell you the right way to feel about it. Throw a party, burn the house to the ground. Cry or laugh or sing or mock it. The only people who can care are the ones who this was done to--you are all that's left. The dead don't give a shit how they are mourned. So don't ever let anyone tell you that you're grieving wrong."

Something bubbles in Daeran's chest--laughter, maybe, but probably something worse. He swallows it down. As if he needs some stranger's permission to do what he likes with this house, with his things, with the memory of his mother. They don't know even a fraction of what he went through, what he endures every day.

He already knows that everyone who criticizes him are bores and upright, pompous, self-righteous sycophants toadying to the queen and Iomadae and good taste. They think they have the right to judge him, and that's their mistake. If he didn't want to be sad about what happened to him then he damn well wouldn't be, and there is nothing they can do about it except sneer; and they will sneer regardless.

He isn't some pathetic, sniveling victim boo-hooing about losing his mommy. He doesn't need pity. But it's not pity that he sees in Sparrow, it's something--something else, something he doesn't want to look at fully in the face. With some amount of shame, like he's lost a game he didn't know he was playing, his gaze slides to the wine glass in his hand, still half-full. His stomach roils. The thought of drinking another drop makes him sick.

I'm not grieving, he wants to say. I don't care what happened here. But the alcohol makes the words burn in his throat. He swallows them and the bile churning in his stomach down, lifting the glass of wine that he won't drink.

"My grandfather...or, maybe it was my great-grandmother, put this bottle in the family cellar. So why did it fail the scion of the illustrious Arendaes in his time of need?"

[honeyhotteoks]

chai i present this soft hour ask for you of a concept i have not been able to get out of my brain (apologies for this being long </3)

mutual pining with yunho where he's trying to test the waters a bit with you but is still too nervous to put his arm around your shoulder or waist, so instead, he anxiously treats you as his personal armrest O<-<

you're very aware of yunho's close proximity next to you in the small circle you and your friends seemed to have subconsciously formed - and despite his presence making you nervous - you welcome such emotion if it means you could steal small glances of him from beside you.

the sound of your friend's conversations fill the atmosphere before you feel a pressing weight on your shoulder, turning your gaze to yunho's arm resting on your shoulder as if you were his armrest, his hand and fingers dangling in the air next to your face.

he doesn't meet your eyes, but from his peripheral vision he can see you giving him a playful glare, and - no matter how hard he fought it as to appear unaffected by your reaction - he can't help the smile that spreads across his face.

was he testing the waters? technically, yes. was it how he wanted to? not at all. he wanted to put his arm around your shoulders, but chickened out last minute - thinking you might be uncomfortable with a rather... forward advancement - and resorted to a more teasing approach.

matching yunho's expression, you turn to face your friends once again, a grin spreading across your lips - never shooing him away or pushing his forearm from your shoulder.

perhaps he was thinking too much of it; it's not like you two were enemies or strangers. you knew him well and he knew you the same, he shouldn't take you accepting such an approach as you reciprocating feelings, but nonetheless, his heart hoped that you had longed for the same thing he did.

maybe one day he'll gain the courage to put his arm around your shoulder and actually go through with it, but for now, he is more than content with the comfortable place you both found yourselves in, laughing along with your friends and not-so-subtly gazing at one another, even after you had been caught by the other party.

sigh <//3 i hope you're doing well!! :D

oh my god sunnii this is !!!!!!!!!!! i just love the idea of idiots in love if you couldn't tell from my fics and it's just like..... so sweet and best friend yunho just makes sense. he just seems like the type of person who would want to be friends first and grow together slowly 😭

more thoughts under the cut, but a brief sidebar.... i was listening to an old episode of ateez school road and when they start discussing if men and women can be friends, and woo and san are like "nope, not possible" but yunho saying "Yes, I think you can. Yes, yes." has lived in my mind rent fucking free all week. Timestamped here if you're interested....

Yunho's arm stays resting on your shoulder, his weight leaning on you playfully, his eyes on the group as he cracks a wry joke at Mingi's expense. It has you laughing, eyes crinkled up in that way Yunho loves, tears in the corners, but when your hand comes up to grasp his as you recover your breath, something knots in his gut.

It sobers you quickly to realize you're holding hands, and he doesn't move, doesn't find some reason to go grab a drink and break the connection, he just lets you. You test the waters hesitantly, your hand shifting from just resting on top of his to sliding down, your fingers dipping into the negative spaces between his.

He adjusts, subtly interlocking his fingers with yours and you stay steady like this for a moment, no one in the group looking up or noticing quite yet. You feel his sharp intake of breath next to you and your heart is beating out of your chest. It's surprising even to you, but it isn't Yunho who breaks the contact, it's you. Nerves swimming up and getting the better of you, and you disconnect your hands and dart out from under his shoulder, not sparing him a glance back when you announce to the room you'll be right back.

he can't decide if he should follow you or let this go, he saw the blush on your cheeks and your downcast eyes and he just doesn't know if it's nerves or if you were uncomfortable. he watches the doorway to the kitchen where you disappeared, taking a long drink of his beer, his fingers tapping restlessly on the neck of the cool bottle.

It takes longer for you to return than he wants, and just when someone else tries to grab his attention, it was obvious he wasn't listening, just when he had just about decided to go chase you down, you reappear. You're smiling, wide and relaxed again, and when you tuck yourself back into his side and drop his arm back on your shoulder again, the deep panicked knot inside him dissipates.

tonight's not the night, he's not ready to tell you and you don't know that you're ready to listen, but you relax together. you let the party be a party, and you let him stay by your side like always. for now, he's just happy to be that.

a/n: bye this is going to make me write more best friends to lovers isn't it ughhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh i love them!!!!!!! (thank you for sending in such a lovely soft hours request!!!!)

[toloveandbelovedtoo]

Day 5: connection

Wow... Today was... Wow. Not what I was expecting. Like at all. I was having some trouble with myself and thoughts late last night and feeling so uncomfortable in this exploration, but knowing it was because I was outside my comfort zone and this is all just so new feeling. As I was showering, I thought to myself, I should go out to this yoga studio I like that offers their classes for free to trans people. My therapist had mentioned taking in person classes and I finally remembered to look up the classes.

I found one for today called Yoga Nidra, or sleeping yoga and I thought, hell yeah, I like the idea of getting to lay on my back with a blanket and listen to a meditation and singing bowls. I went in a bit nervous cause it's a new location with unknown people, but I wanted to stop being such a hermit and get out of my house more. I had laid down on the mat, thrown the blanket over me, and placed this bean bag thing over my eyes. I laid with a bolster under my knees and palms up as I listened to the teach guide the class through relaxing the body piece by piece.

She had guided us to imagine being in different locations, I can't remember the first location, but she had us imagining being at the edge of a pond facing a sunset. It was in that time I felt like I had sunken into my body and a flood of emotion overtook my body. It felt like a flood of cold, my body was shaking, and I felt so anxious. She told us then to imagine the moon and I tried to think about the moon and the craters and shadows, but my thoughts kept going back to fear, to this feeling of not wanting to dying, to being so scared because I was feeling so much.

I repeated to myself that I was Taylor. I was laying in a building in my city that is in my state and that I was going to be okay. I opened my eyes but they were still covered by the eye mask, but the slivers of light they peaked through grounded me. The practice ended with us rolling onto our sides then sitting up and as I was folding my blanket, I saw a giant palmetto bug making a bee line to me a few inches from my mat. My body was loose and my limbs weren't cooperating with me, but the teacher caught it in a jar and took it out. I think about that bug, one of the ones that creep me out and maybe it was there for a reason.

I was feeling so anxious and shaky after the session and I didn't feel like I could go home just yet. The yoga teacher had explained beforehand that she was also a therapist and she would spend some time after class in the lobby if anyone wanted to talk. I sat down in a chair and wait for the other student to leave and when she did, I asked the teacher if she would sit with me because I wasn't okay. I felt like crying, I did cry, and she stayed with me while I let that emotion out. We did a breathing exercise and I explained to her what I felt and how I felt it was related to this exploration that I was doing, the release of all that I was holding.

I had this beautiful moment with a stranger that I had asked for help, I gave myself that space to allow a stranger see me be scared and vulnerable and it was an act of love for myself to ask for something I need as well as an act of love to receive that care from someone I didn't know. She explained to me the therapeutic uses of yoga nedra and how it releases emotions that we have been carrying and I told her about the practice I felt was similar that my therapist I do to explore what emotions feel like when I give them the space and honor their presence.

I went home after getting a milkshake from Cook-out and tried to lay down to allow those feeling space, but I ended up in the bathroom listening to Encanto's soundtrack while I journaled what I was feeling. The bathroom is a safe space for me, a place where I could go to cry and be emotional without anyone hearing me. I would turn on the shower and cry and I don't really know if the shower and fan drowned out my cries, but it helped. And half way through writing, it just all felt like I understood what I was trying to do by undertaking this project.

That I am worthy not despite my flaws and broken bits, but because they are apart of my whole being. I am worthy of love and being loved and giving love because I'm Taylor, I don't have to be anything else, I don't have to make myself smaller, or quieter, or easier to handle, I am loved for my true being. And sure, I think those that tried to minimize me and make me feel smaller loved me, but not in a way that was healthy, sustainable, and was twinged with toxic believes and actions. I saw myself the way my friends I have now saw me and that I didn't have to have a skill or a service to offer them, I was just loved for being me.

I feel like a butterfly crawling out of my cocoon after being caterpillar goop and I'm learning to look and love my new wings, to let them open and flourish them, to feel the wind around them as I try to take off. I was having a lot of emotions recently after having a really tough 2022, after feeling burned out from work, after doing some heavy trauma healing work the last few months, but especially the last couple of weeks. There was a lot I needed to unleash and that yoga practice helped. I feel scared, but I feel hopeful.

[mackenzielovee]

ambivalence blurb: nostalgia - rafe cameron

a/n: hi i'm back again!!! i love writing for these two bc it's just so comforting. i will never stop. pls enjoy and as always, let me know what you think! xoxo

Warnings: mentions of pregnancy, swearing, intoxication

series masterlist

You sit on your couch in between two large gift bags, your mom on your left and Wheezie on your right. You'd told Rose you wanted your baby shower to be small, and she ultimately agreed to hosting it in the guest house. You had (mistakenly - you now realize) assumed that she would listen to you; pick up a few sandwich platters, have mimosas for the guests, and make it as relaxing as possible.

She did have mimosa ingredients, but everything else was different.

She'd gone all out - with the help of your mother - decorations and balloons lining every inch of the room, various foods piling up at the bar, and she'd seemed to have invited the entire island.

The worst part was, she'd told Rafe he couldn't be there. Now, as you sit on your couch and open presents in front of a few people you know and what seems to be forty other strangers, you look around for him subconsciously, hoping he'll pop out of thin air.

"This one's mine!"

You look up for the voice and match it to one of Rose's friends, a woman you'd met at the Club before but didn't feel like you knew her well enough for her to be standing in your living room.

You smile politely and, with one last search for Rafe, who you know won't be here, you suck in a deep breath and shove your emotions down. You feel selfish as you have the impulse to cry, kick everyone out, and demand Rafe come home. A large part of you is just extremely uncomfortable without Rafe's presence, as he knows exactly what you need with one glance.

When you reach into the bag, you pull out a large, stuffed, cartoon-looking elephant. He's smiling up at you and your eyes fill with tears, because one thought pops into your head.

Rafe would hate this.

He'd say it's ridiculous, that your baby isn't going to need a stuffed animal that big, and that it would take up more of the crib than your son.

"Thank you so much," you smile genuinely up at her, hoping it shows through.

"Oh, of course, dear. My Elliott had one when he was a baby, and I never had to get up once during the night! Mostly because I made James do it, but I'm sure the elephant helped, too."

It's meant to be a joke and everyone laughs, while yours is more of a wince. The thought of making Rafe get up every single time makes you feel sick. Mostly because you know he'd do it with no complaints. You just don't want to be selfish with him. Ever.

The room goes immediately silent when there's a crash in the kitchen, making everyone turn their heads. With the crowd, you can't see in there but you're sure someone just dropped something by accident. Your ears perk up when you hear them.

"Nice going, dumbass."

"Dude, I thought it was plastic."

"Does this look like plastic?"

"Yes."

"No, it-"

"Would you two shut up? This is Y/N's baby shower and if you two mess it up-"

"Rafe?" you call, your voice desperate and weak.

He steps into view and you swear you can breathe again, just the sight of his blue eyes and untamed hair calming something deep in your chest.

"Hi, sweetheart," he smiles, and upon further inspection of you, his face falls, "Are you all right?"

You nod and smile in an attempt to convince him, but he shakes his head and starts over to you, charming every single female guest on his way. He says various 'excuse me's and 'thank you for coming's before he reaches you, squatting down in front of you and setting his hands on your thighs.

"What are you doing here?" you ask gently.

He hikes his thumb over his shoulder, "Boys had presents. Wanted to give them to you."

You look over his shoulder and spy Kelce and Topper at the counter, both smiling and waving when your eyes meet theirs.

"Ooh! Mimosas," Kelce grins, picking up the champagne, "Y/N, you don't mind if we stay, right?"

"We're not allowed," Topper hisses, but swipes a champagne flute full of orange juice and alcohol anyway.

You're relieved when you look around and everyone has made themselves busy with conversation, and when you look back down at Rafe, he gives you nothing but a reassuring smile.

"Rafe," you say quietly, tone warning him that you're about to request something.

He doesn't miss a beat, "Yes?"

"Please stay with me."

His eyes soften, the blue piercing your heart the way it always does. Without hesitation, he shoos Wheezie off the couch, then tugs the gift bag to the floor, pulling you into him the second he's seated.

"I'm sorry I left in the first place," he whispers in your ear, "I told Rose to keep it low-key."

You pull back from his embrace and give him a small smile, letting him press a kiss to your forehead. Your eyes flicker down to the elephant sitting on the other side of your lap, so you quickly tuck it back in the bag you pulled it from. While you're distracted, Rafe looks over at Rose and rotates his index finger in a circle, motioning for her to wrap this up. She nods and he relaxes, trusting her to take care of it.

Rafe keeps an arm wrapped loosely around you for the remainder of the baby shower, being the main spokesperson for 'thank you's' and laughs exchanged because he can tell you're exhausted and hanging on by a thread. After another hour, filled with little kisses from Rafe and multiple mimosas for Topper and Kelce, Rose gathers the crowd up and offers her living room to continue mingling.

Everyone files out slowly, including your mom, who promises to come back and check on you before she leaves. You sigh when the door shuts, collapsing into Rafe's chest like you'd just run a marathon. Topper and Kelce remain in the kitchen pouring champagne into three drops of orange juice.

"Y/N, guess what I bought for you!" Kelce demands, thrusting his champagne flute up in the air as if to say 'cheers'.

You turn your head and smile at him, "What, Kelce?"

"Actually, Maddie picked it out. She's so amazing, she hopped right on her phone and found it and I just couldn't believe it. I mean, she's so thoughtful-"

"For the love of God," Topper groans, "You're Rafe 2.0."

You chuckle and then close your eyes, relaxing into Rafe's body. He kisses the top of your head, then drags his lips down your skull and pressing them to your ear.

"Can you give me one sec?"

You nod and sit up, letting him escape from underneath you. He turns and watches as you cuddle back into the couch, while he hurries into the kitchen. Kelce thrusts a mimosa into his chest and smirks.

"I'll go keep your wife company," Kelce grins cheekily at Rafe, attempting to side step him.

Rafe pauses, only for a moment, and revels in the fact that you will soon be his wife. He loves the way that sounds.

"Leave my-" Rafe pauses before the word wife can slip out, no matter how much he wants to say it, "Leave her alone. She's exhausted. You guys need to take off."

"Bro, lighten up. Have a drink! We'll watch-"

"I'm not watching The Fucking Notebook," Topper cuts in, smacking Kelce on the chest.

"It's her favorite," Kelce frowns.

"Focus on your own girl, please," Rafe grunts, "I'll order an Uber."

Topper nods, downing the rest of his drink with one gulp, "We'll wait out front."

"I want to hang out with Y/N," Kelce frowns at Topper, who rolls his eyes.

"Come over tomorrow, both of you. We'll grill and everything. Y/N's been craving a burger anyway."

"Fine, I'll bring her favorite potato salad. Maddie will come too, if that's okay," Kelce says.

"That's fine. She loves Maddie."

"I'll bring the beer," Topper steps in, snagging a plate off the bar and filling it with snacks before he inches toward the exit.

"Thanks for coming, you guys," Rafe says.

Kelce breaks away from Rafe and hurries into the living room, setting his gift and Topper's on the coffee table in front of you and then laying a quick kiss to your cheek.

"Thanks for the present, Kelce," you call out, barely able to open your eyes.

"You got it, mama," he whispers, then rushes back into the kitchen and steals a cracker from Topper's plate.

The boys bicker while Rafe walks them out, all of them making promises about tomorrow before Rafe finally closes the front door. When he steps back into the living room, he smiles softly at you falling asleep on the couch.

He walks over and starts picking up tissue paper laying around on the floor and bagging it up, doing his best to keep the noise to a minimum. You stir and pull your eyes open just as he about finishes up, stumbling upon the bag with the elephant in it.

"Rafe," you call out, waving your hand aimlessly to try to grab him.

"Sweetheart," he says, then holds up the elephant when you open your eyes all the way, "What the hell is this?"

You grin and sit up, "Elliott loved it when he was a baby."

He furrows his eyebrows and scoots closer to you, "Who's Elliott?"

You laugh, reaching for his hand and finding it in your lap already, outstretched for yours.

"Doesn't matter. C'mere."

He smiles and slides onto the couch, looking around the room at all of the opened gifts waiting to be put in the nursery, along with the crib Topper and Rafe put together.

"Lots of loot, huh, baby?" he teases.

"Tons," you agree, "Let's open Kelce's."

Rafe leans forward and grabs the bag, then hands it over to you. You smile and remove the tissue paper, handing it to him without even realizing it and watching as he puts it in his garbage bag. You pull out the soft material your fingers wrap around, and when you see it, your eyes fill to the brim.

Kelce, or rather, Maddie, got a baby blue onesie with the words Little Cameron put on it. Rafe chuckles when he looks at it.

"That's cute," he says with a smile.

When he hears you sniffle, he tenses and shifts his body so he has a better view of your face. He frowns, pulling you closer to him.

"Oh, sweetheart, what is it?" he asks.

"It's cute," you say, voice thick, "So cute. And we're cute, and our baby will be cute, and our wedding will be cute, and- Rafe. We're not even married."

He tries to contain his sympathetic laughter as he sees your expression, cradling you only closer to him.

"Not yet," he corrects, "We can get married now, if that's what you want. Right now. I'll get your coat."

He smiles and attempts to stand, laughing fully when you grab onto his shirt and force him still. He plants a kiss on your forehead before he can even think twice about it.

"Not right now," you say, "As tempting as it is. Can't wait to be your wife."

He bites down on his lip to hide his smile, "Me neither."

"Open Top's," you demand, pointing to the other present on the coffee table.

Rafe leans forward and digs through the bag, peaking at the contents, then stuffing it back in without showing you. Your eyes follow the redness traveling up his neck and to his cheeks, swearing under his breath.

"What is it?" you question, sitting up with curiosity.

"Nothing, baby," he shakes his head.

"Come on, show me," you chuckle.

Rafe sighs and then thrusts the bag over to you. You dig through the bag the same way Rafe did, choking on your spit when you find a box of small condoms in your hand. Rafe scoffs, rolling his eyes.

"Fucker," Rafe curses Topper.

You laugh, then lean over and kiss his cheek, "Stop. We'll have to give them away, they'd never come close to fitting you."

Rafe smirks, "You're right. Although, I'm never putting another one of those on again. If we have ten kids, I'm good with that."

"Rafe," you warn. He laughs.

"I think it's time for a nap. You're tired, which means he probably is, too," Rafe's eyes flick down to your stomach.

"A nap sounds perfect," you agree.

Rafe stands you up and leads you into your bedroom, tucking you in like a kid and giving you a quick kiss before he escapes the bedroom. He wraps up all the leftover food, organizes the gifts, and cleans up all of the leftover garbage. All while you rest, taking care of the baby he's desperate to meet.

Tags: @lurkymurker @scenesofobx @mardema @girlsneedloovee @red-wine06 @itsalexwin @wishing-i-was-rafes-princess @witchwyfe @malums-trash-can @emotionalbruv @anotherdropofnorth @milkiane @kookkyra @sarahwasfound @morganwilliams @lilgoddesshines @proactivetypeofperson @abrunettefangirlnerd @the-chaotic-cow @absolute-fcking-chaos @kaatelyyynn @jordynsharum @anonymousobxfan @premixed-margarita @princesspogue @gasolinesavages @outlaw-abby @samcaniglia @marveloussensations @dr3aming0utl0udx @thisisthewayrose @iammirrorball @r0und3bitch @thesimpletype @fashphotolife @notdisneychannel @gillybear17 @solllaris @lilacsandwhiskey @i-is-for-inspiring @sksliz @drewstarkey @luversgirl

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[bonny-kookoo]

Jungkook: No Fun (3) 🔞

You're nothing special, and it's clear to see to you now.

Tags/Warnings: Hybrid AU, Bunny hybrid!Jungkook, Idol!Jungkook, Idol!Bangtan, Bunny hybrid!Reader, Angst, strangers to ???

Wordcount: 1k (Short)

Additional Chapter Warnings: Angst, reader is VERY upset, hybrid behavior, separation pain, I introduce: Bunny's scary dog privilege aka Ame aka lynx hybrid best friend, crying, male masturbation, jungkook being nasty

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When you wake up, you're alone.

