#of course either duty or love causes So Many Problems but like. choosing duty is sad for yourself love is possibly bad for Everyone

[haberdashing]

i get where your last post about nuking gaza off the face of the earth is like...coming from. but just beware people using it to be like "yeah! jews control the media!" bc that's not a good take either... i think the take away should be listen to many different journalists from many different agencies and dont just trust one source of news as your only source. and if you find yourself responding with "so that's why the other side is the sole problem!!" then you are being swayed. there are many bad actors in this with biiiig focus on the United States, the British, and specifically Netanyahu's right wing government, but also shout out to UNRWA, the EU, Egypt, Jordan, Syria, and Iran for throwing their influence in the ring. Like I don't like the IDF either but I feel like that last post might have nazis secretly loving it for it's "jew media control" conspiracy vibes.

Oh absolutely!

In fact, I've been considering making a post about my thoughts on Israel, and I think this ask might be the impetus I need to get that going. (For better or for worse.)

So:

Israel, as the country, is clearly in the wrong here. This is literal war crime. This is literal genocide. Israel and its allies are on the wrong side of history.

BUT:

The Israeli people, by and large, are not to blame for this.

There are a lot of parallels with the American government, actually. Including how normalized the military industrial complex is, how pro-military propaganda is rampant throughout society. So if you're an American citizen like I am, you understand that those in the low levels of the military are by and large victims of the system, too.

Now imagine that the right-wing kooks who claim that our society is under attack, literally... could point to actual wars on our soil only a couple decades ago, could point not to one terrorist attack twenty years ago but an ongoing regime of them, could claim that every historical instance of antisemitism fits into this same pattern and that antisemitism and criticism of Israeli society are one and the same.

And, oh yeah, imagine that everybody who turns eighteen gets drafted in your society. Not some slim fraction like the Vietnam War draft that still gets maligned here (and rightly so), but everybody. (Barring, presumably, those who get excluded for medical reasons?) You have two choices: serve your country in the military, or go to jail. And everybody talks about military service not only as a duty and an honor but as a coming-of-age experience that everybody knows about and looks forward to.

A few brave Israelis do choose jail over the draft, but the vast majority don't. And with that societal conditioning, can you blame them?

Of course, this doesn't excuse the atrocities. But it does help explain them.

And naturally, Jewish people outside of Israel are even less able to take down this system, even less culpable for the harm it causes. And yet Zionism and antisemitism still get conflated. And yet pro-Palestine rallies still include literal Nazis, which makes them hard to approach for... well, anyone who doesn't want to associate with Nazis, but especially literal Jewish people, who might already be assumed to be pro-Israel just because of that fact.

A bit of the Israeli propaganda does seep through to Jewish culture even outside of Israel, admittedly. My mother is living proof of it. I've only ever heard her comment on the horrible things the Israelis go through here, not the atrocities of Gaza. Because those are her people, in her mind, and the Gaza residents... aren't.

And yes, the Israelis don't have a great lot in this either. But it's still a far sight better than that of Gaza residents right about now.

And that "her people" reference? Not entirely rhetorical. I've been to Israel, as has my father, though it's been over a decade in both cases. We have family friends from there. We have friends of friends who are there. Heck, two friends-of-a-friend that I know about, or people at similar levels of not-quite-connectedness, are in the IDF.

Obviously not all Jewish people are connected. I bet my college friend from rural Mississippi would have a different experience, despite also being Jewish. But my mother still keeps in touch with temple friends who can be a close-knit bunch, and there's ties to Israel, including the Israeli military, in there.

So where does that leave me?

I've been wondering that more and more as the days go on.

Am I honor bound to talk to my mother about this, to get her to recognize the war crimes and the genocide being committed by "her people" in Israel? Even if I try, I doubt she'll turn against Israel entirely. But do I still have to try?

Is it okay to wish friends-of-a-friend in the IDF well, even while condemning the actions of the IDF as a whole?

Can I speak up in favor of Palestine without being seen as a traitor to my fellow Jews, and without keeping company with those who see the current situation as a vent for their antisemitism?

