#now i’m sitting here a crying hyperventilating mess

[nurse-buckley]

.

[girlgenius1111]

all of my pain and all your excuses

part 2 of family line ingrid arrives home, and realizes how much she's missed with her sister. her and mapi try to figure out how to put the pieces back together. r struggles with the mess inside her head. cw: mommy issues galore 🙃 mentions of poor mental health. solstråle continues to be sad.

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It took you a few minutes of crying into Mapi before you realized what she’d probably done. At this realization, you pulled away from her in a panic, practically falling onto the ground. 

“Mapi, please don’t tell Ingrid about this, please please, you can’t, she’ll be so mad, she’s already mad, I can’t,” your gasps for air cut your words off and Mapi took your face in between her hands. 

“Breathe. In and out pequeña. Just breathe.” She instructed, dramatically exaggerating her own breaths. 

“Please, Mapi,” you whimpered after a minute. 

“I’m sorry, nena, I had to. I had to.” She said, seemingly begging you to believe her that she’d had no other choice. You couldn’t really blame her; you’d gotten yourself here, after all. You’d written the letter. You’d meant every word you’d said, and every word you didn’t quite have the guts to say. You’d collapsed into her arms. You’d given her no choice. 

“I’m really scared,” you mumbled. 

Mapi pulled you back in, tucking your face easily into her chest. “I know. You don’t need to be, but I know you are. Everything is going to be alright. I promise you.” 

You wrapped yourself tight around the defender, hoping with everything in you that she was right. 

When Ingrid burst through the front door, eyes immediately finding you on the couch, crumpled up into a little ball in Mapi’s lap, she knew it was bad. Mapi was holding you so tightly, expression unreadable when she glanced up at Ingrid, murmuring inaudible words in your ear. You looked so small, visibly trembling in your baggy sweatshirt and sweatpants, Mapi’s arms engulfing you. Ingrid practically ran to your side, sitting as carefully as she could next to the both of you. 

“María, what..?” Ingrid asked, trailing off when Mapi silently held out a piece of paper to her. Ingrid took it, having no idea what she was about to read. Having no idea what she was about to feel. 

You were hiding your face in Mapi’s sweater, much too distraught to care about how pathetic you probably seemed. You’d heard Ingrid enter, and you knew it was just a matter of time before you had to leave your safe little bubble and confront this. When it had been silent for too long, and you knew Ingrid must be done reading by now, you shifted away from Mapi. It was time to be brave, and it was time to take whatever was coming your way. 

The look on your sister’s face made you want to take it all back. Because, fuck, you weren’t sure your happiness was worth making Ingrid this upset. She was scanning over the paper over and over, as if she was hoping the contents would change with each reread. 

You acted stronger than you felt, sliding off Mapi’s lap and moving a bit closer to Ingrid. She didn’t look away from the letter. 

“I’m sorry.” You said quietly. 

Your sister’s head snapped up to look at you so rapidly, you almost jumped. 

“Solstråle,” Ingrid began, and you felt like the last stable part of you broke sharply at the nickname. Sunbeam, it meant. Ingrid had called you that your whole life. Her sunbeam, always breaking through the clouds to shine a bit of light. She’d assumed you’d grown out of it, recently. You looked so small, though, so scared and so desperately sad, that it just slipped out. She didn’t regret it, not when you practically fell towards her. “Oh, honey.” 

If you were crying with Mapi just minutes before, you were bawling now. Hysterical, hyperventilating cries that were painful to hear, and painful to let out, but somehow so cathartic. Ingrid pulled you into her, beginning to cry herself. 

When Ingrid spoke, it was in Norwegian, and nothing had ever sounded so safe. “I am so sorry, my perfect baby sister, I am so so sorry. I love you. I love you, I love you. More than anything in this world, I love you.” 

And though you still cried, you relaxed marginally at the comfort hearing her speak in your native language brought you. You relaxed, going completely limp against your sister. You probably would have slid off her onto the ground if she hadn’t had her arms wrapped around you so tight. Ingrid wasn’t sure she’d ever let you go. You weren’t sure you wanted her to.

-------

Ingrid stood in your doorway, eyes fixed on your sleeping form. She’d brought you up to bed, carrying you like she used to when you were little. You’d fallen asleep on her downstairs, and she hadn’t dared to move you for a while. She and Mapi sat in a rather stunned silence for a while, before Mapi suggested she bring you up to bed. So, Ingrid tucked you in, pulling the covers up to your chin the way she knew you liked them. She noticed something tucked under one of your pillows, and carefully pulled it out. She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry at the plush polar bear in her hand. Snø. She’d given him to you when you were three, for your birthday. She thought you’d stopped sleeping with him, but apparently not. The thought that you’d pulled him out of your closet for some comfort upon arriving in Spain made tears flood Ingrid’s eyes. She carefully kissed your forehead before rushing out of the room, almost colliding with her girlfriend. 

“Oof,” Mapi grunted, steadying Ingrid, when she caught sight of the other womans’ face. “Amor,” 

Ingrid shook her head, wiping harshly at her eyes, and pushed past Mapi towards their bedroom. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she pulled the folded letter out of her pocket, smoothing it out, and began to read it. Again. Mapi had followed her into the room, and took the paper out of her girlfriend’s hands. 

“Give it back.” Ingrid said through clenched teeth. She sounded angry, but Mapi saw the tears in her eyes and knew better. 

“No, you’ve already read it.” Mapi said firmly. 

“María, give it back, I need to read it again.” 

“Mi amor, it's just going to hurt more, and you don’t need that right now.”

“Yes I do,” Ingrid cried. “I do, she’s been hurting like this for god knows how long. Wanting to–” She cut herself off, shaking her head almost frantically. “She said she felt like no one would care if she was gone. Reading this hurts but it is nothing compared to what she has been feeling, and it is all my fault, so let me read it so I can fix this, because I need to fix this, I can’t lose her, María, I can’t lose her.” Ingrid was sobbing by the end, making little to no sense, and Mapi placed her hands on Ingrid’s cheeks, forcing her to make eye contact. She noticed in that moment that while you looked alike normally, you looked just like Ingrid when you cried. 

It wasn’t enough, though, Ingrid was crying so hard, every sob shattered a part of Mapi that she hadn’t known existed. She climbed onto the bed, pulling Ingrid with her, guiding the younger woman’s head onto her chest. Ingrid clutched at Mapi’s shirt almost desperately, muffling her sobs there too, although her body shook heavily with the force of them. Her world was falling down around her, and it was all she could do to hold onto her María, and not let go. 

“I know, mi princesa, I know.” Mapi murmured, running her fingers through Ingrid’s thick hair. “You aren’t going to lose her. We aren’t going to lose her. We’ll fix it.” 

“I don’t know how to fix it,” Ingrid whimpered. Mapi tilted the Norwegian’s head up, until Ingrid was looking at her once again. 

“That’s okay, mi amor. You don’t need to have all the answers now. We’ll figure it out together. For now, just be her sister. Not her parent. Just be her sister, and if you don’t know what else to say, tell her you love her.” 

Ingrid nodded pitifully, scooting up and cramming her face into the crook of Mapi’s neck.

“Thank you. For helping her and for texting me and for being so perfect. You’re always so perfect.” Ingrid mumbled. 

“I’ll be perfect for you any day. I love you, and I love your sister. Now relax, mi princesa. Relax, breathe, calm down. We’re going to be okay.” 

And like you had earlier, Ingrid hoped with everything in her that Mapi was right about this. 

-------

Ingrid and Mapi fell silent the minute you walked into the kitchen the next morning. They’d been talking about you, clearly, and they looked at you nervously the minute you were in sight. You’d woken up irritated, though, as you sometimes did, feeling like your blood was boiling, as if one wrong thing would set you off. You wished you had more control than that, but you knew the minute you heard your sister’s voice, you would fly off the handle. Because this morning? You weren’t sad. You were furious. 

The room was a complete contradiction to how you were feeling. Ingrid and Mapi’s home was bright with sunlight, and warm with color. They were both holding matching coffee mugs, and looking at you with matching concerned expressions, and all of it made you want to scream. Why did Ingrid get to have this perfect life, and you didn’t? Why did she get to be happy so easily, and you didn’t? 

You were lost in your thoughts, taking the coffee Mapi handed you with a quiet thank you. The kitchen was uncomfortably silent. 

“Hi, solstråle. How are you feeling this morning?” Ingrid piped up. You clenched your jaw. How did she think you were feeling?

“Fine.” You snapped. 

Ingrid remained quiet and soothing when she spoke next, and it made you even angrier. “Honey, last night,”

“I don’t really feel like talking about it right now.” You said harshly, cutting her off. Ingrid tensed, trying to keep her reaction in check. 

“I’m sorry, solstråle, but that is not an option. We need to talk about what happened, we can’t wait on that.” Ingrid insisted, voice measured. 

Still it was like she’d hit you. Your head snapped up, your features contorted with rage, and you set your coffee down dangerously softly, glaring at your sister. “Oh now we have to? Now we have to talk about it? I’ve been here for 6 fucking months Ingrid. It took you months to realize something was wrong, and you didn’t even realize! I had to write it out for you. You told me last night that you love me, that you want me here, well then why didn’t you fucking show it before now! I said I don’t want to talk today and I meant that.” You yelled. 

Ingrid shook her head, her hands clenching tight into fists. “Do not yell at me. I am trying to help. I understand that you’re hurt, and that you’re upset, but-” 

You scoffed loudly then, interrupting her, and Ingrid got visibly more frustrated with you, her lips turning down into a disapproving frown. 

“You can’t-” 

“Ingrid, just take a sec.” Mapi cut in, her soft voice a sharp contrast to how you and your sister had been conversing. “Nena, we do need to talk, but it doesn’t have to be now. Let’s just all take a breath.” 

Ingrid was shocked when you slowly nodded your head and took a step back from her, inhaling deeply. It was like magic; she’d never seen an argument that you were involved in get de-escalated so quickly.  

“Go get your homework, okay? You’re coming with us to training.” Ingrid said after a minute. There was no room for argument in her words, and you fought against another surge of anger, fought the urge to yell. 

“Is this because of what I wrote?” You asked evenly. Ingrid and Mapi exchanged glances. 

“Listen, nena, we just want to keep an eye on you.” Mapi told you, realizing that you were a lot less reactive when she spoke to you than when Ingrid did. 

“I know what I said. I wasn’t going to do anything, though. Really. I wouldn’t- I wouldn’t do that to you.” You defended quietly. 

Mapi felt Ingrid’s hand slide into hers and grip tight. I wouldn’t do that to you, you’d said. Not I wouldn’t do that, period. Everytime she thought about what you’d written, Ingrid felt a wave of nausea wash over her. She wasn’t sure what would have happened if Mapi hadn’t gotten home when she did. She wasn’t sure how close she’d come to losing you. She was so scared. 

Ingrid had never been good at letting you see how she was feeling, and maybe that was why, until this point, you’d gone out of your way to hide your own emotions from her. She decided to take Mapi’s advice from the night before. Just be her sister. Not her parent. Just be her sister, and if you don’t know what else to say, tell her you love her. 

Ingrid approached you like she was worried you would lash out at her, which may have been fair. When you made no move to step away from her, she carefully stood directly in front of you, and put her hands on your shoulders. 

“What you wrote really scared me. I’m not mad, solstråle, I’m just really scared. And I trust you, I do, but if I left you here alone, I would just worry, and we haven’t talked yet, and I have no idea what you’re thinking other than the things you said on that piece of paper. So it would make me feel a lot better if you came with us to training today.” 

You blinked up at her for a minute, before you slowly nodded your head. “Okay. I guess that’s fair.” 

Ingrid seemed equally as surprised as you did, removing her hands from your shoulders, and gesturing for you to go get your bag. Once you’d disappeared from the room, she turned back to her girlfriend, who had a ridiculous grin on her face. 

“Look! You communicated! Like a real human being!” Mapi joked, opening her arms. Ingrid instantly melted into the hug, though she scowled at her girlfriend’s teasing. 

“I communicate.” She said stubbornly. 

“Sometimes,” Mapi allowed. “You’ve definitely gotten better. And you’ll keep getting better because I don’t think I’ve ever seen you as determined as you are right now to make sure that your solstråle is okay.” Mapi whispered, kissing the side of Ingrid’s head. 

“My solstråle.” Ingrid smiled. “I started calling her that when she was 3, and she had this shirt with a sun on it. I told her I liked it once, and whenever she saw me sad after that, she’d run off to put the shirt on and come show me. I called her my little solstråle. My sunbeam. She used to be so smiley, María. So happy. She’s so different now.” Very quickly, the smile faded from Ingrid’s face and she held Mapi closer to her. 

“It’s all gonna be okay, mi princesa,” Mapi promised. 

You cleared your throat from the doorway, then, and your sister and her girlfriend sprung apart, blushing like high schoolers caught in an awkward position. “Are you guys done making out?” 

“We weren’t making out,” Ingrid groaned, as you all headed towards the door. 

“No, we only make out after training,” Mapi said seriously.

You made a fake retching sound, Ingrid slapped her girlfriend in the arm, and Mapi laughed to herself, but the tension was broken. And you had smiled, a real smile. Ingrid didn’t care what she had to say to see you smile again, she’d do it. 

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As was the norm when you went to training, the younger girls immediately latched onto you, yanking you away from Ingrid and pulling you into some scheme to get back at Mapi for the prank she’d pulled on them last week. It was the usual suspects; Pina,Vicky, Salma, and a couple others pulling you from the room, already giggling. They kindly didn’t say anything about the bruising and cuts on your face, and for that you were grateful, although you did get a few raised eyebrows from the older players. Ingrid watched you go anxiously, only turning her attention away from the door you’d walked out of when Mapi squeezed her hand.

“She’ll be fine.” Mapi promised. Ingrid nodded, but she didn’t stop worrying. And when Mapi went off to work in the gym herself, the Norwegian had no one to pull her out of her head. 

She worried all through the gym session, paying very little attention to what she was supposed to be doing. Which wasn’t normal for Ingrid, and it caught the attention of pretty much everyone. 

Ingrid was staring intently at where you were sitting against the wall in the shade, working on your homework, when Alexia and Frido approached. 

“Everything okay, Engen?” Alexia asked. 

“Yep.” Ingrid said distractedly. 

“What did our dear solstråle do this time?” Frido joked, having known your sister long enough to know precisely why you were living with her. Alexia knew, too, and smiled, joining in on the joke. Until Ingrid’s eyes inexplicably filled with tears, and she turned away from you, wiping harshly at her face. 

“Ingrid? What happened?” Frido wondered, running a hand up and down the Norwegian’s arm, while Alexia looked around anxiously, searching for anyone, anyone on earth, that would be better at dealing with whatever was going on than she would be. 

“It’s a long story.” Ingrid said, her voice cracking. Frido and Alexia exchanged looks, before the captain turned to Jona across the pitch. 

“Ingrid needs her ankle taped!” She shouted, before leading both women off the pitch. Jona nodded knowingly, despite the fact that Ingrid hadn’t done anything to her ankle, and it was rather odd for 2 entire people to accompany her to tape it. Jona knew that Alexia wouldn’t be asking for a minute for Ingrid if she didn’t think it was necessary. 

Ingrid let them pull her into the locker room, rather desperate for some advice and some honesty. Because Mapi loved her too much to tell her how badly she’d really messed up, and both Frido and Alexia were known to be brutally honest. She needed brutal honesty right now. No matter how much it hurt.

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You were busy struggling through an essay you were supposed to be writing entirely in Spanish when Frido sat down next to you. One look at her face told you she knew exactly what was going on. You weren’t that surprised. She was your sister’s best friend, and you’d known her for a long time. If there was anyone that Ingrid was going to talk to, it would be Frido. 

Frido always spoke to you in Norwegian, a thing you were endlessly grateful for. It instantly put you at ease, and today was no different, as she tugged playfully at your ear.

“How is my favorite Norwegian?” She asked. 

“I know you already asked your second favorite Norwegian.” You replied jokingly. 

“Why would I ask Caro how you are?” Frido deadpanned. 

You threw your head back, laughing loudly, and Frido grinned, continuing on to tell any and every joke she could think of. 

Ingrid watched from the doorway of the building, and when Mapi turned the corner and saw her watching the two of you, she knew exactly what her girlfriend was thinking. 

Ingrid saw Mapi coming, though, and forced a smile onto her face. “How was the gym?” She asked. 

“Fine. I was distracted though. How is she doing?” Mapi replied, nodding in your direction. 

“Well. She’s joking around with Frido. So, better I assume.” Ingrid said evenly. 

“She’s joking with Frido because Frido speaks her language, and she trusts her, and she didn’t just get into a screaming match with Frido. Frido didn’t read a letter containing her most upsetting feelings. She loves you, Ingrid, she just needs time.” Mapi assured her. Ingrid kissed her cheek softly, very appreciative that her girlfriend always knew what she needed. 

“What if she doesn’t want to talk when we get home?” Ingrid asked, after another minute. 

Mapi sounded wiser than normal when she spoke. Ingrid wasn’t used to her being the voice of reason in their relationship, but she appreciated that the defender always stepped up, and was always willing to be what Ingrid needed. “What happened last night was a big thing. She needs to process, and she needs to take her time with it. She’ll talk when she’s ready. And until then, we keep an eye on her, we give her hugs, and we tell her that we love her, vale?” 

“Okay.” Ingrid agreed. It was going to be a long and difficult evening of not suffocating you with questions, it seemed. She’d do it, though, if it was what you needed. Ingrid thought that she would probably quit football or cut off one of her limbs if that was what you needed. 

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You didn’t talk much the rest of the day, as Mapi predicted, and as Ingrid feared. Your sister did her best not to push you, and was mostly successful. Mapi kept the conversation going, able to talk about nothing for hours. She knew exactly which topics to discuss and which to avoid, and she knew how to make both you and Ingrid laugh until your stomachs hurt. Thank god for Mapi. 

You were… relatively alright. Until later that evening, when you got up to head upstairs to finish some homework. You’d accidentally picked up Ingrid’s phone thinking it was yours, and saw a few texts from your mom to her. All about how much she missed Ingrid, how she was thinking of her, how she made Ingrid’s favorite for dinner that night. Nothing about you. You put it back down silently, grabbed your phone, and tried not to think about it, to no avail.

Instead of doing your homework, you sat on the floor of your room, thinking of the fact that your mom had missed your birthday, and not even noticed. Ingrid had, too, but she’d apologized over and over, and she’d promised to take you shopping over the weekend, and to dinner. Ingrid was trying. Your mother hadn’t tried in a while. 

You didn’t realize you were crying until Mapi knocked on the door to say goodnight. She peaked in, frowning when she saw the fresh tears on your cheeks. 

“Hey,” she said softly, carefully lowering herself to the ground next to you, minding her knee. She texted Ingrid to come upstairs, and pressed a kiss to the side of your head. “I’m not going to ask if you’re okay, because I know that you aren’t. But Ingrid and I love you. Ingrid and I want you here. Ingrid and I are gonna fix things, and that is a promise.” 

You registered the words, though you didn’t believe them. Still, you gave Mapi a watery smile and leaned into her a bit. Ingrid’s footsteps were quiet in the hall, but you recognized that she was walking faster than normal. She appeared at your door, then, giving Mapi a meaningful look, and took Mapi’s place, sliding down onto the floor next to you. You pulled your knees to your chest, wrapping your arms around them and holding tight. It looked as if you were trying to physically hold yourself together. 

“Hey, solstråle,” Ingrid said softly. You murmured a greeting, not moving your chin from your knees, and not turning your gaze towards your sister either. It was quiet for a minute before Ingrid prompted you. “Talk to me, please.” 

You sighed, a tear rolling down your cheek. “‘I just miss Mom.” You said finally. 

Ingrid’s chest squeezed uncomfortably. You were so stubborn, so willful, sometimes she forgot you were just a kid. Just an 18 year old kid living in a foreign country, who missed her mom. “Do you want to call her?” She asked, not very confident in the suggestion, but not really sure what else to say. 

You instantly shook your head. “No. She doesn’t want to talk to me.” 

“Kjære, of course she does,” Ingrid began, but she wasn’t really sure. Your parents were so different, now. And whenever Ingrid called her mom, she never asked about you. She only wanted to hear about Ingrid. Your sister wasn’t stupid, she knew she was their favorite, but she didn’t expect them to write you off completely when you moved to Spain. They seemed happier, now. Without you there. It was something Ingrid couldn’t understand. Neither could you, really, but you had long accepted it. 

“No she doesn’t. I stopped calling her, just to see. 2 months ago. She hasn’t called me once. She doesn’t want me, anymore, Ingrid. I know I was an accident, but if they were going to hate me for ruining their early retirement plans, I don’t know why they didn't just…” 

Ingrid was speechless. At a loss for words, and so so angry. You filled the silence, though, things you’d never said out loud falling out of your mouth like you couldn’t help it. 

“I miss what mom was like before, when I was younger. When you were still at home. I miss that mom. I don’t miss the one that I could call right now.” 

“I don’t understand,” Ingrid said quietly, her hand resting on your head, and pulling you closer to her. 

“Ingrid, I know mom is always nice to you, but,” 

“No, solstråle. I don’t understand her. How she could bring someone so perfect into this world and not want to spend the rest of her life watching you grow up. I’ll never forgive her for how she’s made you feel, and I’ll never forgive myself for not noticing earlier. I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to make it better. I promise you.” 

“Thanks, Ing.” You mumbled, looking up at her for a minute before resting your head on her shoulder. 

The problem was, Ingrid could tell you didn’t believe her. She could see it in your eyes; they were still so guarded and so hurt. You were still angry with her, she knew. You thought she just felt guilty, and eventually she would go back to how she was before. Ingrid didn’t know how to make you believe what she felt and what she told you. She worried so deeply that she wouldn’t be able to. That too much damage had been done, and that maybe she wouldn’t be able to fix it. Late at night, early in the morning, right in the middle of a match, she worried about that. All the time until it consumed her, and all she wanted to do was sit with you, and promise you over and over that she loved you more than anything on this planet. What if you never believed her? 

-------

doesn't everyone feel so much better now!

[roosterscockpit]

His Little Girl | Bradley Bradshaw x reader P. 13

click here for the master list

SURPRISE!!! Hi, besties! So since I threw you all a curveball yesterday with my *SPICY* flashback... I thought that I could release this next part a day early. Thank you for sticking with me through this story! I appreciate you all for your love, support, and feedback. You all mean the world to me! This is also my 600th post 🫣 I love you all 🫶🏼 Happy reading and enjoy! 💕

A/n: You finally tell Bradley about Leia... How is he going to react to him having a six-year-old daughter? Are you ready, babe?

Word Count: 3.1k

Warnings: cursing, crying, anger, hyperventilation, frustration, and a whole lot of LOOVEEE 🥹💕 (If I missed any please let me know)

Y/n/n: your nickname

y/f/n: your first name

y/l/n: your last name

Please don't take my work, I will find you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bradley leaned against the table you two were sitting at. He put his hand over his mouth and stroked over his mustache. His other hand still holding yours. He was taking deep breaths. You were nervous and didn’t know how he was interpreting it all. He was blinking and breathing quickly. He looked pale and like he was going to pass out. He had a million thoughts racing through his mind after he came to realization of what you were trying to tell him. He was still like a statue. His eyes glued to the table. He didn’t dare breathe. 