Now, technically, that wouldn't be a problem to you. You know he's an idol- and all of this was just a Heat spent together for convenience, nothing else. You know he's got probably a lot of schedules to return to, work having piled up on him during the days, but that's the big thing. You know that-

The you that's still not properly out of heat yet, sees this as something entirely different.

You've been abandoned, left to fend for yourself, without any protection or warmth at all. His scent still lingers, but its stale, it clings uncomfortably now without his presence. The room seems to big, too quiet, menacing as the streetlights outside provide the only light. You must've slept long for it to get late like this. Did he leave you because you did something wrong? Did he not like you anymore? Did he even like you at all?

You feel gross.

When your phone rings, you jump up a little, scared by the sound before you take the call. "Hey little bunny, had fun with your idol?" Ame, your friend, jokes on the other side. Usually, you'd blush a little and joke along- right now however, you're not in the mood for that at all.

"..ame.." you whine, before you start to cry, emotions all over the place as she becomes alarmed on the other side.

"What happened? Are you still at the hotel?!" She asks, and you whine a confirmation whine she jumps up from her couch, grabbing her purse to practically run out of the house.

"I just.. I can come home by myself, please don't.. " you mumble, but Ame doesn't seem to care.

"No no no you stay right there. I'm on my way, promise, what is your room number?" She asks, and you guve it to her, before you hide yourself underneath the blanket- just to cry even harder from the lingering scent of him hitting you full force now. "I'm almost there, you're fine bunny, I promise-" ame chants, trying hard to keep you calm during her bus ride to the hotel.

It takes her a bit to reach you, but when she finally is let I'm by you covered with a blanket, she instantly hugs you, before turning on the lights. She helps you dress yourself- unable to find your top, and angry at the clothes jungkook had bought you.

She's mad at him, more than that, it's pure anger as she lends you the t-shirt she's worm underneath her sweater before she Gabe it to you now. It helps calming you down a bit, familiar scent soothing your mind a little. Jungkook is a hybrid too- hell, he's a Rabbit hybrid for fucks sake; he should've known to check up if you were out of your heat before just leaving you like that.

Rabbit hybrids especially easily drop into panic and mental darkness if they're left alone like this. It's the main fucking reason he's allowed a heat partner so freely.

Inside the bus, Ame shrugs off her jacket, before she places it over your shoulders, as you cling onto her, tired again already. Its dark, lights inside the cheap bus broken and never repaired- and she's glad you're not alone like this. A wolf hybrid holding onto the railings in the standing area watches you, probably still smelling your heat on you; and she glares at him, baring her fangs defensively, ears pinning back before she hisses. "Stare somewhere else, mutt."

He does so, in fact; not up for a fight, it seems.

And while you're on your way home, not having stayed the night he'd paid for in the hotel, and neither having taken the clothes he'd gifted you, Jungkook is in his own apartment, cock in his hands as he strokes himself with one hand; the other almost pressing your top against his nose, your scent not as great as it was through the week he'd spent- but its the next best thing.

His hand moves erratically, technically in the same way he knows gets him going, but his frustration only grows when he can't seem to reach his end. His mind fills with memories of you, the memories he'd spent, and its odd how he gets that odd craving deep inside his gut.

He tries hard, but even as he cums, his release feels mundane and unsatisfying.

He sighs, before he moves to clean up, thinking. Did you like the things he'd chosen for you? Maybe you'll sell them to earn money from it. He'd be fine with that too- it's yours after all, and you probably need money more than nice clothes. He likes to believe you're eating a good meal now, making the most of the last day at the hotel before going back home tomorrow.

He calls up the hotel to arrange a car to take you home, just for the confused receptionist to answer. "Oh, Miss Y/N?" She wonders, and he promises himself to remember your name this time. "She already left an hour ago with a friend I believe. Poor thing seemed a little distraught, if I'm being honest." She mumbles the last part, and his eyes sharpen, brows furrowing. Why would you be upset? He'd done everything right, there's no reason for you to be unhappy. "Yeah. She didn't check out, but her room card has been returned almost two hours ago." She confirms, and jungkook simply thanks her, before he ends the call.

He could've asked for your contact information. He could've asked to speak to you, to make sure you've gotten home safe, or at least to ask why you'd been sad, why you've left so urgently.

But then again, it's none of his business, he thinks, as he stretches, turning off the lights to sleep in his bed.

Dreaming of nothing at all.

[harry-writings]

Bothered

- A blurb in which somebody flirts with Y/n for the first time, and Harry lets jealousy get the best of him

This is a little Drive Me Wild extra for all your valentine’s day needs!!! I hope you enjoy :) 

Masterlist

-

“Tequila, please. The best one you’ve got!”

Open bars at work parties are an absolute lifesaver.

Harry and Y/n have been nonstop on their feet since three, wearing their sunday best, talking to all the higher ups and other officials at the firm with as much professionalism as possible. And though it was certainly a nice break from the work setting, it was still a lot for the both of them to keep up with.

It’s nearly eleven now, the party near its end and the exhaustion finally settling in. But Y/n wouldn’t ever dream of passing up unlimited free drinks whenever offered (neither would Harry, but getting her home safe is his biggest priority). Besides, she needed to take the edge off, somehow.

The bartender smiles at her, his eyes looking at her up and down very briefly before making her drink.

She’s humming softly to herself, her fingers tapping against the bar, the palm of her other hand resting on the back of her neck and she looks around the venue, admiring the architecture and the chandeliers that hang from above her.

“How long have you been working for them?” The bartender asks as he slides the shotglass to her, to which Y/n smiles.

“Almost three years! It’s been really good to me so far. I must say, though, it gets a bit stressful and there are a handful of times we end up having to take our work home. But I’ve met some of the best people through the company, so I can’t complain much! Especially when this is the only job I’ve ever considered staying at for so long.”

When the bartender doesn’t answer, yet rather just stares at her with amusement and endearment in his eye, Y/n starts to get nervous.

She considers diverting her attention back to Harry and moving on with her night as if she hadn’t spoken a word at all, but she’s never been the kind of person to walk away from an uncomfortable silence. And most certainly, she has never found it in her will to escape somebody’s pressing and persistent stares.

All of it just makes her so anxious.

So, as an attempt to calm her nerves, Y/n throws her head back as she takes her shot of tequila, her nose scrunching and eyes squinting as it burns down her throat and settles in her chest.

“What about you? How long have you been working as a bartender? I’ve heard it’s a lot of work, remembering all the recipes and stuff. Whenever I went to university, I would go to bars and get drunk by myself and watch how fast all the bartenders made drinks. I found it mesmerising, really. Like an art, almost. A sport, too, I suppose, given how much you all have to think and act quickly yet unmistakably.”

Harry smiles softly to himself, a bittersweet feeling bubbling in his chest as he listens to her get caught up in her rambles.

She doesn’t do that much with him anymore, not in the way she used to. And it isn’t because she’s lost any trust in him, or because she loves him any less — rather, it’s because she trusts and loves him so much more that she doesn’t feel the need to fill any gaps or spaces between them anymore.

He doesn’t make her nervous.

She doesn’t need reassurance with him because she already knows how madly in love they are with one another and how they are undeniably bound to spend the rest of their lives together. The silences they share are comfortable for her, his simple presence enough to make her feel at ease and loved and respected without him having to constantly remind her.

And surely, Y/n still chews his ear off here and there, but he only ever wants more of her.

It’s a disease, his greed and longing for her. She is so enough yet so not enough at the same time, it kills him to think about it, but only in the best way possible.

But the smile and the admiration die down nearly instantly when Harry’s eyes catch the way the bartender looks at Y/n, and the way he straightens himself before her, and the way his bottom lip tucks between his teeth ever so slightly.

Harry crosses his arms at this, watching the way another man is drooling and fonding over his Y/n and not at all trying to hide it. And the sad part is that he can’t even blame him for it — how could he? He had done the very same thing for nearly two years straight.

So he suffers with it in silence.

“My goodness, I do love me a woman who can carry a conversation.”

Harry’s eyes squint over at him, his arms still crossed over his chest, his fingers twisting as he watches him blink flirtatiously at Y/n and the upward twitch of his lip whenever she flips her hair over her shoulder.

She only ever does that when she’s sweating, he knows this because she’s his girlfriend and he knows her more than he’s ever known himself. He also knows that Y/n thinks too lowly of herself to ever consider one’s kindness as flirting.

And though Harry wouldn’t dare to dream of changing anything about her, he does wish, just this once, that she’d see it.

Y/n blushes at his comment, but only because she doesn’t know what to say.

“Can I have another shot, please?” She asks as a form of distraction, but in such a sweet manner the bartender barely seems to notice. “I never get to go out to drink much nowadays, with work and all. So, I’m sorry if I order too much. Large groups of people aren’t really my thing. Not that I hate people, or anything. I guess they just make me nervous.”

And as the bartender pours her shot glass full of tequila, his eyes don’t make the slightest move to leave her. He’s gawking, looking smug as if he could ever stand a chance.

Y/n pretends not to notice.

“Look, I close down the bar in an hour. And since large groups of people aren’t really your thing, why don’t I take you somewhere nice —”

“Oh...”

“— just you and me, so I can have the chance to get to know you more? Maybe in more ways than one, if I’m lucky?”

Oh, fuck no.

Flirting is one thing, but listening as some stranger talks about wanting to have sex with his girlfriend is something entirely different. Especially when she hasn’t done anything other than be nice and considerate towards him.

He’s taking advantage of her kindness.

Harry can’t hold himself back anymore.

“Excuse me?”

And curse his fucking natural lack of emotion because it was supposed to sound threatening and protective, but rather, it must have come off the way any other customer were to grab a bartender’s attention because he looks over at him with a tight and strained smile, clearly laced with annoyance, with not a hint of suspicion.

“Yes, sir, what can I help you with?”

Harry clenches his jaw and nods his head, his gaze falling to the top of the bar as he tries — really, really tries — to keep himself together instead of knocking this poor bloke’s teeth in.

The urge is there, but he could never scare Y/n like that, or sacrifice his job for satisfaction’s sake — he was lucky he didn’t jeopardize it when he landed a solid right hook on his coworker a few months back. But to make such a rude, blunt, disrespectful comment to his girlfriend is too much for him to process.

But it’s not all anger. There’s something else there — something else brewing and swelling inside of him that’s never been there before. He can’t identify it no matter how hard he tries.

“It would help me tremendously, actually, if you were to stop asking to sleep with my girlfriend right in front of me.”

It’s silent for a moment, the air thick with tension as the bartender looks both between Harry and Y/n, Y/n and Harry. He looks weary of it, as if it were so impossible for her to ever be seen with somebody like him.

“You’re with him?” He asks Y/n, as if Harry’s word wasn’t enough and it nearly throws him off the deep end.

Y/n’s eyes blink with confusion and shock as she tries to adjust herself to her surroundings. Everything happened so quickly to her, she feels like she can’t keep up.

Harry senses this — he senses her uncertainty and uneasiness and takes notice in the way her fingers begin to grip at her shot glass a bit tighter. Confrontation and arguments are not Y/n’s strong suit and in the hands of either one, she is defenseless.

“Is my word not enough for you?”

The bartender lifts his hands up in defense, his eyebrows raised as if somehow proving a point he’s clearly been missing. “Can’t blame me for assuming she’s single, you’re sitting next to the prettiest girl on earth and you look like you couldn’t even be bothered.”

Harry’s hands turn to fists, his jaw clenching and eyebrows twitching as he hears him speak all the words he’d rather die than hear spoken again.

How a complete stranger can cut a wound so deep within him is unfathomable, but here he is, bleeding out with all his insecurities and flaws and weaknesses along with it. And it pains him. It hurts and if one more wrong word is spoken, he’ll fall victim to all the darkest parts of himself.

He can’t risk that, not around Y/n.

“I would highly suggest you stop talking now —”

“You aren’t even interested in her! I gave her more attention in the last ten minutes than you’ve given her all night!”

“Hey.” Y/n cuts in with pouted lips, her face fallen as her voice quivers at the argument brewing in front of her. “That’s not true. He — he’s been beside me all night. I thought it was — I thought it was obvious.”

“Doesn’t matter anymore. We’re going home.”

Harry’s tone is unlike anything she’s ever heard. It’s stern, harsh, laced with impatience as he stands from his barstool and scrambles to gather her belongings.

And Y/n’s at a loss, just standing against the bar helplessly, looking at Harry with tearful eyes and shaking lips. He has never been this angry at her before and she doesn’t know how to fix it. Talking was what got them into this mess, she’s sure talking won’t get themselves out of it.

But it doesn’t hurt to try.

“Wait, H. I’m sorry, I —”

“That’s enough, now. We’re making our last rounds and then we’re going straight home.”

That was the first time he’s ever interrupted her.

-

It isn’t until Harry starts the car that Y/n breaks the silence.

“H, I didn’t know he was going to ask me out on a date.” She speaks with a voice small and shoulders slumped as she tries desperately to fix all the trust she has broken. “I was just trying to be nice and —”

“Not now, Y/n, please.”

She realizes the severity of the situation when he doesn’t call her a pet name.

Her eyes fill with tears, fully aware that even when he was most upset with her, he never interrupted her while talking or avoided her gaze like it was the last thing he ever wanted to see. He’s doing both right now and to say that it hurt her is an understatement.

He’s sick of hearing me speak. He’s angry at me for talking too much to everybody and not noticing the consequences. He’s tired of listening to me make excuses for myself when I’m never going to change. He doesn’t want this anymore.

Her mind can’t help but to think such things, and though deep down in her heart she knows he’d never feel that way towards her, words of her past can’t help but torment her in the heat of this moment. Because this is so different than how it usually is with him, and it all started with her.

Harry can feel how much of a toll his words took on her, but he doesn’t know what to say. He is feeling so many things, and processing so much, he feels like he’s lost himself. All sense of everything else had left him the second the bartender spoke the words he always feared to hear.

You’re sitting next to the prettiest girl on earth and you look like you couldn’t even be bothered.

He knows it isn’t true, and he also knows she knows it isn’t true, but it doesn’t make it hurt any less.

To know other people see it that way devastates him. He doesn’t date Y/n to look uninterested in her, or bored of her, or tired to be with her — he dates Y/n because he wants to show her off, desires to make her and everybody else see how in love with her he is, to make it known she never has to walk this world alone.

To know he has failed to do that simply by being himself is a lot for him to take in.

He sighs, ripping off his glasses so his other hand can rub at his burning eyes before settling the both of them back on the steering wheel, his gaze still set on the windshield.

“I’m sorry for not letting you finish talking, twice now. It wasn’t right and I know what that does to you. And I’m not angry or upset with you, either. I’m just — I’m just not in the mood right now, alright? I need some time to think.”

Y/n nods, fearing that whatever words she chooses to speak will only make it worse.

Neither of them talk the rest of the way home, but that doesn’t mean Harry doesn’t reach his hand over to her thigh to squeeze at it three times, as if to tell her he loves her.

-

It isn’t until they make it into their bedroom that Harry starts to let it all out.

He’s pacing, his hands fidgeting with his clothes and running through his hair, his eyes wild but still refusing to look at her, muttering curses under his breath but nothing directly towards her just yet.

Y/n’s standing by the dresser, taking off her remaining jewelry and allowing him his time to dwell on his feelings. He needs this. She knows she’s the only person that he’ll ever show this kind of emotion to — he couldn't even show it to himself — so she listens, smiles sympathetically at him here and there, refusing to leave his side until this is all figured out.

He huffs before letting out a sickened laugh.

“Who the hell does he think he is? Telling me I’m not interested in you. I can’t be walking around kissing and hovering and touching all over you at a work party, I respect you too much. But he wouldn’t know a damn thing about that, would he?”

He throws his suit jacket down on the bed, only allowing himself one beat of a moment to shake his head before his hands start to fidget again, pacing around the foot of the bed to try and understand his primary emotion.

He feels a million and ten different emotions scrambling within him at once, he can’t make sense of them. Whether he’s angry, or sad, or hurt, or insecure, or humiliated… he doesn’t know. It all feels the same yet all feels so different. He is utterly lost in all of them.

“Then proceeds to have the nerve to say he’s given you more attention than I have. What the fuck does that even mean? All he does is serve you two drinks and speak one sentence. I give you all my time, all my company, all my attention, and somehow he thinks he’s better for you than me?”

And it hits her.

No wonder he’s been acting so different towards her and so quiet despite him not blaming her for what happened — he’s jealous, which is the exact reason he doesn’t have an understanding with it.

She’s his first girlfriend, and until now, there had never been any reason for him to feel this way.

But as sick and twisted as it sounds, Y/n’s heart warms at the thought of it. Because never once has someone ever had a problem with letting her go. Her loss never affected anybody around her, and so nobody had ever feared it.

To know that out of all people, it’s him who does, means everything to her.

She hums at him, an all too knowing smile on her face as she makes her way to her frantic lover, who stills when he notices her closeness.

Her hands rest at his chest, rubbing at it over his dress shirt, just the way he likes. It reminds him of the night of their first date — when she gave into her cravings and put her hands nearly everywhere they could touch — and so she always goes back to that very first moment.

It never fails him.

“It’s okay, lovebug.” Y/n smiles softly at him, her voice even more soft and tender than usual as she tries to get him to relax.

Her hands slither down the hem of his trousers, her fingers resting just above the swell of his bum and pulling him in closer to her. And he wraps his arms around her shoulders, a heavy sigh leaving his lips before bringing his chest toward her cheek for it to nest in.

“Don’t let somebody get the best of you. Especially when they don’t know anything about you or me or our relationship. We know what we are and what we have, it doesn’t matter what he thinks is better for me. I have what’s best. Forever.”

He sighs, the weight of the night lifting from him slightly, but not enough.

He rests his chin on the top of her head, his eyes on the verge of being soaked with tears. Because though he knows her words to be true, he just can’t seem to shake what’s rattling in his bones and picking at his skin.

He wants it all to be okay, and it almost is, just not fully. And it’s killing him from the inside out.

“It’s a new feeling for me.” Harry confesses sadly, trying to think of the right words to say to explain what’s burning in his chest. “It hurts me to feel it. I’m so comfortable and confident in you and yet somehow I can’t — I can’t stop thinking about you and that fucking bartender and him touching you and making you laugh and —”

“You’re jealous.”

She pulls away from him slightly, her eyes looking up at him softly and sympathetically. He gives into her gaze for only a beat longer before looking away from her again, unable to take it.

It all makes sense — the unfamiliar feelings, the scrambling of emotions, the sensitivity to the words that had been spoken about him. His relationship had been threatened for the first time since it started, how could he not be?

“Of course I’m jealous. Which is absolutely horrible because you look so pretty yet it hurts too much to look at you.”

She chuckles, a playful smirk on her face as she reaches her hands up to his cheeks. And she turns his head to the side, forcing his eyes to look into hers as she rubs her thumb along his cheekbones.

Even like this, he is the most perfect man she’s ever seen. She has loved this person longer than she has loved anything else, how he could ever feel jealous of anybody is absolutely beyond her. He is all she will ever need, and everything she will ever want.

He is the only person that has ever deserved her.

“Baby, you have nothing to be jealous of. I don’t think, since the moment I’ve laid eyes on you, I’ve ever bothered to look for anybody else.” His breath faults, then, his heart dropping as if it were falling in love all over again.

And just like that, the hurt is gone.

“I’m yours, H. I have always been yours.”

He wants her to keep going, so instead of answering, he taps the back of her thigh twice. He’s never done so outside of sex, but he needs her all over him, holding him, hanging onto him. He needs it now more than ever.

She giggles, understanding exactly what he wants before jumping up until her legs are wrapped around his waist and her arms are looped around his neck. He catches her instantly, snuggling his face into the crook of her neck and kissing at the exposed skin.

She loves how much her words have an affect on him.

“I love you so much. I always will. No matter how many sleazy men ask me to sleep with them.”

He whines, lifting his head from her shoulder before looking at her with sad eyes and pouted lips at the subtle reminder that somebody else thought of her that way. Only he has, only he can, it doesn’t matter the circumstance.

She’s his.

She smiles down at him with a small blush on her cheeks, her arms unwrapping from his neck so her hands can grip his face again.

“I sleep with you. Every night. In more ways than one.” She kisses at his lips. “Cause I’m lucky.”

And for the first time tonight, he smiles. And as if that wasn’t enough for her, he laughs too — quietly, breathlessly — his hands rubbing all along her lower back and her thighs.

“Hmm... I am lucky, aren’t I?” Harry hums in bliss, his eyes looking at her fondly as she hangs on his neck in their home and it doesn’t get better than this. She had a man practically drooling on her lap and yet she’s here, with him, loving him, choosing him, just like she always has. “I do have the prettiest girl in the world. And the sweetest. And the strongest.”

“Too bad you couldn’t be bothered.” She teases, a smirk on her lips before her tongue pokes out to run quickly against his closed lips.

He lets out an almost sinister laugh, rumbling so deep in his chest she somehow manages to feel it in her legs.

“Why don’t I show you how bothered I am?”

[merakiui]

Apricity

yandere!albedo x (gender neutral) reader art credit - miHoYo cw: nsfw elements, yandere, captivity/restraints, unhealthy behaviors note - please come home to me and take care on the journey, albedo! :D also kindly heed the warnings. thank you!

His eyes are unnaturally pretty. Like twin crystals glittering in an expansive, dismal cave, searching for secrets unheard of within Mondstadt. Somehow you’re always in his peripheral, not too close and yet impossibly far at the same time. The distance is harrowing, terribly so, and Albedo knows it should be nothing short of a coincidence. When he shows up at your quaint stall with Sucrose, claiming to be in need of the exact wares you happen to sell, you pay it no mind. After all, you’ve met your fair share of regulars, and their support is what keeps you afloat. 

But there is more to those beautiful irises than he lets on. Whether it’s intentional or not, you can’t exactly say. You suppose you would rather run into someone as well-respected as Albedo as opposed to an unlikable stranger with ill intent. And it’s always great to see a familiar face, especially when he chooses to peruse your stall rather the others around you. It isn’t all that strange; you’ve even become friends with Sucrose during your short interactions. Albedo has indulged in stiff conversations with you before, but most of them were meaningless. Simple throwaway chatter between two acquaintances. 

Oddly enough, Albedo finds himself wanting more. He doesn’t want to talk about the weather or the transitioning seasons; he wants to listen to you explain how your day was and if you made more profit than the day before that. He wants to stand there and immerse himself in your pleasant voice, ignorant to the hustle and bustle of the people around him. And yet he just can’t. For a variety of reasons that pull him out of the haze of intrigue, you’ll always remain in the background. And he simply can’t bear the thought of that.

It’s rude to deteriorate a relationship that’s only just begun to blossom. If your meager acquaintanceship with him were to wither away into dust, he would feel obligated to keep it going—as if he were simply beating a dead cow with a stick. Although your hobbies differ from his, it’s nothing he can’t handle. A genius must familiarize himself with other areas of study if he intends to craft solutions that are outside of the box.

“Albedo?” 

Your tone is meek and small, tinged with the slightest shiver. Part of him feels bad for lying to you, but you were just so trusting. It’s almost comical how easily you fell into his trap. If he gets to see you in such a delicious way all the time, he’s more than willing to forsake the truth to meet his own desires. A selfish wish, yes, but it’s absolutely wonderful.

“What is it?” 

He eyes you from his spot behind the easel, and even though you can’t see him you can feel his piercing gaze. Like the sun shining brightly in a wintry afternoon, his eyes smolder with unbearable heat and yet his expression is cold with brilliant focus. 

“A-Are you almost done? It’s really cold.” Your bare back touches the wall and you flinch, an instinctual response that makes Albedo’s brow quirk. “And this is sort of...weird.”

“How so?” 

He says that in such a dismissive manner, acting as if your current position isn’t compromising. As if this was a normal exchange between friendly strangers. You have trouble finding your voice in this situation, especially since talking seems like such a chore. You’re worried you’ll say the wrong thing and then it’ll leave a false imprint of who you are on Albedo. But you’ve always been nice, unable to refuse those who are kind in return, and so you’re forced to endure the discomfort that comes with modeling nude for this peculiar alchemist. 

“Think about it.” You distract yourself with a ramble of an explanation—certainly more than what’s necessary, but Albedo doesn’t mind. He finds solace in your voice. “You’re looking at me and I’m...n-naked. And we don’t really know each other. I’m not trying to vilify you when I say this, but I don’t want you to do anything bad to me. N-Not that you would! It’s just—this is really weird. I’ve never done anything like this before.”

“Hm.”

“And do I have to be tied up like this?” You shuffle in your bindings, fingers scrabbling over the cuffs and chains that jingle like horrible sleigh bells. 

“You were moving too much earlier. I won’t be able to get your anatomy right if you’re constantly fidgeting.”

But it’s uncomfortable, you think, chewing on your lip out of habit.

“I guess I understand. It must be an artist thing, right?”

“You could say that.”

His work on the canvas offers a display that’s just as lewd as the real model, down to the way your nipples perk and harden in the cold. He’s not even close to finishing and that’s a blessing in itself. He could stare at your figure for hours on end, committing every inch of your flesh to memory, and he wouldn’t grow weary. 

“Do artists normally blindfold their models? I don’t really know anything about this stuff, but it’s okay if it helps with the process.”

“I find it to be interesting,” he answers, simple and vague as ever. “It adds a mysterious touch to the finished piece.”

“So you draw the model with the blindfold?” You’re used to gazing upon paintings of flowers and portraits of influential historical figures rather than blatant nudity. “Artists are definitely unique.”

Albedo hums in response, secretly reveling in your naïveté. At the end of the day, you’re just a normal citizen of Mondstadt, who stands behind a wooden stall every single day and happily chats with potential customers. You excel in business, but when it comes to the inner workings of art you’re at a loss. And that makes it all the more easier for Albedo to spin all sorts of wild tales. He fears that gullible nature will harm you in the future, yet there isn’t a threat in sight. Not when you’re here in front of him, no longer confined to his peripheral. And you’ll stay there for however long it takes him to finish this painting. 

It’s a twisted infatuation. Albedo knows he shouldn’t take too much of your time or else he’ll become addicted and it will be impossible to focus on his studies. But he can’t stop himself or his wandering gaze, which trails up your midriff. Higher and higher until he’s staring at your face, eyes obscured behind the soft fabric of a blindfold. Your body is a temple he wishes to worship, and perhaps that’s a sacrilegious thought that ought to have him consider the weight of his emotions. 

And yet you’re far too irresistible. His thoughts are dangerously potent, swirling within his brain like a maddening hurricane. Surely your missing presence in the market won’t be questioned if he were to keep you just a little longer. Longer than the boundaries of sanity will allow, that is. There are other vendors who sell the same things you boast; the economy won’t shatter if you’re not there to provide.

The paintbrush moves along the canvas in even strokes and suddenly Albedo’s mind is wandering between subjects. From art to alchemy, love to lust, and the wondrous crevices in your anatomy that call out to him. The brush stills in his hand. If he’s not mistaken, Sucrose will be stopping by to assist him and the last thing he needs is staining his appearance in a suspicious color. 

“Albedo?” His name rolls off of your tongue in such a delectable way; it’s almost sinful how his thoughts race and race in an endless track. “Are you almost done? My back is sore and the floor’s really uncomfortable.”

“Sorry. This will take longer than I thought.” He sets his brush and palette down, and you listen to his footsteps as they draw near. “Something has come up, but I promise I won’t be long.” 

“Wait. You’re not going to leave me, are you? I need to get back to the marketplace!”

Before you know what’s happening, the blindfold is coming off and you’re locking eyes with Albedo, who peers at you with intense scrutiny. Certainly the look of a genius studying a textbook. You grow flustered all at once, just now coming to terms with the fact that he looked at your body for longer than you’d like to admit. Shyly, you shut your legs to obscure your private parts, but it’s not like that will help the embarrassment that claws its way onto your expression like a persistent beast. 

“You’re better off waiting here.” He shrugs off his coat, draping it over your shoulders as if that’ll keep the dreadful chill away. “As much as I would like to finish this now, I have other work that must be taken care of.”

“I get that, but you can’t just leave me here! That’s practically kidnapping!” you protest, hoping he’ll heed the desperation in your trembling vocals. “At least, that’s what this feels like.”

“I wouldn’t kidnap you,” he says, amusement flashing in his eyes. “You’re too funny.”

Yet he isn’t laughing and neither are you as you helplessly watch him depart. The floor is too cold for your liking and the idea of entrapment settles under your skin like a million maggots feasting on a decaying, chilled copse. Devoid of warmth and carrying an air of measured grace, Albedo doesn’t spare you another glance.

He doesn’t need to. He’ll have all the time in the world to study your body like it’s the finest artwork, and you’ll be powerless to object.

[myherowritings]

Maybe It’s Fate

— After discovering the mememate you fell in love with was your ex-boyfriend who broke your heart, you find yourself alone in a bar with a dead phone in a poor attempt to cope. The person who helps you at 3 a.m. is the last person you want to see.

pairing: shinsou hitoshi x f!reader word count: 10,531 genre: modern au, social media au

a/n: hihi welcome to part 25 of toya ! ;) the smau is rated 17+ so keep that in mind because it applies to this part too. it’s a bit thicc so i hope it’s able to keep your attention! skksffsd plspls chat with me and let me know what u think once u read! i’m looking forward to the convos ^-^ [edit: THIS IS NOT THE FINAL PART LOLOL]

Of all the dumb decisions you’ve made in your life, this by far had to be the dumbest of them all.

You were angry and hurt and wanted nothing more than to drown your feelings with overplayed EDM music and cheap booze that reminded you too much of the trash college parties you used to frequent. And while going out to get drunk was no where near your stupidest decision, going out alone with the full intention of returning home with someone else was. 

“Is everything okay?” you heard an unfamiliar voice beside you call.

Wishing you had brought more than an empty can of pepper spray, you cautiously turned to face him. You wanted to call a cab or take the train home, but you knew walking alone in the streets in your current condition might just be more stupid than staying at the club. Besides, your phone died right after you sent Kaminari your location. 

In other words-- You were truly fucked.

Not that you would let anyone know that, of course.

“Everything’s just fine,” you replied, trying to sound polite but disinterested. “Thanks.” 

He kept his distance but sat down at the barstool next to you. “Are you sure? You’re a pretty lady alone at the bar and you’re staring at your drink like it just insulted your favorite grandmother.” 

Immediately, the tears of stress and frustration flooded your eyes but you kept them from falling. Your bottom lip quivered and you blamed all the alcohol in your system for your seemingly uncontrollable emotions.

 “Am I that transparent?” You sniffled, downing the rest of your drink as you turned towards him.

“Ah-- Wait!” he cried with wide eyes, waving his hands in front of him as you chugged what was in your glass. “Are you sure you should keep drinking? Where are your friends?”

You studied him curiously. He seemed nice and trustworthy, but you couldn’t help but be skeptical of his intentions.

“They’re...around,” you answered, unwilling to admit you were here alone to a random stranger. “And I’m okay! Just here hating men, but what’s new?” 

He nodded solemnly. “Understandable. Men suck. Carry on.”

That earned a grin from you.

As the last gulp of vodka settled in your stomach and made its way to your head, you instinctively checked your phone in your pocket only to find it still dead. 

Damn. And here you were hoping it would’ve miraculously charged through sheer willpower. 

Drumming your fingertips against the empty glass, you let your gaze roam around the perimeter of the nightclub, blinking furiously in confusion when you thought you had spotted a head of all-too-familiar purple hair near the entrance.

“What the…” you trailed off. You could have sworn you just saw Shinsou, but the next second you opened your eyes, he was gone.

Great, you thought to yourself miserably. First he snuck his way into your heart and now you were imagining his presence too? 

“You’re really had too much to drink, haven’t you, Y/N?” you chided yourself, head spinning as you instantly regretted the last few gulps.

The guy next to you glanced over in concern, drinking a glass of what you assumed to be respect women juice. 

“Can I order you some water?” he fretted. “Or maybe a cab?” 

You shook your head to decline but stopped abruptly when your temples started to throb at the sudden motion. 

“S’okay,” you slurred. “I just thought I saw--” 

“Y/N!” 

You froze in your seat.

That voice… It was faint and almost like it wasn’t real, but you knew that voice. 

There was no way. 

“Good grief, I’m losing it now, huh?” you asked your bar acquaintance with furrowed brows. 

He shrugged, not knowing how to reply.

“Y/N, thank god,” the voice said frantically, sounding closer this time. “You’re safe!”

Ever so slowly, you turned around in your seat, eyes squeezed shut.

Even hearing his voice amidst the blaring of music was enough to make your heart twist in pain. It was the same deep timbre you remembered from high school and you haven’t heard it since then. You hated just how much you had missed the familiar sound. It was like a hug of comfort telling you everything was okay and a stab in the gut all at once.

“Y/N,” he said again, almost a whisper this time.

You finally found the courage to open your eyes, but refused to meet his gaze. Instead, you developed a deep interest in the laces of his shoes, reluctant to look up. 

“Shinsou…” The name left a bitter taste on your tongue and you wished you had another drink to wash it down with. Your voice hardened. “What are you doing here?” 

He winced at your harsh tone but stood unrelenting. “Your friends are worried sick about you. Kaminari was so concerned he even messaged me-- Something I imagine he never wanted to do.”

Your lower lip jutted out in guilt as your stare stayed set on the intricacies of the tiled flooring. 

“Why have you not checked your phone?” asked Shinsou in exasperation. “Kaminari was trying to tell you I was going to pick you up.” 

“I’m sorry,” you said softly. “My phone died after I sent Denki my location.”

“Died? Did you not charge it before you left? Y/N how could you be so irresponsible--!” 

“Is everything okay here?” your unnamed acquaintance said from his seat on the bar. He glanced carefully between you and Hitoshi. 

You nodded, sparing him a wry smile. “I’m fine. Thank you, though.” 

Shinsou bit the inside of his cheek as he eyed the stranger who sat next to you. “Who’s this?” 

“None of your damn business.” 

Annoyed by Shinsou’s chiding, you bristled when he frowned at you. He had no right to sound concerned or jealous-- No right to pretend he cared!

Not when he did what he did.

“I know I was being stupid and I’ll call my friends when I get home,” you said, not bothering to hide your irritation. “But you can’t just come here and talk to me like everything is normal! Why are you even here?” 

Pushing yourself out of your chair, you stood up and finally looked Hitoshi in the eye, glaring at him. You wobbled on your own two feet and felt the goosebumps on your bare thighs and arms, briefly wishing you had brought a coat with you.

Great, another thing Toshi can call you irresponsible for, you thought crossly, a mixture of hurt and anger in your face as you stared up at him. 

“Why are you here?” you repeated as you paced away from the bar--turning back only to give your bar friend a wave goodbye that he returned with a confused look. You headed for the exist of the nightclub as briskly as your legs could carry you in your uncomfortable heels. “How did you know where to find me?” 

Shinsou trailed not too far behind you and you begrudgingly admitted to yourself that you felt a warmth near your back from his presence. “Kaminari told me you were alone at a nightclub and this one happened to be only ten minutes from my house.”

You pouted. Small fucking world. Fate must’ve been getting a kick out of this.

“Your friends were worried-- So was I.” You rolled your eyes, but he continued. “And since I was the closest to this place I offered to pick you up.”

Reaching the side doors, you stopped by the stone wall of the building and squinted at him. “You offered and they just let you?”

That did not sound like the friends you knew. You were expecting a full Shinsou beat down from Bakugou alone. 

Hitoshi scratched the back of his neck and, in your tipsy stupor, you felt comforted by the familiar habit of his. You swallowed, balling your hands into fists to snap your mind out of it.

It shouldn’t matter how many memories of the past were flooding you-- You were mad at him for lying and you had every right to be.

“Maybe offered is too loose of a word,” he admitted after a moment’s silence, having the decency to appear sheepish. “But we were worried and I knew I could get to you in half the time any of your friends could.”

Sure, it was a logical reason. But that didn’t mean you had to like it. “I would rather have waited double the time if that meant I didn’t have to see you again.” 

You stared Hitoshi straight in the eyes as you said that as you tried to ignore the trembling of your lower lip. He flinched at the words, looking hurt. But another part of him looked like he accepted it. 

“I know I’m the last person you want to see right now--”

“Mhmm,” you hummed just to be petty.

“--but we had no way of knowing if you were safe. Especially when you stopped replying to anyone! This was the quickest way.” 

Folding your arms across your chest you stubbornly held his gaze. “Well, I’m safe. So you can leave now.” 

Shinsou pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “Please. I know you hate me and you have every right to--”

“I don’t hate you,” you muttered under your breath. As much as you wish you did, you don’t think you could ever really hate him.

He blinked slowly and you could have sworn you saw a shimmer of hope in his expression. You tore your gaze away, studying the small fissures and cracks on the otherwise smooth pavement. 

“Oh,” he breathed almost imperceptibly. “Thank you.” 

You pretended not to hear him.

“Regardless of whether you hate me or not, I know you don’t want to see me--and I apologize for showing up so suddenly--but will you please let me bring you home safely?” Hitoshi pleaded. “Or to your friend’s house if you don’t want to be alone.”

With your lips squeezed shut, you rubbed the goosebumps off your upper arm. It was cold and your head was spinning and you had no clue what to say to him. 

Silently, Shinsou took off his outer coat and gently draped it over your shoulders, fastening the top button near the collar so it wouldn’t fall off your frame. You looked at him in surprise, unshed tears stinging the back of your eyes as you recalled all the times he’d given you his jacket while you were dating.

There were more times that you cared to admit where you conveniently “forgot” your jacket or wore too little layers on a cold day just so Hitoshi could give you his and you’d be enveloped in his scent.

And that’s exactly what was happening now. Shinsou’s coat surrounded your body like a warm hug and your nose was filled with a scent exactly like the one you remembered from when you were dating. He smelled like a sweet sandalwood with a mixture of fresh jasmine. He smelled like a field of flowers you’d find after a long trek through a woodsy forest. He smelled like home.

But he wasn’t.

In actuality, you haven’t been this close to Shinsou since your break up.

It had been years since you had seen him or talked to him or even been close enough to catch a trace of his scent. And now he was flooding every one of your senses with no care of the repercussions.

Your head was light.

You missed him. You cared for him. You never stopped loving him.

And now old wounds that never fully healed had been ripped open all at once.

“You were shivering,” Hitoshi stated quietly. “So I gave you my--”

He stopped short when he heard a sniffle coming from your direction, eyes growing wide as your buried your face in the palms of your shaking hands.

Through the cracks between your fingers, you saw Shinsou reach out to cup your face, stopping himself before he could touch you and withdrawing as if he had been burned. As stupid as it was, you wanted nothing more than to feel his touch against your skin and you found yourself involuntarily taking a half-step closer to him.

Your silent tears feel even faster. 

“Are you crying?”

Despite the droplets of water blurring your eyes, you managed to glare up at him for his dumb question. 

He grimaced. “Sorry. I’m...sorry.” 

Although you were the one crying, you still noticed the pained look on Shinsou’s face. He seemed just as conflicted as you were, his fingernails digging into the palms of his hands so hard his knuckles appeared white. 

When he opened his mouth to speak his voice sounded choked, but still gentle. “Are you okay, Y/N?” 

“Just peachy,” you murmured, barely moving your lips. The two of you stood there in awkward silence, nothing but the sounds of your labored breaths filling the air until you blurted, “Actually, you know what--? No. I’m not!”

Shinsou opened his mouth to speak but no noise came out. That was just fine by you, though. You had plenty of things you wanted to say, regardless of his response.

“I’m angry at you! And confused. And sad. And hurt! I don’t know if I want to yell at you or ignore you or run right back into your arms--” Your voice cracked and you squeezed your eyes shut, trying to slow your sharp breathing. 

You hugged yourself around your waist, painfully aware of how comforting his jacket felt around your body. A part of you wished you could just tear the coat off your shoulders, throw it onto a puddle on the floor, give Shinsou the middle finger, and turn away without looking back.

But you couldn’t. 

Instead, you let your tears continue to fall as you glowered at Hitoshi’s shoes. 

“I am so mad at you,” you managed, hands clutching the fabric at your sides. “You lied to me, Hitoshi. You lied to me and you didn’t trust me and you left!” 

The hurt from your past which you never wanted to accept mixed with anger from the present, both fueling your surge in emotions.

“And now you’re here--in front of me--acting like everything is okay?!” you shouted in exasperation. Your face was burning despite the chilling breeze outside. “Do you even care about me? Have you ever even cared about me?” 

He gritted his teeth, hurt that you would even ask that. “Of course. Of course I care about you, Y/N! Even through all these years I’ve never stopped caring about you.”

“Funny way of showing it.” 

His laugh was humorless. “I’m a fuck up. I know.” 

Your gaze softened just the slightest bit. “Hey-- I didn’t say that.” 

Shinsou shrugged. “Regardless, I did fuck up with you. And I’m so sorry for that.” 

“For which time?” By now, the tears flowing out of your eyes slowed, the remnants dried by the biting wind. You gave him a wry smile, unamused. 

“Both times,” he answered without hesitation. “I hurt you when I broke up with you for no damn reason and I lied when I told you I didn’t love you. That was the biggest lie of my life-- I still loved you. So much. But I jumped to conclusions and didn’t give you the change to explain. I owe you so much more than an apology but it’s the least I can give you right now.” 

You rolled your lower lip between your teeth, hating yourself for wanting to accept his apology and jump into his arms. He gave no excuses for what he did and his words were genuine. That much you knew for certain.

Slowly, he inched towards you. 

“I really am sorry, Y/N.” He paused. “You didn’t deserve any of that.”

You stayed silent, holding your breath as the pad of his thumb brushed against your damp cheek. Shinsou wiped away your flood of tears with a touch so gentle, it felt like a feather on your face.

His thumb lingered on your cheekbone, his fingertips lightly grazing your jaw, and you found yourself ever so slightly leaning into his palm. The tension in your muscles loosened and if you closed your eyes, you could almost pretend you were back with the Shinsou you loved in high school-- As if he never left and nothing had ever changed. 

Just for a moment, you tricked yourself into being truly happy. You tricked yourself into thinking that maybe you and Hitoshi could still be in love. 

You wanted to capture this second and replay it on an infinite loop, but just like all moments, this too had to come to an end. 

As you opened your eyes, Hitoshi reluctantly brought his hand back to his side.

“Sorry,” he said, voice hoarse. “You were crying and I just wanted to--” He shook his head, cutting himself off before his voice cracked. “I’m sorry.” 

It sounded like his apology was meant for more than just wiping some tears off your face. 

You nodded almost imperceptibly, the anger in your gaze diffused by hurt and longing. “I know.”

As the minutes passed, neither one of you made a move to step away from the other-- Your bodies mere inches apart and so close, yet never quite touching.

Suddenly, Hitoshi cleared his throat.

“Er-- If you’ll let me, I think I should bring you home now,” he said, forcibly shaking himself out of his daze and pulling his phone out. “It’s almost four in the morning.” 

Blinking, you rubbed your eyes. Not that he mentioned the time, you realized just how tired you were. You wanted to take a bubble bath, change into fluffy pajamas, and sleep until the following night. 

“Do you have to go to your flower shop tomorrow?”  