“Bradley. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.” You looked at your feet. 

He shifted in his seat. “Y/n. I-” he shook his head and put his finger on your chin to bring your gaze to his. “I had no idea. Y/n if I knew even in the slightest, I would have never…” He started to hyperventilate, “You don’t have to apologize.” He kept shaking his head, “FUCK!” He slammed his fist against the table. You swore you heard the wood crack. 

You scooted back in your seat, you were afraid because you didn’t know how he was feeling. It was as if everything was coming out all at once. Het put his hands on his knees and then started to rub them up and down his thighs. He started to look around not making any eye contact with you. You started to tremble in your chair. You just allowed him to feel how he wanted to feel. You didn’t want to interfere with his emotions. 

He ran his hand through his hair, messing it up, “If anyone has to apologize it’s only me.” He was shaking. He kept covering his mouth with his hand. “God y/n. I’m so fucking sorry.” He teared up. “Leia….” He buried his face in his hands. He started to cry. You could hear his sobs, something he’s never let out. Your heart broke for him.

You moved your chair closer to him. You leaned over and hugged him as he cried. You rubbed his back and kissed his cheek. “Bradley, she’s your little girl.”

He leaned back slowly. “God she doesn’t even know who I am.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, tears spilling from his eyes, and staining his uniform, “She has no fucking idea, y/n/n.”

You rubbed your hand on his thigh, "But she will…” You felt like you were gasping for air from all the tension and nerves, “She is your twin, Bradley. She’s so much like you. She’s just like you.” You let out a little laugh, “It’s honestly a little scary.”

He smiled slightly through his tears and anger, “I’m a dad. Wow.” He furrowed his brows and looked down at the floor. “What the fuck.” He shook his head and his smile faded. “I missed all her milestones.” He wiped the tears from his mustache. He threw himself out of the seat causing it to slide back and fall. You jumped slightly at the thud. He walked around the deck with his face in his hands. He was running his hand through his hair, tangling it. He pushed another chair hard and then leaned himself up against a post. He was looking out at the horizon as the moon started to raise. He was taking deep breaths trying to calm himself. 

You didn’t know how he was going to react to the news. But you didn’t expect anything less than how he was right now. He had every right to feel everything he was feeling. He just found out probably the biggest news of his life right before entering the hell he had waiting for him in the morning. Everything was falling onto him all at once. First Mav, then you, the mission, and now Leia.

You walked over to him and rubbed his back slowly. You cuddled his arm and rested your head on his bicep, “She hasn’t reached them all yet, Bradley.” You looked down at his hand balled in a fist. You opened it gently and took his hand in yours, “You have the rest of your life to experience all those milestones with her.” You looked up at him and rubbed his arm. 

“The mission, y/n.” He sighed and clenched his jaw. He didn’t look at you, “I can’t do that to her. I meet her and what happens if I don’t come back? What then?” He put his hand over his eyes again. He dropped his head and started to cry. He had a hard time catching his breath.

Your heart hurt for Bradley. After all, it is also partially your fault he had no idea about Leia. You comforted him. You stood in front of him and brought your hands to his cheeks. He finally looked up at you, tears streaming endlessly from his eyes, mustache wet from boogers, eyes bloodshot red, and his eyes were sad. You cleaned his face up with your hands and wiped them on your shirt. “Bradley….” You started to tear up and could barely talk any louder than a hushed whisper, “I’m so sorry…I should have told you sooner. I’m sorry to throw this on you now…” 

He shook his head in your hands, “You don’t understand, y/n… This is my fault. Of course, you wouldn’t tell me after what I did to you. Why would you?” He was sniffling, “I don’t blame you. There is no one to blame, but me. I could have come to see you when I got back. Found out that way. Be a dad, one she deserves so much…” He closed his eyes tight, “But I didn’t. Now I’m about to leave and might never come home and she’ll never know me.” He gulped hard and put his back against the post. 

You stood in front of him and dropped your hands from his face to his hands, “It isn’t only your fault. It is mine too, Bradley. I wish these were better circumstances. I want you to know her.” You took a deep breath and looked at his hands in yours.

He took one hand from your grasp and put it to your chin. He lifted your head to meet his gaze, “I have already broken someone’s heart that means everything to me, y/n… I can’t bear to do it again…” He kept looking into your eyes and took a couple of breaths, “I can’t do that to Leia… I can’t leave you with that mess to clean again.” He started to bite his cheek hard he could taste the blood.

You squeezed his hand tight, “Give her a chance, Bradley. At least just let her see you again.”

He dropped his hand from yours and laid his head back against the post. He was looking up at the ceiling in deep thought. His breathing slowed again. He was thinking about it. He was really contemplating his options. 

Your breath was sharp. You knew what he was doing. He was waiting for his sign. Waiting to be pushed, you moved your hand to his face and brought his gaze back to yours. “Do you want to meet her, properly?” You caressed his cheek and gave him a sweet smile.

He looked at you shocked. He stood there for a while and looked around. He put his hand on your hand that rested on his cheek, “I do…more than anything…”

He went to grab his hat from the table and put it on. You straightened out his uniform and wiped his face one more time. You took his hand and led him back into the bar. Mav and Penny were already back in. Penny was back behind the bar and Mav was sitting at the counter. Thank god they left in time so they wouldn’t have to see what happened on the deck. Right as you walked in you went to go and hug everyone and wish them luck. You were sad, but you knew you had to keep a positive attitude. They were all already under enough stress, pressure, and nervousness. 

Y/n: “I will see all of you when you come home!” You smiled and pointed at all of them.

You went to the bar and gave Mav an extra long hug. “I love you, Mav. Come home please.”

Mav nodded against your hair, “I love you too, y/n. Always.” He rubbed your back to comfort you. He pulled away and placed his hands on your cheeks and pulled you to him to kiss your forehead. He looked at you and smiled. “Give Leia hugs and kisses for me, please.” 

You nodded and a tear streamed down your face, “She loves you so much, Mav. Come home for her. She can’t be without her papa Mav.” You chuckled a little and so did he.

You stepped back to Bradley and he put his arm around your shoulders to comfort you. He looked at Mav and nodded at him. Mav smiled at Bradley, “I’ll see you first thing in the morning, Rooster. Be there at 0600 sharp.” 

Bradley gulped hard, “Yes sir. I’ll see you in a couple of hours.” Mav patted him on the back and nodded. 

Bradley followed you to your car. You drove to your house. You pulled into your driveway and only Bri was home. You opened the door for Bradley and he went into the house. He looked like he was really nervous. His breath was baited and he was sweating slightly. You closed the front door and turned to him.

You grabbed his hand that was fiddling with his hat, “You’re going to do great, Bradley.” You smiled at him.

His face was blank, “I don’t know what to say to her.” His hand started to shake in yours.

You gave it a squeeze, “You will know when you see her. It will come naturally, just say anything to her. I’m sure she would appreciate anything you say. She loves people.”

He furrowed his brows and his lip quivered, “Anything?”

You nodded reassuringly, “Anything. She is a lot like you, Bradley. She is very loving. She doesn’t have to know someone for a long time to show her affection. She is so innocent and pure. She starts to love the moment she meets someone.”

He exhaled sharply, “You’re wrong. She’s not like me. She definitely gets that from you.” He smiled at you and you chuckled.

You pointed to the hallway. You still had his hand in yours and you brought him over to Leia’s room. You walked over to Leia’s door to see she was already asleep. 

“My old room?” He laughed. He peeked in and saw her sprawled out and asleep. “Good, she’s asleep.” He took a deep breath. “I couldn’t do it if she were awake. I don’t want to break her heart if I don’t come home.” 

He gave you his hat and he straightened himself out. He stood there for a minute taking slow deep breaths. He pushed the door open slowly. The light from the hallway illuminated her room. He walked into her room quietly. He looked at her on the bed and looked at you. 

“Go ahead!” You said in a soft whisper. 

He smiled at you and squatted next to her. He was about to reach for her, but then he retreated. He looked at you quickly and in a loud whisper, “What if she wakes up?” 

You giggled, “Trust me she won’t.” You gestured with your hand for him to do what he needed to do.

He took a deep breath and reached for her. He slowly turned her onto her back. Her face fell over in his direction. He was lost for words. You saw his chest rise quickly with the sharp breath he took. His jaw clenched and he was biting his lower lip. He studied her while he started gently pulling the blanket from her. He did it slowly trying not to wake her. When she stirred around a little bit he stopped and looked at her like a deer in headlights. 

“She won’t wake up. I promise!” 

He nodded, “If you’re anything like me baby girl, you’re a heavy heavy sleeper.” He picked her up like a baby. 

He gasped as he saw her sleeping face closer to his, “God she’s perfect.” He started to rock and bounce her as she slept. He moved her hair out of her face. “My god she looks just like me…” He smiled big and let out a steady breath. He looked at you and you nodded. “Jesus, how did I not see when we were at the beach.” He looked at her in amazement. “My little girl…”

He continued to study her face, tracing her features with his thumb. “Baby this is daddy. I’m so sorry this is how we are meeting. But I can’t bare to hurt you. I want you to know that I love you so much. You’re such a good girl. When we met on the beach you were the most perfect thing in the world. You have an amazing mommy to thank for that. I hope one day you and I can meet the right way. You are so precious, Leia.” He kissed her forehead lightly.

He cupped her cheek and brought his face close to hers, “I’m sorry daddy hasn’t been there for you baby girl. But I promise you. When I come back from this mission, it’ll be you and I, my love. I will make up for all the lost time. I want to learn about all the things you like. I want to play dress up party with you. I promise I will come home to you and mommy. All my free time will be for you and her.” He rubbed her cheek with his thumb. “God you are so perfect, Leia. My little princess. My little girl.” He kissed her forehead again. He continue to just take her in and hold her. “I wish I was here for you and mommy baby. To teach you how to walk, talk, use the potty, feed you, help you tie your shoes.”

Y/n: “She still doesn’t know how to tie her shoes, Brad.” You smiled. 

He looked up at you and smiled and looked back down at her. “Then that’s the first thing I’ll teach you when I get back baby. Daddy is going to teach you how to tie your shoes. I promise. You’re going to be an expert. Best shoe tyer in San Diego.” He laughed. 

“I’m going to take you to work with me and you’ll get to meet all your super cool aunties and uncles. God, they’ll love you. I’ll teach you how to ride a bike, swim, and fly. But that last one will stay between you and me. Mommy doesn’t have to know that one.” He chuckled and you shook your head and smiled. 

“I’ll be so proud of you no matter what you decide to do. I will always love you, sweetheart. I can’t wait to meet you. Daddy loves you forever and always Leia. I am always with you where ever you go, no matter what.” A tear rolled down his face. He kissed his daughter one more time and laid her back down. 

While facing away from you, Bradley took his wings off of his whites and placed them on his daughter’s bedside table. He knew he would probably get in trouble for “misplacing” his pin, but he didn’t care. He wanted to give something to his little girl to show that he will always be with her no matter what. He leaned down to her ear. “I love you, my little princess, forever.” He kissed her again and smoothed her hair out. He pulled the blanket over her and tucked her in. He covered his mouth as he stood there and cried. He smoothed out his mustache and his uniform and walked out of her room. He closed the door and stood there.

He was in front of you. He placed his hand on your arm and rubbed it. “You’ve done such a good job y/n/n. She’s absolutely perfect.” He kissed your forehead and brought you in for a hug. “I couldn’t have imagined anyone else ever being the most perfect mother to my child.”

You held on tight to Bradley in case if this were ever your last time to hold him. It was 1 AM and Bradley had to be back at 6 AM to leave for the mission. “Bradley, would you like to stay here with me tonight?”

He pulled away from you, “I would love to, y/n.” He grabbed your hand and led you to your room. He undressed from his dress whites and was left in his boxer briefs and undershirt. 

God, he took your breath away. How were you so lucky to have him be the father of your child? To have him here with you. Your heart started to race and you felt flushed. He turned around and got into bed with you. He sat next to you and rubbed your thigh. 

“Are you going to get comfortable too, y/n?” He laid on your pillow still facing you. 

You stood up and started to undress. “Holy Shit.” He muttered in a whisper as he watched you. You turned around still holding your shirt. Bradley was taking you all in. Burning this moment into his memory forever. You turned off the light and you lay in bed next to him. He put his hand on your hip and would rub from your waist back down to your hip. It was dark, but the moonlight was coming in through the shades just enough for you to still see Bradley faintly. 

“Thank you, y/n.” He said in a raspy whisper. “For giving me the most perfect daughter in the world.”

You scooted closer to Bradley, you could feel his warmth radiating off of him and his breath on your skin, “Thank you for making me her mother.”

He pulled you in closer, you were now touching skin to skin. “I love you y/f/n y/l/n. I love you so fucking much. I was so stupid to not say it when you said it to me. I fucking love you. I love you so much, y/n.” You could see him looking at you. 

You brought your hand up to his face and gently stroked his cheek. You exhaled and swallowed hard. You felt the tears forming in your eyes. “And I love you, Bradley Nicolas Bradshaw.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You finally told him about Leia and he met her 🥹 Excuse me while I cry over his and Leia's first daddy/daughter moment. His daddy instinct kicked in quick, he's a natural 😭. I love him so much. 🥰 I hope you enjoyed his reaction to Leia! I'll see you in the next part my loves! 💕

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[no-see-um-incorrect]

 Time Flies

These lovable goobers have been together for Two Years!!!

Enjoy my mushy bullshit 

No proofread 

(it’s a little spicy towards the end)

“Oh shit”

The very definition of oh shit.

Darlin had been working for the last few hours. To make a nice dinner for tonight. As a surprise for Sam. 

They went so far as to get Vincent to get him out of the house for a few hours.

Its been two years since Sam and darlin’ had cemented their love for each other and although anniversaries weren’t normal for shifters  this was different, it was special. This was the first long-term healthy relationship either of them had ever been in. and it was worth celebrating. 

But right now. Darlin was Fucking it up.

“NoNoNo! Please don’t burn..Let me just-SHIT! OW! Shit!” Yeah, safe to say, Sam was the better cook of the two…and maybe the safer one. the kitchen was a mess of spills, dirty dishes and inedible failures. And now a pretty bad burn on top of it. They grabbed a rag, threw it over their hand. and quickly turned off the burner.  attempting to grab multiple burning frying pans off the stove at once. Dropping two of them in the process. 

“GODFUCK-“ “Darlin?” Never did they think they’d be so upset to hear Sam’s voice 

“SAM! Hey babe..I I thought you were helping Vincent” “I was, but it is our anniversary I didn’t wanna..be too..Long..Darlin what did you do to your hand?” “you remembered?…OH my hand! It’s nothing it’s no big deal I-” “Darlin did you burn yourself on something?..here let me see” the concern in his voice was almost overwhelming for them. they comply, but in attempts to hold their composure, they look away  “how did this happen?” “I…um” Sam softly places his hand on their cheek directing their face to look at him 

“Darlin..you can tell me what happened”

Those words tipped the bucket.

Tears streaming down their face near hyperventilating as they attempt to explain everything.

“IwantedtomakedinnerforyoubecauseIloveyouanoumeansomuchtome-” “Darlin! Look at me..let’s settle in” he guides them over to the couch. Once they’re sat. he wipes, the tears off their cheeks with his thumb. “alright Now take a deep breath and go slow” Darlin takes a sharp inhale and lets it out. And Sam takes their hand and his.

“today’s our anniversary…. and I wanted to make dinner for you..Hell! I even got Vincent to get you out of the house while I did it…. but I fucked it up and burnt everything even my hand…and now I’m sitting here crying because I feel like a fucking fool who can’t even cook a simple dinner for their mate…”  they both sat there in silence for a moment. Sam was in shock 

“and now the kitchen is a mess….and I practically wasted our entire anniversary….i’m sorry Sam” they stared down at their hands before feeling a soft warm hand on their face. Sam tilted their face up. and leaned in for a soft, slow kiss 

Once they break away, Sam pulls them by their hips into his lap  “you didn’t waste anything Darlin” they cocked their head in confusion  “i’m lucky enough to have someone who treats me like you do  I could give less of fuck about some dirty dishes and burnt food” “but Sam…you do this every day  you keep the house tidy while I’m at work and you cook a warm meal for me when I come home and-” “AND I am more than happy to do it” “you work hard and you work long and then you come home to me.. and you walk through that door and you wrap your arms around me, and you give me a kiss…and I feel so much love from it…i’m happy to make food for you  because I know it makes you happy and that’s all I want” “…but Sam you deserve a break”  “And I get that break. It’s called takeout nights and cuddles with my big bad wolf…..also you’re selling yourself short.  you do just as much cleaning and laundry, and chores that I do. don’t think I don’t notice” a small laugh escapes them.

Sam kisses their forehead, And wraps his arms around them tightly. 

“i’m happy to make a warm place for my mate to come home to. because you’re that warm place for me Darlin” Sam presses their foreheads together and smiles. “…I love you so fucking much” they wrap their arms around him, and they sit there holding each other.

*Growling*

Sam chuckles at the noise. “Someone’s hungry”

“yeah I’m fucking starving!” “did you not eat the entire time I was gone?” “I was cooking the entire time you were gone!” “well…maybe it’s a good thing you burnt dinner then” “…why?” “because what if I told you that I got a fair amount of takeout from your favorite chicken place that you’ve been begging for?” “you didn’t..” “yeah, I did. It’s in the backseat of my truck.  I put a blanket over top of it so it should still be war-” Darlin grabs his collar and pulls him into a heated kiss. Darlin breaks away and sprints towards the door quickly, fumbling to get their boots on. “Samuel Collins, you were getting the best head of your fucking life tonight!” they quickly say before sprinting out the door 

————————————————————————-

After their dinner the two cleaned themselves up and laid in their favorite cuddle position on the couch.

“….I can’t believe it’s been two years” “i’m trying to figure out what’s harder to believe. The fact that it’s been two years of the fact it’s ONLY been two years…” “time sure does fly when you stare at a pretty face for so much of it~” “oh yeah, I know from experience~” Darlin moved closer and kissed his jaw. The feeling of their smile against his face brings his body of warmth that only they can give. Sam pulls them closer and kisses the top of their head. 

“I love holding you. I wouldn’t trade it for the world Darlin”  They snuggle their face into Sam’s chest grinning from ear to ear  “i’m also not gonna ignore how you totally admitted that you like being a househusband earlier” “Now I didn’t say that that term isn’t even correct!” “well, I could’ve said housemate, but that sounds more like roommate then anything” “what I mean is. I’m not a husband. So unless one of your anniversary presents is putting a ring on my finger. you’re gonna have to find something new to call me” “well..maybe I’ll have to think about that then..” the two laughed about it before falling into a comfortable silence.

Sams eyes laid closed, entranced by the feeling of his fingertips, gliding up and down in between his partners shoulder blades. Then he felt shifting…on his lower half..on a specific area of his lower half. Then the feeling of kisses on his neck and collar bones. Sending chills up his spine.

“H-Mmhmm~ Darlin” “Hmm?” oh, they knew exactly what they were doing.  “you shifting around like that. mmM-you might start something if you’re not careful” “oh really~” “unless that’s your goal. Ah~You got another anniversary present in mind darlin” “maybe~” “yeah that’s what I thought Mmm~ in the mood to re-create history” Darlins Body shivered in response 

“being on top of me, spark some ideas in that pretty head of yours?” Darlin bucked their hips in response 

Sam sits them up on his lap, pulling their face into a kiss. Feeling them growl into the kiss  made his heart race, and his head buzz. They break away, and Sam leans back. 

“Ready to ride your cowboy Darlin?”

————————————————————————

Happy anniversary to Sam and Darlin!

I tried some new things in this one sooo let me know what you think. 

Also credits to 

@tankwiththeangst

If they hadn’t posted about the anniversary coming up, I would not have remembered 

That being said, this is my favorite redacted duo (Sam helps me sleep every night)

I hope this isn’t shit 

Love y’all ❤️





[puphyo]

could you write jihyo regressing in one of the trainee rooms where she has bad memories and so she gets freaked out and has to get comforted by 2yeon since those are the only people she’ll let comfort her at that age?

if you don’t want to write it or wanna change anything please feel free to! thank you! i love your writing!

this request is both everything i was wanting to write at this moment and heartbreaking i hope you like it anonie!! and thank you for the kind words!!!

(also this is a little over 1.2k words i’m kind of proud of that)

it wasn’t supposed to be a hard day, jihyo knew the schedule and knew what was going to happen, of course. as leader, she kind of had to, it was her job. but something had been gnawing in the back of her mind, something was off about today, perhaps the clothes she wore, perhaps one shoe was too loose and was causing anxiety due to it. but practice felt off, she kept messing up and the feeling of something gnawing at her mind got stronger as the day went on, to the point where she had to sit down on the couch in the room, holding her head in her hands, resting her elbows on her knees.

she’d told her members it would be only a moment. only a moment, she promised. she just needed to breathe for a minute. it would be okay, she’d figure out what was gnawing at her. but as soon as she sat down, memories of being young and struggling to keep up and keep going above hit her.

that was what was wrong. this was the same practice room that she ended up in many times to be scolded and told to do better, lose weight, this and that, words that never should be said to a young girl, unless wanting to leave a lasting impression on them.

before she knew it, she was crying, the anxiety eating at her was too much to handle, and though whenever she cried she was usually very good at keeping her emotions to herself, keeping sounds down, not allowing herself to make noises that would alert her members, today was not one of those days.

as soon as she had started sobbing, she felt herself regress and suddenly her emotions were too big to handle, she didn’t know what she was feeling, all she knew that it was icky and she didn’t want to feel it. her clothes were sweaty from dancing, her shirt creating an itchy location at her collarbones.

“unnie?” she felt mina sit next to her, and in her regressed state, her head whipped up from its position in her hands, and her hands left her face to push at mina. mina nodded, standing up, and then crouching near the side of the couch. unhelpfully, the other members were spectating, as if they’d forgotten how to take care of jihyo. “unnie, what’s wrong?”

mina’s eyes were filled with worry, hand reaching out to touch jihyo’s leg. and that was her last mistake.

“want mama!” jihyo cried, big tears falling down her face, hands fluttering angrily at her sides, like she was holding back her instincts to hit herself in her frustration. “need mama! need mama!”

“okay, okay, it’s okay, i’ll get your mamas, it’ll be okay,” mina hurriedly added, standing up as fast as she could to go find jeongyeon and nayeon in the hallway, who took off as soon as jihyo said she needed to take a moment. mina could only hope that the other members could keep jihyo safe while she ran off to find the eldest two.

it took about three minutes for mina to find the two, and less to return with them, seeing as soon as mina could get the words “jihyo” and “crying” in the same sentence, the eldest took off on a dead run.

a mama’s instincts, they say.

by the time the three had returned, jihyo had cried herself into a fit, fully hyperventilating and her hands still fluttering at her sides, though now her knees were tucked under her chin and she was rocking back and forth.

nayeon was the first to move, instantly sitting on the couch next to jihyo and pulling the little into her lap, hands moving to wipe at jihyo’s face and nose with her own sleeves. “hey hey, mama’s here now,” she cooed, rocking them side to side after getting jihyo’s face wiped down. jihyo’s face found its home in her neck, and nayeon’s heart broke when her little girl just kept sobbing. “shh, it’s okay, cry it out. mama’s got you.”

jeongyeon moved to the two now, crouching down near the side of the couch, her left hand reaching out to touch at jihyo’s back to pat and rub in a pattern that she hoped would help. jeongyeon’s own heart broke seeing jihyo in this state, but only wanting her to get it out of her system so that she can relax later tonight.

it took nearly twenty minutes of those same actions for the eldest two to get jihyo calmed, and when she was calm, her eyes fell closed, tired out by her fit. jeongyeon and nayeon shared a look, nayeon’s eyes filled with worry and jeongyeon’s eyes with unshed tears.