“Hmm?” You were startled. You had almost forgotten that the man in front of you was the same person you considered your “mememate.” As much as you hated to admit it, he probably knew more about you than some of your closest friends. 

Biting your lip, you snapped yourself out of it.

“Oh-- Right. My flower shop.” 

He nodded.

“No, I don’t have work tomorrow,” you answered finally. “I may not have made the smartest decisions tonight, but I’m not that irresponsible.” 

A shadow of a smile graced his face. “Of course not.” 

Fishing his keys from his pocket, Shinsou walked to the parking lot of the nightclub, looking over his shoulder to check if you were following.

When his gaze met yours you immediately stuck your tongue out at him haughtily so he knew you were only following him as a last resort and you needed to get home-- Not because you wanted to. 

You caught a glimpse of his grin before he turned around, and you managed to stop yourself before one spread to your lips as well. 

Stopping at a black car with tinted windows, Hitoshi unlocked it with his keys, opening the door of the passenger seat and waiting for you to safely enter. 

“I can open a door myself,” you murmured, sliding into the seat securely before he gently shut it close. 

“I know,” you heard his amused voice call through the window.

It felt like there was one, singular butterfly fluttering around in your stomach and causing mayhem, and you batted it away before Hitoshi could come in and see the grin on your face. 

“Did I just see you just hit yourself in the gut?” he asked when he entered through the driver’s side. 

“No.” 

“Okay.”

Subtly, you rubbed your tummy in a soft, circular motion. You hadn’t meant to punch the butterfly that hard. 

“Didn’t hit yourself, huh?” 

You flushed. “Oh, hush.” 

With a snort, Hitoshi turned the engine of his car on and you let your eyes explore the interior. It was sleek and clean, smelling like a mixture of sandalwood and new car. 

Reaching behind the gear level, he pulled out a white cord and handed it to you. You stared at the object in his hands.

“For you,” he said, with a raised brow. “You should charge your phone and let your friends know you’re on your way home.” 

Wordlessly, you accepted it from him. Careful not to let your fingers brush against his in fear of the spark it might cause.

“I messaged Kaminari earlier to let him know you were safe. But he probably wants to hear it from you.”

You nodded as you plugged your dead phone in. “Thanks.” 

He hummed, putting the car on drive and backing out of the parking spot, stopping before he reached the main street. 

“Do you know how to get home from here?” he asked. As you shook your head, Hitoshi handed you his fully charged phone that was opened on the navigation app. “You can search for your address.”

“Got it.” The air between you was almost suffocatingly awkward as you typed in where you lived, each click of the keyboard ringing into the stillness of the night. After finding turning the directions on, you handed the phone back to him. “Thanks.”

Shaking his head, he waved you off. “You don’t need to keep thanking me, Y/N. This is the least I could do.”

Averting your gaze, you twiddled your thumbs in your lap, unsure what to say. You had so much you wanted to tell him--so much you wanted to ask--but when it came to it, you froze. 

Just then, your phone made a sound from its spot near the gear shift, buzzing and lighting up as it finally turned on. A plethora of notifications filled your screen and you found yourself feeling guilty for making your friends worry like that.

Five missed calls for Kaminari, three missed calls from Todoroki, and nine missed calls from Bakugou. You gulped. You were definitely going to get your ears talked off by those three once they got a hold of you. 

But amidst the calls and texts of worry from your friends, you also noticed a handful of messages from Hitoshi. He sent you texts asking if you were okay and telling you not to worry because he was on his way to get you. There was a lump in your throat when he saw the messages were still from your mememate-- You never did get around to changing his contact name.

From the corner of your eye you saw Hitoshi glancing down at your phone screen, a look of regret apparent on his face. When he caught you staring, he directed his attention back on the road, clearing his throat as he followed the directions on the navigation system.

To think only a week ago, things were so different between the two of you. 

You thought he was a random stranger you connected with through the power of memes, never having a clue that he was your ex this whole time. You found yourself opening up and sharing your private feelings with him despite the promise you made yourself to always guard your heart. 

Even anonymously, Hitoshi climbed over your walls and found his way to the inner workings of your life. Even anonymously, he made everything feel like it was okay. 

But a part of you was scared--so scared--that it was all in your head and he was only playing you this whole time. And at this point, you were just too afraid to ask.

“Are you crying again?”

“What?!” you yelped in alarm, wiping at your slightly damp face with the sleeves of his coat. “No, you asshole!” You glared at him, a few loose tears still gathered by the corners of your eyes. You refused to let them fall through the use of sheer willpower. “The air conditioning is just blasting into my eyes.”

“The air conditioner is off.”

You blinked. “Well that makes sense. It’s so hot in here I’m just sweating through my eyes.” 

He pressed his lips together to keep from smiling. “Right.”

The lighthearted mood didn’t last very long, however, when your phone buzzed once more and the notifications from earlier tonight appeared on your lockscreen. 

“I really made everyone worry, huh?” You sighed, leaning back against the headrest and shutting your eyes, the effects of the alcohol long since worn off. “I can’t believe I did something like this.” 

He signaled a left turn and waited until he was at the red light before continuing. “I’m sorry for causing this.” 

You stared at him in confusion. “What do you mean? Causing this?”

“Yeah. If I had just told you who I was the moment I found out, this wouldn’t have happened. You wouldn’t have been scared and alone at a random nightclub and your friends wouldn’t have been in near panic for hours. Hell-- If I hadn’t run away like that all those years ago none of this would have happened.” His fingers tightened around the steering wheel so hard it left indents on the leather. “You wouldn’t have felt all the pain and heartbreak and--”

His voice grew hoarse as it broke off, as if something was tightening around his throat. Holding your breath, you gazed at him in concern.

You were angry at Hitoshi and thought he had a lot of explaining to do-- Sure. But...for him to blame himself for everything that happened? That was more weight than anyone should bear on their own. 

Surprising both him and yourself, you firmly placed your hand on top of his as he gripped the steering wheel. His hands were cold and rough from the wind, and you were certain yours weren’t much better. But still, you held him. And still, it felt right. 

“Not everything is your fault, Toshi,” you said quietly, his old nickname slipping out of your mouth before you could stop it, like it was natural for you to call him that.

His eyes widened and a flush filled your cheeks. 

You coughed to relieve the tension in your neck. “I just mean… You don’t need to blame yourself for everything. You messed up and there’s no denying that, but this isn’t all your fault. I mean it.” 

Your eyes met before he tore his gaze away to focus on driving. Quickly, you retracted your hand from on top of Shinsou’s, cradling it against your stomach as you felt the burn from his skin linger on yours.

“Thank you.” His voice was solemn and grateful, as if he needed to hear those words at least once in his life. “You’re too caring, you know? Your heart is too good.” 

You let out a breath of laughter, brushing his compliment off. “Yours is too. It’s just been through some shit. And maybe didn’t make the best decisions.”

“It most definitely didn’t.”

Though neither of you were looking at each other, there was a shared sense of happiness between the two of you--regardless of how brief it may have been. There was a small smile playing on your face as you bit your lip to keep it from growing wider. 

You hadn’t fully forgiven Hitoshi, he still had some explaining to do, but you felt a sense of calmness when you realized that maybe forgiveness would be possible.

Before you knew it, you heard the navigator say, “Your destination is on the right,” as Hitoshi pulled up at the curb in front of your building.

“We’re here,” he announced slowly, one hand on the gear level as if he wasn’t sure what to do next. 

There was an awkward silence as you unplugged your phone from his car charger. It wasn’t that you wanted to spend more time with him exactly (that was definitely not the case), but rather you had more questions to ask. And what better time to figure out those questions than at four in the morning? 

“You’ve been driving for a while…” you trailed off, hoping he caught the hint without too much embarrassment on your part. “Do you want to use the restroom before you drive back home?”

Hitoshi scratched the back of his neck. “No, I’m good. I wasn’t out for that long.”

“O-Oh,” you stuttered, a sudden feeling of nerves settling in your stomach. Not those damned butterflies again. “Well, how about… Maybe you want a glass of water or a cup of tea?” 

He gave you a curious look but set his car to park and turned off the engine nonetheless. “Sure…? Some water would be nice.”

You let out a sigh of relief you didn’t know you were holding, pulling your keys out of your pocket and unbuckling your seatbelt. Before you could open the car door for yourself, Hitoshi was already on the passenger’s side ready to open it for you. 

“I know how to open a door,” you muttered with a roll of your eye, but felt a faint flush litter your cheeks nonetheless. You hopped out of your seat, accepting the hand he offered to stead you. “But...thank you.” 

“No worries.” 

For someone you were still mad at, he was making it damn hard for you to stay petty. 

Despite the light throbbing in your head, both from drinking too much alcohol and from staying up too late, you were able to lead him inside your living room with no complications--only struggling with unlocking the door just a little. 

“Welcome to my house,” you said, flapping your arms around and fidgeting in place. You slid off your shoes and placed them at the doorway and Hitoshi followed suit. “You can, uh, sit on the couch while I get you water. Or you can follow me into the kitchen…?”

Your eyes scanned the floors and furniture of your apartment. You liked maintaining your living space clean and clutter-free, so it wasn’t too much of a mess. Still, you weren’t expecting any guests and it wasn’t as nice as it could have been…

You shook your head, giving your face a light slap when you thought no one was looking. You shouldn’t be bothered. It was just Hitoshi here. Someone you most definitely no longer cared about. 

Or so you kept telling yourself.

He followed behind you, grabbing at his neck and glancing between your walls and you, unsure what to look at in this new environment. After all, it wasn’t everyday you picked up your ex that you haven’t seen for four years at a bar only to be invited into their house.

“I can go with you to the kitchen,” he answered with uncertainty.

“G-Great!” 

You grimaced. When did you become Tony the Tiger all of a sudden? 

As you grabbed two glasses from the cupboard, you filled them up with ice and water, setting one next to Shinsou on the countertop. 

He accepted it. “Thank you.” 

You nodded and there was an awkward silence, both of you taking long sips from your glass, not knowing where to go from here. You knew you wanted to talk to him, but what were you going to ask exactly? What was the right way to go about this situation?

Next to you, Hitoshi looked like he was having some inner struggles of his own. His fingers flexed and unflexed around the cool glass, both avoiding your gaze and looking at you at the same time.

Biting your lip, you turned to look at him. As uncomfortable as it was, there was no better time to ask than now.

“Can we talk--?”

“We should talk--”

You both started and stopped at the same time.

There was a beat of elongated silence before the two of you laughed. Shaking your head, you buried your face in your hands, peering at him between your fingers. 

“This is silly,” you cried in embarrassment. “Why are we so awkward?” 

Hitoshi shrugged as a flustered laugh escaped his own lips. “Because this is weird. This is a strange situation we’re in and no one would ever expect something like this to happen.”

“Exactly!” 

“But,” he continued, almost hesitantly, “I’m kind of glad it did, though.” 

Your own laughter quieted down as the mood became more serious. You drank another gulp of water to quench your suddenly parched throat. 

“Can we talk in the living room?” you asked, heading towards the hallway when Hitoshi nodded. You figured if you were going to have an uncomfortable conversation, you may as well try to find some comfort in your warm and plush sofa.

You sat down at the edge near the armrest and he took a seat not too far from you. There was less than a cushion space separating the two of you and if you were to move a few inches, your thighs would be touching. 

Tearing your gaze away from your legs, you looked up to face Hitoshi. “You don’t have to answer, but… There have been some questions on my mind lately.” 

He nodded, as if expecting you to say that. “Ask away. It’s the least I could do.”

You curled your legs and hugged your knees to your chest, peering at him through your lashes. 

“Okay,” you said somewhat unsurely. Confrontation was never easy. “Why didn’t you tell me you knew who I was? How long were you planning on keeping it from me?”

Hitoshi ran a hand through his hair, tufts of purple sticking out in random patterns. Somehow, it suited him.

“I found out a day or so before you confessed to liking...your mememate,” he admitted. He had told you this through text when you asked, but hearing it a second time didn’t make it hurt any less. “I was going to tell you that day, too. But then you told me you liked me and I didn’t know how to break it to you then.”

You looked away, embarrassed at the reminder of the night you poured your heart out to him. He knew you were his ex the whole time and still didn’t stop you? You scoffed, “Well, you could’ve stopped me before I humiliated myself like that.”

“Humiliate-- How?”

“What do you mean how?” You glared. “I totally embarrassed myself that night by saying how much I liked you--my ex!--only to have you basically reject me on the spot!” 

“I didn’t reject you.”

“I told you that you were the first person I liked since...well you,” you said, rubbing your temples to ease your own confusion. “And you never said it back. Not that you needed to. It’s totally fine that you don’t. It’s just that… I don’t even know. I just wish I never said anything.”

He placed the glass he was holding onto a coaster on your coffee table, shaking his head.

“I’m sorry,” said Hitoshi. “But that’s not it at all. I wasn’t trying to reject you. I would’ve told you I liked you back-- I wanted to, I swear.” 

Your head snapped to his. He wanted to tell you? As in he started liking you too? Even when he didn’t know who you were?

With a wistful smile, he continued, “But it wasn’t fair to you. Not when I knew who you were and you didn’t know who I was. You didn’t deserve that bullshit.” 

You stretched your legs out so they were dangling off the couch, folding one carefully over the other as you crossed your arms. “Then you should’ve just told me the truth about who you were.”

“You’re right. I’m sorry.” He hung his head. “And if I did, you never would’ve told me your feelings.”

“Exactly,” you huffed. “They’d be safe and locked away in my heart until they disappeared.” 

He was silent as you turned his body towards yours, resting his arm on the back cushions of the sofa.

“Is that really what you want, though?” he asked. “You’re so kind and beautiful and you deserve to open your heart to someone and be happy with them.” A flush rose to your cheeks at his sudden words of kindness but you shook it away. “I never knew I hurt you so badly that you were scared to love again-- And I’ll hate myself everyday for that.” 

“Hitoshi…” Your gaze softened. You wanted to reach out and smooth down his hair but you couldn’t. 

He hurt you, yes. But to hate himself and never forgive himself for it? You thought that was far too extreme. 

“When you broke up with me,” you started slowly, unsure how to go about this, “you said that our relationship was nothing more than some cheap dates and sex.” He winced, holding his stomach as if he felt nauseous. “If you’re so regretful now, why did you ever say something like that? Did I really mean nothing to you?” 

“No-- Of course you meant something to me. Y/N, you were everything to me. And it’s ridiculous of me to say this now but I never wanted to hurt you like that,” Hitoshi said, his eyes squeezed shut. “But I did and I’m so sorry. I thought if I told you those mean things you would find it easier to just hate me and move on. Be with Kaminari or someone who could make you happy.” 

You glared at him with both sadness and anger, nails digging into your palms. “I was happy. With you. Is that so hard to believe?”

“A little.”

Taken aback, you stared at him. You weren’t sure what response you were expecting, but it certainly wasn’t that. 

“But not because of anything you did,” he rushed before you could get the wrong idea. “I just thought you were a good person who truly deserved something better than what I could give. You should be with someone who wasn’t anxious and insecure and messed up.” 

You were unsure if you wanted to smack Hitoshi or give him a hug, so you sat there stock-still.

“Even when I saw you with Kaminari, a part of me thought it would be better off that way,” he admitted, a scornful look on his face as he scoffed at himself. “But that wasn’t my call to make, was it? And how I went about it was wrong and dishonest. I’m really sorry.” 

He tugged at a loose thread on the sofa while staring at you in earnest. There were so many things to say and not enough time in the night to say it. 

“You’re right. It wasn’t your call,” you said, furrowing your brows. “I wish you would’ve told me you were feeling this way all those years ago. I loved you--regardless of what you may have thought. And what you said really hurt me.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I fucked up and hurt you more deeply than I could’ve ever imagined. You felt like you couldn’t have feelings for anyone for all those years because of what I did, and if I could take it all back, I would.” 

His hand trembled slightly as he reached out to cup your face, pulling away harshly before he could touch you. 

“You deserve to find love, Y/N. Even if it’s not with me because I know I have no right to anyone’s heart after what I did--”

“Hey, don’t say that!” you interrupted, a wrinkle forming as you scrunched up your nose. You frowned at him. “You deserve to find love again, too. You may have messed up a few times, and I’m not going to pretend like I wasn’t hurt, but I still care about you. A lot. And just because you made some really bad decisions doesn’t mean you don’t deserve to ever be happy.” 

He looked down at his lap, hands curled into fists by his side. You had the sinking suspicion he didn’t believe you.

Swallowing your pride, you inched closer to him, lightly lifting his chin so he stared at you face-to-face. The dark purple of his eyes stormed as a conflicted expression overcame him and you wanted to run a finger over his brow and brush the insecurities away.

Quietly, you whispered, “You’re so worthy of love, Hitoshi. And it makes me so sad that you still haven’t realized it.” 

You felt a piece of your heart chip as he pulled away from you, gritting his teeth as he hung his head. When he spoke, his voice sounded choked, as if he was holding back tears.

“You’ve shown me too much kindness,” he said, words shakey. “Even after I assumed you cheated and broke up with you in the cruelest way possible--” 

His voice cracked and he couldn’t speak. With his gaze avoiding yours he pushed himself off the couch.

“God, I’m sorry,” Hitoshi muttered, his face a look of self-disdain. “I shouldn’t even be here in your life right now. I should just--”

Your hand grabbed the one he used to shove himself off your sofa, holding his fingers tight in between yours. With your head bowed, you called, “Don’t leave again. Not yet.”

He froze in his spot, one leg immobile in front of the other in the direction of the door. Desperately, you tugged at his arm so he looked back at you. Your eyes pleaded with him. This wasn’t the end. It couldn’t be the end until you received your closure and Hitoshi received his. 

“You know that night we played Truth or Drink?” you asked, breaking the silence. 

He stared back at you curiously, slowly sitting down as you patted the seat next to you. Cautiously, he nodded in response.

That night was a pivotal time in bonding with your mememate and it was the closest you had felt with anyone besides your best friends.

Continuing, you said, “You told me about your dad cheating on your mom. And then seeing me and Denki the next day after I lied about who I was with.” 

There was no accusatory tone in your voice, and you stated it as if you were recalling the facts. But still, Hitoshi winced. 

“Yeah, shit.” He placed his palm over his forehead, rubbing at his temple as he grimaced. “I really just jumped to conclusions like that and it was unfair to you. I’m so sorry.”

You didn’t reply to his apology, but gave him a small smile. “That night, I told you I thought your response was understandable. It made sense that you were mistrustful at the time. Especially after just finding out about your parents-- People I know you looked up to. Even in regards to love.” 

Hitoshi wore a guarded expression, but still listened keenly to what you had to say. 

“Toshi… My opinion on that doesn’t change just because I now know it was me you were talking about.” 

“Y/N--”

“Don’t get me wrong,” you clarified, not wanting to sound too lenient. “I’m still hurt that you couldn’t trust me. I wish you confronted me so we could’ve cleared up the misunderstanding. I wish you hadn’t stood me up on our anniversary date. But most importantly… I wish I could have been there for you when you found out about your parents.” 

Hitoshi sat there in silence, mouth opening but unable to form the sentences he wanted. 

You gave him a look of regret, one hand still not letting go of his even as he stayed seated beside you. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be there for you.”

“It’s not your fault. At all.”

As you shook your head, he faltered. “Still, you went to America, alone, and never told anyone what was wrong. You kept all these feelings to yourself this whole time and I hate that so much.” 

“I didn’t want to be a burden to anyone. I don’t deserve to--”

Your fingers twitched. How many times was he going to beat himself while he was already down? 

“Stop saying that!” you snapped, unable to contain your emotions. “You are not a burden. And you deserve so much more than you think you do.” 

His eyes widened at your outburst and his lips parted slightly. 

“It’s good you know what you did was wrong-- You can’t pretend lying and making assumptions was okay because it’s not. But you know it’s not! And you acknowledge that and it seems like you regret it.” Your voice took on a desperate tone as you tried to get Hitoshi to see his mistakes as something separate from his worth as a whole. “You’ve made mistakes, but you can grow from them. Fucking up doesn’t mean you’re undeserving of love and happiness. You don’t have to take all the blame onto yourself.” 

“How can I not take the blame?” he asked, his frustration at himself matching yours. “If I had been a better boyfriend, I would have trusted you more. If I had been a better person, I wouldn’t have lied to you. And maybe if I had been a better son, my parents--”

As if your body had a mind of its own, you threw your arms around him in a hug before he could finish his sentence. You heard a sharp inhale come from him as he sat, rigid.

“Don’t,” you whispered, breathing harshly as you held him tight. “Please, Toshi. Don’t say that. If no one ever told you this, please listen to me then. It’s not your fault. Your parents divorcing has nothing to do with your worth. Don’t blame yourself for the issues they had.” 

His shoulders were still tense despite the shudder of tears you felt.

“You don’t need to blame yourself for everything. Hold yourself accountable, yes. Always strive to be a better person, yes. But don’t think it’s all your fault,” you pleaded. “You don’t have to handle everything on your own. You can lean on someone, Toshi.” You gently stroked the hair on the back of his head. “You can lean on me.” 

At your words, you felt him visibly relax, his body free of the tension as you held him close. 

Suddenly, his arms wrapped around you as he returned your embrace, his strong hands firmly gripping your waist as if he never wanted to let you go. You found yourself loosening up at his touch and you placed your head in his chest. 

Peering up at him through your lashes, you said, “I don’t know if you need to hear this, but I need to say it.” 

His thumb stroked the length of your spine as you continued. 

“I forgive you, Hitoshi. For everything.” He stopped moving as he looked at you in surprise. You simply smiled at him. “Your apologies were genuine and so is your regret. I know you’re a good person and I forgive you, so please stop blaming yourself now.” 

“Thank you, Y/N. So much.” He pulled away ever so slightly, feelings of guilt still flooding him. “But I feel like I still don’t deserve it though--”

A noise of protest bubbled up at your throat. “I swear to god, if I hear the d-word come out of your mouth again, I’ll make you shut up.” After a moment’s pause, you tried to hide your laughter. “Heh. D-word.”

“Oh my god,” he said, his amusement escaping him. With his arms still around your waist, he challenged, “How would you make me shut up?”

You wiggled your eyebrows. “Wouldn’t you like to know.” 

Hitoshi laughed a genuine laugh that you haven’t heard in years. The deep rumble had a smile of your own forming on your lips. 

But the mood turned serious when you gazed into his eyes again.

“Really, though…” you said, squeezing the fabric at his sides. “I’m sorry you’ve been feeling this way for so long without telling anyone. I hope you know you can always talk to me.” 

He tilted his head back, staring at your ceiling as you caught sight of his Adam’s apple. “Why are you being so nice to me after how much I hurt you?”

“Because I care about you,” you answered simply. “And I know you still care about me. You wouldn’t be this hung up over everything if you didn’t.” 

There was a sort of smugness in you as you teased him and he let out a breath of laughter. 

“Hah. I do. I care about you. And I’ve missed you so much.” 

You didn’t think it was possible, but he hugged you even closer to him. Your arms released their embrace on Hitoshi as you brought them to your sides. He looked down at you with a strange expression.

“I’ve missed you, too,” you admitted, squeezing your eyes shut as if it pained you. “You’re the first and only person I’ve ever loved and I miss you more than you could ever know.” 

Your head was bowed at his chest as you tried to steady your trembling hands by grasping the fabric at the front of his shirt.

“Why did you never call me? Why didn’t you tell me you were moving to another continent? Toshi, I loved you so much--” Your voice broke off as the tears you were holding in escaped you. “Why did you leave me?” 

His fingers were laced in your hair, holding you tight. He wanted nothing more than to soothe your tears and hated himself for being the cause of them. “I’m an insecure idiot who fucked up the best thing that ever happened to him.” 

Through the blur of tears, you saw the wistful look on his face. The best thing? you thought to yourself, touched. 

“No amount of apologizing is going to fix anything,” he said, accepting it as a fact, “but I am so sorry. And I want you to know I’m grateful the person who AirDropped me that day was you.”

He lifted your chin and wiped your tears away with the pad of his thumb. Your knees were touching his thighs as you sat down with your legs folded under you, facing him. Letting go of the grip you had on his shirt, you unballed your fists and instead rested your palms on his chest.

You grinned at the audacity of it all. “I still can’t believe that happened. But I’m glad it did, too.”

“Must be a small world.”

“Or maybe it’s fate.” Your hand found his as you interlocked pinkies with him bashfully. 

Hitoshi looked down at your interlaced fingers and a light dusting of pink colored his cheeks. A sense of enjoyment filled you as he continued to blush, a teasing grin playing on your face. 

Before you lost any courage you had, you pressed your lips against the corner of his mouth-- Not quite a kiss but most definitely an invitation for one.

The red on his cheeks died down as his eyes darkened in color, removing his hand from your waist to cup your jaw. Hitoshi’s palm was warm and soft against you and you leaned into his caress.

“Do you feel like you got the closure you needed?” he asked, his voice a whisper as he leaned close to you. 

“Yes.” You nodded, painfully aware of your close proximity. If you were to lift your head up any more, your lips would brush against his. “Do you?”

“Yes.” 

His forehead was pressed against yours and your heart was being so hard, you were certain Hitoshi could hear it from his spot in front of you.

After a moment’s silence, you said, “Now what?” 

He shrugged, eyes shut. “That’s up to you to decide. I’m happy with doing whatever will make you happiest. And if that means leaving you alone and letting you close this chapter, then I--”

You yelped, silencing him with a gentle shove on the chest.

“Are you crazy?” you asked incredulously. “You think I would ever let you go again?” There was frustration in your voice as you resisted the temptation to kiss the stupidity out of him. “I… I mean, unless that’s what you want?” 

“Y/N…” Now he was the one with the tone of disbelief, like he couldn’t wrap his mind around what you had just said. “I’d want to stay with you. For as long as you’d let me.”

“O-Oh?” Your eyes widened in shock, but soon settled into an ecstatic smile. “Fate must have done us a favor with all this AirDrop stuff, huh? I fell for you all those years ago as Shinsou, and I fell for you again without even knowing who you were. There’s no way I’d throw that chance away.” 

Tired of waiting for him to make the first move, you brought your hands to the back of his neck, and lifted your head up to meet his. You spotted an amused look on his face, but it didn’t last very long when your lips finally pressed against his with a contented sigh.

His movements were gentle and slow, like he was afraid if he kissed you any harder he would find this was only an illusion that would shatter. But it wasn’t. It was real and it was genuine and you wanted to prove it to him. 

You broke away from his touch to pepper chaste kisses on his jawline, starting at the lobe of his ear and making your way down to the sensitive part of his throat you knew would drive him crazy, your hot breath blowing against his neck as a guttural sound escaped him.

“Eager, are we?” he asked hoarsely, his chin lifted. 

You grinned mischievously against him.

“As much as I appreciate the gesture,” said Hitoshi, gently pushing you away with a roguish glint in his eyes, “you don’t always have to keep giving. You should be spoiled for a change.”

You squealed when his hands trailed down your sides to cup the undersides of your thighs, lifting you up as you sat down on his lap. His hands unclasped the button that fastened his coat on you and brushed the collar aside, exposing the supple skin on your upper chest.

“You should be spoiled,” he breathed in between each kiss he planted on your decolletage, “every day of your life.”

Your face burned at the implication of his words, the skin his mouth had touched feeling like they were searing hot. Though his jacket had fallen off your shoulders, you were still overwhelmed by his scent, the woodsy citrus filling your senses as you sighed his name and you still couldn’t get enough. He was more intoxicating than any vodka you had consumed earlier that night. 

Growing impatient at his teasing, you squirmed on his lap, causing him to hiss in response. 

You giggled at his expression and stuck your tongue out at him. “Just kiss me already.”

Tossing his inhibitions to the side, he obliged. 

When your lips met again, this time it wasn’t uncertain and gentle. Each move Hitoshi made was firm and deliberate and if you weren’t already sitting down, your knees would have gone weak and given in.

His teeth grazed your lower lip and he kissed you harder, and your hands found themselves tangled underneath the hem of his shirt. The skin on your arms filled with goosebumps as he mimicked your motions, his fingers toying with the clasp of your bra as his name escaped your lips once more in a strangled moan.

Before it could go any further, however, Hitoshi removed his hands from the band of your undergarments and slowly pulled away from your kiss. 

His face was flushed with beads of sweat falling down the side and his breathing was labored. You were certain you weren’t any better as you rested your forehead against his to steady yourself. 

“Why’d you stop?” you asked with a strained voice, giving him your best pleading eyes.

“It’s late and you need some rest, baby.” He pressed a soft kiss to your nose with a smile. “I don’t want to stop--believe me,” he promised, his hands squeezing your thighs that still straddled his lap, “but I also don’t want you to rush into anything you might regret.” 

You pouted, not wanting him to stop, but also feeling grateful he wanted to make sure you weren’t going to do anything you would regret the next day.

“Damn you for being such a gentleman,” you grumbled. 

He ran the tip of his tongue against his lower lip. It was plump and red and it took all your willpower not to kiss it again.

“Only sometimes, princess,” he said when he noticed how your gaze zeroed in on his mouth. “But for now, you should get ready for bed. The sun is almost rising already.” 

Hitoshi made a move to get up and you slowly unwrapped your legs from his hips, standing up shakily. He placed his hands on your hips to help you steady yourself, but that just made the weakness worse. 

Still holding you, he stood up from the couch and looked down at you, resting his chin on the top of your head as you hugged him. 

“You’re leaving?” you whimpered, a pout on your face. 

“Sadly,” he sighed. “I have work tomorrow. Well, in a few hours I suppose. But if you need me to stay I--”

“Oh, my god!” you cried, jumping away from him. “You have work? And yet you still came for me and let me keep you this whole time?! Toshi!” 

You folded your arms across your chest as you scolded him, but he just ruffled your hair playfully. 

“It was the least I could do,” said Hitoshi. “And I’m used to running on little to no sleep. It’s fine, don’t worry about me.” 

“It’s not fine! If you don’t get enough sleep this week I will smother you until you pass out.” You glared at him, holding his face between your hands and examining his tired eyes. Your gaze softened when you saw how sleepy he looked and thought about how well he hid it from everyone. You sighed. “And I think you’re a lot more selfless and caring than you give yourself credit for.” 

You kissed the apples of his cheeks and smoothed his brows. 

“Thank you for tonight,” you said. “You should get going.”

“No, you’re the one I should be thanking,” he replied, giving you one last embrace before getting ready to head towards the door. 

Both of your legs felt like lead, neither of you wanting to leave the other after years of being apart. With a smile, he moved towards the door. 

In silence, you examined him for the first time in four years. He was taller than before-- Bulkier, too. It looked like he worked out since he was in college, his plain shirt stretching against his pectoral muscles. 

But still, he was the same Shinsou Hitoshi you had always loved. 

You glanced at his bared arms and your eyes widened. “Oh, wait--! Your coat!” 

It had fallen off your shoulders and onto the floor during the heat of the moment, and you picked it up and brought it to him. As you held it out, his hands wrapped your outstretched ones around the fabric of his sweater. 

“No, it’s okay,” he said with a shake of his head and a small grin on his lips. “You should keep it. It suits you.”

You raised an eyebrow at him in warning, but hugged the coat to your body nonetheless. “I hope you know this means I’m never giving it back to you now.” 

Hitoshi laughed. “I figured.”

He was about to grab the door knob when you blurted, “O-Or maybe I could give it back to you! If we were to, I don’t know, meet up for some food this week?” 

Turning back in surprise, he was met with a look of utter embarrassment on your face. Your cheeks felt like they were on fire. 

You bit your lip, unsure what had just come over you when you asked him on a date but also not regretting it for a moment. 

“Only if you want,” you murmured, suddenly feeling more bashful. 

Taking the hint, Hitoshi looked at you with a mix of wonder and amusement. “Sure. I’ll get some food with you just to have my coat back.” 

You gasped, cheeks burning. “You know what? Never mind, I’m keeping this--!”

“I’m kidding,” he laughed, tone still teasing. “The jacket is just a bonus. What I’d really be there for is...the food.”

You buried your head in your hands and sighed. “I-- Why do I have to like you?” 

He shrugged, feeling just as lost as you were. “Because feelings are strange.” 

“They are,” you agreed. “But they’re worth it. And so are you.”

Hitoshi smiled as you gave him a gentle kiss goodnight. 

“Have a safe drive home, Toshi.”

“Thank you. Go get some sleep now, kitten. We can talk when you wake up.” 

You nodded feverishly, almost bouncing in anticipation at the thought of talking to him again. “I’m going to sleep right now so I wake up faster and get to talk to you sooner.”

A chuckle of surprise left his lips before he could stop himself. “You’re such a dork, you know? But I love that about you.”

Your face heated at the sound of the l-word as the two of you stared at each other, both in shock that the night happened and even happier that it did. 

“I… I should go now,” he said in a daze. He didn’t want to leave and you didn’t want him to, but you knew he had work soon. 

You nodded, waving at him as he left your house. “See you soon, Hitoshi.”

When the door closed shut behind him, you slumped a little. Tired and exhausted yet wishing you could see him soon. Though it might have been foolish, you couldn’t help but wish he was feeling the same.

Grabbing your phone on the coffee table, you unlocked it to check the time. You were about to shut it off and put it in your pocket when a notification bubble popped up on your screen.

“AirDrop: mememate would like to share a note,” it read, and a grin spread across your lips as you eagerly pressed accept. 

The notepad application immediately opened up on your phone and you read the small message on the off-white display.

mememate: can’t wait for our date, y/n. p.s. i really really like you.

Letting out a surprised cry of joy, you held your phone to your chest, hugging it along with Hitoshi’s jacket he had left you. 

From the other side of the door, Hitoshi had heard your scream and responded with a laugh of his own. A feeling of warmth in his heart as he placed his phone in his pocket and headed for his car. Thank goodness for AirDrop. 

Your heart was pounding and your lips were still pulsing from the way he kissed you. Even as you got ready for bed and drifted off into a restful sleep, the silly smile never fell from your face. 

You were grateful he came to get you at the nightclub, and you were grateful he was the recipient of your memes that day at the amusement park. 

He made mistakes in the past and you were no saint either, but you had an opportunity to heal those wounds and be with Hitoshi again. 

And you just couldn’t wait for your next date together. 

a/n: AHHH THAT WAS A LOT,, pls let me know what you think! i know some readers never want to forgive shinsou at all and that’s okay, but i do think y/n forgives him and still really cares about him [and maybe l-words him? o.o] so i hope u support it 🥺 ilysm and thank you for reading! lmk ur thoughts !! xx 

[comfortbucky]

Hey! Can i request a cold, lonely ex-hydra reader × bucky who falls in love with her. Adding some panic attacks and nightmares of the reader.

i love this idea!!! thank u for submitting🥰

𝗼𝗽𝗲𝗻 𝗶𝗻𝘃𝗶𝘁𝗲 ⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆ ｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚ ⋆

pairing: avenger!bucky x ex-HYDRA!fem!reader

tags: enemies(?) to lovers, angst (if u squint), soft!bucky

warnings: canon level violence, description of injuries, blood is mentioned, panic attacks, anxiety, nightmares

A/N: i just came up with a random name for the HYDRA leader the reader is after🤣 so just ,,, ignore // also!!!! i tried out a different writing style than what i’m used to! hope u don’t mind🥺 just been feeling like a lot of my writing is the same and wanted to try something new!!!

word count: 3.5k (this is so long LMAO sorry 😭 literally why am i like this)

my masterlist!

completed requests!

The suit that you once considered a second skin, now felt uncomfortable and constricting, like a python squeezing the life out of you. Although, it made sense since the very organization of the uniform you were wearing did exactly that.

HYDRA.

For so long you were just another mindless pawn to them, just doing without every actually thinking. Unlike your younger brother, Alex. They indoctrinated him as well, getting a hold of both of you from a young age, but he was there when Captain America took down S.H.I.E.L.D. and it changed his entire worldview. You found everything he said about “freedom” to be stupid, naive, and dangerous. And you would later prove yourself correct.

You pull yourself from your thoughts as a group of HYDRA soldiers walk past the shrubbery you hid behind. Quickly and quietly, you get up and join them as they march towards the HYDRA base. As soon as you get inside, you manage to slip away from the rest of the group to search for your target.

Since HYDRA took the possibility of you ever having a normal life away, as far as you were concerned, your only purpose in life was to kill the man who was at the center of it all, Viktor Cross. And after months of tracking him down, formulating the perfect plan, that’s exactly what you were going to do today.

You make your way towards one of the main lab facilities, gun in hand when you see several unconscious guards lying on the floor in front of you. Shifting your gaze up, you see that the door has been ripped open, grip marks on the sides.

This was not part of the plan.

As you squeeze through the open door and enter the lab, you come to a halt, frozen in shock. There’s your target, Viktor, shoved against the wall by none other than Captain America himself. You almost let out a chuckle in disbelief at the irony of the situation. Instead, you take a step forward, and the glass cracks beneath your feet, alerting the men of your presence.

Shit.

Immediately, both sets of eyes are on you. Viktor’s lips curve into a smirk as you make your way to them.

“Agent- Miss Y/N,” he corrects himself. “What a pleasant surprise.” You ignore him and look to address Steve Rogers, AKA Captain America.

“Let him go and give him to me,” you start, Steve eyeing you cautiously. “So I can kill him,” you snarl, quickly turning to Viktor to see that his smirk had been wiped off his face.

“Aren’t you HYDRA?” He questions, nodding to your suit and eliciting a cackle from Viktor.

“Not anymore,” you mumble, before lifting a leg to kick Steve in his side. You hit him across the face with the end of your gun for good measure. He stumbles over, giving you enough time to grab Viktor’s collar, before he falls to the floor, and slam him back against the wall. His eyes are full of desperation and you felt nothing but pure, burning rage. You shove the barrel of your gun under his chin and place your hand on the trigger.

“You were such a gifted agent, Y/N. Don’t throw away such potential, come back.”

“Go to hell.”

Before you could pull the trigger, a force propels you to the ground and you feel a sharp pain in your side. Silence and then ringing fills your eyes as you squint your eyes to try and visualize the situation. Your vision is blurry, but clear enough to clouds of smoke engulf Viktor’s figure as he escapes. A muffled voice from behind you speaks, but you can’t make out any of the words they’re saying. You look down to see red. Just crimson red, staining your abdomen. Hands land on your shoulders, shaking you gently as your vision fades to black.

Viktor is in front of you, the barrel of his gun directed right at your head. He smirks as he moves his hand to the trigger.

“Hail, HYDRA.”

A gunshot goes off, forcing you to shoot up in bed, gasping for air. As you start to regain your senses, you realize you’re surrounded by a group of strangers. Well, not complete strangers, the Avengers to be exact. Part of your job required you to study their files, learn everything about them. You could recite from memory where and when they were born, their greatest strengths and weaknesses. Suddenly, your side starts to burn with pain, and you carefully lean back in bed. There’s an array of wires and tubes connected to you and you hear the rhythmic beeping of various machines. You’re in a hospital, or some sort of medical facility.

“That, is exactly why I said we should use restraints.”

You’re staring at the ceiling when you hear Iron Man, AKA Tony Stark, speak.

“Tony, she lost a liter of blood, she’s not going anywhere.”

Steve appears in your view, looking down at you.

“Hey, you’re okay. You’re safe.”

You shift your gaze away from him. The last thing you expected to come out of this mission was to meet the Avengers, let alone them save you.

Steve sighs, “We’re not gonna hurt you. We wanna find Viktor too.”

There’s nothing he could say that could get you to speak. Your hatred for HYDRA didn’t mean you suddenly liked the Avengers. If anything, they were part of the problem too, so you stay silent.

“Told you, she’s not gonna talk,” Tony quips. From your research, you had come to learn that he was an arrogant man, and his statement only proved you right. “Maybe you should get Manchurian Candidate to come down, give her an ex-HYDRA buddy,” he says sarcastically.

Upon hearing “ex-HYDRA buddy,” you furrow your brows. Maybe it was the lack of blood in your body, but it took you a second to process his words and understand who he was referring to. Your eyes dart back to look at Steve’s but he’s gone.

“I’ll be back.” His voice trails off as he exits the room.

You’re still staring at the ceiling when you hear footsteps return and then several others departing.

There’s only one other person in the room beside you. Without even looking up, you already know who it is. His breathing was slow and steady until you started to shift in bed to reposition yourself. His breath hitched for a moment, before returning back to his normal breathing pattern.

“Killing him isn’t gonna make you feel better.” His comment makes you roll your eyes as you slowly sit up to look at him. There were no logical thoughts in your head, all you could feel was pain and fury. Anger swelled within you, your emotions boiling over.

“That’s rich, coming from the Fist of HYDRA,” you spat out. As soon as the words left your mouth, you felt your stomach drop. It was an unfamiliar feeling, one you hadn’t felt in a while. What was it? Regret?

Bucky’s face fell but he kept his eyes on you. It was a look that made you feel worse, worse than the searing pain in your side.

“I’m not a killer anymore,” he said in a tone so gentle, you felt another strange, new emotion but couldn’t quite label it. You quickly shift gears to avoid addressing the uncomfortable feelings swirling around in your stomach.

“Are you keeping me hostage to lure Viktor in? Because it's not going to work." Bucky shook his head.

"We want..." he trailed off, causing you to tilt your head in curiosity. “We need your help finding him.” You scoffed.

“What do I get out of it?” Bucky’s silence gave you your answer. Shaking your head, you start to disconnect yourself from the multitude of wires attached to you and get out of bed.

“You’re gonna hurt yourself,” he started, as you threw off your blanket and sat on the edge of the bed.

Standing up quickly, the blood from your head pooled in your legs, causing you to feel dizzy. Your head spun and your arms reached out for something, anything stable to grab onto. It was a metal hand. Despite it being cool to the touch, it ignited a heat to rise to your cheeks. You look down and mumble a thank you as Bucky helps you back into bed.

Letting out a sigh, you realize with the condition you’re in, you can’t leave. Definitely not well enough to go after Viktor alone. Shutting your eyes and pinching the bridge of your nose, you curse under your breath.

“Fine,” you finally speak, keeping your eyes closed. Bucky nods, even though you don’t see, and you hear him walk off.

After a couple days of rest, you were cleared by Bruce to get discharged. Viktor had gone deep in hiding, making your job to find him a lot harder. Tony had so graciously given you an extra room in the tower, right next to Bucky’s. He was probably the one person you saw the most, purely due to location, and the fact that everyone else cautiously kept their distance from you. It made sense though, since you rarely spoke to anyone and spent most of your time in the lab looking for any clues of Viktor’s location. When you weren’t searching for him, you were training in the gym. Bucky was there a lot too, both of you waking up at ungodly hours of the morning. No words were ever exchanged between the two of you, and yet, there was some level of comfort you felt being around him. Must’ve been an ex-HYDRA thing.

“What’s on your mind?” You walk over to Alex and sit on the edge of the bed next to him. He sighs.

“What if,” he starts, furrowing his brows. “What if freedom is good?” He speaks quietly, fearful of HYDRA listening in on your conversation.

It feels like you’ve got the wind knocked out of you.

“Alex,” you grab him by the shoulders. “What the hell are you talking about?” You’re searching his eyes, trying to understand what’s gotten into him.