“hyo?” jeongyeon started, looking to her little girl. “can you look at mommy for me, please?”

hyo picked her head up from nayeon’s shoulder, her eyes still brimming with tears, puffy and red from crying her poor little heart out.

“can you tell us what’s wrong, baby?”

hyo just shrugged, but took a deep breath and leaned against nayeon’s shoulder, looking at jeongyeon. “room no good.” her voice was tiny, shaky and hardly there, but jeongyeon and nayeon understood.

they as well had their own bad memories associated with certain rooms, but neither of them with practice rooms, and certainly not as bad as hyo seemed to have them. it is in these moments that nayeon and jeongyeon are reminded that hyo sacrificed so much to be where she is now.

“will it be okay if we take you home? a little girl like you should be getting to have dinner by now, yeah?” jeongyeon asked, knowing the answer, but wanting jihyo to know what was going on.

hyo’s eyes widened and her belly rumbled at the mention of food, and she moved her eyes to not look at jeongyeon’s, almost guiltily as if she felt bad for her tummy rumbling.

hyo nodded, wanting to be home, wrapped up in her warm blankies, have her dinner with her mamas, and go to bed wrapped up in her mamas’ arms.

when jeongyeon stood, hyo’s arms reached out for her, as if wanting her mommy specifically to carry her, to which jeongyeon smiled and picked her little girl up, wrapping the little’s legs around her waist. “you’ll drive us home, yeah unnie?” jeongyeon asked with a teasing smile watching nayeon shake her head and laugh lowly. jeongyeon looked down to her little girl again, kissing the girl’s sweaty forehead. “maybe we can convince mama to let you stay up late with mommy and watch fun cartoons and have candies, yeah? ‘cause mommy’s a fun mommy, huh?”

jihyo sighed against jeongyeon’s shoulder, out of contentment this time. her eyes were closed, and her chest rose and fell with a slow rhythm to it, suggesting to jeongyeon that jihyo was nearly asleep. had jihyo been big while she had this fit, she would also be nearly asleep, jeongyeon decided. it probably only added to the exhaustion of the fit that jihyo was little, perhaps younger than how young she usually dropped.

as jeongyeon and jihyo began to leave the practice room, nayeon had begun shooing the rest of the members out of the practice room, thinking that if jihyo needed a break, the rest probably did too. and when nayeon was done, she led the way for her two girls, determined to make hyo feel better after her fit.

[lillylvjy]

And when the seasons change (will you stand by me)

A/n- hi lovely people! So I’ve been working on this for a while and I hope it’s good to all of you reading it. This has a special place in my heart and I hope it brings comfort to some people. Yes the ending kind of drags but I wanted to put something cute at the end. Also I am not talking about James Marriott in here. It was the first name I thought of!

Warnings// panic attacks, blood, fights, swearing, reader being called names, hurt/comfort, reader getting into a fight, Wilbur and reader getting beat up, reader having doubtful thoughts, bullying and some kissing. Tell me if I missed anything :-)

words: 3.1k (I may have gotten carried away….)

Not edited!!

Enjoy <33

^^ pretty boy

You weren’t one for fights. But when people either talked shit about you or someone you cared for. That’s when shit went down.

You were sitting down in the cafeteria, drawing and listening to your playlist, waiting for Wilbur to be done with band class. He insisted on doing band, even though he hated the director, for his last year of high school. He loved it so much… even if he hated half the people. You supported him with whatever he wanted to do because he’s your best friend, and you love him.

That’s when everything went down hill.

Wilbur wasn’t the most popular kid but people did certainly like him. But some people…. Thought he was too much or too over his head.

As you sat in the corner near the back, a couple of people walked passed you as one of them slaps the back of your head.

You look up and see Catherine. The local school bitch. She’s had it out for you since 8th grade when you dated the guy she liked. I know stupid right?! By the way, worst and only relationship you’ve been in.

You rolled your eyes at her and continued drawing. As you were about to finalize your art, it got snatched out of your hands and ripped into pieces by James. The ex in question.

You sighed, “hello James.” You greeted him, completely ignoring the bitch and her minion behind him. Wasn’t your first rodeo like this.

“Don’t you ignore, you bitch. I came here for something.” Catherine added.

“Oh! And what’s that?” You faked curiosity.

“I came here to tell you that your little boyfriend, needs to stay out of my way or he’s going to get it. Like last time.”

Last time.

You were at home “sick” and skipping school when Wilbur called you crying and hyperventilating, asking you to pick him up. As you got to the school, it was around lunch, so everyone was either outside in the courtyard or inside. You saw Wilbur walk up to the car with his hood up and head down.

“Hey! What’s up? What happen-“ you didn’t get to finish your sentence when he pulled down his hood. His face was all bruised and messed up.

Your face fell and you turned your body to look at him. “Who did that? Wil, you have to tell me.” You voice got shaky as you looked at him.

You didn’t realize you were crying until Wilbur brought a hand, shakily, to your face.

“I’ll tell you when we get home ok? But for now stop crying so you can drive us to get food.” He cracked a smile as you laughed.

“Ok, what do you want?” You said as you started driving out of the parking lot.

“We go to the same place darling.” He said stubbornly.

“Ok! Damn, I’m trying to be nice and ask just in case, asshole.” You scoffed.

“Yeah I know. I’m just teasing.” Wilbur held your hand in his as you drove.

You’d think you guys were dating just by that interaction. Yes you were in love with him. But he definitely didn’t like you. You were just…. you.

Once you both ate and went home, Wilbur told you who did it and showed you all of the other bruises he had.

Stomach.

Face.

Wrist.

Probably from being held down.

Why didn’t you go to school?! Why was I so selfish! If you were there it wouldn’t have been that bad. I could’ve stopped it.

You blamed yourself for it entirely. Wilbur saw you crying again as you helped him clean his cuts. He brought you into his chest as you sobbed and apologized over and over again.

Wilbur knew what you were thinking and was quick to shut those thoughts down. “Love, it’s not your fault at all. It wouldn’t have made a difference either way if you were there. They could’ve hurt you and I’d not want that. Don’t blame yourself please.” Wilbur finished as he kissed your forehead.

You nodded and dragged him into your room. You turned on a movie as he dropped his head on your chest. You played with his hair as your thoughts got louder and louder.

Your fault.

You selfish person! If you were there, he wouldn’t be hurting!

You’re the cause of this.

You never told Wilbur about it.

But that was last year.

And you still blamed yourself.

But you weren’t going to let this pathetic person in front of you get to you. No. You were going to stay calm and let it go.

“No you won’t. You had James and his buddies do it. You won’t do shit.” You said back to her.

“Wanna say that again, whore. I will have you taken care of if I have to as well.” Catherine said as she came closer to my face. “And it won’t be as pretty as the last time.” She finished.

“You’re pathetic.” You said to her as you grabbed your bag and tried to leave.

Before you could leave, you were dragged outside the school and held to the wall by Bridget. And James.

He just watched.

But he looked confused.

“I’m going to put you through the same hell he went through.” Catherine growled out.

You don’t remember what happened next but all you new was that there was blood on both yours and Catherine’s face once you were done. James was holding her back and apologizing profusely to you as Bridget was recording the whole thing.

Why is he apologizing? She should apologize to me for trying to get at me and talking about my Wilbur.

“Stop recording you asshole.” You spit at Bridget while holding your nose and stomach. Bridget did decide to join later on and lunch you in the stomach multiple times to get some good entertainment, which never felt good.

“You crazy bitch. Stay away from me!” Catherine screams as she gets out of James’ grip and runs to the school. Bridget and James looks at you. Bridget with a disgusted look on her face and James looked at you worriedly.

You just smiled with your slightly bloodied teeth and bowed the best you could. “You’re welcome. Now you know not to mess with me or Wilbur again. Ok?” You asked. Bridget scoffed as James nodded. As they both walked away, you leaned over to grab your phone that got thrown on the floor. You opened your camera and saw how you looked.

Blood dripping down your nose uncontrollably. You had a cut on your eyebrow and a slash down your cheek.

Damn rings!

And you had bruises everywhere.

To put it short you looked terrible!

You shakily open your contacts app, click on Wil’s info and called him.

You looked around, trembling. Trying to see if he was even around you.

No stupid! He’s in art right now!

“Hey y/n! I actually meant to call you! Do you maybe want to-“

“Wil?” Your voice was shaky as it cracked.

“Y/n? What’s wrong? Are you ok?” Wilbur asked in a hurry.

“I- I had too. They were making fun of you and threatening you. They said they were going to do it again.” You cried into the phone.

It.

Wilbur knew the it.

He let out a shaky breathe. “Darling where are you?” Wilbur asked in a hushed voice. You heard rustling around and Wilbur ask if he could go to the nurses office. “Darling?”

“I-I-I’m out the doors from the cafeteria. You know where.” You said, trying to hold in cries and calm yourself down.

Wilbur eventually found you as you leaned against the brick building with you hand cupping your nose.

Why did they bring you there?

What did they going to do to you?!

Wilbur pushed his anger aside and rushed to you. “Jesus, love! Are you ok? What happened?” Wilbur asked all in one breath.

“I-I’m fine. I think. I can’t really see or breathe and I’m scared Wil.” You cried to him as he wrapped his arms around you and leant your head against his head.

“Hey, hey, hey! Calm down. Can you hear my heart beat?” You nodded. “Good. Now I want you to breathe with me, alright?” You nodded again as he started to breathe slowly with you. “Exactly. In. Then out. There you go bubs.” Wilbur rubbed your back as you finally calmed down and wiped your eyes, which you soon regretted.

“Ow! Shit, I keep forgetting my eye is bruised.” You whined.

“Hey. How about this? We get food, go to your place, get you cleaned up and cuddle. You have a comfy bed and netflix so we can just watch romcoms or anything you’d like.” Wilbur offered.

You laughed. “Ok now you’re just stealing my lines from a year ago.” You sassed at him.

“Well I’m sorry! But it’s a good idea and it helped so we’re doing it!” Wilbur exclaimed.

“Ok I’m in!” You agreed.

“Oh you didn’t really have a choice.” Wilbur commented as he held his hands out to you and lifted you up. “We’ve got to clean up that!” Wilbur sassily gestured to your face. You scoffed and slapped his arm as you both made your way to Wilbur’s car.

Once you both got food, yes at the same place, you went to your house and went straight to your bathroom.

“Sit. I’ll get everything.” Wilbur patted the countertop as he started to find the rubbing alcohol and first aid kit. You hopped up onto the counter and took off your bloodied shirt. Before anyone says anything. Wilbur has probably seen much worse and plus he’s seen you in swim suit before. Nothing special about it.

As Wilbur turned around, he looked at your stomach. His face dropped as he continued to analyze it. You were confused at first until you looked down. You face soon relaxed as you finally remembered about the kicking and punching they did to your stomach.

“Wil, I’m fine. I promise. It doesn’t hurt bad as it looks.” You told him in a hushed voice.

“Bullshit, love. You’re worse than I was.”

Wilbur said as he walked over to you and looked at your rib cage more. “They couldn’t broken something.”

“But they didn’t. And plus I put up a good fight! My fist are very strong may I add.” You said as you pathetically punched him in his stomach. He dramatically folded, clutching his stomach as he went down on the floor.

“Good bye everyone. Good bye my sunshine. Until we meet…. Again. Bleh.” Wilbur sat there with his tongue hanging out of his mouth, his body slumped over.

You started clapping while he got up from the floor. “Brilliant. Just astounding.” You said in a dramatic Victorian voice. Wilbur giggled as he got the cloth damp with the alcohol.

“Why thank you my lady.” He said, taking your hand and kissing it gently. “Now sit still, this is gonna hurt. Just squeeze my hand love.” Wilbur said in a gentle voice as you took a deep breathe.

Wilbur cleaned the cut on your forehead and eyebrow as you whimpered and held his hand tightly. “I know love. Just keep squeezing, we’re almost done.” He whispered to you as he moved down to your lip. As he cleaned your face, you admired him. The way his eyes narrowed when he concentrated. The way his eyes filled with guilt when your whimpered at the sting. The way his eyes filled with so much care and adoration as he looked at you.

“Do I look bad ass still?” You asked him in a joking tone.

Wil laughed and nodded. “Oh yeah! Definitely.” You giggled at him as you felt him clean up your nose the best he could.

“Wil don’t even try. I’ll get it later, ok?” You told him as he nodded. Before you realized what was happening you felt a kiss on your nose. You looked at Wilbur dumbfounded as he cleaned up the mess on the counter.

When he finally looked up at you, he narrowed his eyes at you. “What? Is there something on my face?” Wilbur asked. Before he could do anything else, your grabbed him by his shirt and pulled him closer to you.

As he got closer to you, you cupped his face and brought him down to your lips. Wilbur placed his hands around your waist, gently, as your kissed you back almost immediately. The kiss was slow and calculated. Almost hesitant. Once you brought Wilbur’s face closer to yours, that’s when the kids got hard, yet still slow.

After some time, you both pulled away to catch your breathes. As you did so, you and Wilbur rested your forehead tighter as you laughed.

“That was….”

“Amazing.” Wilbur finished for you, still amazed of the fact that you kissed him. One that he even got to kiss you.

“Wil. It’s you. It’s always been you.“ you tell him as you rub your thumbs over his cheek bones. As you look into his eyes, you can’t help but get lost in them. You loved how he let down his guard he always put up when he was around you. You loved how he made you feel at any given time. You loved everything about him.

You loved him.

“Love…” Wilbur sighed as he saw your eyes start to gloss up with tears.

“No. Don’t say anything please. I know you probably don’t like me that way and I get it, but I need to tell you more. Ever since I saw you in my 3rd grade class, I knew you were going to be someone special to me. Yes, you were an awkward little kid but that’s what made me gravitate towards you. You’re sweet, nice, caring, and so much more Wil. When I saw what they did to you that day, I-“ You took a deep breathe before continuing. “I promised myself I would protect you the best I could. And that was also the day I came to terms with my feelings for you. I love you Wilbur. I love you so very much.” You said as you sniffed and smiled at him.

Wilbur smiled back as he brought his hands up to you cheeks and held you face so gently, it was like he thought you’d break from the slightest bit of pressure. He ran his thumb across your cheek to gather the tears that fell out if your eyes. “Love. I love more than life itself. I know, I know. Cheesy. But it’s true. You are my life. Ever since that 3rd grade class.” You both laughed and he rest his forehead on yours. “I wish I could describe the feeling I have but I can’t. All I can do is show you. If that’s ok with you.” Wilbur finished as he looked at you with a questioning look.

“Yes. Of course it’s ok. Come here, please.” You slightly begged as you pulled him down for another kiss. The kiss was still slow, but it was deep and full of passion and love. As the kiss got deeper and more desperate, Wilbur slightly rubbed on one of your bruises on accident, forgetting they were there in that moment. You pulled away with a wince as Wilbur quickly stepped back away from you.

“I’m so sorry! I totally forget! I won’t do it again, I can stay away from you if yo-“

“Wilbur shut up!” You laughed at him. “I’m fine, babe. I promise. Just caught me off guard.” You smiled up at him as he came back over to you with a smirk.

“Babe? Babe. I like it. Sounds good coming from you.” Wilbur lowly whispered to you.

You blushed and looked down. “Well you better get used to it, babe, because it’s going to occur pretty often.” You bit back a smile as you looked at him.

“Hey! I’m ok with that. As long as I get to call you honey.” Wilbur held your hands.

You giggled at the nickname and shook your head. “No! That sounds like an old married couples nickname. I love it.” You smiled up at him as he leant down and pecked your nose.

“Good because that’s going to occur pretty often, honey!” Once Wilbur said honey, he scooped you up in his arms and brought you to your room. He threw you on the bed and layer on top of you, not putting all of his weight on you.

“Uh! Wil your so heavy, get off!” You whined, pawing at him. He looked up at you with the most offended look he could muster. He rolled off of you and faced his back towards you. You rolled your eyes and got up. You went to your closet and grabbed clothes. “Keep facing that way please! I’m changing.”

As you settled down and got everything where it needed, you jumped on Wilbur and koala hugged him. “Hello my love.” You said in a whisper as you looked at him. He pushed you off of him and went back to facing the same way. “Wait? Are you actually upset? If you are I’m sorry. I didn’t mean too.”

He rolled back over and wrapped his arms around your waist. He pulled you down on top of him so you were lying on him. “No love. I’m not actually mad. I’m just joking. I promise.” He whispered to you as he kissed your forehead.

“Ok good. I don’t like making you upset with me.” You admitted to him as you nuzzled into his neck.

“You could never make me upset with you love. Well….. unless you steal my food, that’s a good possibility!” He joked as you laughed at him. He rubbed your back as you melted into his touch.

“I love you, honey.” Wilbur said.

“I love you too, babe.” You pecked his lips.

“Ok so, tangled or princess and the frog?” He asked you grabbing the remote

“Tangled! Is that even a question- actually don’t answer that! That is a good question.” You admitted.

“Why not watch both?!” Wilbur suggested.

“Best idea fucking ever! This is one of the many reasons why I love you.”

“That and my very handsome looks.”

“Yeah. Sure. Think that all you want.”

“Oh shut it! You like my looks!” Wilbur yelled at you, throwing a pillow at you.

You laughed and nodded. “Now that’s true!”

You settled into Wilbur’s side as the movie intro began playing.

He knows he’s on my mind. And I’m definitely on his.

Taglist: @deadphantomsociety @aimi-chann @art3m1s-adelia @jadeissues @z0vamp (if I missed anyone or you want to be added please feel free to tell/ ask me and you’ll be added <3)

[tharkilm]

If its still OK to ask for a prompt from this list, can I please request:

Kissing away their tears and letting the other cry on their shoulder even when their t-shirt gets soaked from their tears

With Dream being the one crying?

You’re not certain how it had come to this. Perhaps it was the way Dream had trembled as he’d handed you a glass of water, or the way he fidgeted with his tunic, or the way he’d been avoiding your gaze as you’d asked if he’d been all right; whatever it was, Dream had crumbled as you’d taken his hand and asked – genuinely – if he wished to just sit down and relax a little. You’d assured him that you would aid him, and with the way his sockets had filled with golden tears as he’d inhaled sharply, you should have seen the dam break long ago.

He clutched onto the back of shirt as he buried his face into your shoulder, successfully rendering it soaked from the number of tears he shed as he cried and whimpered softly, then brutally. He’d started hyperventilating at one point, sobbing and speaking incoherent meshes of words and sentences; even apologising from messing up your shirt.

You’d shushed him, told him that you didn’t care about that and that you only wanted to make him feel better; safer. You’d held him closer as he’d tried to compose himself, but he just couldn’t.

“I—I’m so tired. I do—don’t feel like I’m doing a—an—anything right, and that I’m just such a stupid fai—failure,” he’d sobbed through irregular breaths, and you just continued to hold him as you stroked the back of his skull. You didn’t say anything. Didn’t try to object to his words (even though you wanted to) or try to give praise. No, this moment was meant for him to word his insecurities and allow every emotion to just flow freely. He’d suppressed himself for so long and without concern for his own health, and you knew he needed this. He needed someone to listen to him, to not judge or hold him on a pedestal. He needed someone to treat him like an equal who required moments of vulnerability just as much as everyone else did.

And so, you did. And Dream cried himself hoarse and soaked your whole shoulder despite his efforts to wipe at his face. You only helped wipe at his sockets once the sobs turned into hulking gasps so soft you barely heard them, and by that time he’d calmed down enough to speak more clearly.

“I apologise... I didn’t mean for you to see me like that. It’s…” His hand, which had been placed into your own, tightened slightly as a vulnerable expression crossed his lovely face. “It’s the first time in a very long while that I’ve openly cried like that. It’s a bit embarrassing, actually…” he tried to laugh it off, but all that came out was just a mere puff of air as his attempt at a smile instead turned into a grimace.

You reached out and cradled one of his cheeks, trailing a thumb across his bone to soothe him. His sockets widened by a fraction as he turned to look up at you. You smiled at him.

“I’m always here for you, you know. You don’t have to worry about keeping up appearances as a hero around me. I won’t judge you. I’ll listen to your thoughts, if you want me to.”

Dream bit his lower lip as new fresh tears lined the bottom of his sockets, though now he smiled weakly as he placed his hand atop yours which still rested against his cheek. He leaned in to nuzzle it as he closed his sockets, allowing the new tears to gently trail downwards.

“Thank you.”

[bondew]

I gave up on dcosm so here is “Two Bathroom Stalls”! My 2024 project!

Two Bathroom Stalls.

Cadence Lane.

I sit curled up in a bathroom stall, my crying has started to fade. Now I can hear that in the stall next to me is the sound of someone hyperventilating. I step out of the small cubical and instead of being a decent person I just walked away.

My eyes sting as I make my way up the long, empty staircase. Turning my old doorknob I just stand in the entryway for a moment, but as soon as I hear footsteps I slam the door. Ripping off my vest I scruff up my black hair and head to the mirror. Red under eyes, droopy frown, stained button up.. “I’m a mess.” I muttered before turning the mirror away from myself.

I scroll through the contacts on my phone, only about 3 are actually saved..

My name is Cadence Lane. I am 23 years old and a law student at Cambridge, if you haven’t realised this yet, I’m a truly messed up person with no friends. I guess I’m ok with this- I’ve had to learn to be ok with it.

I finally black out at around 2am. The dim light still on, reflecting on my pale skin.

I often sleep at this time of night, this is probably very bad for my health all around but I don’t give a shit. I don’t give a shit about anything anymore. And that’s the complete truth.

Dazz Shawn.

My eyes are welling up with tears I can’t stop myself. I’m praying that this bathroom is empty, I really can’t hear anybody over the sound of trying to breathe. My greasy orange hair is covering half my face and I can’t be bothered to move it out of my eyes. I feel like punching the shit out of the wall.. and myself.. I tap each finger with my thumb, skipping my ring and slowly start to calm down. I confirm that the bathroom is completely empty before creeping out of the stall. Washing my face in the sink I step out with a wide smile and rush back to my friends.

My name is Dazz Shawn, or Dazzy! I am 22 years old and study literature and theatre here at Cambridge university! I live on campus and have a lot of friends. Despite my life seeming perfect what you just experienced is a daily thing for me. Let’s not get into that crap though!

Avoiding the questions I make up some excuse so I can go to bed. I trot upstairs but as soon as I’m out of sight, my shoulders slump and my smile fades into a frown. As I enter into my dorm through the old doorway I shrug off my yellow t-shirt and fall onto my bed just in jeans. A rough landing puts me in more pain than I can deal with right now. Changing into a small grey tank top and some soft, baggy black cargos I lie myself down on my bed again and instantly pass out.

[zalrb]

Guilt {SE Fic Pt. 1}

There will be another part. Hopefully this part is super messy but the second part will be the mess we’ve talked about in the asks/responses but you know, they need to actually make the tape first.