“Captain America.” The biggest threat to HYDRA’s existence. He looks down at his hands. “He was willing to risk his life for it. It has to be worth something right?” Alex looks back up to you with a look in his eyes that you haven’t seen since you were children. Uncertainty. You sigh and pull him into your chest, stroking his hair.

“I don’t know, kiddo. Maybe.”

You wake up in a cold sweat, panting. Hot tears fall from the corners of your eyes. It’s the same dream you’ve had for the last week. Although, you wouldn’t consider it a dream necessarily, but it wasn’t a nightmare either. Just a bittersweet memory.

Bucky could tell that something was up with you for the past week. Despite having gone through a bit of therapy, Steve’s idea, the nightmares still came to him. So Bucky was already wide awake when he heard your weeping on the other side of the wall. It didn’t help that he was also a light sleeper with super-soldier hearing. He didn’t know what was causing you to be so upset, but he didn’t want to intrude and ask. Neither of you had spoken to the other since you first arrived.

But this night was different from the rest. Usually, you would flip endlessly through channels on ur TV until you eventually fell asleep, but it wasn’t working this time. There’s a tight pain in your chest and suddenly, you’re suffocating. You rip off your covers and spring out of bed, tripping on your blankets along the way. At this point, you don’t even register the pain of slamming down, face-first on the ground. Panic has taken over your body, tears now streaming down your face. You squeeze your eyes shut, hoping for relief.

He wasn’t planning on doing anything until he heard a loud thud from your room. Immediately, Bucky gets up and arrives at your door. It’s rude to just barge into someone’s room, his mom taught him that from a young age, so he settles on knocking. You don’t hear it though, the only sound you hear is the sound of your rapid breathing as you hyperventilate. Bucky hears it too and ultimately decides on inviting himself into your room.

“Y/N?”

You’re lying on your side, curled up in a fetal position with your hands covering your face, when Bucky opens the door. He quickly arrives by your side, kneeling beside you, as he examines you for any injuries.

“Are you hurt?”

You manage to shake your head in response, anxiety still flowing through your veins. Unfortunately, Bucky’s familiar with panic attacks, having had them himself. But he also knows that everyone deals with them a bit differently. Guess he did manage to learn some useful things from therapy.

“Can you try breathing with me?”

He starts to take deep breaths in and out until he sees you start to follow along with him, your hands still covering your face. There’s a part of you that feels stupid for keeping them there, but they help ground you, so you continue to shield your face. After what feels like an hour, but was probably only 10 minutes, your panic subsides. That’s when a wave of embarrassment hits you, realizing that it had been Bucky with you during your panic attack.

Slowly removing your hands from your face, you’re greeted by piercing blue eyes. You blink a couple times, realizing that Bucky had taken a spot on the ground, lying on his side to face you, his hands pressed together under his head like a pillow. He smiles and you feel warm. It’s terrifying, the new feelings that Bucky has caused you to feel and yet, you don’t mind.

“You feelin’ better?” You nod and smile back, something you haven’t genuinely done in a while.

“Thank you, Bucky.”

You stare at each other in silence, lying side by side. There’s no physical touch involved but somehow, this moment, it feels intimate. Bucky breaks the silence.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” He speaks in a voice so soft, it almost sounded like a whisper.

It might’ve been the fact that he just calmed you down from a panic attack, but as you looked into his eyes, you felt the walls you had built up for the last year slowly come crashing down.

“He killed my brother,” you reply, maintaining your eyes on Bucky. You searched his eyes for any fear or pity, but all you could find was a look of understanding. His eyes were starting to become a safe place for you.

“Alex was there when Steve took down S.H.I.E.L.D., HYDRA along with it. He wanted out, out of the organization.” Taking a deep breath, you continue. “Word got around about a “rat,” so I took the blame. Viktor was about to shoot me when Alex’s dumbass ran in front of me, sacrificing himself.” You let out a chuckle, your vision getting blurry as tears swelled in your eyes. “He was a goddamn idiot, but he also had a heart of gold.”

As you start to cry, Bucky hesitatingly extends an arm to hover over your body, trying to gauge your reaction. Physical touch was something he struggled with during the beginning of his recovery, and he didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable. He’s reassured when you grab onto his shirt and pull yourself closer to him, and wraps an arm around you, his other hand softly stroking your head.

You hadn’t cried like this since Alex died, bottling up all of your emotions to focus on finding the man responsible for his death. But as you sobbed into Bucky’s chest, you realize that your love for Alex had transformed into an ugly, burning hatred for Viktor. He wouldn’t want this. You didn’t want it, at least, not anymore. The only thing you wanted was your brother back, and that was impossible.

Bucky held you in his arms until you fell asleep, listening to the sounds of your slow, rhythmic breathing, dozing off shortly after.

That night with Bucky had softened your cold, hard exterior that you initially presented yourself with. You would willingly spar with Nat in the training room and join the team for breakfast or dinner. Everyone noticed and, while at first thrown off by it, happily embraced it. Especially Bucky.

Initially, he got up to work out in the early hours of the morning as a habit. Now, he woke up to see you. His heart did flips in his chest every time he walked in the gym and saw you. Since that night, you started to acknowledge his presence, turning to smile and wave as he walked through the doors. It was something he looked forward to every day.

During the day, you were focused hard on tracking down Viktor and Bucky knew that. But he also knew he wanted to spend more time with you. He looked for reasons to enter the lab, whether it was offering snacks to you throughout the day or helping Bruce or, even Tony. Anything to see you again.

Bucky realized that there was a deeper, stronger emotion that he felt for you when he would wake up in the middle of the night from a nightmare. The first thing he thought about was you. Specifically, how you were the only thing that could possibly calm him down. Although he’d come in that night to help you with your panic attack, you ended up helping him as well. He hadn’t slept as soundly and peacefully as he did with you. And you hadn’t either. There were several nights when neither of you could sleep and ended up running into each other. It slowly became a routine that would begin in the kitchen, exchanging life stories, and end on the couch in the common area, entangled in each other’s arms.

Tonight you didn’t show up and Bucky panicked. He stared at the kitchen clock. It had been 20 minutes and you still hadn’t shown up. Bucky racked his brain for anything he could’ve done to scare you off, but came up with nothing. It wasn’t like you two had been officially together, Bucky had no idea what you were to each other. All he knew is that he wanted to be with you, always.

You were soundly asleep in bed, passing out as soon as your head hit the pillow. It was a particularly physically exhausting day for you, training with both Nat and Steve.

Bucky was so caught up with the thoughts racing through his head, he hadn’t noticed that his feet had taken him right to your door. He stands there for a moment, silently debating what to do. Grumbling under his breath, he musters up the courage to knock on your door. Right as he was about to turn away and shuffle off to his room, your door opens. You greet him with a yawn and a tired smile.

“Oh, hey Bucky.”

He looks at the bags under your eyes and feels instant regret wash over him, realizing that you weren’t avoiding him, but just getting some sleep.

“Sorry,” he looks down at his feet. You frown and place a hand on his cheek to lift his head up.

“Something wrong?” He avoids your gaze, partially because he’s embarrassed and partially because his cheeks were turning red because of your touch.

“No.” You cross your arms and let out a sigh.

“You’re a bad liar.” It’s his turn to sigh, as he scratches the back of his head.

“You didn’t come to the kitchen,” he lets out, in almost a whisper. It hits you. You were so tired, you had completely forgotten about your nightly tradition. “It’s stupid, sorry. I shouldn’t have woken you up," he mumbles. Bucky begins to walk off but you grab his hand. When he turns to look at you, his brows are raised at your touch.

As you start to speak, you pull him close, facing you. “It’s not stupid.” His hands move to hold your waist as yours move to wrap around his neck. You pause, an idea popping into your head. “I’m kind of tired from training today, wanna just come sleep with me?” He nods and you drag him to your bed, nestling into his arms as he holds you to his chest, his chin resting above your head. You tilt your head back to see him looking down at you. There’s a fluttering feeling in your chest and you smile.

“Just for future reference, you have an open invitation to cuddle with me, anytime.” Bucky chuckles at your offer.

“I’ll keep that in mind, doll.”

Bucky cups your face in his hand and you nuzzle your cheek in his palm. His eyes dart down to your lips before returning to your eyes.

Then, the most delicate, sweetest kiss you’ve ever received is on your lips.

You flutter your eyes open as you both pull apart. He quickly kisses your nose before pulling you back into his chest, speaking softly.

“And you have an open invitation to kiss me, anytime.”

[untaemedqueen]

Third Wheeling

CEO!Yoongi x Reader

Genre: Strangers to Lovers!AU, Angst, Fluff, Smut

Chapter 17.

Warnings (Updating Still): Smut, Cheating, Unexpected Pregnancy, Unfaithful, Emotional Damage, Love

Warnings For This Chapter: Angst, Excessive Cursing, Fluff, Lactation Kink, Degradation (Cock Slut, Slut, Whore), Daddy Kink, Reverse Cowgirl, Possessive!Yoongi, Doggy Style, Praise, Controlled Orgasms, Begging, Multiple Orgasms, Squirting, Cream Pie, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles Pun

A/N: A huge gigantic and hearty thank you to my girls as always @xjoonchildx​, @ladyartemesia​, @ppersonna​. I really wouldn’t get chapters done without them.

Days have bled into weeks. The large guest house has been lived in for far too long, or so you think.

It might just be the August heat getting to you, but you've started to hate the guest house.

"Where's my little dove?" Yoongi asks, taking his suit jacket off.

You know for a fact that the CEO is adoring this. He loves being able to be holed up in here with you and his child. He loves that no one bothers with you both, you're both able to carry on like normal people. But your hormones are making you go stir crazy.

When Yoongi smiles at you with his perfect teeth, you can feel your annoyance dissipating in the slightest.

He then frowns when you give him a half assed smile. "What's wrong? Who am I firing?" he asks, wrapping his arms around you.

Your five month belly presses into his stomach, and his eyes flutter shut gratefully.

"I'm sick of being in this fucking house." you grumble into his neck as he holds you tightly.

He sighs gently, he's been waiting for you to speak your mind. He's seen how annoyed you've been lately. He notices everything about you.

"I know, little dove. I'm sorry." he apologizes, rubbing your belly and planting a gentle kiss to your temple.

"I want to go and set up the nursery! I want to paint! I want to be able to go somewhere else besides this stupid gated community!" you complain, running your hand under your growing bump and situating it there.

Your boyfriend sighs, nodding. "I know you do, baby. I'm working hard to make that happen. I'm sorry it's not going fast enough for you and Sesame." he says, tilting your chin to look up at him.

"What if I eat your pussy? Will that make you feel better?" he suggests softly.

"No! It won't make me feel better! Because I'll be laying on the same bed I've been laying on for months, that isn't my own bed." you insist with a whine.

"Mommy's angry," he quips to your stomach, walking around the bar and pouring himself a glass of whisky.

You groan loudly, squeezing your fists out of irritation.

"If I have to look at another cat of nine tails or a flogger situated artistically on the wall, I'm going to blow up this house!" you threaten, pressing your hand to your side as your baby kicks inside of you.

The CEO chuckles above the lip of his glass, eyes softening at how you lean against the marble bar.

"You okay, little dove?" he asks, raising an eyebrow.

"No, the baby keeps kicking because they hate it in here as much as I do!" you whine.

Yoongi laughs gently, bringing the whisky glass to his lips. "I know. I'm working hard to make sure Myeyoung has enough in her account to cushion her fall when I file for the divorce." he promises.

You roll your eyes, huffing out loudly as you lean against the bar.

"You look pretty, practically glowing with my heir inside you," he offers.

You pout up at your boyfriend, the overwhelming urge to cry coursing through your body.

"It's just your hormones, baby. I know." he whispers, rounding the bar and pulling you into his arms.

"I just want to lay in my own bed, go in my own art studio, go in the nursery!" you sob, burying your face into his white dress shirt.

He coos gently, running his hand over your upper back comfortably. "I know, little dove, I kn-"

There's a knock at the guest house door, that draws both of your attention.

"Sir?!" the voice belongs to Maya and she sounds absolutely nervous.

"What's wrong?" he calls back, watching as she opens the door.

"Your grandmother is here." she announces, her hands fidgeting nervously with her tight bun.

"Oh fuck!" he curses loudly, grabbing the glass of whisky and downing it all in one gulp.

His hands cup your face, pulling you to look up at him. "I know your hormones are raging right now, I know you're uncomfortable here in the guest house. But, I need you to meet my grandmother. Okay?" he asks nervously, wiping his thumbs over your tear stained cheeks.

"But… I… Fine," you breathe out.

"Thank you, little dove. Thank you! Just be yourself. You're going to do fine!" he insists, grabbing his suit jacket and shrugging it on quickly.

You can tell how frightened he is and you need to pull it together. From what you heard about his grandmother from him, she's always given second hand doting. Meaning that she has always told him how loved he is without showing him any actual caring or affection. It just seems like he's never been loved in his life besides Maya.

From what you know Min Seyoung is a sharp, smart woman with a tongue as quick as a whip.

Turning to the mirror, you smooth out your summer dress, tilting your head at the reasonably large bump that protrudes.

"This is going to be… eventful." he hisses, pulling your hand.

At least you won't have to be in the guest house for now.

The mansion is a sight for sore eyes. Of course, you've seen it on your daily walks. You've entered it when Jin and Sera weren't home but you haven't lived in it in what feels like forever.

You're grateful when Jisoo hands you a strawberry sparkling water, knocking the summer heat straight out of your bones.

"Where is she?" Yoongi inquires, tucking his dress shirt into his pants.

"In your office." Mays says, handing him a glass of whisky quickly.

"Thank you. Come on, little dove. My grandmother doesn't like to be kept waiting." he rushes you.

You've honestly forgotten what nervousness feels like these past few months. You haven't had to worry about a damn thing, but now with Yoongi tapping his fingers to his thighs rhythmically, you remember it all too well.

Each step up the marble stairs sends your body flitting and coursing with nerves. The way he runs his fingers through his hair, the way he sips his whisky is something far beyond what you've ever seen. His back muscles are tense through his suit jacket, the base of his hairline already sweating and you know it's not from the heat outside.

Standing in front of the office door, you swallow thickly as Yoongi takes a deep breath. His hand lingers on the doorknob for a second before he's shoving it open.

"Grandmother," he announces curtly.

The woman is older, her skin practically wrinkle free. There are a few frown lines by her mouth but other than that her skin is smooth. When she looks at her grandson, her eyes soften just the slightest degree but nothing else changes. She doesn't smile. She doesn't even acknowledge your presence.

"I haven't seen you in five months," she huffs.

Her voice is that of irritation and disbelief.

"I've been busy. This is Y/N." Yoongi says, pressing his hand to your lower back comfortingly.

Her eyes zone in on you in a second, fingernails tapping incessantly to the desk beneath them. As she looks you over you can feel yourself becoming smaller, wanting to hide anywhere.

"Yes. Your grandfather told me all about Y/N. Sit." she instructs.

Yoongi nods a fraction, pulling your chair out for you. Your knees shake as you sit, a gentle hand placing on your stomach feeling your child kick inside of you.

"She's pretty," his grandmother surmises.

"Yes, she is." the CEO agrees with a gentle smirk.

You look down at your lap, feeling awkward and confused.

"Maya tells me that you live here still, but both of your beds haven't been slept in for a long time. Where have you gone?" she inquires.

Well she's not shy in the least.

"To the guest house, we've been staying there." Yoongi answers honestly, sipping his whisky.

"Why? Are you not pleased with Sera? You've gotten some random poor girl pregnant and just forgotten all about her?" she goads.

You cringe at the sharpness of her voice, holding your stomach tighter. When Yoongi notices, he doesn't take kindly to how uncomfortable you are.

"She's not some poor girl, she's my girlfriend. And I haven't been pleased with Sera since the day I married that leech."

His grandmother scoffs loudly. "Your girlfriend? Are you twelve? You need a girlfriend? What's suddenly changed in your dynamic?"

"I fell in love." Yoongi replies quickly.

You take sharp breath through your nose, you've never spoken those words to each other yet.

"Oh please," his grandmother mumbles, rolling her eyes.

"Grandmother, I'm sorry but I don't know what you're doing here." your boyfriend says, folding his arms.

"When you never even notified us that an article came out about you, that was evidence enough that your girlfriend has warped your mind. What is it exactly that you think you're going to do? Divorce Sera? Live happily ever after with Y/N in this mansion?"

"Yes in fact! I do think that! I deserve it!" Yoongi cries out, gripping tighter onto his glass.

You do not want to be here. You can barely contain the squeak that tries to leave your lips as his grandmother slams her hand down on the desk.

"We have given you what you deserved! And you're throwing it away!" she retorts, narrowing her eyes at you. "Anything to say?!"

"Don't speak to her like that! She isn't someone that you can think so lowly of! She's pregnant with my baby! My heir! She's the love of my life!" Yoongi yells, slamming his glass down onto the desk.

When you look over at him, you can see the neck veins jutting out of his skin. His face is pink with anger and you cower at how furious he is.

"If you think for one second we're going to accept that baby, you've lost your min-"

"You have no choice! Sera is sterile! She isn't able to have kids! And I don't want anything to do with that leech cunt! I have everything I want!"

That news drops like a bomb. You had no idea. Your eyes flutter shut, hearing your heartbeat roaring in your ears.

"If that is true, you should leave the Min legacy to your other family. Not some poor-"

"I SAID STOP CALLING HER THAT!" Yoongi bellows, kicking his chair out from beneath him as he stands.

His grandmother leans back in her chair, her lips pursing while her eyes narrow.

"I have already drawn up divorce papers! I will file them! I will kick Sera out on her money grubbing ass! Y/N, is not leaving my side for a fucking second! She's my family! Unlike everyone else that's been around me since my childhood! She's not going anywhere!" he says, downing the rest of his whisky and slamming the glass back down onto the desk.

"Then you will lose your position as CEO," his grandmother says simply.

You open your mouth to refuse but Yoongi speaks first.

"You can try it. You can take it to the shareholders and request it but they know since I've been put in charge that our sales have gone up forty five percent. They know that I was able to pay them hundreds of thousands of dollars more for their holiday bonuses than any of the CEOs before me. They know that I get shit done. You wanted an heir and you fucking got one. Now you're not happy?! You're a hypocrite!" he scoffs, running his fingers through his hair.

"Little dove, go wait for me downstairs," he whispers, cupping your cheek.

"Stay where you are," his grandmother instructs and you're caught between the both of them.

Yoongi rounds your chair, pressing his hand to your growing belly. "There is no one in the world that is going to take my fucking family away from me. My baby, my heir -- means the world to me. This woman, this beautiful woman sitting in this chair -- has brought me more peace than should be allowed in one man's life. There is nothing you can do to me that will make me change my fucking mind." he seethes through his teeth.

His grandmother hums inquisitively, tapping her fingernails to the desk once more. "So what do you plan to do then?"

He starts to cool down, his boiling blood beginning to soothe. "I'm going to divorce Sera."

"When?" his grandmother prompts, putting her manicured hand beneath her chin.

"When I feel the time is right," he says confidently.

"Before the baby is born?" she inquires, raising an eyebrow and looking at your stomach.

"Yes." he breathes out.

"What's the gender?" his grandmother inquires.

"We don't know yet, we're finding out tomorrow."

"You better hope it's a boy." she murmurs, already bored of this tit for tat.

"I'll be happy with whatever Y/N gives me." he replies truthfully.

"We did not raise you this way, Yoongi. We raised you-"

"You didn't raise me. Maya did. My father burnt holes into my chest to try to teach me how to be a person and he learned that from your husband," Yoongi quips.

You close your eyes, feeling a headache already coming on.

"Oh my God," you whisper under your breath.

"And you, Y/N, what is your take on all of this?" his grandmother asks.

You're completely at odds, you've never dealt with anything like this in your life.

"Leave her out of thi-"

"I was not talking to you, Yoongi!"

He sighs softly, pressing his thumb and pinky finger to either temple.

So for once you just let everything go. "Mrs. Min, I'm very sorry if I've brought chaos into this house because of me being pregnant. But, I love your grandson very much. I know I'm not the perfect choice for a CEO but I've been working very hard to learn about what a woman has to do to take care of things on her end. I'm very happy to be with Yoongi and so happy we get to have a family together. I might not be like Sera, I might not come from money but I've never wanted Yoongi's money at all. I just want my baby to be loved and taken care of."

Yoongi runs his hands over his face, this is why he adores you. You're such a good girl.

"Oh dear lord, you're too sweet to even be angry at," his grandmother scoffs.

You can practically see the cogs turning in her head. Your boyfriend runs his thumb comfortingly over your bump but you're still nervous. The power this woman exudes could bring civilizations down.

"Well, what are your skills? You have to bring something to this family." she determines.

Your mouth opens to reply, is she accepting you?

"She's a wonderful painter!" Yoongi says quickly.

Min Seyoung tilts her head, running her hand over her long ponytail. "Show me." she orders.

He stands up straight within a second, fixing his suit jacket. "By all means," he replies, opening the office door for her.

You begin to frown, you don't show your paintings to anyone. It's just a hobby!

"I mean, they're okay they're not-"

"Van Gogh would adore them!" Yoongi compliments, watching his grandmother walk out first.

You sigh gently, earning eyes from your boyfriend. "It's okay, baby!" he mouths, holding his hand out to you.

You take his hand reluctantly, standing up slowly from the chair.

"Easy, little dove." he whispers.

Out of the corner of your eye, you can see his grandmother watching you both and it makes your legs shake out of nervousness once more.

"Her art studio is just on the second floor," Yoongi says, slinging his arm over your shoulders.

Min Seyoung hums, folding her arm beneath the other as she combs her fingers through her long black hair.

There is awkward silence while you walk down the stairs, your eyes lingering on the deadbolted room that first brought you and Yoongi together.

"It's just next to the nursery!" Yoongi says.

"I have to tell you Y/N. I take art very seriously." Yoongi's grandmother informs you.

Yoongi rolls his eyes, knowing she's just trying to make you nervous.

"You're going to be impressed," he promises.

She hums nonchalantly as you all stop in front of the art studio.

Your palms become sweaty, head swimming and you greedily chug the strawberry water to cool yourself down.

When the door is swung open, you bite on your bottom lip nervously.

Your done paintings line the east wall of the room while your unfinished ones line the west.

You've missed being in here, the faint smell of paint and paint thinner make you relax.

Seyoung folds her hands behind her back as she wades through the room. Her eyes narrow at your paintings and your breath catches in your throat.

"I-It's just a hobby… So…" you find yourself explaining.

"They're beautiful, baby." your boyfriend insists in your ear.

"Well," Seyoung says, tilting her head at the bird hanging from a bird feeder painting, "you do have skill."

Yoongi sighs gratefully, his shoulders straighten up and he kisses your temple softly.

"Why aren't these in art galleries?" his grandmother inquires.

Whoa. That's a big compliment.

She turns to you, head tilting and expecting an answer.

Yoongi steps away, a proud smile spreading over his face.

"Well… It's always just been a hobby. I've never put any stake into it."

"Pretty and humble and sweet?" Seyoung murmurs, raising an eyebrow and looking at her grandson.

He beams at her, sending her the happiest smile he can muster.

"No wonder Yoongi is so fond of you."

You can feel your skin blushing as the corners of her lips finally quirk up.

When she turns back to the paintings, she points at one of the black and grey paintings you've made.

"Is this an ultrasound of your baby?" she asks, leaning forward to inspect it.

"Yes, it's one of three." you reply, smirking as Yoongi runs his hands over your arms excitedly.

"I'd like to have it. To put in my office." she says, turning back to the both of you.

You find yourself smiling, nodding to her statement. "Of course, it's your great grandchild after all!"

She hums humorously. "So it would seem."

Yoongi takes it down from the wall carefully, his eyes enraptured with the painting.

"You'll be a good mother." Seyoung determines, folding her arms.

As Yoongi wraps the painting in bubble wrap, you can feel his grandmother's eyes on you. "Let me suggest something to you both since you seem so intent on keeping one another."

"Please, by all means," Yoongi replies.

"Make it easier for yourselves. Make Myeyoung put Y/N's paintings in her gallery. Set up a contract with Y/N for the new mall, have her make some artwork for it since we don't have any art yet. Get Y/N's name out there so when you do get your divorce from Sera, she won't just be a poor girl that got pregnant on a whim." his grandmother insists.

Yoongi looks up slowly from the painting, his eyes widening.

"You want Y/N to make the art for the Gangnam mall?" he asks, surprised.

"Do as I say Yoongi."

"Yes, grandmother! Right away!" he bubbles excitedly.

Your mouth opens in shock, your hand sliding over it with widening eyes.

"Bring it down to the car, I have a dinner meeting. Y/N, I'll be seeing you soon I'm sure. Yoongi, try not to stir up too much drama for the family name." Seyoung orders, running her hand over your stomach as she exits the art studio.

When the baby kicks beneath her hand, you catch her gentle smirk before she's off down the hallway. "Tell me tomorrow if it's a boy or not."

"Holy shit," your boyfriend breathes, chasing after her with the wrapped painting.

Standing alone in the art studio, you find yourself starting to laugh, hands combing through your hair in shock.

"Grandmother, thank you!" Yoongi whines, finally catching up with her in the museum wing.

When she turns to him, her eyes soften completely. "You're right, you deserve this. Now do it the right way or don't do it at all." she says, taking the painting from him.

He bows to her deeply, "Yes, grandmother. Of course."

"Is Sera really that bad?" she asks, opening the front door.

"Yes," he gasps.

"Well, better to be rid of her then." she surmises, walking out to her car.

Yoongi leans against the doorway, watching as she climbs into the car. If his grandmother somewhat approves, half the battle is fought already. He sighs happily, running his hands over his face.

"Yes!" he whispers fiercely, shaking his fist and slamming the door shut.

It didn't take long for Yoongi to find you, he knew exactly where you'd be. He smirks at the sight before him, you laying down in your bed, hand on your stomach.

"Hi, beautiful." he whispers, kicking off his shoes.

You look up as you hear his voice, a smile spreading over your face.

"I missed this bed," you mumble.

He hums, kneeling at the end of the bed.

You look gorgeous, hair splayed out over your pillow. He finds something tugging at his heart this evening. Something full of burning passion.

"You said you love me," he avows, bending down to kiss you.

"You said it first," you quip, cupping his cheek as he kisses you languidly.

"Because I mean it," he breathes out.

"So do I," you reply.

His hands grab at your hips, teeth tugging on your bottom lip sensuously enough that your pussy clenches around nothingness.

You whimper against his lips, the sound sending arousal flooding through his bones.

"Fuck," he curses, lifting you up.

When you're sitting up comfortably, his fingers pull down the zipper on the back of your dress. His warm hand spreads over the skin of your back.

"I want you around me," he whispers wantonly, rutting his hardening cock against your stomach.

"Daddy," you beg against his lips, feeling your arousal drip onto your panties.

"Get this fucking dress off," he orders and you're quick to do his bidding.

Standing tall before him, you shrug the dress off. He groans gently at your half naked body, his hands greedily grab at your sides to pull you between his parted legs.

His lips kiss at the curve of your swollen breasts, suckling small red petals to your skin marking you as his. You whimper loudly as he snaps his fingers to the clasp of your bra, your breasts bouncing free with a sigh.

"Look at you," he mumbles reverently, peeling the lace away from your skin.

He sighs happily, eyes looking up at you as he trails his lips over your ever heating skin.

"You're beautiful, little dove," he praises, running his hands over your back to the globes of your ass and palming the skin roughly.

You gasp his name loudly, head lolling back. His lips encircle your stiffening nipple, tugging on it sensually.

When he suckles your sensitive skin, your body shudders in his grasp.

"D-Daddy!" you whine, your fingers carding through his black hair.

He hums against you, his tongue quickly flicking at your nipple.

When he suckles once more, you gasp loudly, eyes rolling back. He can taste something creamy on his tongue, and he groans loudly, pulling you closer to his body.

"Fuck, your milk is here," he whispers, cupping your forsaken breast. His fingertips pinch and roll at your nipple, his breath becoming short and caught in his throat as he feels small droplets of milk land on the back of his hand.

"Oh, little dove." he groans.

With blurry, lust filled eyes, you begin to unbutton his shirt.

His hand leaves your ass to cup your stomach, his cock throbbing painfully hard through his suit pants.

Shoving off his shirt and suit jacket, he forsakes your breasts all together. Kissing over your protruding belly, he unbuttons his pants with feral need.

"God, you're incredible." he breathes out, tugging down his pants.

He takes a sharp breath between his teeth as his cock is freed. The long length is throbbing, the mushroom tip red with needy desires.

His fingers enmesh into the sides of your underwear, he tugs them harshly, the lace turning into mere strings within his grasp.

"Fuck, you're soaked. You little cock slut," he seethes through his teeth, spreading your legs to get a better view.

Strands of arousal cling to your inner thighs and you whimper as he drags his fingertips along your sodden lips.

"Daddy, fuck." you whimper, eyes squeezing shut.

"Come here," he commands, running his thumb over your cheek.

He wraps you in a passionate kiss, his tongue rough against yours.

"Sit on my cock," he whispers against your lips, pulling your body closer to his.

His fingers rub smooth circles on your clit, your thighs locking as pleasure begins to course through you.

Turning around, your bottom lip purchases between your teeth. Yoongi takes his time, running his hands over your warm flesh. His hands grope at the globes of your ass, kissing over your shoulder as you begin to sit down.

He curses gently, eyes raking over your back.

He can’t begin to understand why he was just so against having sex with you a few months ago. Now, he just can’t control himself. He needs to be in you, around you, on you all the time. Maybe it’s because he loves you more than a single person in their lifetime should -- or maybe it’s because the bond between you, his pregnant girlfriend, and him is just so strong with his child within you.

Gripping the base of his cock, he watches with wondrous eyes as you part your legs over his. Your sodden cunt glides over his length and he curses so softly, it seems to vibrate through you.

"Don't tease, little dove." he commands, but it comes out like a whine.

You steady your hands on his knees, slowly sliding down onto his cock.

The moan he emits, so raw and animalistic sends your body shaking with anticipation.

He's never made love to a woman before you, and now he can't get enough. He enjoys how your breath stutters when he praises you, he adores how tense your body gets as he gives you his pleasure. Everything about you is his -- and it's perfect.

You whimper loudly as he stretches you, your hand hooks around the back of his neck. When his hands palm your breasts, you can feel your pussy quivering and clenching around him.

"I can't believe you're producing milk already, you're such a good mother, hmm?" he whispers in your ear, lips trailing over the shell.

"Y-Yes Daddy," you whimper in reply.

His fingers pinch and roll your nipples gently, the action sending your head lolling back to his shoulder. You grind your hips down on him, adoring how he begins to breathe heavier in your ear.

"God, your pussy is so warm, baby. So fucking wet," he seethes through his teeth.

When you lift up on shaky legs, one of his hands leaves your breast to cup your stomach.

"Daddy, your cock feels so good." you murmur.

"Show me how much you love my cock," he begs, nipping at your earlobe with his teeth.

You begin a steady pace, bouncing on his cock with gritted teeth and starry eyes.

"Oh fuck, there you go, little dove. Making my cock feel so fucking good, baby girl." he breathes out, suckling his marks to the column of your neck.

When you whimper his name, he feels as if he could explode on the spot.

"Your belly feels so nice and big in my hands, little dove." he praises, eyes fluttering shut.

"Y-Yeah? It feels good?" you ask, your voice turning into a whine as you bounce faster on his cock.

"So good, baby. Feels so fucking good." he replies, rubbing circles sensuously on your stomach.

The sound of your wetness echoes throughout the room and you can barely hold yourself together as white hot pleasure courses through you.

"Who does this pregnant pussy belong to? Hmm? Tell me," your boyfriend goads, pinching roughly at your nipple and growling as milk droplets coat his honey skin.

"My pussy belongs to you! I belong to you!" you cry out, swiveling your hips.

"Christ! That's right, little dove. You belong to me!" he seethes, running his hand from your breast to the apex of your thighs.

Your moans become louder as he begins to rub circles to your clit, your mind becoming hazy and foggy with lust.

"God, your cunt is so fucking messy, little dove. You love my cock that much? Your filthy slut of a cunt can't handle my big cock, you're creaming all over me." he moans, pressing his forehead to your shoulder.

He can feel your body tensing and stuttering on top of him, he knows you're becoming tired. His hands grip at your hips, flipping you over easily. You gasp loudly, grabbing onto the edge of the bed.

"Fuck, you like it when Daddy manhandles you like the little whore you are?" he asks, gripping the back of your neck for leverage.

He pounds into you like a man possessed, something animalistic taking over him.

"Yes! Feels so fucking good!" you cry out.

Running his tongue over his lips, he can feel your pussy begin to clench around him. You're close.

He cups your stomach, holding you steady as he fucks into you harder. The quickness knocks the oxygen from your lungs and you can only babble a semblance of his name.

"God! You're incredible!" he whines, throwing his head back.

When he lets go of your neck to spank your ass, you can feel your orgasm approaching like a windstorm.

"D-Daddy! Cumming!" you cry out.

He moans loudly, his balls beginning to tighten as your arousal drips down his thighs. "Fucking hold it." he instructs.

You sob loudly, pressing your face into the mattress. He spanks you roughly, the sight of his handprint smarting on your skin heightens his pleasure. He can hear your small mewls and whines as you bury your face deeper into the bed.

When he rubs your clit, feeling how hot and throbbing it is, his eyes roll back. "God, your clit is so swollen, you little slut."

"Daddy!" you beg, white knuckling the sheets in your hands.

"Cum." he commands and you fall undone with that simple word.

Your heartbeat roars in your ears, emitting sobs of pleasure into the sheets.

He curses loudly, gripping at your hips. He begins to drive himself home within you, adoring how you squeal and beg for more beneath him.

"Pregnant little slut beneath me. Letting me defile her dirty pussy with my child inside her. What does that say about you, baby?"

Sluggishly raising your head, you whimper. "I'm your little pregnant slut."

He curses loudly, pulling out of you and flipping you over.

"You're my little slut, hmm?" he prods, thrusting back into you with unrivaled quickness. Your nails claw at his arms, nodding with a whimper.

He wraps your legs around his waist, pounding into you with everything he has.

You watch with loving eyes as his black hair sticks to his face, how he looks down at you like you put all of the stars in the sky just for him.

His hands rub at your stomach, bottom lip tucking into his mouth.

"Why're you my little slut? Cause you like my big cock fucking your cunt open? Is that it? You like how I split your pregnant pussy open like this?" he asks, pinching at your leaking nipple.

"Because I-I love you!" you cry, running your hands over his chest.

He takes a sharp breath between his teeth, the words sending him into a sensory overload.

"Fuck, I love you too, little dove. I love you so much baby, it fucking hurts me!" he mumbles, feeling his cock begin to twitch and throb within you once more.

"God, you're so beautiful," he praises, finding himself coming to an end.

You gasp loudly when he palms your swollen breasts once more, how absolutely gentle he is.

"You're gonna make me cum, baby." he whispers.

Your pussy clenches around him again and he knows you're close to your second orgasm. He wills himself to wait, dying to feel your release just one more time.

Your thighs lock around him, quivering and shaking.

"You're close, huh beautiful? You want to cum on my big cock again? Want me to feel how much you love me?" he asks, running his thumbs over your continuously leaking nipples.

You nod incessantly, back arching off of the bed. "Gonna cum again for you Daddy, you make my pussy feel so good!"

"Good girl," he praises.

He lifts your hips higher, the head of his cock dragging against the sweet spot inside of you with each thrust.

You scream his name in ecstacy, your eyes squeezing shut as he curses.

"Daddy!" you warn loudly, grabbing onto the sheets beside you.

"Fuck yes, hold your belly and cum for me!" he instructs, fucking deeper into you with every stroke.

You do as told, holding the weight of your stomach in your hands.

"Cum," he seethes through gritted teeth and you see stars.

Your cum squirts onto his thighs, your body shaking and whimpering.

"Fuck! Good girl, little dove! I'm cumming!" your boyfriend moans loudly.

You gasp loudly, feeling his warm cum paint your cervix. He breathes raggedly above you, hands running through his sweat soaked hair.

"Jesus Christ," he gasps, his throat tight and dry.

You whimper when he pulls out of you, your bottom lip tucks between your teeth.

"I fucking love you," he whispers, watching how his cum begins to cream from your swollen cunt.

"I love you too," you breathe out.

He hums gently, minding your stomach as he bends down for a kiss. His lips are soft and loving against yours.

"So you're going to be a super famous artist now? I get to live with one of the greatest forward thinking, artistic minds?" he quips, pulling you into his arms.

"What? That's Leonardo Da Vinci. Do I look like a Leonardo to you?" you retort with a laugh, curling into his side.

"Maybe… Although you look more like a Donatello to me."

You snort loudly, rolling your eyes. "You're an idiot."

"Well you're a smartass," he gripes, slapping your backside gently.

"You're lucky I love you," you mumble, pressing your face into his chest.

He shivers as you kiss over his small tattoos, eyes fluttering shut gratefully. "Not as much as I love you." he whispers, running his hand over your back gently.

"This is the start to something good, little dove. I can feel it." Yoongi declares, kissing the top of your head.

Once the ball is rolling, there's very few things that can stop it. And Yoongi intends for it to roll all the way to divorce court.’

Next Chapter ----> 

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[theres-a-goldensky]

30 More The Untamed Fic Recs

Here we go again. Another Wangxian rec list. Are you bored of me yet?

Were these recs helpful to you? If so, you can check out my other Wangxian rec posts:

Part 1 - 40 recs

Part 2 - 23 recs

Part 3 - 23 recs

As ever, feel free to reblog.

You can also head over to my bookmarks on AO3.

(All recs are complete) (I’ve noted pairings, length, and rating, but not any warnings or additional tags.)

** denotes personal favorite

1. say it's here where our pieces fall in place by Lirelyn - ~69,000 words, explicit - Modern AU where Lan Zhan meets Wei Wuxian after he adopts a small A-Yuan, because Wei Wuxian also has a past with him. Lots of adorable family feelings and emotional hurt/comfort.

As often happened, Wei Ying’s voice preceded his entrance, calling to his co-worker through the open door, “Frankie, they forgot to order spoons again, can you hold down the fort a little longer while I —”

Lan Wangji was already looking to his entrance, head turning as if magnetized toward the voice, so he saw the moment when Wei Ying’s eyes landed on A-Yuan and the smile fell from his face. He looked stricken, and Lan Wangji immediately looked to his son in alarm. A-Yuan seemed fine. His small eyebrows were pulled together in a small frown as he looked back at Wei Ying, but that wasn’t surprising, given the expression on Wei Ying’s face. Lan Wangji had seen that face beaming, laughing, whining, wheedling, and occasionally angry, but never like this. He looked blank and hollow and it stirred something fierce in Lan Wangji: he wanted to rise up and obliterate whatever was making him look like that. Then his eyes lifted to Lan Wangji and there was a flash of something almost like betrayal, before he pressed his lips together and turned his back.

“I’m going to run out to the store and get spoons,” he said in a flat voice to his co-worker, and left without looking their way again.

2. the breaking of your soul (upon my lips) by sunsandships - ~41,000 words, mature - This is an AU of the novel where Wei Wuxian puts two and two together when Lan Zhan sneaks that kiss from him. It changes a lot of things.

Against his own will, Wei Wuxian found himself glancing at Lan Wangji’s hands. They were… certainly large enough that one of them could wrap around both of his wrists. And Lan Wangji was certainly strong enough, tall enough, broad-shouldered enough to bodily pin him against the trunk of a tree with no chance of him breaking free. Lan Wangji was the first person he’d come across in his slow comb through the vicinity of where he’d been so headily kissed.

Wei Wuxian drew a sharp breath. There was a connection to be made here. He didn’t think he was crazy enough to make it. Perhaps he truly was going slightly insane with demonic cultivation if he could believe Lan Wangji, the paragon of virtue and respectability, who lived unflinchingly under Gusu Lan’s three thousand edicts, who had at best only tolerated his presence as children, would sneak up to him while he was blindfolded, pin him against a tree, and steal a kiss from him in broad daylight.

3. and his wanting grows teeth by yukla - ~25,000 words, teen - This is a very interesting AU where Lan Zhan is a traveling cultivator and runs into Wei Wuxian and the Jiangs looking for shelter during a snowstorm. No spoilers, but this fic goes to a pretty dark place that genuinely shocked me, but I enjoyed. (Still ends well though.)

Without further ado, they are hustled past the entrance and into a smaller greeting area. Huang-bobo approaches the brazier in the center with his hands outstretched, warming his fingers in the heat, but Lan Wangji hangs back. As he carefully brushes the snow free from his shoulders, he feels the burn of a curious gaze trailing up and down his body, lingering at the guqin still strapped to his back; when the sensation pauses at his face and stays there, he lifts his head.

The boy with the ribbon lights up at the eye contact, flashes another dazzling smile, and gives a little wave.

“You must be new here,” he whispers, something like laughter threaded into his voice, eyes scrunching into winking half-moons. “All dressed up in white like that! You might lose yourself in the snowstorm!”

Something stirs to life in Lan Wangji’s chest. It’s—uncomfortable, he decides, and so he steps away. Teasing should not be encouraged with a response.

4. Ghosts Shouldn't by ShanaStoryteller - ~15,000 words, not rated - After Wei Ying's death, his spirit seems to linger. The story is told from Lan Xichen's point of view. I love an outsider point of view. I also love the way the author fleshes out his character as well.

Lan Xichen means to force his way inside, angry ghost of the Yiling Patriarch or no, but then his brother lets out slow breath, settling, the pain easing from his face as he falls back into a more peaceful sleep.

His hair is moving on its own, so subtly Lan Xichen might not have noticed it if he hadn’t been looking at Wangji so intently. It’s like someone’s running their hand through his hair.

The window frosts over suddenly, thick enough that he can’t see through it. Anxiety spikes through him so quickly he’s nauseous with it, but then the frost melts away and the opening notes of Healing start up again.

He can’t tell if it’s a warning or not. Maybe it’s just an acknowledgement. Wei Wuxian knows he’s there.

5. **leading tone by silencemostofall - ~32,000 words, general - This is a modern AU set in a world where people who love you leave a mark of color on you the first time you touch. Wei Wuxian has no color on him. So much emotional hurt/comfort. So much of Wei Wuxian's terrible self-esteem.

He can cover up his palms with his gloves, so that the blankness does not draw stares. But he has no marks on his fingertips, which he cannot easily hide, and none visible on his face or neck, the blankness of which is even more difficult to hide. People look at him and, with a single glance, understand the single most devastating truth that he knows about himself.

They assume that he does not have very many marks. He may be an eccentric, dramatic person, but the likelihood that an individual has all of their marks on, say, their feet or their torso or other places that are not immediately obvious-- that probability goes down as your number of marks increases. He can laugh as much as he wants about how he loves touching people for the first time with odd places, like the knee or the elbow, but it doesn't quite mask the feeling of other that he knows he exudes.

They assume that he does not have a lot of marks. This, while a heavy weight, is not unbearably so. It is okay that they think he is not much loved. It chafes a bit, and feels occasionally like something he has to furiously push down within himself, but it is not unbearable. What would be unbearable is if they knew the truth: that he does not just have very few marks, but none. That he is simply an individual who is not loved at all.