*Note* I have incorporated some of a one shot into this fic to give more context to the relationships so it starts off with the beginning of the “Change” one shot but I am expanding it or taking it in another direction with this fic.

Stefan hadn’t told Elena where they were going. He hadn’t said anything during the drive either and Elena hadn’t asked. He’d just come into her room a couple of hours before, where she’d been pacing, thoughts racing, emotions barely suppressed, took her hand and said, “Come with me.”

She did. She always did.

Even now, even after everything, she trusted him absolutely, and that was why the silence between them wasn’t tense but an intimate understanding, a familiarity borne out of knowing each other as deeply as they did.

Stefan stopped the car after another half hour. They were outside of a cemetery. Elena felt something inside of her start to stir.

“Stefan…”

“Come on,” he said.

He got out of the car and after a beat, Elena followed, walking through the entrance and down a path until they reached a tombstone that read JOLENE. Elena started to panic. Her worst fear. Her worst shame.

“They found her body a few weeks ago,” said Stefan.

“No, Stefan, I can’t, I can’t do this, I—” She started to hyperventilate as that night came back to her in flashes – her, Stefan and Damon at the diner, Jolene coming to their table to serve more coffee, the sound of her neck snapping, the impossible angle her head turned, the dull thunk of her body hitting the floor.

Elena felt like she was going to die – was it possible to die from guilt? She started to pace, like she’d done in her room, clenching her hair then running her fingers through it wildly, heaving and crying and retching, and then Stefan was holding. She clutched at his shirt, burying her face in his chest as she sobbed and breathed and held onto him for dear life.

She didn’t know how long they stood there, his arms around her, her pressed against him, but when he pulled away, he held her gaze, waiting patiently for her cries to settle, for her breathing to calm, like he had when she turned her humanity back on. After a while, he spoke.

“I never wanted this for you,” he said. “To feel the guilt, the self-hatred, the despair. But now that you have, you have to make amends.”

“I’ll never be able to make amends for what I did,” she said.

“But you have to try. That’s what it’s all about, Elena, you have to try. And the first step, no matter how inconsequential or stupid or useless it seems, is to apologize. To her.”

Elena chewed on her lip, glancing fearfully at the tombstone before walking towards it. With a trembling hand, she touched the stone and then collapsed in front of it. Stefan moved to walk away but Elena called out.

“Please, don’t go.” She needed him there. “Please?”

He nodded. “OK.”

Elena took a deep, shuddering breath, grateful for his presence.

Stefan pulled into the Salvatore driveway. Elena had been emotionally spent after the cemetery and had ended up resting her head against him for the drive, comforted by the feel of his body, the support of his shoulder, the familiar comfort of the crook of his neck. When he idled the car, she pulled away from him and gave a small smile.

“Thank you,” she said. “For today. You knew exactly what I needed to do. You always…”

He looked at her, his eyes searching hers. “I’m always here for you,” he said. “That hasn’t changed."

*

The only wine in the house was Chardonnay and despite Elena's aversion to it, she'd already had three glasses. She was sitting up in the bed she'd shared with Damon, clad in black lingerie, staring intently at the phone on the tripod he said he'd bought solely for the possibility of this occasion. Pouring out her fourth glass of wine,  Elena thought about everything that had led her to agreeing to this.

Like Stefan. 

Somehow, everything always started with Stefan.

 *

After he'd taken her to see Jolene, they'd started spending more and more time together: texting and taking walks, watching TV. She spoke to him about her guilt and he spoke to her about his, they discussed how to cope, how to make amends, how to live. 

It was almost like it had been when they were together. She'd even taken to watching him cook like she used to, telling him about her classes, asking him questions about history as he chopped or sauteed or fried 

and then when Damon came in from another room or from down the stairs, breaking the privacy she shared with Stefan, something inside Elena sank a little. She chose to believe that it was because they were in an awkward place after the argument they had when she’d come back from visiting Jolene’s grave with Stefan. He’d pushed her and pushed her to tell him things she’d never thought she’d say to him about the night he switched off her humanity.

“Well, when are we going to talk about it, Elena? When are you going to be honest with me?”

“Honest about what? Making a unilateral decision to take away my humanity?”

“There it is,” he’d said, his eyes brightening. “Finally. We’re getting somewhere.”

Elena had tried to calm her nerves but everything she’d hadn’t allowed herself to feel, to say, to protect him, was coming to the surface.

“So, do you think that I’m stupid or just cruel?”

“I think you saw me in unimaginable pain and thought about you, thought about what you felt like you couldn’t do.”

“And what couldn’t I do?”

“Be there for me!”

“You just said your pain was unimaginable. How was I supposed to fix that? What could I have possibly done to make that better for you?”

“You didn’t even try! It was your first instinct, Damon! You couldn’t even wait! You couldn’t even ask!”

“You were in the middle of an emotional breakdown and I’m supposed to whip out a pros and cons list with you about your humanity switch?”

“YES.”

Damon had flinched at the word she flung in his face.

“It’s my humanity switch, Damon! That’s not something you just get to control just because you can! I nearly killed Caroline! and Bonnie! I attacked them. The things that I said to them? To Matt? You didn’t think about any of that, you didn’t think at all!”

“I thought about the pain that you were in, the pain that I was seeing with my own two eyes and how I would do anything to make sure you didn’t have to feel that–”

“But not about the pain I’d feel once I got my humanity back after everything that I did?”

“You really can’t understand what it was like for me seeing you that way and just wanting to make it all go away for you?”

“Pain is a part of life, Damon, you don’t get to just pick and choose the emotions you want to feel because it’s easier.”

“Oh, don't start sounding like Stefan–”

“Stefan is right!” She’d been so shrill at that point that Damon winced against the high pitch of her voice. “I wanted nothing more than to see Jeremy again but when Bonnie told me we’d have to destroy the Other Side to bring him back, I wouldn’t do it! I chose grief because it was the right thing to do! Loss is a part of life, Stefan was right.”

Damon snorted. “Of course you’d say that, of course Stefan –”

“No, don’t turn this into a you versus Stefan thing–”

“IT’S ALWAYS A ME VERSUS STEFAN THING!” Damon had roared. “It’s always about him–”

“NO, THIS IS ABOUT YOU BEING A COWARD!”

He’d stormed out of the house after that and when he’d come back hours later, they’d decided not to rehash what was said and simply declared the argument over with a night of makeup sex. They hadn’t spoken about it since, and Elena told herself once they got over the awkwardness of what was said, things would be … what they were. Whatever that was. 

It was true spending so much time with Stefan probably contributed to the lingering discomfort 

 but she didn’t know how to stop something that felt so natural, that felt right and necessary. She’d known what it felt like to have Stefan in her life and what it felt like to have him there but not really there, and now that he was again --- there --- she didn’t know how to give that up and if she did she wouldn’t want to. 

Now, she was done with classes for the day and had driven from Whitmore back to the Salvatore Mansion, hoping Stefan was around so she could tell him about her exam, tell him that their studying probably earned her top marks. She saw Stefan almost immediately once she was inside, but he was walking down the stairs in somewhat of a hurry. He hesitated on the last step when he saw Elena.

“Hi,” she said, smiling.

He blinked. “Hi.”

“On your way out?”

He didn’t answer right away and immediately, Elena felt uneasy. Something was different between them. Something was off. He was pulled back. 

“I am,” he said finally. “But before I leave, um.” He looked like he was making up his mind about something. There was a hint of conflict on his face.  

"Do you have a second?" 

Elena nodded. "Yeah, sure."

“Just … something upstairs.” 

“OK…” 

Elena followed him into his room and then he walked over to his closet, opening the door. He cleared his throat.  "I just ... I've had this forever and I've wanted to give it to you for a while and I kept forgetting…” He stayed still at the door but Elena saw something like resolve steel him. “But, uh, here." 

He took out a blue and brown plaid blanket. The blue and brown plaid blanket. Elena’s lips parted and she walked closer to get a better look. She didn’t know what she’d expected but it wasn’t this, and she couldn’t explain her reaction, the memories that came to her in quick succession. 

She saw it all -- she saw herself wrapped in that blanket, standing on the dock at the lake house, Stefan's arms around her, his lips pressed to her ear, the warmth of his breath, of his voice as he whispered "I love you";

she saw when they'd fallen asleep in each other's arms in the woods; saw the nights where they huddled together, cocooned in that blanket, the days they just lay together or had picnics on that blanket. 

When she glanced up at Stefan, she saw the same nostalgia brighten his eyes.

She blinked back tears. "You kept this?" Her hand hovered above the blanket. "I thought it was gone, I thought it burned with everything else in the fire, I thought..." 

"No, after the woods that day, I packed everything up and... I don't know, I've had it ever since." 

The relief that surged through her was so overwhelming she had to put her hand on the wall to balance herself. Elena remembered his words the first time she ever saw his bedroom, the first time they'd made love, how he kept every significant memory, everything he thought was important in this space, this one constant space.

She looked at him. Her voice had become a whisper. "Why are you giving this to me?" 

Stefan shrugged. "It's yours." 

She looked at him for any sign of hurt, any sign of attachment, but even the glimmer of nostalgia she'd seen had disappeared and his expression was somewhere between pleasant and unbothered.

She scoffed, shaking her head. "It's not---"

"Yes it is."

"That--" she moved her hand slightly. "If it is then why are you only giving it to me now?"

Stefan didn’t answer right away, he just shook his head. "It just never felt like the right..." He sighed. "You know me, it's hard for me to get rid of clutter."

She looked sharply at him. "Clutter?"

He nodded his head. "Yeah."

An anger had started to rise. "Where would I put this? There's no room, there's no space for it in--" She gestured toward the room she'd shared with Damon. 

"You have a dorm." 

"That I share with two other girls," she said. "Do you know how many drawers Caroline's stuff takes up?"  

"Maybe she'll want it. Maybe Bonnie will." 

She glared at him. "You want me to give it away?" 

Stefan's voice remained even. "No, I just think you should have it."

Elena closed her eyes. "It should stay here." 

Stefan scratched his chin. "You never know, you might need it one day."  

She looked at him. "Why would I need this for anything else?" 

"Elena, take it," said Stefan, an edge to his voice. His eyes were blazing. "Just take it."

She felt something inside of her break and her anger became fury, a type of fury that sprouted guilt.  

“Fine.” She grabbed it from him. Was that sadness in his eyes? Or acceptance? Either way, Stefan nodded his head and then left the room.

Elena rubbed her thumb over the material of the blanket and then looked around. She couldn’t stay there a second longer, she couldn’t bear it, when every inch of this room had a memory of her, a memory of them that he probably wanted to scrub clean, give away somehow like he’d just did with what she had in her hands. 

The thought tore through her and she stormed into Damon’s room, wrenching open the closet and throwing the blanket inside.

She tried to calm down. She shouldn’t be feeling this upset, this angry. She shouldn’t -- 

Elena paused. Something was happening downstairs and she honed in on her hearing. Stefan was leaving and at the same time, Damon came inside. She reacted impulsively, speeding down to the living room and kissing him without preamble, pushing him over to the couch.

As she kissed him, she thought of her motivation … was this some kind of revenge? Was this distraction? Was it escape?  No, it was guilt. For her breaking heart. Elena pulled away and looked at Damon’s expression, a mixture of surprise and arousal. He was her boyfriend, her choice and she felt a need to make up her inner turmoil to him.

“Nice to see you too,” he said, winking. 

Elena smiled tightly then cleared her throat. "You know," she said. "We've never, um, we've never talked about, uh, fantasies, or - or anything like that." 

Damon smirked. "Well that's because the last time we did you made me Matt Donovan.” 

Elena laughed nervously. "No, I'm serious,” she said. “Um, really ... what ... what's something that you've always wanted us to do?" 

"Sex tape." 

Elena raised her eyebrows. "You were really quick with that answer."

Damon shrugged. “I’ve thought about it a lot. Watching you? Watching us? Getting hard just thinking about it.”  

He wasn’t wrong. Elena felt herself nod. "OK. Sure, yeah, let's do it. Yeah." 

He didn’t ask twice but instead kissed her hard on the mouth. Elena wiped away the saliva. “Got the playlist queued up and everything.”

Elena looked at him. "You already have a playlist?" She almost said "That's ambitious" out loud.

“Like I said, I’ve thought about it a lot. It’ll rock your world.” 

She nodded again, a vigorous motion --- this would get them over the hurdle. “Right. OK.” 

 So now she was here. Drinking her fourth glass of wine. The music started. “Closer”, Nine Inch Nails. Elena watched Damon walk -- or was that a prowl? -- into the room in a shirt and black jeans, swaying his hips and doing body rolls. She put her hand over her mouth and bit down on her finger to stifle her laughter and from the way his movements became more and more exaggerated, it looked as though Damon took her gesture to mean something else. For which he was grateful.

As he wiggled over to the bed, shirt off, jeans unzipped, Elena started to wonder if maybe he was being intentionally funny.

She strove to remember how she'd felt during the Miss Mystic Falls dance, what she’d seen in him then that made him sexy to her. Was it the suit? Should she ask him to wear one? But then the dance would start all over again…

His pants were off, crotch was in her face, and Elena decided to take matters into her own hands. She brought him to her and kissed him firmly on the mouth.

“Too hot and bothered to wait?” 

Sure. “Mhmm.” 

His lips were rubbery on her neck. “You’re aching for my cock inside you.”

Elena shuddered. 

“Already shivering,” he whispered.

“Shut up.”

She kissed him again, trying to give all of herself over, to find the abandon she had the summer they stayed in the bedroom for hours on end but even that summer, she hadn’t been truly lost in him. She’d thought about Stefan the entire time, what he was doing, if she should call him, she’d hadn’t been able to shake the feeling that something had happened to him.

 No. No thinking about Stefan. 

“I want to fill you.” 

Elena grabbed his face and put a finger to his lips. This would work so much better if there was quite literally no talking. Damon smirked, apparently under the impression that this was some kind of domme act. He put her finger in his mouth and sucked. She hesitated then rolled her eyes to the back of her head so that a lusty chuckle escaped him.  

He reached between her and then stopped kissing at her, his eyebrows furrowed. “You’re not…?”

“Oh, uh…” She cleared her throat and wondered if this would be the best time or the worst time to have another conversation about foreplay -- really, the only one who’d been able to prime her with simply a kiss had been the man she’d dated just  before him -- but at seeing Damon’s wounded expression, she put her hands on either side of his face. 

“Baby, it’s just performance anxiety. OK? Just not used to…” She nodded her head toward the phone.

"OK, I know, I know. Gotta set the mood." 

The music changed. “Best I Ever Had.” He rolled off her and was suddenly where his fingers just were and Elena squirmed, making a face at the darting of his tongue.  “Oh yeah, that’s… that’s…” She cringed at her own bad performance and willed herself a sigh or a pant. He was being vocal and she struggled to reach his enthusiasm. 

“Yes … feels so so good…”

“Mm…”

She needed to find her inner Meg Ryan and give a performance of a lifetime. The sex couldn’t have always been like this, it had been good, great -- their first time, their second time too, it had felt like some kind of seismic shift, like she was experiencing all of these new sensations that were richer and deeper and more intense. Where did that go?  

She needed to concentrate.

 Elena looked down at the top of Damon’s head and felt no inspiration. Her eyes wandered the room and she caught herself in the phone’s camera and at seeing how awkward they looked, averted her eyes until they fixed on the closet where she’d shoved the blanket. She shook her head, trying to look away, trying to focus on something else but her eyes always went back to the blue and brown plaid, to the stories it could tell. Like the swimming hole.

No one had been at the lake except for them, her back rested against his chest. They’d been enjoying the night, the quiet company of one another, the intimacy of each other’s silence when Elena, after staring at the water for a few minutes, turned to look at him and mused, “You know, I’ve always wanted to go skinny dipping.”

Stefan raised an intrigued eyebrow at her and something deep down in Elena immediately clenched.

“Well, there’s no one around,” he said.

She’d stared at him for a few seconds, at the hint of hunger intensifying his eyes, at the wryness of his smirk, 

the way he could switch gears so seamlessly had always been a turn on for her but there was something about the smoothness of his response, the lack of surprise in his tone that made her say, “You’ve done it before, haven’t you?”

He waited a beat and then his grin became sheepish. “Once.”

That got her attention. “With who?”

Stefan chuckled nervously.

“The playmate?” Elena suggested. “Miss June 1972?”

Now, he looked mildly surprised. “You remember the details?”

“Well, June is my birthday month.”

Mischief made his eyes glint and Elena felt her body ignite. “I guess I have a type,” he said.

“Yeah, well, your boyfriend going on a date with a playmate is not the kind of thing a girl forgets." Her good-natured jealousy made him smile. "Like your thing for cars?” he countered.

Elena’s cheeks flushed red as she’d thought back to their first double date with Caroline and Matt and the mechanics of making out in cars had been brought up 

and Matt made a rash joke.

“It wasn’t a thing,” she said, giggling. “I don’t have a thing.”

Stefan laughed. “I’m sure.”

“And don’t change the subject.” She said, elbowing him playfully. “Was she a girlfriend?”

“I never said it was a ‘she’.”

Elena raised her head up to look at him. “You and Klaus had a lot of late night rendezvous did you?”

“I also never said it was at night.”

She looked at him. He laughed, shaking his head.

“So it was a girlfriend?”

“I don’t know if I’d consider her a girlfriend.”

Elena’s eyes narrowed slightly but she was still somewhat amused. “Was it Katherine?”

Stefan licked his lips and sighed. “No. It was Rebekah.”

All traces of amusement had suddenly disappeared. “Oh.”

Katherine would’ve annoyed her but she would’ve been preferable. The thought of her simply near Stefan had never failed in putting Elena in a sour mood

but there’d been something about Rebekah, about how she’d flaunted her time with Stefan,

how she’d dismissed their relationship, something about her arrogance that irked her more than anyone else.

Elena stood up so she could do something with herself.

"Elena." Stefan stood up too, a slight grin on his face, and moved toward her. She wasn’t angry at him and she knew her spike of jealousy was making her petulant, and so she let him bring her into his arms and let herself relax in his hold, resting her head against his chest. 

She never really got over the way his body simultaneously comforted and inflamed her, how she sought solace and pleasure from him in equal measure and suddenly wondered if he’d had the same affect on Rebekah when they were together.  

She looked up at him. "I am curious, though."

He furrowed his eyebrows. "About?" 

"About how it happened." 

"It didn’t --"

"Like, your shirt." Her hands gripped the hem. "Was she the one who took it off?"

"I..."

Elena pulled Stefan's shirt up and over his head and when she’d let it fall to the ground, the material no longer obstructing their line of vision from each other, his expression had shifted into a seriousness, a singular focus that turned her breathing shallow. 

She tried to keep composure under his gaze. He was the one being seduced here, not her.

Elena allowed herself a second to take in the sight of his body -- sculpted perfection -- before gently raking her fingernails down his chest, grinning at the way he shivered from her touch. 

She pressed her lips to his neck, kissing until she heard what she wanted -- a deep sigh, then she nipped his jaw. She felt his hands on her waist.

"How about your belt?" She whispered in his ear. The grip on her waist tightened and then relaxed slightly, which spurred her own desire since she knew he had to remind himself to hold back, he had to actively manage the intensity of his need. "Did she take that off?"

As she unbuckled his belt, Elena used her teeth to gently tug on the bottom of Stefan's earlobe and then sucked, eliciting a deep groan. His hands had slipped from her waist to her behind and he squeezed, making her want to push into him, writhe against him. But he wasn’t the only one with restraint.

"Did she...?"

Elena's lips were a breath away from Stefan's as she spoke and he leaned forward to kiss her but she moved away, pressing her lips against his chest and kissing her way down his stomach, the tip of her tongue trailing his skin. He cursed.

She rid him of his jeans and then held the waistband of his boxers, relishing the ripple of his stomach as he took a sharp intake of air. She raised her head to see him already looking down at her, a hint of carnal desperation in his eyes that burned with anticipation. That alone made her lightheaded. She swallowed hard. What he could do with one look. 

She contemplated pressing her lips to him in an effort to drive him wild but knew if she did, they’d never make it to the lake, she’d be on her back or against a tree as he buried himself in her and she lost herself in him, crying out for more and more and more and she meant to make him wait for that. 

Elena stood up again, unable to trust herself with the task and lowered her eyes in a wordless command. He took them off himself. She teased him with the promise of a kiss again, letting his lips touch hers for barely a second before taking a few steps back and ridding herself of her shirt. He started to follow but she shook her head and he stayed where he was, the hint of smugness beneath his attentive expression an indication of what he was thinking about, what she was in for the moment they were together. 

Her body screamed for his imagination, for whatever he was picturing right at that moment, but she ignored the hankering that was becoming increasingly more urgent. 

She undressed fully and then dove into the lake. Stefan was in the water with her no more than a moment later. They were now locked in a game. A game of restraint where they touched and played, splashing each other, swimming around one another, doing everything but coming together while the desire for one another was a ripe, aching need that charged every moment, every movement. The tension mounted every time he swam close to her, behind her, his presence prickling her skin with goosebumps while her proximity to him seemingly had no effect except the way his eyes blazed gave away his own lust.

They chased each other, playfully dunked each other, laughed loudly together and then he was kissing her with savage release, holding her chin as his mouth took hers.

 He was ravenous and she moaned into him, greedily pushing her bare body to his while he responded by holding her and pressing her back, as if he were trying to bring her even closer to him, as if he were trying to make them one.

Elena instinctively wrapped her legs around him, gripping at his shoulders, her fingers twisted in his hair as he was kissing her everywhere he could reach, her neck, her throat, her chest, her breasts,  until she found herself moaning, “I can’t wait.” 

They were back ashore in a matter of seconds. On the blanket. The wildness with which they came together had not been what Elena expected at the beginning of the night but she was driven by irrational jealousy. She wanted him to forget that he’d ever seen Rebekah naked 

and he wanted to assure her that it’d already been forgotten.

He’d thrust into her with such purpose that she cried out, which only incited him to push further until she felt him so solidly within her, making her bite down on his chest to release some of the sensation. He made a noise halfway between painful pleasure and excitement. She watched him watch her, at the smug delight in his expression every time she whimpered his name.

Elena was now slick with remembered want, she arched off the bed and then she saw Damon look up at her triumphantly before moving across her body again. She kept her eyes on the blanket to sustain the memory, and as she held onto Damon to contain his flailing limbs, she conjured the delicious rhythm of Stefan’s movements, the precision and restraint that eventually came apart beneath her or above her when he could no longer hold himself back.

She moaned.

“Yes.” It was Damon’s voice. A distraction. “You like that? You like that?” He kept asking.

Elena turned over so she was astride him but turned to the closet rather than his face, conjuring the night at the lake to her mind again, how Stefan was reverent and fierce with her body, how he rocked into her with a determination that made her clench and spasm around him, that made her plead and beg and pray for more. Just more.

She found herself moving with the power of that memory, Damon’s noises muffled in the background as she recalled the throaty, sensuous sounds she brought out in Stefan that night. How she more than repaid him with a pleasure that made him clench the blanket beneath him, made him sob with an agonized ecstasy, made him pant that she was killing him.

Swaying atop Damon, she raced toward the building inside of her as she remembered the way she eagerly went about making Stefan finish. When his breathing was hard and his body was tight and strained and needy for a release only she could give him. 

She was almost there, just about there, about to ---

And then Damon cried out before she had the chance to reach her destination. She mimicked him then lay next to him, sweaty and panting and guilty.

“You’ve never fucked me like that,” said Damon, laughing. He turned over to kiss her shoulder and chest but Elena stayed looking up at the ceiling. 

“What were you thinking about? Hmm? Elena?” He tapped her. She finally looked at him. “What were you thinking about?” he said again.  

Elena pressed her lips together.

  “Salvatore prowess,” she said finally. “What else?”

[chrisdrysdale]

I’m here, I have you

+18 minors dni if you do you will be blocked!

Summary: You and Bucky both turned to each other for support.

Warnings: Nightmares, Insomnia, fluff, anxiety, angst, crying, cuddles, supportive, friends to lovers.

A/N: Hi everyone this is a writing challenge for @musingsinmoonlight !! The prompt I got was “We’re going to be okay.” I hope you enjoy! 💗

It was the 6th night. Insomnia has been kicking your ass. Most nights you found yourself wrapped up on the couch, tossing and turning as some crappy tv show played in the background. All you wanted was sleep, but you just couldn’t fall asleep.

A lot of the time the things keeping you up was your anxiety, the panic and the worry, going through your brain. As you try to calm yourself down your brain just kept going through a million different scenarios, most of the time resulting in you hyperventilating and crying.

You witnessed Bucky’s nightmares sometimes, well heard them. The kicking, the banging, the screaming and the crying. You wish you could support him but felt like you were over stepping.

So there you were, wrapped on the couch, mind running at a hundred miles an hour. You twisted and turned but ended up on the floor with your back against the base of the couch and trying to catch your breath as the tears rolled down your face. Then you heard a scream, startling you out of your haze. Bucky.

You were never that close Bucky, friends but not best friends. Maybe you had a little soft spot for him but that was yet to be determined.

Every time you were wake on the couch at night you always had the idea of going into Bucky and helping him, but never went through with the idea. That’s when you heard a door slam. That’s new. Then heavy footsteps approaching fast, then the door into the living area and then swung open.

You peeked over the back of the couch, trying to see who it was, terrified someone was there to attack you, until you saw Bucky, and he looked rough. His body was covered in a layer of sweat, his hair was a mess, his eyes were red and swollen and his face was tear streaked.

He didn’t notice you at first until you shuffled a little and his head whipped around to see you with just your eyes popping out over the back, your eyes matching his, red and swollen. “Y/N? Hi?”

“Hi Bucky, wh-what are you doing up”

“Nightmares, what are you doing up?” He slowly approached the couch, sitting down beside you, moving slowly as not to startle you.

“I - eh I have insomnia and anxiety, I don’t sleep very well”

“Oh I’m sorry, if it makes you feel any better I don’t sleep well either” he said with a little chuckle, taking your hand into his, calming you instantly.

“I know, I hear you sometimes, they sound bad”

“I’m sorry if I kept you up at night” Bucky felt a bit of guilt wash over him

“No, no you didn’t, can’t wake was already awake” you said with a solemn chuckle.

Bucky took that hand he was holding and brought it up to his face, giving it a kiss, making you giggle.

Bucky got up and grabbed a snack before it looked like he was about to head to bed. “Bucky wait-“

He turned around to look at you. “Do you wanna stay up with me? I could kinda use some company right now”

“I’d love to doll”

doll? ooh you liked that.

He sat down beside you and handed you some of his snacks. He unpaused the tv. “Okay, what’ya watch?” he asks you flipping through the channel.

“I don’t know you pick!”

“Okay, okay how about this, The Losers, one of the characters looks exactly like Steve and it’s fuckin’ hilarious”

“Ok sure”

You watched the movie and laughed about how Jensen looks like Steve but about 3/4s of the way through it, Bucky noticed your legs start to twitch and your breathing become a bit faster. You did what you normally do. Place your hand into you t-shirt and place it over your heart and try to slow your breath. He noticed you doing this out of the corner of his eyes but brought his gaze to yours. “Are you okay doll?”

You nodded but as you do tears begin to fall and then you shake your head letting out a broken sob. Bucky looks at you with concern before placing a hand on you knee and holding his other hand near your chest “Can I?” he asks, you nod, not really sure what he’s about to do.

Bucky places his hand over your hand that is resting on your heartbeat and gives it a little squeeze, looking you deep into your eyes. “Jus’ breathe for me doll ‘kay?”

You nodded as Bucky leaned forward and placed a soft kiss onto your forehead, making your release a heavy breath. After a minute, your breath came back to normal and your body stopped shaking. “Better?”

“Yeah thank you so much Bucky”

“Anytime doll” Bucky switched the movie back on and you rested your head on his shoulder. He moved his shoulder a little bit, causing you to lift your head up apologising, until he wrapped his arms around your shoulders, pulling you into his chest. “This okay?”

“It’s perfect Bucky, thank you”

Surprisingly enough, you fell asleep in Bucky’s arms but woke up in your bed, with Bucky asleep in your arm chair. “Bucky?”

“Mhm oh g’mornin’ doll, you sleep okay?”

“I eh- I thought we were in the living area?” He got up and walked to your side of the bed, sitting down beside your legs. “Well, we were but you fell asleep so I brought you in here”

“Oh - Thank you Bucky”

“Anytime”

The next few nights were the same as usual, ending up with you falling asleep for an hour or two and continuing on with your day, until tonight. You had actually worked up the courage to sleep in your own bed but it still resulted in you sitting on floor, with tears streaming down your face, until you heard a knock at your door.

You got up and opened it and saw Bucky there. The second he laid his eyes on you, he wrapped his arms around you waist, tucking his head into your shoulder. “Woah Bucky you okay?”

“I’m sorry, I jus’ need to hold you”

“That’s okay” you sniffled out bringing your hands up to stroke his hair “I kinda just need to hold you too Bucky”

You were standing for a minute until you pulled Bucky’s head up. “Do you wanna stay with me tonight?”

He nodded and mumbled something about being sorry, which resulted in you placing a finger over his plump lips. You brought him to your bed and pulled the covers back, instead of lying down he just sat up against your headboard. You sat down beside him and took his metal hand into yours, doing the same thing he did the other night, placing a little kiss on it. “Do you wanna talk about it Bucky?”

He nodded before fixing his posture. “In my dream- they umm, they hurt you, they eh - they - they killed you”

You took a gasp in and placed your hand his shoulder as he began to talk. “I don’t know why it’s affected me so much but I guess I like you Y/N and I don’t wanna see you get hur-“ he was cut off by you springing forward and planting a kiss on his lips, then pulling back quickly.

“oh shit Bucky I’m sorry I don’t know what came over m-“ he then cut you off, grabbing the sides of you face and pulling you in for a longer, more real kiss. He pulled away and more tears began to fall down your face. “Hi Bucky”

“Hi doll”

He pressed his forehead against yours, both of you now crying. “Be my girl?”

“Of course, I’ll be always bet there to take care of you, if you there for me of course”

“Always” he said with a small smile “We’re going to be okay”

He pulled you with him as he laid down on the bed and snuggled in under the covers. He pulled you into his chest, placing you under his beating heart. “We have each other now, we’re going to be okay”

-fin

I hope you guys enjoyed it!!!

[fayesrossua]

REINER BRAUN: CAR CAMP-OUT

This story is NSFW and has 18+ content. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. THANK YOU

Prompt: Modern AU. Reiner x F!READER. You and Reiner go camping for your anniversary — everything is smooth until one night, a huge spider crawls across your face, sending you into total panic mode. You sulk, feeling bad for yourself and scared that Reiner is mad at you. He reassures you everything is okay, and goes the extra mile to make you feel better ;)

WC: 2.9k

Warning/tags: mention of spiders. spiders on face. crying, hyperventilating, panic attack, overthinking. Reiner comforts you. Making out. Fondling, dry humping, French kiss, touching each other through clothes. Oral sex (male receiving), hand job (female receiving),multiple orgasm, doggystyle, outdoor sex, exhibitionism, rough sex, praising, hair grabbing, unprotected sex, creampie. ITS A WHOLESOME AND SMUTTY STORY BASICALLY.

Nicknames used: babe, baby, Princess, Daddy

Notes: When trying to come up with an idea for a smut fic, I randomly remembered the time where i went camping and my friend woke the entire site up because a spider was crawling on her. We had to shake out the entire tent and she was a mess the rest of the trip ☠️

ENJOY!! 🥰🖤

You wanted to go home - fuck, you were so done with this trip. For your anniversary Reiner suggested you two go camping for the weekend. You agreed gleefully, having fond memories of camping as a child. The late nights by the fire, the fleece hoodies that wrapped kept you warm in the brisk mornings, and the smell of the damp forest around you - you thought you liked camping. But now you were here, sitting in the car and watching as Reiner broke apart the tent, shaking it all out. A spider got in your tent, and went crawling all over your face.

It was all a blur, your screaming came before anything else as a black, fuzzy blur was covering your periphery. You swatted at your face, screeching and running out of the tent. The worst part, you knew you were being dramatic, but it felt too late to let up now. Why do I have to ruin this? You thought to yourself. Everything had been going smoothly - and panic began bubbly in your chest. An aching, threatening feeling building in your throat. You wanted to cry. God, you were so scared that Reiner was mad at you. So scared you had inconvenienced him and pissed him off. Your mind began wandering to the worst conclusions possible, and hot tears began brimming at your eyes. “I’m so fucking stupid,” you whisper laugh to yourself, the tears starting to fall. You sit, feeling beside yourself when the car door opens. Reiner cranes his head, wiping his forehead and looking down at you,

“Babe i squashed the spider, and the tent is put back—“ he notices your crying “Baby, what’s wrong?” He lowers himself to sit, and closes the door, scooting closer to you and grabbing your hand. You avoided his gaze, covering your face with your hand. You were so overcome with negative emotions it was hard to stop.

“Nothing — I just got worried you were mad at me,” you choked out. Reiner’s face narrowed, his eyebrows furrowing in concern as he looked at you feeling so upset. He tsk’d and grabbed you by the head, pulling you into his gripping embrace. One hand on your head, and the other on your back, rubbing you up and down firmly. Your hands came under him, reaching under his armpits and wrapping around his shoulders. You sobbed into his shirt, feeling his hands soothe your shaking.

“I would never get mad at you over something like that. You did nothing wrong, I know you just got scared,” Reiner kept rubbing your back, letting you cry as much as you need to. “I don’t know how these ideas get in your head but I’m not mad at you. I promise, I promise..”

You swallow, nodding against his shoulder. His hugs made you feel like you were being swallowed by his mere width and mass, and his earthy, soapy scent grounded you. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what happened.”

“You don’t have to explain yourself.” He said. His grasp on you tightened, and you two sat in silence for a few minutes.

You were so thankful to have a man like Reiner in your life. He was riddled with his own demons, his own anxieties but it made him an understanding partner. You two had come so far out of each other’s comfort zone to make this work, you knew nothing could really get in the way if there was communication. You slowly pulled yourself from his embrace, leaning against the car seat and looking back at him. The lamp on your camp table shone into the car, lighting up Reiner’s face with a pale blue glow.

One thing you had come to love about this camping trip, was seeing Reiner in his element. Outside, with nature, in simple clothes, and hiking boots. His facial hair was slightly longer and his ashy blonde hair a little more disheveled than usual. He was at ease, and happier than usual. And this man was yours. You felt so lucky.

Eventually your breathing steadied — no longer having a bulge in your throat threatening to release tears. “Thank you Reiner.” You said. He ran his thumb over your hand in response, and leaned in to kiss you. It was soft, and gentle. His nose brushing against yours as he switched to the other side of your lips.

“Anything to make you feel better.” He whispers, and returns down to your lips. Reiner’s kisses are sweet, and the contrast of his wandering hand up your shirt makes you shiver. He reaches for your breast and squeezes. You run your open palm on the tent building in his pants. He breaks your kiss with a sharp exhale, cupping your face and leaning his body further into you. Your head balanced on the window sill, and Reiner moves up, letting your legs lay flat on the back seat. Reiner ran his tongue along your lips, then stuck his warm, flaccid tongue in your mouth, meeting with yours and tangling yourselves in each other. You let out a little moan, and Reiner deepened your kiss, moaning in response.

You continued to feel his bulge through his pants, circling your finger around the implied tip of his dick print. “That feels good — are you sure you want to do anything tonight, babe?” He asks, pulling away from your lips, planting a small kiss on the corner of your mouth. You nod in response. After a good sobbing session you always felt like a new person.

“I want you Reiner. I love you.” You kiss his cheek.

Reiner’s lips turn upward in a small smile. “I love you too, baby.” He says, and presses his lips to yours again. “I want to make you feel good —“ he whispers against you,

You breathe out, grabbing his dick through his pants. Reiner releases a stunted breath, peppering kisses all along your ear and neck. “I need you inside me, Reiner. Please.”

“My pleasure, baby,” Reiner breaks away from your neck and presses his fingers against your pussy. He flexes his fingers, pressing and circling your sensitive spots, while you stroke him through his pants. Already you begin to feel hot fluid leak into your panties, and those first-touch butterflies and sensitivities are going haywire. You’re getting ready.

You shift yourself, “Watch - I’m getting on top,” pushing Reiner into the middle seat and swinging your leg around, planting yourself on his lap, straddling him. His head lays on the headrest and he looks up at you, with lust filled, adoring eyes. He loves you. You adjust your hips, planting yourself right on top of his growing bulge and swivelling slightly. You watch in delight as Reiner hisses at this, his eyes fluttering to half mast as he reaches down for your ass. You buck your hips into him, riding his clothed dick and feeling the dull pressure push up against your clit.

“You look so good, Princess.” Reiner whispers, as brings his hands up from your ass, up to your shoulders and lifts your shirt.

You raise your arms up, still greedily gyrating your hips on him. Reiner unclips your bra, brushing his fingers along your skin and sliding the loose fabric off of you. Immediately Reiner is latched onto your chest, suckling on your nipples — indecisive as to which one to focus on. You run your fingers through his hair, settling on top of his cock and feeling him press against your wetness. “You’re my beautiful boy,” you sigh, closing your eyes as Reiner has his way with your chest, still squeezing your ass here and there. Eventually you move your legs to the other side of the car, making room for him to shuffle his pants down.

Reiner moves his pants down quickly, and slides his underwear down. His cock springs out of his underwear, perfectly striated and veiny just for you. He shifts himself to your previous spot in the car, angling himself toward you and letting his cock flop onto his stomach. You help him take off his shirt, leaving you both topless and you bring yourself face to face with his beautiful dick. “Can I suck your cock, Daddy?” You muse, looking up at him. He swallowed, and grazed the side of your face with his thumb.

“Please,” he whispered, “please baby,” his was voice deep, and filled with admiration for you. His tip was glistening, a trail of precum already leaking out. His cock was slightly curved, making it a beautiful anchor to bury itself into you. You wet your lips and planted tiny kisses along his shaft, before you slacked your jaw, taking most of him in before reaching the back of your jaw. “Fuck — oh my god.” Reiner exclaimed, gently hovering a hand over your hair as to not mess it up. You settle as he reaches the back of your throat, and you bob your head up and down, letting saliva coat your mouth. “You’re doing so good, babe,” Reiner says, lifting his hips into you slightly. You close your lips around him and pull up for room. Breathing through your nose, you let the pooling salvia in your mouth dribble all over his tip before you started sucking him off again, giving him faster sucks focusing around his tip.

Above you, Reiner is a moaning mess. His eyes are closed and head is rested against the window. He only puts his hands on you as he feels himself come close to finishing. “You’re going to make me cum.” You let up for air, doing one last deep throat before leaving his cock swollen and begging for more. Reiner pulls you into a kiss, sloppily sticking his tongue in you.

“I love you Reiner, I love you.” You whine against him.

Reiner moans, “I love you too, I want to make you cum now,” He reaches between your legs, and begins rubbing circles on your pussy again. You jerk at the sudden stimulation, and you sit up, taking off your pants and sliding down your underwear. It was hard to get undressed with a man as huge as Reiner in the car — in a car as tiny as yours. Reiner bundled up all the removed clothing articles, making a little pillow for your head to rest on. He laid you down as best as he could, and brought his wide, thick fingers down to your now exposed pussy. He was greeted with your slick, hot folds and his fingers slipped between, and fondled you gently. Your chest rose and fell unsteadily as he got a hold on you, feeling you warm up to his touch. He propped himself on his elbow, lowering himself down to you to kiss you as he fingered you.

“Go a little faster,” you ask, and Reiner quickly follows. His fingers take longer, careless strokes — electrifying the nerves on your clit, or slipping the tip of his finger in your entrance. Eventually he pulled away from your kiss, looking at you earnestly as he settled on top of your clit, rubbing delicate circles on it.

“Look at me, Princess. I want you to look at me.” You turn your eyes to him, seeing his pupils grow to a size that could swallow you.

“Oh — oh my god, Reiner, Reiner,” you murmured, your mouth slightly agape as Reiner kept stimulating you, rapidly bringing you to a point of climax. “Keep going, faster, faster,” you breath, wincing at how much pleasure is rushing through you. Reiner’s eyes are determined — glazed over with pure lust and the desire to see you come apart before him.

“Come baby, you’re gonna feel so good.” He says, his fingers pressing into you at a quickening pace. “Come, come, come” he eggs you on as your eyes roll back to your head and you begin jerking against his hands. Sharp tingles from the top of your head, all the way down to the centre of your core explode all over your body, and you’re overcome with a blinding feeling of... peace, and arousal, and otherworldly sensations that wash over you in waves. Each waves comes with waning intensity, but you’re a moaning mess underneath Reiner. The best of it has passed, yet you still feel yourself pulsate, pumping out whatever else is left in you. “You’re such a good girl. I love you so much.”

“I love you..” you whimper, pulling Reiner down to kiss you, “thank you, thank you.”

“Are you ready for me to fuck you?” Reiner asks against your lips. You nod, exhaling into his mouth.

“Please, please Daddy,”

You two tried to maneuver yourselves in the car for a few minutes, but nothing really worked and you really wanted to fuck each other up.

“Seems like we should just finish this outside,” Reiner said, laughing slightly after he hit his head on the car ceiling. You shrug, nodding in agreement.

“We should,”

Reiner raised his eyebrows at you, “There might be spiders outside,”

“That will only be a problem if they try and crawl up my vagina, Reiner.” You murmer against his shoulder.

Reiner laughs,

“Okay that’s fair,” Reiner buries his fingers into you again, planting a wet kiss on your forehead. “Be careful what you ask for.” He slides out of the car, closing his door before dashing around and opening your side. You two stand in your empty campsite, naked and desperate. You’re so turned on you couldn’t care less that you’re outside. Reiner closes your door, and presses up against you, his dick pressing against your inner thigh. He is trickling kisses down your ear and fingering you. You whimper,

“Please fuck me, now,”

“Okay baby,” Reiner groans, and grabs his dick, angling it downward and having it graze your wet pussy lips. You both sigh at the long awaited contact, and he grabs your leg, lifting it so he can get a better angle. You bite your lip as you watch Reiner plant his soft tip into you, both of you cursing as he slowly slid himself all the way in. Inch by inch, you clamped around him, cushioning him in your pillowy and tight hole. Once he was in, and you had adjusted, Reiner began moving his hips, slowly bringing his cock in and out of you.

After a few strokes he pulled out, letting your leg down and turning you around. He pressed you up against the car, and leaned into your ear, “I’m going to fuck you like this, is that okay?” He asked.

You nodded, whimpering a weak, “Yes,”

Finally, Reiner could have a good hold of you. He had one hand on your shoulder, one hand on his cock as he slid himself into you. It didn’t take long before Reiner was fucking you mercilessly. He felt amazing inside of you. The brute force of his thrusts and the way his dick slid in and out of you was rendering you senseless. The slight curve of his dick being was perfect at hitting your G spot.

“Ooh Reiner, keep going, ooh my god you feel so good,” your eyes lulled to the back of your head, and you reached down, fingering your clit and propelling your next orgasm into full swing.

Reiner grabbed a fistful of your hair and continued to pound into you. “You feel so good, you’re such a good girl for me, baby. Fuck.” His thrusts became quicker, and he slammed against you harder — pressing you into the car door. The sound of your his dick stirring your pussy around and the impact of his thighs hitting your ass was bringing you over the edge.

“I think I’m going to cum.” You barely get out before Reiner grinds his cock into your pussy, moving his hips against your ass — taking a momentary pause before pounding into you again. You grab onto the car for support as you cry out, that same wave of ecstasy crashing over you, over and over again, all the while Reiner is still fucking you, with intensity you’ve never had before.

“I’m - I’m cumming inside you.” Reiner cries out, his moans turning to breathy whines as his movements become jerky. His strokes become slow, and sensual, until his face plants itself on your back, and he slips his dick out of you. You’re both breathing so hard and you feel a hot liquid run down your leg.

“Oh my god, Reiner,” you say, feeling tears run down your face and sweat glaze your body. This wasn’t your home, you couldn’t just shower as usual. You wondered how you were going to clean up.

Reiner plants kisses on your back, hugging you from behind as you rest your head in your hands on your car. He keeps you bent over, running his fingers through your cum filled pussy and admiring your back view. He runs his hands over your ass before grabbing your shoulder, and pulling you into crushing embrace. “You’re truly amazing. Fuck.” He whispers against you. You hum in response, squeezing him tight and breathing in his scent again. You felt so relaxed, and tired all the sudden. He kept his promise to make you feel good. He pulled away gently, bringing a finger under your eye and catching one of your tears. “Those are the kinds of tears I want to give you babe.” He says playfully, before kissing you softly on the cheek.

[hollyhomburg]

Before I Leave You (Pt.4)

(Omegaverse au, Mafia au, Bts x Reader)

Summary: Yoongi makes his choice, so does Moonbyul.

Pairing: Beta! Yoongi, Omega! Reader, Omega! Jungkook, Omega! Seokjin, Alpha! Namjoon, Alpha! Hoseok, Alpha! Taehyung, Alpha! Jimin,

Tags: Graphic material, Death, Murder, Dead bodies and dying described in detail, brief suicide attempt, suicidal thoughts, depression, DARK THEMES, guilt, blood, a touch of blood kink? drugs, murder/crime themes, guilt, kinda fuck or die vibes? finally fluff at the end, mating marks, 

W/c: 7.1k

A/n: here is the moment you’ve all been waiting for! the big d word moment!!! my carpal tunnel is acting up, I will probably not be able to get the next chapter out for a few days or until next week. Chronologically the next chapter continues after part 1. 

(PLEASE READ TAGS FOR CW BEFORE YOU PROCEED)

Previous part — Masterlist

Part 4: If I Have You 

Pulling the trigger is the easiest thing you’ve ever done. 

Geumjae’s body flinches back from the force of the bullet. The ceiling splattering with the spray of his blood. It hits the side of your face too, your white shirt crested with red at the shoulders, dripping down your throat along with the blood from your mating bite. It’s a percussive splatter, noisy as it hits the wall.

People never talk about how blood gets everywhere during a murder. Yoongi is unable to stop his flinch when Geumjae’s brain matter and viscera splatter against him, just a little. 

Yoongi didn't think you'd actually do it. 

He watches you shove the body away from you, hard, what's left of his head, an empty vessel, hitting the floor with a hollow thud. His hands leave you for the last time, but the pain isn't finished. 