6. **pastel by antebunny - ~7,000 words, gen - This is a remix work of the above fic. It's from Lan Zhan's point of view and just different enough to be interesting. Still lots of emotional hurt/comfort. I love this concept a whole lot, and both of these fics are great.

It’s a simmering day in May, and Wei Ying is wearing long sleeves, long pants, and gloves.

His choice of dress isn’t unusual for many reasons. For one, there’s plenty of people who don’t like strangers seeing their soulmarks. There’s plenty of people who wish to keep them private by covering them up. For another, Wei Ying spends most of his day in various chilly computer science department rooms, He could just be wearing long sleeves for that.

7. one good thing by Yuu_chi - ~27,000 words, teen - Wei Wuxian has died (or did he??) and is haunting his old home. Lan Zhan moves in. This story has a happy ending! And so much yearning!

To the flowers struggling to grow on the other side of the glass, he says, “We’re getting a new roommate. Well, I’m getting a new roommate - you’re getting somebody who might actually be able to water you for a change.” The flowers outside sway a little in the breeze, and Wei Wuxian nods contemplatively. “He can’t be any worse than the last guy who lived here. Remember when I spooked him while he was cooking and he nearly burnt the house down? Of course you don’t. You’re fucking foliage, your memory is worse than mine. I remember though, so it’s cool.”

There’s the sound of shuffling behind him and Wei Wuxian looks up to see the stranger has entered the kitchen, setting the last of the boxes down on the table. Disgustingly neat handwriting declares the box kitchen - homeware. The stranger carefully brushes his hair back from his face and, without so much as a second of hesitation, cracks open the box and begins unpacking.

“Wow, you really don’t waste any time, do you?” Wei Wuxian marvels. “You literally just got here - who cares about unpacking? Sit down for a moment, breathe, have something to eat. It’s not going anywhere.”

8. with you, I am home by tellthemstories - ~47,000 words, mature - Modern AU where Wei Wuxian is being forced to return home to entertain marriage proposals. So naturally instead he "convinces" Lan Zhan to pretend to date him. I love a good fake dating fic, and this one hits all the right beats.

Lan Zhan does that almost-smile thing that Wei Wuxian takes to mean he’s happy, or at the very least not-mad. “You don’t have any money.”

“Not true. I have the money from our last job, when we settled the vengeful spirit for the flower shop girl.” (He doesn’t. They have Lan Zhan’s money. Wei Wuxian spent his on a pack of loquats and three bottles of Emperor’s Smile wine.)

“Fine,” Wei Wuxian says. “Do it for me.”

Thinking back on it two weeks later, standing alone in the middle of Jin Ling’s graduation banquet and watching Lan Zhan walk away from him, Wei Wuxian realises that this, this was the moment when he should have known. He should have realised in the way Lan Zhan doesn’t hesitate or negotiate and just says with that half-fond, half-exasperated tone he gets sometimes, “Fine.”

9. and in the spring i shed my skin by wvlfqveen - ~11,000 words, teen - Modern AU where Wei Ying can't find Lan Zhan, but hey, there happens to be a rabbit here instead. Features a very slow Wei Ying, emotional hurt/comfort and accidental love confessions.

Immediately, his heart settles and he grins down at his new friend. “Oh, hello there,” he coos, reaching out to pet the fluffy ears. The bunny is very, very still under his hand.

“Did Lan Zhan bring you today?,” he continues cooing. “I’m sorry I missed that, but your Dad didn’t tell me he was bringing you.”

Lan Zhan rarely brings his rabbits to work since they are as tolerant of crowds and unnecessary noise as he is. They were probably relevant to today’s lesson but…

Wei Ying frowns. “Why would he leave you alone? And where is your cage?”

10. how, or when, or from where by sarahyyy - ~10,000 words, gen - Wei Ying wakes up in the hospital with amnesia and can't remember the last few years of his life, including his best friend and the guy he's in love with.

Jiang Cheng rolls his eyes so hard Wei Wuxian is surprised his eyeballs don’t just fall out of his eye sockets. “That’s the worst part. He did. Whatever mating ritual you both have going on is so fucking weird, Wei Wuxian.” He snorts. “If you’d stayed asleep for any longer, I’d have lost my shit and thrown my myself out a window just so I wouldn’t have to talk to Lan Wangji again.”

Wei Wuxian blinks at him. “Is this a good time to ask who Lan Wangji is?”

Jiang Cheng glares at him. “Your Lan Zhan,” he says, annoyed. Wei Wuxian must look as confused as he feels, because Jiang Cheng’s annoyance bleeds out into concern. “Your Lan er-gege? Your soulmate, Lan Wangji?”

Wei Wuxian shakes his head. “No bells are ringing.”

11. ** a shared plate by yukla - ~26,000 words, teen - This is an absolutely gorgeous fic about Wei Wuxian traveling the world post-canon to rediscover himself and restore his faith in humanity and eventually find his way back to Lan Zhan. The whole thing is great, but the last two chapters are just *chef's kiss*

Lan Zhan,

Just as the mountains stand unchanging and the green rivers flow ceaselessly, we will meet again — and between then and now, you cannot hope to avoid my letters, either! Haha! Lan Zhan, I’ve seen so many things and met so many people, and it’s only been a month!

I miss you already

It’s so hot that I find myself missing the wind in Gusu’s mountains. Your poor Wei Ying is I’m melting away, Lan Zhan...

I’m realizing now, sixteen years is a long time to be away — the world is vast, and quite a bit different than I remembered. And in sixteen years, a child can also grow up into a man! It’s your job to catch me up on A-Yuan’s fun childhood stories! I do remember hearing something about a pile of rabbits...

12. with your arms outstretched to me by annemari - ~14,000 words, teen - Lan Zhan finally gets up the nerve to ask Wei Ying on a date, but things don't go as expected. Features emotional hurt/comfort (are we sensing a theme with these recs??) and just regular hurt/comfort.

"Oh, man, I was hoping you had some water with you," Wei Ying says. "I totally forgot to bring any for myself. Stupid of me."

"There is enough for both of us," Lan Wangji says. He has another bigger bottle in the car, as well.

Wei Ying hums but he only takes a few sips. He presses it back into Lan Wangji's hand. "I don't need any more."

Lan Wangji is considering arguing, but then Wei Ying shifts a bit, moving his ankle, and gasps very, very quietly.

13. ** A Lot of Edges Called Perhaps by hansbekhart - ~22,000 words, explicit - Wei Wuxian has finished traveling and returned to the Cloud Recesses and Lan Zhan. But their lives never do run smoothly.

“Lan Jingyi,” Wei Wuxian says, recognizing him after a moment. His heart slams against his rib cage. “Where is Lan Zhan? What’s happened?”

Lan Jingyi flaps a hand at him, gulping air. Wei Wuxian hands him the water, and leans back against Little Apple’s side as he waits impatiently for the boy to get his breath back.

“I’m so glad I found you,” Jingyi gasps, just as Wei Wuxian is about to throttle a proper answer out of him. “Hanguang Jun was in such a state when he woke up, we didn’t know if you’d come and gone already.”

“Where is he, Jingyi,” Wei Wuxian says, as evenly as he can. “What happened?”

14. So Why Not Crack Your Skull When the Mind Swells by greenteafiend - ~14,000 words, explicit - Wei Wuxian is cursed to feel extraordinary pain unless he's touching Lan Zhan. Yet more of Wei Wuxian's self-esteem issues and Lan Zhan's steadfast devotion.

“Are you hurt, Wei Ying?” Lan Wangji asks, pressing his hand to Wei Ying’s forehead to feel his temperature. There is no fever, but that doesn’t do much to mitigate Lan Wangji’s worries.

“No—I’m not hurt,” says Wei Ying, sagging forward to lean his weight into Lan Wangji’s hand like he can’t help himself.

It’s so strange—Lan Wangji can feel what Wei Ying is feeling. Although the relief is still very profound, wisps of other things are making themselves known; happiness; wistfulness; guilt. It’s all so fleeting that Lan Wangji can’t even begin to deduce what has provoked those feelings, but he wishes he knew their source.

15. puzzle pieces by Anonymous - ~6,000 words, teen - Modern AU where Wei Ying and Lan Zhan are roommates, and Wei Ying has started borrowing Lan Zhan's clothes.

“Hm? Oh.” With sleepy eyes that does— things to Lan Zhan’s heart, he blinks and tugs at the lower hem of the shirt, which is riding just above the curve of his thighs. Does Lan Zhan’s mouth water? Maybe. Yes. Absolutely. “Ah, yeah, sorry. Laundry day caught up to me before I could catch up with it. I saw this shirt left in the washer a few days ago, and—“ He blinks up at Lan Zhan through dark eyelashes that Lan Zhan wants to kiss, maybe, and gives him an uncharacteristically hesitant smile. “Do you mind?”

I mind the fact that we are not married, Lan Zhan thinks. But he can’t say that, and his tongue doesn’t know how to say anything else. So he stays silent.

“Oh,” Wei Ying says after a moment. “If you—oh, damn, I should’ve known, this is like real silk, must’ve been super expensive. Fuck. Okay, here, uh, I’ll take it off—“

16. ** Nothing But Trouble by brooklinegirl - ~60,000 words, explicit - Modern AU where Wei Ying is trying to be a good brother and get Jiang Cheng laid. Somehow this plan involves pretending to date Lan Zhan.

"I won't!" Wei Ying insists. "I'll ask out someone...high stakes. I'll find someone. I'll...okay, how's this? I swear that I'll ask someone out and keep at it for at least two dates."

"No."

"Three dates."

"Nope."

"Okay, okay, five. That's fair! That's more than fair! One person, five dates." He points at Jiang Cheng. "You have to do it, too. That's how a pact works."

Jiang Cheng stares at him. "Five dates," he says flatly. "Five. And yours can't be Nie Huaisang."

17. i'm the one for your fire by occultings (microcomets) - ~43,000 words, explicit - This is a Modern AU and a Cherry Magic AU! (Side note: GO WATCH CHERRY MAGIC IF YOU HAVEN'T.) But in short, Wei Ying turns 30 without losing his virginity and gets the power to hear people's thoughts when he touches them. He gets more than he bargained for with Lan Zhan. The author does a good job of translating the story to these characters. Wei Ying is not forced to be like Adachi, the main character of Cherry Magic. He's still himself, and the same goes for Lan Zhan.

Lan Zhan’s voice is so clear, so sudden that it’s as though it’s spoken, the slice of a sharp object through velvet.

He’s touching me.

Wei Ying startles for a moment, wonders if he’d somehow heard his own thoughts instead, but — no, that had definitely been Lan Zhan’s steady, factual baritone, loud and clear.

God, this is still so weird. It still doesn’t seem totally real. But how else can he account for hearing Lan Zhan’s voice in his head, as clearly as if he’d spoken to Wei Ying directly?

18. like blue flame over my fingertips by tangerinechar - ~37,000 words, teen - Modern AU where Lan Zhan and Wei Ying are roommates, and Lan Zhan just finds himself wanting to take care of Wei Ying.

Lan Wangji’s roommate. Is a problem.

He doesn’t get an answer to the roommate problem until the next morning, when Lan Xichen texts him telling him that the apartment he’d suggested (and helped pay rent for) to Lan Wangji said in the small text that it’d be two people per apartment, the second bedroom wasn’t actually a guest bedroom, sorry, Wangji, you can move in with me if you want, I have space —

No. Thank you for your kind offer, Brother, but I will be quite fine, Lan Wangji texts back.

19. ** some impulse of delight by handclaps - ~20,000 words, explicit - College AU where Wei Ying decides he needs to help Lan Zhan get used to touching people. Lan Zhan agrees. Wei Ying is dumb and in love. Lan Zhan is less dumb, but still as in love.

Lan Zhan shakes his head and fumbles, tries to push the cotton wool into Wei Wuxian’s hand.

“Sorry,” Wei Wuxian says, realising. “Touching people, I know.”

He feels dumb. He thought he’d worn Lan Zhan down more than this, that they were friends now and that his whole no touching thing was mostly overcome. He took Wei Wuxian’s hand easily, right? He looks down at his belly full of scratches, dabbing at them moodily.

“Sorry,” he says, again.

Lan Zhan makes some kind of noise, but he is busy packing the first aid kit back, placing everything exactly where it was before.

“Lan Zhan, you’re going to have to do something about this,” Wei Wuxian complains. “I know you don’t like touching people and usually it plays as a kind of gentlemanly thing, but what about emergencies?”

20. And I Will Call You Home by Spodumene - ~43,000 words, explicit - Wei Wuxian returns after a year of traveling and rejoins Lan Zhan in the Cloud Recesses. He's doing a good job of pining and ignoring the obvious. Look, at this point, it shouldn't be a surprise that I'm a sucker for stories where Wei Wuxian deals with his ~*~issues~*~ and Lan Zhan takes care of him, whether he asks for it or not. This story has lots of that. I also enjoyed the case fic aspect of it.

“I do, I think,” Wei Wuxian admits. “Would be nice to see his face again after so long. And at least this time, I’m going to show up draped in finery. What do you think, Lan Zhan? I can’t possibly disgrace him—or you—wearing a cloak like that.”

“You could never disgrace me,” Lan Wangji says gently, that soft, affectionate look back on his face.

Wei Wuxian grins, warmed to the tips of his toes.

“I’ll remind you of that later. The next time I’m three jars deep and feeling especially shameless, you’ll have to remember those words, Lan Er-gege.”

“Of course,” Lan Wangji says simply.

Wei Wuxian smiles some more, overwhelmed by fondness.

21. darling, am i a chore? by martyrsdaughter - ~7,000 words, explicit - Wei Wuxian really, really wants Lan Zhan to call him 'gege'. Lan Zhan knows a trump card when he sees one.

“You know what I want,” Wei Wuxian purrs, reaching up on his tiptoes to throw his arms over Lan Wangji’s shoulders. “Call me gege, won’t you? Call me and I’ll stop.”

Lan Wangji knows he will not stop, regardless of what he calls him. Still, he thinks about it. If there really is a way to make Wei Wuxian stop, should he not consider it? He doesn’t have any real interest in curbing his husband’s insatiable mischievousness, but he does like knowing things about him—everything there is to know.

If there’s something that persuasive in the world, that it can bring Wei Wuxian into submission when no one is under threat, could he stop himself from seeking it?

22. your name, safe in their mouth by astrolesbian - ~11,000 words, gen - Wei Wuxian & Lan Sizhui fic with the Wangxian in the background. Lan Sizhui wants another dad and Wei Wuxian wants a son, they just don't know how to explain that to each other.

“Hush,” Wei Wuxian says, in a low croon, like someone quieting a baby. Then he blinks, and looks away, awkward. “I mean—you shouldn’t speak. You’re tired. Rest if you need to.”

Lan Sizhui tucks his chin into his uncle’s shoulder, and lets his eyes fall closed.

“It doesn’t hurt too much, does it?” Wen Ning whispers to him kindly.

Lan Sizhui takes a deep breath, and takes stock of all his aches, his ringing ear, his hollow chest, the way he had selfishly wanted Wei Wuxian to keep speaking to him in that careful voice, like he was just a child to be soothed and there was no real danger. How dangerous, to pretend. “No,” he lies. “It doesn’t hurt that much at all.”

23. when you're doing all the leaving (then it's never your love lost) by tardigradeschool - ~26,000 words, teen - AU where Lan Zhan with Wei Wuxian to Jin Ling's one-month celebration. Things go down, and it leads to Lan Zhan discovering Wei Wuxian's missing golden core. This obviously will not do, and oh look, the best doctor in the world just happens to be right here.

“How—“ Lan Wangji chokes. “His core —?” He looks at Wen Ning, half accusatory in his shock. “Jin Zixun could not have—“

“No, no!” Wen Ning says, holding out his hands. “He hasn’t had one for years, don’t worry!”

This is not as reassuring as Wen Ning seems to think.

“Please explain,” Lan Wangji says, pained. He feels for Wei Wuxian’s pulse instead; in the absence of a golden core, it will have to do as reassurance that he’s still alive.

Wen Ning is so anxious that the story comes out in a ramble, out of order. Lan Wangji wants him to hurry up, but he’s also not confident in his own ability to speak, so he just keeps quiet and lets him talk. His heart feels as if it’s about to fall from his chest, beating nearly twice as fast as Wei Wuxian’s does under his fingers.

24. A Match in the Making by lareine - ~30,000 words, teen - A Modern AU where Wei Wuxian sees his single and bad ass friend Lan Zhan and his single and bad ass friend Mianmian and gets some very dumb ideas.

To return to the point: Lan Zhan was peak adulting. Mianmian was peak adulting. And if they were both at the peak, then they were on the same level. What level? That mysterious level thing that everyone mentioned when it came to dating.

Whatever level it was, Lan Zhan and Mianmian were on it together. Wei Ying nodded to himself. So, Lan Zhan and Mianmian were allowed to date each other. The next question was: were they compatible? Did they have chemistry or whatever the fuck people called it?

25. Crack me open, pour you out by Tenillypo - ~16,000 words, explicit - Lan Zhan gets cursed to say whatever he's thinking. So his worst nightmare. Mutual pining, first time, all good stuff.

Lan Wangji freezes with his chopsticks halfway to his mouth, lifting his eyes to stare at Wei Ying.

"I know! Just completely paralyzed." Wei Ying mimes being still as a board. "I don't know how long I lay there. It must have been two days at least. Good thing for Little Apple. He wandered back to the village when he got hungry, and eventually a few of them got brave enough to come look for me. When they rolled me over, the figure fell out of my hand and I could move again. Cunning little thing." He shakes his head. "I was weak as a kitten for a little while after they took me back to the village, and by the time I recovered, they'd burned the whole place to the ground. Such a waste."

Lan Wangji slowly lowers his chopsticks, heart racing unpleasantly. In his head, a picture of Wei Ying slowly wasting to death alone in the middle of the woods, with Lan Wangji a hundred miles away and none the wiser.

26. Crazy, Rich Cultivators by ShanaStoryteller - 13,000 words, no rating - Lan Zhan wants to bring his boyfriend home to meet his family. There are some things he definitely didn't realize about Wei Ying.

“He has a life here,” he says down the line. He doesn’t say that he has a life here too, one he likes a lot more than the one he had before. He misses home. He’d miss Wei Ying more. But he doesn’t say that, doesn’t say how vibrant he is and how beautiful and how little interest Lan Zhan has at seeing him among the high society he grew up with.

“Well, your life is here, Wangji,” his brother says. “You can’t stay away from home forever. You’re going to have to see how he does with the rest of us sooner or later. It might as well be sooner.”

It might as well be never, as far as he’s concerned. His family can meet Wei Ying at their wedding.

“I’ll ask,” he says.

Wei Ying has no interest in cultivation politics. They’re horrible, the five clans have an iron tight alliance that’s thirty seconds away from collapsing in on itself the moment someone from one sect steps on another sect’s toes. It’s the worst and he hates it. Surely even just the idea of it will be so horrifying to Wei Ying that Lan Zhan will be able to tell his brother no.

27. just our hands clasped so tight by electrum ~4,000 words, teen - Lan Zhan really, really, really just wants to give Wei Ying everything he wants.

“Despite your best efforts,” Wei Wuxian agrees. He shakes his head in mock-dismay. “How much longer do you think that will last if you keep buying everything I look at?” When this, too, fails to soften Lan Zhan’s resolve, he tries a different tactic. “We couldn’t even afford potatoes,” he says. “Back when I was with the Wens, at the Burial Mounds. Only radishes! If I survived that, I can certainly survive without another pretty comb.”

Lan Zhan’s expression is at once unmoved and yet somehow stricken. “I would have bought Wei Ying potatoes,” he says, like Wei Wuxian doesn’t know, by this point, that Lan Zhan would buy him anything. “If I had known…”

28. ** Rotten Work by ShanaStoryteller - ~64,000 words, no rating - Jin Ling & Wei Wuxian with Wangxian in the background. Jin Ling is the best boy! And as he tries to rehabilitate his sect and his family and keep himself alive at the same time, he realizes, horrifyingly, that he has to be the mature one.

29. ** an act too often neglected by Ariaste - Lan Xichen / Meng Yao, ~61,000 words, explicit - The Wangxian is in the background here, but the main story is about Lan Xichen meeting Meng Yao on a dating app and getting immediately dickmatized. Meanwhile. Meng Yao refuses to be won over by Lan Xichen's charm. It goes as well as you'd expect for him.

The caption below is equally sparse: “5’6. Demanding.”

Lan Xichen feels a low simmer of arousal kindle in the pit of his stomach, and he gazes at that word-- demanding --for nearly as long as he’d stared at the photograph. He swipes right.

A few minutes later, a notification pops up: < Hm, the size of your hands is promising.

This is familiar. This is the flirtation stage. Lan Xichen knows the steps to the dance.

30. My Land Beneath Me by longleggedgit - ~30,000 words, explicit - Modern AU where Wei Wuxian is cast out of his sect and out of China to America. And Lan Zhan just...follows.

Lan Zhan always waited for his tea to cool before drinking, which meant he had nothing to do but give Wei Wuxian a judgmental look. “No more McDonald’s.”

“You’re just bitter because you get indigestion from anything that actually tastes good,” Wei Wuxian grumbled.

Because Lan Zhan was insufferably mature and patient, he didn’t rise to the bait. “We have time to stop somewhere before class,” he said.

“Fine. But you’re paying this time.”

It was a bad joke, and predictably, fell flat; Lan Zhan was, after all, paying for everything, every time. Wei Wuxian frowned into his mug.

“You know,” he said, after another swallow, “you really don’t have to be here. I’m going to figure something out.”

*

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