Yoongi barely has the forethought to lunge forward, knees scraping, wrestling the gun out of your hand before you can turn it on yourself. The barrel of the gun is hot when Yoongi's hands close around it and yank it away from your own temple. The smell of burning skin joins the metallic scent of murder. Your scent is a mess- it’s barely had a chance to mix with Geumjae’s burning wood-burning bread and wrath, rainstorms, and gunpowder. 

He shouts your name but you don't respond. 

Yoongi yanks the gun from your hands, probably hurting your fingers but panicked when he hurls the gun to the other side of the room and takes your hands in his, wrestling with you and screaming your name until the fight goes out of you. 

You’re hyperventilating when you stop struggling. Both of your wrists pinned above your head in both of Yoongi’s hands, his knees pressing your legs to stillness in a way that could be sexual but isn't- it's the easiest way for him to restrain you- both sprawled on the bloody floor. Yoongi’s crying, tears dripping down his nose, every other drop shines pink from what's on his face.  

“Yoongi please- please just let me go- I don’t want to become a ghost- I don't wanna become a walking corpse.” The way you look breaks his heart, your neck so bruised and bloody, your face swelling too from Geumjae’s hits. The way your eyes hold only darkness and no warmth as you look at him and beg- beg him to let you take your life. Your pupils are so small he can't see them at all. 

“Let me die Yoongi- please just- if you do one thing for me- let do this. let me go."

Yoongi looks at your mating mark and can already see the thin tracery of ink spreading under your skin- inky blackness spreading from your mating bite and up your throat. A piece of someone who’s dead inside of you, shot through with silver to make it stand out more. 

It’s like some silly zombie bite in a bad horror movie but it’s so much more haunting, The veins in your eyes are even starting to discolor. You have maybe a few minutes before the mating bite takes you over completely and you’re mated to someone dead.

Zombie movies were nothing more than fear of this taking root in common culture, everyone fears losing their mate. What else is more terrifying than something that takes your humanity in the way that this has taken yours. This is every person’s worst nightmare- a death sentence.  

‘Ghosts’ are what society has dubbed the women and men who live after losing their partners. Most of the time they live without alpha or a pack- unable to bond to anyone else ever again once their mates are dead. Mating bites are a one-time thing. 

When one-half of a mated pair dies- a person's body has a peculiar way of letting outsiders know how to treat them gently- The mating mark turns black like a brand. A mark to let everyone know that they would never have another person to take care of them- to love them.

But you aren’t alone- you’re not alone because you have Yoongi and he’s right here with his wide palms on you. Hands that where always made to fix things, but you aren’t just some broken toy that needs a bit of glue.  He’s too late, just seconds too late and only inches away. 

He grips both of your forearms in either of his palms hands, pulling you closer. Making you sit up, dragging you into his lap like carrying your weight in his arms will fix this. Anything to hold onto you- to not lose you too soon. 

"Stop- just stop, I've got you- I've got you," Yoongi repeats it more for himself than he does for you.

But there are wounds in your body that can’t be fixed by simple hoping. There is a limit to what one person can take. Despair is one hell of a drug and while Yoongi fights and fights there is no undoing what Geumjae has done to you.

But maybe…

Yoongi dares to hope; “It’s only a half bond if we-“ he falls silent as the idea settles over him like a bucket of cold water. His brain rushing over everything he’s ever learned about mating bites and beta’s; all of the statistics and articles that Namjoon had shoved down his throat when Jungkook had first stopped having seizures. 

The medical mystery that betas were; how they were able to heal unseen hurts and maybe- maybe this was like that. Maybe the solution to this problem lays in Yoongi’s veins, in his mouth. 

His jaw aches at the very suggestion of it.  “I’m a beta- and betas don’t usually mark- because- because they’re stronger than alpha and omega bites.” 

It’s the only truth that makes sense. All of the stories of omegas and alphas going crazy after being bitten by betas, not being able to move from them too far, extreme clinginess- a bond that was too close, too strong, stronger than anything else in their life. You weren’t supposed to bond with someone so deep, the bite almost seemed to do more harm than good. 

But you’re already dying and there isn’t much worse that could happen to you.

You don't have anything to lose but Yoongi does. You shake yourself free from his arms and pull back. Recoiling from what he’s offering to do for you; tether him to you forever when you might not make it. 

You can already feel the mating mark taking hold- It's already starting to cloud your judgment, deep down, the part of you that cares if you survive this is already winking out. The blankness sinking through your every inch, The emptiness. You’d be surprised if you lifted your hand to your chest and found your heart still beating. 

“Yoongi- No- you don’t have to- you’ve already got a pack and don’t- don’t bind yourself to someone like me.”

It’s the same argument that you had before but there’s no force behind it- every stupid excuse you had for him not to love you is moot now that your husband is dead next to you. But you're done; Every breath takes more effort than it should and you feel so heavy. You look down at your lap and feel the lethargy sinking beneath your bones like lead. Hidden hands gripping around your throat cutting off your words.

You feel like you’re choking on something. 

You’ve felt depressed before (how could you not have given what your life was like before Yoongi). And having a mating mark from someone deceased feels like that but worse, like it's turned up by a factor of three. A weird mixture of dizzy, absent, and dissociative. You have never felt less connected to your own body, it feels foreign.

You are nothing but a soul inside a body, craving release. A thread of black that wants to tug you down to where ever Geumjae is now. 

The sinking sadness says to you with gentle hands- this is a fine spot. You can just sit here, It’s okay. You don’t have to move, you can just sit here until you die. As long as no one bothers you and hurts you again, you could just sit here, as long as it was quiet and peaceful. Things don't even have to be good, you don't need good things, you just need it to not hurt anymore. Until the earth reclaims you like it takes abandoned buildings. 

 A sharp pain that goes through your heart, an ache so deep that it speaks to cavernous places, wakes monsters that you didn’t know where there. 

You’ve never really wanted to die before, maybe as a passing thought- but didn’t everyone think that way? it’s so different now- where the thoughts are all consuming, running over your words in your head like oil spreading and staining cloth. 

Die- want to die- want- want- want die- wanna go- wanna be quiet- wanna fall asleep and not wake up- want to- 

But if you decided to lay here and not get up again, Yoongi would stay too.

He would try and get you to move, probably beg and try to get you to live. Even if he never bit you, he’d stay next to you until the end, just to hold your hand so that you didn’t have to be completely alone. You thought dying would feel more lonely,  But maybe it doesn't feel that way because Yoongi’s here. 

His hand closes around yours, his thumb rubbing soothing circles as he cries. And you think if you want one thing; it's for him to stop crying. Out of all people- Yoongi doesn't deserve the hurt (but maybe you're biased because you love him).

That tips the scale in his favor.

Geumjae’s blood is pooling on the floor. His body gives a twitch, the last remnants of his misfiring nerves as he dies. You feel the painful jerk in your mating bond. Yoongi watches the muscles of your neck twitch. 

Neither you nor Yoongi pays him any mind. 

"You don't have to do this Yoongi." Yoongi’s hand on your cheek- is like a balm to those words, pushing them out of your head. “You can’t take it back. If I die- you could die too.”

“But I want to” he kisses your cheek- and the contact lights a flame down your neck to your touch starved heart. The heat flares to light and the next second your body and your mouth are aching to bite. Your instincts an avalanche around you begging you to complete the bond that’s tearing through you making you shake. He kisses a little closer to your lips, cheeks wet and cool against your skin.

Geumaje and Yoongi were related by blood at all, maybe your instincts can’t tell the difference. 

“I don’t care if it does- I can’t- I’m not going to just let you die” his voice breaks on the last word. Not when it was me who was too slow to save you; He won’t say the words or whisper his guilt into the open air. 

“Please sweetheart- let me.” He kisses your lips. So soft- achingly soft, Your first kiss, you wish it had happened under better circumstances.

You hate that the first kiss you and Yoongi share tastes like blood.

But there would be more- there could be more kisses if Yoongi manages to do what he’s saying he can. The mark on your shoulder is already healing, the blackness stretching to scar treacherously fast. Normal mating bites usually take a day or so to heal, but not yours, it’s already scabbing and sealing in the poision.

If you’re going to try this- if it’s going to work- it has to be now. The bond is advancing, regardless of the fact that Geumjae is barely dead, barely cooling beside the two of you.

It’s barely been 10 minutes since you shot him. And if you listen carefully- you can hear sounds in the rest of the house, maybe someone else from the gang here- about to come upstairs and discover the mess of you three. muffled voices and heavy footsteps grow louder by the second. 

Yoongi is safe but you’re not. “Yoongi,” you say, his name a broken hymn on your mouth. Musical- and Yoongi can’t think of a time when he wouldn’t want to hear it. Hoping for more of this closeness and maybe one day, a love that doesn’t hurt.

You get the feeling that even if you are broken beyond repair, this man could fix you. Wide hands and careful fingers that rub the blood away from your skin, hands made for making things and mending things when they break. And maybe you’re selfish enough to let him bind himself to you- broken as you are.

You press your forehead to his, you have to ask one more time. "Are you sure Yoongi?"

He nods, quick and small, "I'm sure." there isn’t anything in his eyes that makes you doubt him.

"Okay," you say softly, tugging him closer, tilting your chin up to the sky, your skin stings where it stretches around the mating mark. "okay. Come here then."

Your hands tangle in Yoongi’s hair as you guide his mouth to your throat, and his mouth sliding into the space where Geumjae was just minutes ago. He lingers for just half a breath before sinks his teeth over the mating mark, a little deeper- his mouth a little wider. He makes the bite a tiny bit offset.

Your breath hitches, back arching. His hands-on your waist go hard, holding you closer to him, as close as he can get you. Unlike before when Geumjae’s bite was agony, this feels like heroin- like every drug mixing together sending you up and up.

If you looked down and saw your hands were tipped in gold you wouldn’t be surprised. For a second you think you can taste colors, and then the chocolate sea salt of Yoongi settles over your tongue delicious, like ambrosia- fuck it’s so strong, it’s halfway between a headache and a high. You gasp when you feel it, feel Yoongi all over, Goosebumps rising on your arms as he touches you. The smell of ocean breeze and chocolate filling you in a way that Geumjae’s scent didn’t.

Geumjae’s bite was nothing compared to this, a whisper to a symphony. 

This must be what a mating bite feels like when you want it. You cry out. Gripping the lapels of his coat. Yoongi’s heartbeat thunders in your ears, the only thing you can hear, until the beat matches to your own, heartbeats pumping in sync.

Your blood tastes sweet and he wonders what it says about him that he likes the taste. He gulps at it- once- twice- and then a third time just to make sure the mark sticks, maybe he could suck a little bit of Geumjae out of you.

His kisses get feverish, lapping up your blood with wide laves of his tongue, moaning a little. and this time when you kiss- with your blood in his mouth, they get hurried and rushed like he can consume you, each one sweeter than the last. There is one moment of nausea, only one moment where Yoongi sees the black tracery receded and feels it dim. 

Maybe it’s not gone, but at least it's buried.

Yoongi can almost feel you, can almost feel the bond, but not yet. Your scent, it's all cake-sweet now. You kiss him until your jaw aches until your lips feel bruised. Until you know the sounds below actually are people, rushing around trying to find Geumjae. Calling out your names. 

Yoongi is the first to break apart, the room spinning. “Do me” he lifts the edge of his shirt, picking out a spot that he likes, the meat just above his hip. A spot is half-hidden by his shirt and his pants.

Not everyone likes to have their mating marks on their neck (you certainly would have chosen to have yours another place had you been given the chance). And Yoongi stretches out so that you can get your mouth on him, your mouth on the spot he wants to bind your soul to his.

He holds one of your hands in both of his hands so gently as you cup his hip and bite down, even as you begin to make out the noise of gang members coming up the attic stairs. Yoongi bites down a moan, lets you take one gasp of blood into your mouth before your teeth leave his skin.

The high rushes over him and he knows his pupils are mirrors of yours, black and dilated. He just has time to wipe his blood from your mouth and get you as close as he can, before the attic door creaks, the barrel of a gun pushing it open. And the gangsters enter the room with practiced steps.

Yoongi pulls his shirt back down just before they have a chance to see.

You play the part, slumping against him and letting him take the reigns. the people must take it for pain even though you’re shaking not with sobs, but from the feeling of Yoongi’s soul intertwining with yours. Full body shivers and something solidifying between the two of you. 

Together you shake, Yoongi is barely aware of the gangsters clearing the room. 

You feel like you can taste his thoughts, though you can’t actually hear what he's thinking. You can feel the way they tumble like small waves over each other. You feel concern and something else, something that feels an offal lot like love shoot down the fledgling bond as Yoongi’s arms pull you up, firmer against him.

It makes shivers rise on every inch of your skin, the pleasure he feels when he touches you that you're now hyper-aware of. It's what your body has been craving- the completion of the bond.

You both bleed- your blood dripping onto the floor. One part sacrament and sacred love and another part poisonous longing for a man you hated so much more than you ever loved him. This feels strange, it feels wrong, and that you have one part of you reaching out for something that’s not there. And then this- with Yoongi, right and front of you and inside of you. Completely occupying your heart and your mind and your body.

Accept for that one poisoned inch; you might not be completely his, but it's enough now, the bond with yoongi occupying those thoughts you'd had minutes before.

The gangsters don’t touch Geumjae, at least until Moonbyul enters the room, unarmed. Yoongi’s cousin eyes Yoongi from the door. There isn’t enough room in this torture room for the 12 or so gangsters and the three of you, they press against the walls, guns at the ready.

Moonbyul approaches Geumjae’s corpse, turning him over with her foot to see his blankly staring face, turning it towards the heavens instead of hell. For a moment, Yoongi thinks she might actually kick him. She plucks her pink handgun from the floor. Someone passes her a rag and she wipes it free of blood and fingerprints.

Her eyes on Yoongi are hard; a bit of mirth playing on the edge of her mouth as she plays her hand. A queen in a room full of pawns and knights, and the king underfoot. Her hand of aces. 

Betting it all on a simple game of roulette- red or black- will Yoongi challenge her or not. Yoongi doesn't miss the way her finger hovers on the trigger. 

“I suppose this entire situation would be concerning to me- if you hadn’t already named me as Don.” she nudges Geumjae's body again with her foot. "I guess he didn't take it well?"

She lies effortlessly, taking the moment to seize power. So this was what she was waiting for. Yoongi doesn’t challenge her words for fear of what she might do right now, not that he really would anyway. 

Yoongi tips his head forward in difference, “No he didn’t,” 

Moonbyul tucks her gun back into her waistband, and holds out her hand to pull yoongi to his feet. 

Yoongi takes you with him, small and still a little high in his arms. You hide your face in Yoongi’s shoulder, Holding onto him tight. You don’t know if you could take it if they tried to separate you now. 

Yoongi has to swallow to continue, struggling to think before he speaks with so many new sensations shocking his body. He's intimately aware of the way you shift in his arms, arms tightening around you at the very idea of you moving more than an inch away from him right now as you settle onto your own two feet. still a little unsteady. 

“He- he mated her against her will, and then he tried to kill us when I told him I wouldn’t- and- and after-” It’s not a lie- not really, but it still feels that way. Moonbyul doesn't need to do anything more than that to nod to call her men off, and they all relax around the room. 

They instantly fade from engaged concern to understanding. The other heads of household will probably grill Yoongi more. But you’ve both got time to get your story straight. For now, they need to clean up the body.

It helps that threatening the beta is a punishable offense; no one will question Yoongi killing him- especially since they’re brothers. Most of the families tend to think that inner house spats that family's business. Yoongi doesn’t know which of his relatives will inherit the title of head of the Min family, but it won't be Yoongi.

You’re small and silent in Yoongi’s arms, so vulnerable, he keeps you a few paces away from any of the mobsters, bites down a growl whenever any of them come too close to his mate. It’s just the mating bond making it’s self-known. You are his. No one can touch you.

Yoongi has never been a possessive man, but now he is. The mating mark tearing through him and screaming at him to protect, to provide, to nurture, and keep safe. He strokes down your back as his cousin quietly orders the others to clean up the mess and Geumjae’s body. The family has cleanup crews on call for this very reason.

They quietly offer to burn the house down to stage the death but Yoongi doesn’t care. He guesses it belongs to him now or maybe you. It depends on which bond the family will consider more important; the bonds of a half mating or the bond of brotherhood.

“I’ll handle it-“ his cousin has the good grace to offer comfort to Yoongi that way when he gets you into her car. she doesn't say anything about the dents in the side.  

Yoongi doesn’t quite hate her for any of this, but he doesn’t trust her the same way he did before either. She’s gotten what she wanted- the Don position. Plucked it from Yoongi’s hands.

“You haven’t had a chance to call the heads of house and tell them about your decision yet, but after that, you should be free to go” she reads him easily as always, The only other manipulator up to par with Yoongi himself in the gang. She knows that not an inch of Yoongi wants to stay in this house or this city a second longer.

At the idea of leaving you to straighten up in Yoongi’s lap to listen in a little more, you share a look with Yoongi. Your mate, your body sings the eye contact makes you shiver in your seat. Yoongi pulls you closer, stroking up to your arm mistakenly thinking you’re cold. You pull yourself closer to him- but it feels like you can’t get close enough, He makes a dissatisfied noise in his throat.

Yoongi will have to get used to this feeling. Like his soul is walking outside of his body. It feels incredibly vulnerable and intimate- He can feel your panic, how physically you’re being torn apart right now, every few minutes you shake. Yoongi puts your legs over his and holds you close. Watching your face closely for every twinge of pain as the lights of the city flicker over you two.

The meeting with the heads of house is tense, though the usual group of is two short now, standing only at eleven members now that Geumjae is gone and Moonbyul is named Don. You cannot be Don and a head of house at the same time.

It takes every bone in Yoongi’s body to let you be taken into the other room by Moonbyul’s mate to check over your injuries. He stops her with a hand on her shoulder. He catches Moonbyul’s nostrils flare, but she doesn’t say anything. “Would you look at her bruises for me?”

Later Yoongi will check them himself, again and again until he's sure you're all right. But the sooner you get ice on the nastier bruises the better off you’ll be. Someone should look at your ribs and your head too- he has half a mind to take you to the hospital before you leave the city. He doesn’t know how long it will be before you’re stationary again. He’d stay in the city tonight if you needed to. But he can feel your panic down the bond, The sooner you both get out of here the better.

With Geumjae dead there is no true opposition against his cousin's rule. She stands at the head of the table like she’s meant to be there. And still- the heads of the families talk through the night, kicking the non-proverbial dead horse into the ground. There is little mourning for Geumjae, one granny who cries faintly in the other room while the heads argue. Yoongi supposes he should look more upset, but no one pays attention to him now that he’s made his choice.

No, what they spend most of the time discuss is you. Sat in the other room, able to hear all of this, the men and woman weighing your fate and deciding what to do with you. If Yoongi listens, he can hear Hyejin’s quiet voice. Can feel your discomfort as the ice hits your ribs, maybe broken, definitely badly bruised.

Yoongi flinches every time he feels the pain pulse down the bond. Maybe in time, it will feel less sensitive but right now- Yoongi can feel your hurts just as bad as he can feel his own. A part of him is reaching out into the other room, screaming in his ear to go comfort his mate.  

He has a mate. Yoongi can scarcely believe it.

The gangsters around the table remain blissfully unaware of that fact. Most of the heads are on the same page, and he won’t reveal his mating mark unless he absolutely needs to, he will let that secret stay secret unless necessary. It’s a good bargaining chip. They wouldn’t kill you if they knew it was going to kill him too. But still- it’s hard to hear them argue over your fate when he can’t intervene.

“You know the rules- no divorces and no separations,” one alpha says, he’s older- nearing 60, but Yoongi can’t excuse that cruelty with age. The youngest, the head of the Ahn house does the rebutting for Yoongi, and he bites his tongue.

“But it wouldn’t be a divorce; she’s his widow now and his ex-mate technically.”

“Yes but that’s only a half bond.” There is only one omega head, and the woman snubs her long cigarette out on the table leaving an ashy circle 

“It’s only the alpha bite that matters- or have you forgotten?”

To her credit, the omega doesn't back down. “Chances are she’ll die anyway why are we even talking about her, we should start transitioning already.”

“That’s easy to say- if she’s got nothing left to lose what’s to stop her from going to the police.”

“I can keep an eye on her,” Yoongi volunteers, jumping at the chance to turn the discussion to his favor. They can all go fuck themselves if they ever dare to try and hurt you. “You say she’s as good as dead anyway. So you shouldn't mind if she comes with me.” 

The likelihood of anyone living after their mate dies is in the teens. Yoongi knew that and even then he bonded to you anyway. He can only hope that with his bite coursing through your veins and your body confused that you’ve got better odds than that. Yoongi did what he promised to do, now your odds are both 50/50. “I’ll make sure she doesn’t go to the police.”

Through the bond he can feel your curiosity and a little bit of fear too, you’re listening in. And he does his best to let his calmness comfort you too. Your panic instantly relaxes and he senses you reaching out. If you were next to Yoongi you’d be holding hands, and it kind of feels that way. If you could ever hold hands with someone’s soul.

“You realize that if you make her your responsibility, anything bad that happens will fall on your head as well” their betas might be sacred- but they aren’t free from the rest of the laws of the gang.

“I understand.” The Don lifts her head, regarding Yoongi with a heavy look. “She’s his widow and whether we want to address it now or not, the law says she’s inherited his wealth.”

It's met with immediate opposition, several heads of house start speaking over each other at once,  but Yoongi speaks up again, shouting over them. A beta raising their voice is about as strange as one giving or getting a mating bite, everyone falls silent. “Give it to me or her- I don’t care.”

another few minutes and they’re ready to let you go. they vote on it, and only 3 out of 11 heads vote to have you killed. Moonbyul gives the all clear, “Then you’re free to go.” Yoongi doesn’t even say goodbye, going to you in the other room just as quickly as he can without outright running. The Don’s mate is crouched in front of where you sit. Your body is mostly clean of blood and you’ve been put in other clothes; a pair of sweats and a baggy shirt.

Yoongi can see all the bruises on the side of your face turning purple and Yoongi wants to cup your face and bring it to his, kiss away the pain coloring your skin like watercolors, but can’t do it here. “Do we need to go to the hospital?” 

“Not for her but maybe for you, no ones checked you over yet, have they?”

yoongi grits his teeth, seconds away from snapping at hyejin, he wants her to get away, get as far from you as possible. “i asked if she needed the hospital.” 

Hyejin stands when Yoongi crouches. shaking her head when it becomes clear yoongi isn’t to be argued with right now. “There’s something wrong with her- but I think you know what” her eyes hover on Yoongi’s hip.

 So at least she’s figured it out. She has the good sense to utter the words quietly. Though the people in the other room aren’t concerned with Yoongi anymore, they’ve already launched into discussions about transitioning power and re-defining responsibilities. It seems Moonbyul had a plan on how she wanted the family to run from the beginning.  

He shakes off his annoyance, “Thank you,” he says to the omega, holding out a hand to you, which you take, still not saying anything. Tiredness holding you down to the chair. The same kind of look you’d had when Geumjae had died. The mating mark has been taped over but some of the blackness is still there. Yoongi wonders when it will fade, if it ever does.

“I wish I could say I’ll see you soon but I don’t think I will.” You and Yoongi nod, your hands twined between the two of you. She knows that neither you nor Yoongi has a love for the gang. No one stops you and Yoongi when you leave the house. Immediately hailing a taxi. You stop only at Yoongi’s safe house for a spare 20 minutes, while he packs up a fraction of his belongings in a hurried rush, anything to get out before someone tries to change their mind.

If Geumjae had any hidden loyalists the beta that killed him and his runaway wife would be the first targets. Let alone their reaction if they knew who had really killed Geumjae. The quicker the two of you get away from the city the better.

You end up at the train station, Yoongi breaks the bracelets off of your wrist- the same ones that he saw you wear on you the first night- and the ones that he’s always thought looked like shackles. He yanks at them as hard as he can until they snap; kissing your wrist after each one is off. You throw them over the side of the chain-link fence and into the darkness- to be lost forever you hope. The symbols of all you’ve lost.

When you get on the train, you cuddle close under Yoongi’s jacket and into his warmth. He’s a protective barrier between you and the third seat that thankfully remains empty this late into the night it’s so late it’s nearly early morning. Most of the train is empty besides an elderly couple at the front. Regardless, the two of you sit behind them. Yoongi can’t take his eyes off of the potential threat. Actually flinches when the conductor comes around to stamp your tickets.

You head off into the night- your little box of light in a sea of street lamps and hidden dangers. You almost fall asleep a few times, head bobbing as you catching yourself before it hits his shoulder. After the third time this happens he pulls you in close, tucks your head close to his scent gland, and commands “sleep” in a voice that you cannot disobey.

Eventually, you wake, the car is bright with the midday sun and the car is half full. Yoongi’s eyes are bloodshot as they train on every passenger who comes in and leaves your train car. Yoongi holds your hand, rubbing his thumb up and down the back in an endless trail. A conductor opens the door of your train car to pass through, bunching a few tickets here and there from the new passengers who have boarded the train.

He passes by where you're bundled and Yoongi flinches so hard it wakes you fully. his shoulder accidentally nudging a bruise on your cheek, He murmurs his apologies, panicked hands fussing over you. He could feel that he hit one of your bruises and the horror of hurting you make him wide-eyed and worried. You catch his hands, pressing the pads of them to your lips. Yoongi's hands shake as they touch you, hours later, he's still high on adrenaline. 

“You need to sleep Yoongi” it’s been a long few days for both of you.

He doesn’t answer with more than a grunt. But you get off the train at the next stop and it’s nearing noon by the time the two of you stumble across the street to a motel, and it’s shitty and smells like cigarettes and the lady at the front desk asks if you need the hourly rate or the daily rate. Though she does give you a discount because Yoongi’s a beta. Eyeing the blood-soaked collar of his jacket and the bloody bandages on your neck.

You should be holed up somewhere safe away from prying eyes to adjust to your new mating bite- not in a hotel where the smells of other people assault your nose. Making you press close to Yoongi because everything smells so new and scary. Like your senses have been turned up and only Yoongi can quell their sensitivity.

you don’t realize that the attendant gave you two beds until you get to the room. you both stare blankly before you cough and separated. the closeness too much now that you’re alone and free from threats. Though it doesn't feel that way. 

you hate it- you don’t want to curl up across the room from Yoongi- you want to be next to him. you almost whimper when he He steps away to the other bed to set down his backpack. You want to cry, your skin feels irritated and itchy without his pressed to yours. You want him to touch you but you can’t stay it. Don’t know how to ask around the thickness in your throat.

He gets a clean shirt from his black backpack and helps you put it on so that you don’t irritate the mating bite. You can’t lift either of your arms much and neither can he but he pushes through the pain for you. He only has 2 or three sets of clothes that he grabbed from the cottage, and it’s all you’ve got.

“We’ll get some more clothes for you tomorrow.” He doesn’t say that you should have grabbed some of your clothes- because you both know you couldn’t handle staying in that house a second more than was necessary. You barely thought to linger long enough to grab your purse, which thankfully had everything you really need in it. 

Somehow he has athletic tape in his bag, and he spends a few minutes changing out your soaked through bandages, bundling up toilet paper, and taping it over your mating bite. Only after yours is taken care of does he let you do the same for his bite on his hip, and the burns on his hands. 

You pull his pants off and then his boxers down just enough so that you can get at it, small from your mouth, the skin around it irritated and pink. You try not to let your eyes hover on the small happy trail that traces from his belly button downwards. The band on his boxers is stained with blood- and you wonder how much it hurt to have it dig into it all day.

You curl up in separate beds, and only when you’re under the covers do you slide off your pants. leaving you only in a large shirt that smells like yoongi.  Yoongi does the same, says “goodnight” and shuts off the light but doesn’t turn away from you, keeping his eyes on you in the darkness. 

You’re silent for a few minutes, but you can tell that neither of you is falling asleep. Your bed feels cold and you wonder if he feels the same, you let the distance hurt for a minute before you give in.  

"Thank fucking god-" He peels back the blanket for you the second you make the move and dash across the cold room. you scoot into his warmth and he lets out a little ‘oof’ when you collide. Letting him pull you closer, put the blanket over your back, and make sure all of your skin is covered.

It’s not enough for Yoongi and he pulls you sideways so that he can get some of his weight on top of you. A growl building in his chest at the thought of anyone walking through the door right now.

He needs to check the lock, make sure that no one can possibly disturb you. Needs to- the instinct filling him so harshly he can’t breathe. He tries to pull away, but your hands tighten on him, and you let out a whine so heartbreaking that instantly has him releasing comforting chocolate, flopping back on top of you nuzzling under your chin, you feel like you’re drowning in it. 

Your love with Yoongi is still too new and raw to be close like this without feeling shy- and yet you can’t resist, your mating bond is like a fresh burn that you can’t stop picking at because it hurts. (Like there’s something dead there that you need to get rid of, you can’t heal around, you need to tear it out so that it feels more like bleeding rather than something that was carved out by hungry heat.) You fiddle with the bandage at your neck before Yoongi takes your hand in his, lacing your fingers together.

For a moment, you crave the release that blood might give you- and like he can feel it. Yoongi presses a kiss to the back of your hand. “Couldn’t sleep?” Yoongi says. You shake your head. The motel creeks and overhead you can hear someone else moving in an adjacent room. Yoongi gets his head on your pillow and adjusts his hand around your waist so that he’s not hitting the vicious bruise that Geumjae left with one of his kicks.

The last 24 hours have been such a tangle. It feels weird to not move now. Yoongi’s heart is still hammering; you can feel it under your palm. You’re both unwilling to relax and close your eyes even for a second even though you’re both exhausted.

You’re worried if you close your eyes you’re going to see Geumjae's face.

Yoongi left the light in the bathroom on for you. Sensing that the shadows would be too thick with nightmares for you to handle for long. You look at each other in the darkness before Yoongi lets out a shaky little giggle.

“Do you know what I just realized?” he says, the words quieted against the too scratchy bedspread. “We could have gotten a better hotel, we easily have enough money for it now” and that’s true.

If Yoongi’s orders were followed and the gang's accountant really did transfer all of your inherited wealth to your name then- fuck- both of you saw the bank statements. Both of you know how much money Yoongi’s family had amassed- the same wealth that Geumjae had inherited and now you.

“Fuck you’re right,” you say, ducking in so that you don’t have to meet Yoongi’s eyes. Geumjae used to hit you sometimes if you did that- and trained habits die-hard. 

yoongi kisses your brow, slow little pecks that travel down your cheeks, as unhurried as they are sweet. It's strange to be close to him now when it’s all you’ve wanted for the last few months. You never thought you’d get this. It feels like a daydream and a nightmare all at once.

“We could buy a whole house- or three” and even then you’d have more than enough money to live on after. For the rest of your days, comfortable and cozy even if you were foolish with the money. Yoongi still gets his stipend from the gang. No doubt to be greater now that he’s the only beta.

He stops his kisses, mouth hovering on your cheek, “We could do that.” he sounds like he’s barely containing his excitement. 

You’ll both be fine. Neither of you will ever have to worry about money again and it makes you feel sick and happy with something that feels a terrible lot like grief.

Even if you got that- the last 24 hours haven’t been worth it. You’re not entirely out of the woods yet. The mark on your shoulder is scabbing over and inky. But every few hours of closeness that the two of you have- Yoongi think’s he sees the color fade- just a little bit.

You don’t know where the giggle comes from but one moment it comes out of your mouth and you laugh, and Yoongi joins in the sound startling out of his chest. He presses his forehead tight against yours and sighs at the sound. You see the moment clarity falls on him and an idea settles into his mind the second it hits. And dim happiness settles over your bond.

Yoongi lifts your hand to his mouth and kisses your bruised knuckles. “Let's buy a house.”

You smile- tired from today but still willing to placate him. “Okay Yoongi, we can do that.”

Now finally, his eyes are starting to droop, every few seconds he tries to keep them open, but you know he's seconds away from sleep. His words slurred when they whisper, his sweet chocolaty breath tickling your cheeks. “Goodnight sweetheart- love you.”

“Love you too,” it’s the first time you’ve ever said those words to each other. It feels like the first of many times you’ll say it. Forever- you and Yoongi will be mated together until you both die. And who cares if that happens tomorrow or months from now. Who cares? Because you have him and that’s all that matters.

Yoongi holds you and knows- that he will love you- as long as he can.

He watches you sleep, waits until your eyes are closed. Until he can make sure you’re safe and warm. A gentle purring fills the hotel room, soft and peaceful. yoongi hears it louder when he presses his ear to your chest. He tries to keep his eyes open, but somewhere around the second hour- they fall closed.

Neither of you dream.

—————

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[shorkbrian]

Oohh how would shouta and hizashi take their submissive readers virginity?

(What to expect - virginity, NSFW, dubcon, noncon. If you’re wondering the type of piercings Hizashi has, they’re dydoes (or kings head) and a pubic piercing. MxM penetration, anal plugs (Hizashi’s wearing one while he diddles u hehe))

Gently, I imagine.

If their darling is submissive, too afraid to run or fight, then there’s no need for them to be harsh.

They can take their time, be sweet and loving.

"Shhhh, you're getting loud." Hizashi holds a fingers to your lips as you lay there, panicked whimpers, distressed whines tumbling out of you.

Shouta huffs at the irony, his fingers working at the button on your jeans, then the zipper, then hooking into your belt loops, tugging the pants down easily as you begin to hyperventilate.

“Hey, hey, breathe with me, you’re alright.” Hizashi places a a hand against your chest, pressing you back against his warmth as he begin to take deep, steady breaths, encouraging you to do the same.

You can’t calm yourself though, eyes wide and fixed on the man in front of you, drawing your legs up and away from him as he rids you of your jeans, trying to keep your panties from his view.

If your wrists weren’t tied together, lashed to each other with soft, black ribbon, you’d be clutching at Shouta’s fingers as they ghost over your calves, up to your knees.

“P-please-” Is all you can whisper, fear settled so thoroughly in your body that you’re almost frozen.

“Don’t worry, I’m going to be gentle. ‘Zashi’s just holding you so you don’t wiggle too much and hurt yourself.” Shouta’s words are measured, steady even when he slips a hand between your knees and forces them apart.

You want to sob, but you can’t. Shouta breathes out a quiet “fuck” as he looks at your panties, running a finger across the waistband.

“She’s shaking like hell Sho.”

“It’ll be fine. It’s just nerves. Everyone’s nervous their first time.”

It’s nerves, it’s fear, it’s terror and dread. You’re horrified, and scared, and you’re shivering as if the room is freezing, even though it’s warm, cozy.

Hizashi dips down, brushes his lips against your neck, and you flinch, your shoulder rising to push his head away, his mustache tickling your flesh.

“Hah, you ticklish? That’s so cute.” The blonde coos, his arms circling around your stomach as his husband begins to tug down your panties. You’re sitting in Hizashi’s lap as Shouta strips you, the two men working together.

The blonde is already shirtless, pants-less, in nothing but boxers. You can feel his warm flesh through your hoodie, pressed against your back.

“My first time, I came in my pants.” Hizashi chuckled, thumbs rubbing at your sides. “Embarrassed myself to tears. The other dude thought it was hot, dropped right to his knees and pulled out my dick and got to suckin’. It kinda hurt, but he was fingerin’ himself at the same time and well, teenage-me was able to get it up immediately.”

You suppose he’s trying to ease your nerves.

Shouta gets your panties off, tosses them to the side as a hand grips each of your ankles, and then you’re spread wide.

A cry gets caught in your throat at the humiliation, Shouta and Hizashi both pausing to peer at your pussy, Hizashi letting out a low whistle.

“Damn, you’re a fuckin’ snack!”

Shouta lets go of your legs, and you snap them shut, closing your eyes as your cheeks burn.

“When I first had sex, I was a one-pump-chump. The girl I was with at the time said it was fine, but I didn’t know how to get her off. I’ve learned a lot since then.” The dark haired man offered his own story, hand slipping between your legs no matter how you twisted or clenched your thighs.

“Wooo! Imagine that, little ole Sho losin’ it after one stroke!”

“That’s what happens when you lose your virginity when you’re thirteen, ‘Zashi.” But Shouta has a gentle grin on his face, and his words held no malice towards his husband. Just two men in love recounting stories.

The dark-haired man leaned towards you, one of his fingers petting slowly over your folds as he did. Shouta wasn’t shy about kissing you, his lips warm, soft, stubble prickly against your skin.

He pulled back, breathing hotly against your lips. “How do you touch yourself? What feels good? I don’t want to overwhelm you, it’s easy to see that you’re sensitive.”

You trembled even harder, sniffling, closing your eyes as his finger still ran softly over your folds, barely touching.

“Sweetie-pop, can you show us? Show us how you want us to touch you down there.” Hizashi’s hands were playing with the edge of your hoodie, easing it up, his warm digits skimming against your skin.

Both men are waiting on your answer, watching you with lust-filled gazes as they run their hands over your skin. They’re already touching you, burning your skin, and you want to scream. All that comes out is a pathetic whimper.

“How do you masturabate? Do you like touching here-?” Aizawa presses his thumb to your clit, wiggles the digit and you tense, shaking your head. 

“-Here?” His fingers trail down to your entrance, one slowly beginning to push inside. You whimper again desperately, shaking your head side to side while looking at the man in front of you with pleading eyes.

“’K, this is gettin’ old-” Hizashi interjected. “I’ll ask one last time, and then Sho’ and I get to touch you however we want to, got it? How do you want us to touch your cute lil’ pussy?”

“I don’t know!” You wail, tears rolling down your cheeks. You’re so overwhelmed, and scared, and you just want to go home.

Neither man moves for a second, but then Hizashi is letting out a an excited sigh, hunching his back so he can kiss at your shoulder before questioning. “You don’t know?”

“I’ve never-never touched my-myself down there.” You manage to hiccup, and Shouta rubs your knee soothingly, his grey eyes trained on your face. 

“That’s alright, there’s no need to cry.” One of his hands cups your cheek, thumb brushing away salty tears. “We just want to make you feel good.”

You’d feel good if they took their hands off of you.

The hand that’s been rubbing over your folds becomes bolder, parting the lips of your cunt even as you try to squeeze your thighs shut. All that does is trap Shouta’s hand against you, his fingers sending little jolts of unsteady fire burning through your tummy.

“Mm, wait, please-” You whimper, desperate to escape this sensation.

Aizawa doesn’t wait.

Hizashi slips his nimble fingers underneath your hoodie, rucks it up over your chest and you burn with embarrassment at being exposed like this. You want to hide your face, but with your wrists bound, all you can do is cover your eyes with shaky fingers.

“Look at ‘er, god, you’re delicious. Just wanna eat you up! Sho, after you finger her, think I could eat her out? I wanna taste.”

His lewd words make you cringe, and you can’t even think about how it would feel, the blonde pressed between your thighs, tongue laving against you over and over-

“One thing at a time, she’s already a bit dazed. Maybe another time.” Shouta’s gently stimulating your clit, brushing his knuckles over it, watching you twitch with each pass of his fingers against the sensitive little organ.

“Alright, relax now, okay? Breath out for me.” The man instructs, and you could almost laugh; if the man thinks you could relax, he’s an idiot-

A wet finger pushes inside of you slowly, and you gasp brokenly, mouth falling open. There’s so much pressure, you feel stretched and it almost burns, but he’s not stopping.

There’s a squelch, and cool liquid rushes over your hole, slips inside as the finger slightly retracts, and you shudder at the feeling. It’s weird and you feel like you can’t breath.

The finger inside rubs at your walls, and your muscles clench at the foreign sensation, unsure whether it feels good or bad.

“Calm down, you’re okay. I’m just stretching you out. Tell me if something feels really good, alright?” Shouta is acting as if he’s speaking to a child, a spooked rabbit, a baby. His eyes keep flicking between your flushed face and your pussy, enamored by the way you suck his finger inside, at the feel of your velvety walls, the slick feeling that he can’t wait to experience hugging his cock.

“I can’t, I can’t, please-” 

“You can, doin’ so good for us sweetie.” Hizashi chirps, and you realize his hands are resting against your bare chest, idly squeezing at your breasts. You had been so focused on his partner’s actions that you had missed his coy advancement. 

One finger turns to two, and two fingers turns to three, and you’re quickly reduced to a sweaty, blubbering mess, begging the men to wait, to slow down, writhing in Hizashi’s lap while his husband violates you.

The pressure fades away to a comfortable stretch, and by the time Shouta begins to move his fingers with intent, you’re already close to your limit. Your thighs are still clenched together tightly, but the dark-haired man has plenty of room to maneuver his hand, moving his fingers in and out, letting his thumb tickle your clit.

You can’t stop your legs from shaking, abs clenching in pleasure, little noises that fall from your mouth without your permission. It feels good now, and Aizawa and Hizashi seem to know it, speeding up their movements, manipulating your body as a team.

The orgasm that washes over you is gentle, the build up to it steady and measured. The pleasure is expected, and yet it still hits you like a train, hips jerking against Shouta’s hand as he continues to finger you through it, a smile on his face as you drench his hand, pussy drooling.

“I’m sorry, oh no-oh no I made a-a m-mess.” You sob, mortified at your body, at your reaction, feeling gross and disgusting and a sweaty mess while both men watch you fall apart.

But Shouta just slips his hand from between your thighs, holds it out towards you expectantly. You’re confused, still trying to hide your face behind your bound hands, but then the man behind you is leaning forward, sucking Shouta’s fingers into his mouth, right next to your face.

You can hear him sucking your juices off his husband’s fingers, feel the shame coloring your cheeks deepen and spread. He’s so noisy about it, licking the digits, running his fingers between them, and your pussy clenches when you catch sight of a piercing nestled in the middle of his tongue.

You feel dizzy.

“Mmm, just like I though-” Hizashi purrs as he cleans his husband’s hand. He pulls back, growls in your ear “-Delicious.”

Then the two men are switching positions, Hizashi handing you off to Aizawa who settles you easily onto your back, head in his lap. Hizashi pulls at your hips, lifting them up to stuff a folded pillow underneath them, and you begin to realize what’s happening.

“Wait! Please! Hold on, I-I-just wait, oh god, please wait!” The fear is evident as your voice cracks pathetically, but you aren’t above begging.

“’Zashi’s a bit smaller than I am, figured that he’ll be nicer to ease you into it. If-” He shoots his husband a glare “-He keeps his cool.”

Hizashi was grinning as he shucked of his boxers, completely shameless as he revealed himself to you. “Hey, can’t blame a man for bein’ a bit excited. I mean, look at this little sweetie, all laid out like this.”

You felt exposed, afraid. Hizashi’s length bobbed against his stomach as he moved forward, grabbing your legs and settling them on either side of his hips.

There was a piercing in his cock, several piercings.

He was circumcised, with a prominent mushroom tip that held three prominent barbells along the edge. Another barbell glinted ominously behind the curve of his dick, settled right at the base on the top, blonde pubic hair trimmed neatly to showcase the piercing. 

“No, no please don’t. I’ll do anything, please, just not this! Please, please-”

“The piercings feel really good.” Shouta murmured, one hand cradling your head, the other pressed to your chest underneath your hoodie, keeping you anchored to the bed as you squirmed.

“I got this one ‘specially for you sweetie!” Hizashi took hold of his dick, pointed it down to show off the barbell in his pubic area, displaying it to you proudly. “It’s supposed to hit your cute lil’ clit when we’re going at it.”

The words washed over you, and the severity of your situation hit you. The planning required to get a piercing, have it heal-plus the idea that he expected to be actively using it with you again and again....

You started bawling.

“P-please! Don’t do this, please don’t! No no no no, no, no-” Your words were garbled, practically nonsensical, but that’s what you were trying to say. Whether or not they could understand you was out of your control.

“Hey, shh, shh. You’re okay sweetie.” The blonde placed a hand on your thigh, but that only served to make you sob harder.

“Calm down, we aren’t going to hurt you. It’ll feel good (Y/N).”

“No-oo! ‘M scared!!” You cried, and if your vision wasn’t blurry from tears, you’d have seen Hizashi’s green eyes soften, his lips twitch downward into a concerned frown. 

The married couple looked at each other, Hizashi hesitant and moved by your teary display, but Shouta was firm.

“You’ll be okay. It’s normal to be a bit frightened during your first time. But ‘Zashi and I have a lot of experience, we’re going to take good care of you.”

You don’t have time to protest, Hizashi settling between your thighs again, those long hands of his guiding his cock to your drooling entrance.

Shouta’s kissing you then, insist, his tongue pressing against your lips, distracting you.

Hizashi pushes inside, you gasp, and Shouta plunges his tongue into your mouth. There’s too much sensation, between the warm rod settling into you and the slimy tongue slipping around your own, and you can’t do anything but cry.

You cry when Shouta pulls back, when he places a soft, uncharacteristic kiss to your nose, brushes your tears away with his hand.

You cry when Hizashi groans, finally seating himself balls-deep in your cunt.

You cry when he pulls out, thrust back in with a smooth roll of his hips, swearing underneath his breath.

Shouta leans over you, grabs his husband by the back of the head and pulls him in for a passionate kiss. Long blond hair slips over Hizashi’s shoulders, tickles against your skin but it’s just another sensation that you can barely register, overwhelmed and already too fucked-out to focus.

The piercing at the base of Hizashi’s cock does stimulate your clit, especially when the man presses himself flush against you, circling his hips in a quick grinding motion. The metal rubs against your folds and you feel like screaming, it feels good but you don’t want it to.

The metal through the flared mushroom tip keeps brushing against a spot inside you that has you seeing sparks, but you still feel uncomfortable, too full, too stretched.

Hizashi fucks you slow, his husband petting awkwardly at your face.

Minutes pass, you’re not sure how long, but then Hizashi is going a bit faster, then faster again, Shouta’s telling him to slow down, but the blonde pants out “Can’t Sho’, she feels so damn good-”

The metal keeps grinding across your clit, and then you’re shrieking as an orgasm slams into you full-force out of nowhere.

It had been feeling good, but the combination of the tip of Hizashi’s cock hitting your sweet spot, plus the barbell along his pubic bone rubbing your little nub as he humped your cunt had you spasming, mouth dropping open and your eyes rolling back.

The next few moments are hazy, but you know Hizashi pulls out, lets out a low groan and then there's a bit of warmth striping across your stomach. Aizawa is saying something in that low baritone of his, but you don’t know what.

Your limbs feel like jelly, you feel too hot but chilled at the same time, feverish, sweaty. Shouta pats your cheek “Still with us?”

“Uhnh....” 

Aizawa laughed then, a full, throaty sound that made his stomach quake, and both you and Hizashi looked at him in surprise.

It was rare for the man to make such a noise.

“You good Sho’?” Hizashi asked, a puzzled smile on his face. Aizawa nodded, calming himself down a bit to respond, a broad grin still plastered across his features.

“I’m more than good, this is.... you were perfect.” The last bit is directed at you, and Aizawa leans down to kiss you, even though it’s clumsy and awkward. Still, he persists.

When he breaks away, he reaches for his husband, and pecks him on the lips, before shuffling backwards on the bed, your head sliding off his lap.

“Do’ya wanna lay down sweetie-pop? Or sit in the chair and watch?”

“Wha-?” You blink at the blonde, a hand rubbing at your puffy eyes. You’re thirsty.

“She’s exhausted, have her lay down. Plus, you can kiss her when you start getting too loud.” Aizawa prompts his husband, and Hizashi swats playfully at the dark-haired man, but heeds his advice.

You’re maneuvered up the bed, until your head rests on the pillows. Your wrists stay tied though, and your brows knit in confusion. Are they leaving?

No, Aizawa’s removing his boxers, Hizashi’s on his knees, his face by yours scrunched up as he reaches back to his rear.

A glimpse of Shouta’s cock, and you’re suddenly extremely grateful that you had been under his husband, and not taking the monster Shouta had been hiding behind his boxers.

But your attention is torn away by Hizashi, who’s holding up.... a plug, shiny with lube.

Shouta shuffles behind him, grabs his husband’s hips, and then Hizashi is kissing you, whimpering into your mouth as Shouta enters him.

You can’t find it in yourself to feel sorry for Hizashi. At least he’s going to enjoy himself, sharing that part of himself with someone he loves.

Bitterness rises within you as you realize; you aren’t able to say the same.

[silky-stories]

Whitty having a nightmare about accidentally killing his s/o and reader comforting him with cuddles? 👀

Sure thing! Sorry for the wait by the way, the ask ended up glitching and disappeared for the longest time ^^;;

Hope this turned out alright!

———————————————————————

Too Dangerous {Whitty/Reader}

Genre: Angst, hurt/comfort, fluff

Words: 1788

Related Song: sagun - I’ll Keep You Safe (feat. Shiloh) https://youtu.be/7ly7Mhle-4M

Summary: Whitty is scared of losing control and hurting his partner, thankfully his partner is a magician and knows how to make all of his worries disappear.

Disclaimer/s: Death, blood, small description of dead body, a bit of swearing, crying and panic attacks

Notes: (Please read) The start is pretty graphic and may be hard to read for some people, so there’s a double line down further that you can scroll to if you want to skip that part. It gets happy though, don’t worry :)! Also Whitty’s dialogue is in orange, Y/n’s is in blue!

———————————————————————

Numb.

That’s how he always felt after this happened.

After he lost his cool.

After he lost himself.

After his body gave in and combusted into the hot red plumes of rage, engulfing and ripping his body apart in one swift action.

...

After he exploded.

It never took long for his body to piece itself back together, for his pieces to come back and connect and rejoin one another, allowing his mind and consciousness to slowly but surely become clearer.

It was like puzzle pieces, all eventually finding their place as the picture that was his senses to come together, becoming complete once more.

None of this was new to him, he had experienced it many times before.

Only... something was wrong this time.

His vision was still very blurry, but he could make out a few colours, red being the most prominent.

He had never felt especially impatient to regain his senses, but the further along his accelerated recovery was, the more his half healed subconscious screamed that something bad had happened.

It wasn’t until he regained his sense of smell back that he started panicking.

The thick smell of copper and rust that cut through the air quickly invaded his lungs, violating his airways with the essence of metal and death.

Maybe it was the familiarity that scared him the most but...

He knew the smell of blood all too well.

The red he saw was immediately more violent and harsh than it seemed to be before, he stumbled closer to the scene with eyes only partially focused.

His legs still lacked most of the feeling in them, but he managed.

He needed to see what it was, he needed to know who it was. The speed that his blood rushed through his body only sped up his recovery as the picture finally came together.

...

He couldn’t keep his footing as he finally made out what laid before him.

You.

Your bleeding, broken form laid still on the concrete.

He couldn’t move.

Couldn’t think.

Couldn’t breathe.

...

He was trying to breathe.

Why couldn’t he breathe?

...

Suddenly everything hurt. His head hurt. His eyes hurt. His hands hurt. His body screamed in agony and grief at the loss of one of the few people that cared. One of the few that loved him.

What could he do now though?

You were dead.

He had killed you.

It was his fault.

It was all his fault.

It was all his fault.

It was all his fault.

It was all his fault.

It was-

———————————————————————

———————————————————————

Whitty’s eyes snapped open as he hastily sucked in a gasp of air.

He laid there, motionless, greedily filling his lungs with the oxygen that his unconscious mind believed so strongly that he had been deprived of.

He could hear how shaky his breaths were despite the numbness, he was practically hyperventilating as he gave the ceiling a wide-eyed stare.

His form felt frozen in place as images from his dream flashed in front of his open eyes like a movie.

His stillness was disturbed only when you shifted beside him, he flinched, quite violently actually, as your head bumped into his arm.

The groan and words that came from you were his first indication that he shouldn’t have done that.

You were up.

Shit.

“Whitty..? Are you... mmph, are you alright?” You yawned as you propped yourself up in bed beside him, taking a moment to rub the sleep out of your eyes so you could look at him.

When you opened your eyes you saw that he had flinched back from laying down into a sitting up position. He was staring down at you, being the skyscraper that he was. Although there was only one thing that stood out to you, sobering you up from your sleep-drunk state.

“Y... y-yeah sorry I uh... didn’t mean to wake you u-”

“Wait, why are you crying?”

He paused, only now noticing the dark and warm trails that trickled down his face. He was quick to look away to try to wipe them out of existence, the concern on your face had only deepened when he looked back.

“It’s really nothing you... you don’t... don’t have to worry... about me... s-sorry I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

He was a mess and couldn’t piece together a sentence to save his life at the moment but he hoped it would be at least slightly convincing.

He really shouldn’t have thought that.

You very clearly weren’t convinced as you gingerly took hold of his upper arms and guided him to you, leaning back and wrapping his arms around your body as you followed suit with your arms around him.

He wanted to protest, he wanted to further reassure you that he was fine and let you go back to sleep so you didn’t have to deal with his emotional baggage at three in the morning. When he looked up at your patient but distressed expression though, made contact with those eyes that told him that he wouldn’t be judged for whatever it was that had upset him... he just couldn’t hold it in.

It started with tears silently starting to flow again as he pressed his face into your abdomen to hide them, his body starting to tremble in your embrace. It didn’t take very long for him to break into choked sobs, gripping at the t-shirt you had worn to bed like it was his last lifeline.

“Oh Whitty... I’m here, everything’s alright...”

You had no idea what it was that had upset him yet, but the need to console him was intense and immediate. Your hands moved to the positions that had worked before, one on the back of his head and one on his back. Small circular motions were what you started with on his back, gently caressing his head with your other hand as you allowed him the time he needed to vent out his emotions.

This went on for around ten minutes. You didn’t really care, you weren’t watching the clock.

He had stopped crying within the first five, but it took another five minutes to regulate his breathing. Now he was breathing in through his nose and out through his mouth, the way you had showed him to before when he needed help to calm down.

You continued to console him through actions, waiting to see if he would initiate the conversation you knew he was ready for now.

He turned his head to the side while still keeping his grip on your torso, he looked exhausted.

“...Y/n?”

You were glad you waited.

“Yes?”

“Do you ever think that I’m...”

You didn’t try to push him to finish his sentence, you knew he just needed a moment to get his words straight.

“...too dangerous to be around?”

You didn’t want to ask, you really didn’t, but you needed the context if you wanted to help him feel better.

“In what way?”

His expression soured as he glared at nothing from across the room.

“There’s a reason why there’s people after me, Y/n...”

Oh.

Oh.

He meant himself being who he was that dangerous.

Well that just wouldn’t do.

“Oh Whitty, why would I think that?”

“Because I fucking am!”

His sudden outburst didn’t frighten you, you had gotten used to them a long time ago.

“I’m unpredictable and can’t control myself sometimes! What will happen if you’re around me when I lose control? Human bodies can’t piece themselves back together Y/n!”

You kept silent as you took in everything he said, committing it all to memory since you knew that these were valid concerns and he needed to lay them all out if he wanted to address them.

“I love you... so damn much... but I’d rather be on the other side of the world if I knew that it would protect you from me!”

He moved to look up at you, the fear in his eyes was heartbreaking.

“I couldn’t... I couldn’t live with myself if I knew that it was me that... that killed you...”

There it was, the heavy statement that served as a queue for you to speak, you could see the anticipation in his eyes. It was peculiar actually, the look he held, it was like he was expecting you to agree with everything he just said and run or something...

You tightened your embrace around him to stamp that thought out of existence.

“You don’t give yourself enough credit, you know?”

���I... huh?”

“I’ve seen the amount of times that you’ve been close to losing it, I know how hard it can be to stay in control.”

He couldn’t hold contact with your eyes, the amount of pure love and care for him was overwhelming after all the fear and desperation that he had just given in return.

“But I’ve also seen how much better you’ve gotten at keeping control.”

That was a surprise to him, but you knew that he would know what you were talking about if you gave some examples.

“Remember the guy in the grocery store? You looked like you wanted to rip his head off, and I didn’t blame you.”

You chuckled at the memory of the guy that decided to try to argue why the two of you shouldn’t be together since you were human and he wasn’t. The man was frustrating and made no sense at all, but Whitty’s fuse didn’t even spark, he didn’t lose himself to anger. He gave the guy the sharpest glare he’s ever done, told him to ind his own damn business, and then lightly took your hand and continued on.

His show of restraint was impressive to say the very least.

“You’ve been getting really good with controlling yourself, and we’re still working on it too. I’m not scared of you and definitely don’t plan on going to the other side of the world.”

Your grin was infectious, he hated and loved how infectious your grin was as he tried to stifle the small smile working it’s way up onto his face.

“I’m so proud of how hard you’ve been trying to keep control of yourself, and I’ll be here with you every step of the way.”

He... he let himself smile after that.

“I don’t deserve you...”

“And you’re clearly overtired since you’re just saying nonsense now.”

He chuckled, it was hoarse and faint but it was a wonderful sound.

“Really though, let’s try and get you back to sleep, okay?”

He pushed himself up further on the bed and carefully intertwined his body with yours, breathing out a sigh as he buried his face in your hair.

“I love you...”

“I love you too.”

[belphies-cuhm-sluht]

Lucifer’s little ‘harmless’ prank got me thinking, how would the boys react to finding mc has an extreme fear of spiders (to the point of trembling and sobbing for hours just at the sight of one) and the spider prank causes mc to have a full panic attack? <3

Brothers When MC Has A Panic Attack Because of Lucifer's Prank 

Lucifer’s little ‘harmless’ prank is from these headcanons! 

Lucifer 

At first he thought you were overreacting. It’s just a rubber spider, MC. Why are you acting like this?! Get a hold of yourself. Then he realized that you were actually scared, you were crying and slightly hyperventilating. He’d pull you up off the floor that you were curled up on and lead you to your bed, give you the smallest hug (and you better not tell anyone about it) and reassure you that it’s okay. 

“Calm down Y/N. You’re making a mess of yourself. It was just a prank.” 

Mammon 

When he hears you scream, he’s the first to come running. Of course, The Great Mammon would come and save ya! He doesn’t like spiders either, they make his skin crawl, but he’ll get past his own hatred of the nasty arachnids to be your hero. Drop kicks the rubber spider across the room and pulls you up into his arms to take you straight to his room so you can calm down in his arms. 

“Just call for help, Y/N. I’ll always come tah’ save ya. You can count on The Great Mammon.”

Leviathan 

Didn’t hear your screaming at all. He had his headphones on, so when you ran into his room screaming, he screamed right back. Not his fault, you just startled him. Your eyes were red and your chest was rising and falling so quickly, he thought you were running from someone. Never would he have guessed it was because of some silly spider. He’ll be a stuttering mess when he tries to comfort you, awkwardly patting your shoulder and feeling like he’s gonna have a panic attack himself. 

“I-It’s alright Y/N. Just a stupid prank. You have n-nothing to worry about.” 

Asmodeus 

Do not expect him to help you at all. Just the thought of spiders makes him panic, so if you think for one second that this boy is going to come to your rescue, think again. You can come to him though. He’ll pull you into his chest and hold you against him until you calm down, rambling on about how disgusting spiders are and how their bites can leave disgusting bumps all over his gorgeous, flawless skin. Probably isn’t going to make you feel much better. 

“Don’t stress too much over it Y/N, you could have a breakout. I’d hate for that to happen to you.”

Satan 

A spider? Really? You’re scared of a spider while living in a house full of demons? How ridiculous could you be? Oh wait, you’re shaking… wait… He’ll carry you down to the library and light a fire, letting you curl your feet up on him (as uncomfortable as it might be) because you’re scared that if your feet are down on the ground that the spider will climb up your leg. An irrational fear, but something he will protect you from nonetheless. Also uses it as a reason to get Lucifer back… he’s definitely doing it for you. Totally not doing it for himself. 

“You can sit on my lap while I read, Y/N. I’ll make sure that Lucifer regrets scaring you like that.”

Beelzebub 

He’ll eat it. He doesn’t care if it’s a rubber, plastic, felt, or real spider… he’ll eat it. At least you don’t have to worry about it scaring you anymore. After he’s done devouring it he’ll carry you off to the kitchen and sit you on the counter so you can be in his company while he raids the fridge. He might not notice how scared you are at first because his first priority was getting rid of the threat in general, he feels like his job is done, he can have a celebratory meal. When he notices you’re still kind of panicking, he’ll pull you into a tight hug, and although he doesn’t really know what to say, he hopes that the soothing circles he’s rubbing into your back are enough to calm you down a little bit. 

“I got you now Y/N. Nothing can get you when I’m around.” 

Belphegor

Why didn’t he think of that himself? Your screams were like music to his ears, and he definitely took his time in walking down to your room, a smug smile playing on his lips. He looked so smug in fact, that most of his brothers would have thought that it was he that played the prank. When he walks in and sees that you’re a shaking, crying mess on the floor, his first thought is how pathetic it was that you got that scared. He’d toss the rubber spider across the room and look at you, expecting you to calm down… why the hell do you still look so scared? He’ll bring you up to the attic and let you cuddle up with him and his favorite pillow if that’s what calms you down. Like Satan, once he finds out it was Lucifer who pranked you, he will prank him back just as hard. For you… definitely for you. 

“Stay up here with me, Y/N. I’ll make sure nothing and no one can scare you anymore.”

[ironstarker]

Tony gets injured during a mission, and his Omega, peter is not happy about it.

Notes: It’s pretty angsty at first but I tried to give it a little extra fluff and warmth at the end for you. Sorry this took me over a year to finish 😅Here’s to hoping this means I finish the other drafts of prompts I got ages ago.

Warning(s): ABO Dynamics, Light Angst, Peter Cries ______________________________________________________________

It wasn’t coming together right.

Peter stared at his sad attempt at a nest with tears swimming in his eyes. After Tony had been called away on a mission, the omega was left to his own devices. The rest of the Avengers wouldn’t let him do a thing in his “condition” (even saying the word made him want to roll his eyes), least of all his alpha. Tony had taken his possessive jealousy to a new level the minute he’d found out Peter was carrying. So, while he went out and risked his neck, Peter was stuck at home, staring at the pathetic lump of pillows and balls of Tony’s shirts that he’d tried to make into a nest in the closet.

Why the closet?

It smelled the most of his alpha, and was small (well, smaller than the bedroom) enough that he felt safe. He missed his alpha, much as Peter didn’t want to admit it, and kept asking FRIDAY for updates on the man. She’d tell him things like, “He’s fine, Peter. The boss asks you to please not worry so much about him.” It didn’t help. Nothing helped, because his alpha was off risking his neck while Peter was left fidgeting over blankets and fussing about his broken nest.

He wanted to cry.

It was frustrating, the hormones that his bump was making him go through. The omega had never thought he’d be this kind of omega. Sure, Peter preened under his alpha’s eyes and he got a little too snippy and possessive when other omegas were around his mate, but the raging hormones were something else. Peter had bawled over a Dodo video of a baby bird being returned to its mama the other day. He’d cried so hard that he’d hyperventilated, and spurred FRIDAY into sending an emergency alert to Tony. When the alpha came home and found his omega in such a state, the man had all but lost his mind.

Needless to say, Peter loved being pregnant. He loved his bump and couldn’t wait to meet his baby and have her in his arms, but for the moment, he felt like a burden.

A burden who couldn’t even make a proper nest.

Before he knew it, Peter was crying again. He curled in on himself (as best he could, given he was approaching seven months along and the swell of his tummy got in the way every time he tried) and sat there near his nest, silent tears rolling down his cheeks. He wanted his alpha. Peter sniffled, reaching for one of the shirts he’d strewn across the nest. It was an old Black Sabbath shirt of Tony’s, one that had seen plenty love itself and came with a smattering of tiny holes near the neck. The omega pushed his nose against the fabric and nuzzled it, stifling the sounds of his sobs in an effort to make sure FRIDAY wouldn’t alert Tony to his distress.

His senses and his hormones were supercharged. It had been hours since Tony (and a few of the others) had rushed off to fight some super powered sea monster. Truth be told, the reason that Peter was crying in the closet was because his alpha was gone, not because of his nest. He bit back a wail as he thought of his alpha, hating how Tony was so quick to rush into danger. Peter had tried to convince him.

“If I’m not allowed to go on missions, you shouldn’t be, either!”

“Baby, that’s ridiculous. I’m not pregnant.”

Peter had stared up at his alpha. They were tucked away together on the couch, Tony with one arm draped around him, his attention on a hologram that FRIDAY was projecting. Peter was nestled into his alpha’s side, desperate (he hated it, how needy the pregnancy was making him) for attention after his alpha had been away all day. The words stung. Peter bit his lip and looked down. It was archaic, the way that Tony treated him now that he was pregnant, and it made him want to scream about how unfair it was.

He hadn’t felt like such a child since before the whole Adrian Toomes incident.

“But alpha, you could get hurt,” Peter tried, and he gave a hopeful glance to Tony’s hand, hoping his fingers would stop moving where they hovered near the hologram.

Instead, Tony sighed. “Peter, this isn’t a discussion.”

“It should be! You’re just as important as I am — ”

“I’m going, Peter. End of discussion.”

In his mess of a nest, Peter whimpered as he remembered how his alpha used that tone on him. It wasn’t often Tony used the deep, alpha baritone to give him commands or bark at him. The thought of it now was enough to bring the boy to near tears. His bottom lip wobbled, and he sniffled and another wave of hiccuped sobs came over him. 

“Peter?”

The sound of a warm voice made his breath hitch in his throat. Boggled as his mind was, his first thought went to his alpha — to Tony. But the person standing in the doorway, disheveled and exhausted, was a different alpha. Steve Rogers must have come straight from the battlefield. He had flecks of shrapnel on his uniform, which looked tattered and soaked. His hair was wet, matted down onto his forehead, giving it a dirty blond look. Steve hesitated, and Peter knew it was because of the waves of distress he was letting loose, flooding the air of the bedroom.  “Where’s Tony?” Peter whispered.

Steve’s hesitation was all he needed to see to know something was wrong. “Don’t panic,” he started, looking like he wanted to step further into the room and then thinking better of it. “He’s in the med-bay right now, but was knocked unconscious by — ”

Peter did sit around and wait for Steve to tell him the rest. He was on his feet surprisingly fast (at least he had his spider dexterity when it counted), brushing past the alpha. He heard Steve calling after him, but Peter shook his head and didn’t wait around. If FRIDAY had granted Steve access to the private room he shared with Tony simply to relay the message in person, it had to be bad. All the way down to the med-bay, Peter thought about the breathing exercises he’d learned for delivery and practiced them in real time, one hand resting against the side of his belly. The elevator took him down without waiting around for Steve, and Peter’s toes wiggled impatiently against the floor as he waited for the doors to open. He looked down, realizing he’d forgotten to put on shoes.

When the elevator slid open and left him free to rush down the hall (he didn’t waddle, dammit), his feet sounded noisy to his own ears, like the slapping sound was echoing and bouncing all over the place. He was on hyper alert, his senses going haywire. But everything stopped when he saw his alpha through the glass, attached to all sorts of wires and machines. Dr. Cho was hovering over him, using a penlight to check the dilation of his pupils. Peter rushed into the room. She looked up at him, offering him a sympathetic smile. “Peter, there’s nothing to — ”

But he cut her off, letting out a noise that was somewhere between a wail and a croak as he said, “Alpha.”

Tony’s eyes flickered open. He offered Peter a lazy smile. “Hey there, omega-mine,” he said, holding his hand out for Peter to clutch as he neared the bed. “The doc here’s got me on the good stuff. Says I took a pretty serious knock to the head.” 

Peter’s attention was diverted briefly to the bandage wrapped around his alpha’s forehead. He pressed his lips together. He knew his alpha could sense the emotions rolling through him. Peter hadn’t even noticed Dr. Cho excuse herself. “You can’t keep doing this to us,” Peter whispered, letting go of Tony’s hand to cradle his bump. There were tears in his eyes again. They clung to his lashes, and his bottom lip quivered. Standing up to his alpha wasn’t something that came naturally to him, but this time it was too much. “I — I can’t stay here all the time, worried about you. You’re going to be the father to my pup Tony. Doesn’t that mean anything to you?”

The alpha blinked, looking caught off guard by the sudden emotion flitting across his mate’s face. “Of course it does,” he said, his voice quiet. “But you know the responsibility I have as Iron Man.”

Peter shook his head, squaring himself up a little, stubborn in his concern and hurt. He reeked of it, he knew. “Alpha, you’re hurt. You keep getting hurt. You have a responsibility to us. To our pup.” The tears that had built up spilled over his cheeks, creating fresh tracks. “Please,” he whimpered, his shoulders slumping under the weight of the alpha’s stare. Peter knew Tony was hurt. As an omega, he knew it was his job to care for his alpha. 

“Okay, okay,” Tony said, the tips of his fingers twitching, coaxing Peter towards him. “Come here. Omega-mine, look at me.” Once Peter did, the alpha met him with a tender expression. “Alpha’s sorry. Come lay with me?” Again, he wiggled his fingers.

Unable to resist, Peter scooted closer to the bed, until he could crawl into it with his alpha. He curled up against Tony’s side, his bump forcing the alpha to scoot over some so they both had enough room. His alpha kissed the crown of his head, where he knew Tony could breathe in the scent of his shampoo. His alpha always said it comforted him, and knowing that brought Peter peace. He settled down, soothed by his alpha’s presence and his warmth. “I built a nest,” Peter said after a few moments of silent cuddling. 

“Did you?” Tony sounded vaguely amused, like he already knew where this conversation was going. “How did it turn out this time?”

A long pause. “It — it went okay,” Peter said.

His alpha’s chest rumbled with a quiet laugh. “I’ll donate a few more pillows to the cause.” 

Peter smiled, giggling and nosing at his alpha’s jaw. “Thank you for the generosity, Mr. Stark.” He rubbed his hand over his belly, thoughtful. “I love you, alpha.”

“I love you, too.”