How do I, a Jewish American, thread the needle between condemning Israel and supporting my pro-Israel Jewish friends and family?

I don't know. I don't have an answer to this. I really wish I did.

[lemonhemlock]

Why Viserys refused to make Rhaenyra marry Aegon in the book? Other than blah blah they didn't get along blah blah that's just bullshit Aegon i never loved Visenya romantically and she was older than him yet he married her out of "duty" and it was Rhaenys who used to hold them together, after her death they can no longer stand each but that didn't stop Aegon from doing his duty and consume his marriage with Visenya (whether Maegor is blackmagic baby or not it's doesn't matter) So the excuse of not getting along doesn't make any sense to me at all. And if Viserys wanted to make Rhaenyra his heir why tf he would remarry ? Why Viserys refused to do so and said that he doesn't need any "heirs" because he has it's own in Rhaenyra? And when he married why he kept breeding Alicent? If doesn't want to keep his prick inside his pants and if he doesn't want to make Rhaenyra marry her brother, then why he didn't changed the succession law to be more similar to Dorne's? Honestly Viserys is just an illogical clone of Aenys i . Only explanation that Grrm wants the dance to happen between siblings or he doesn't want his fave character daemon to be perceived as the bad by the modern readers for standing against a woman fighting for her rights and instead choose Aegon ii and Alicent for this role. If he want to adapt the Anarchy, Rhaenys/corlys vs Viserys/Daemon was a perfect and reasonable conflict....

In the show, the age difference between Rhaenyra and Aegon is 15? 16? years, so a marriage between the two would be a difficult endeavor. Not only do to the generation gap making it extra hard for them to relate to each other, but also due to the fact that such a marriage would place Rhaenyra in her 30s by the time Aegon could reasonably be expected to sire children on her. While not impossible, it's definitely not ideal and weird.

In the books, there is a smaller 10-year age difference between them, the same age gap between Maegor & Ceryse Hightower. The reason given against the marriage in Fire and Blood is this:

Queen Alicent had her own candidate: her eldest son, Prince Aegon, Rhaenyra’s half-brother. But Aegon was a boy, the princess ten years his elder. Moreover, the two half-siblings had never gotten on well. “All the more reason to bind them together in marriage,” the queen argued. Viserys did not agree. “The boy is Alicent’s own blood,” he told Lord Strong. “She wants him on the throne.”

While this age difference is more manageable, the reason Viserys gives is not outrageous: they do not get along and are far apart in age already, so would not have a successful marriage by these accounts. However, blaming Alicent for wanting Aegon on the throne is absurd: of course she does & this is basically the only option that would satisfy both parties - Viserys for wanting Rhaenyra to succeed him and the Hightowers for wanting a king. They could have been co-rulers together, like William and Mary.

Whether they would have been happy together is another conversation entirely (probably not), but you have to balance that versus the possibility of outright war (and, thus, making many more people unhappy & causing suffering on a larger scale). Truth be told, this is not fair on either Rhaenyra or Aegon and the blame should be laid squarely at Viserys' feet for siring more children in the first place. Viserys just seems unwilling to hitch his carriage in any direction; he wants to please everybody (and himself), but just ends up creating more problems for everyone in the process.

So, in effect, I do agree with you, anon. 😅 Having the Dance happen between siblings is illogical and probably all to do with the fact that he didn't want the readers to perceive Daemon as extra-villainous for siding against the female claimant. Rhaenys vs Viserys would have been a much more balanced and believable civil war.

[sofhtie]

hmm no thoughts head fásach “the most dangerous thing is to love”

[anika-ann]

On Va Voir, Ma Chérie (S.R.)

Type: Modern-college-professor AU - part of Attached series or a standalone

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader   Word count: 3000

Summary: You messed up. Again. Now you’re stuck with reading a stupid book for your class, in French, which you barely speak and you know you’re in for a long night.

Your favourite professor and fiancé in one person comes to your rescue. Suddenly it’s not all bad; it’s worse.

Warnings: 18+, smut (dry-humping, fingering),dirty talk, language kink and voice kink (hello self.-indulgence), French, ‘babygirl’ (no daddy kink), language

A/N: Either a standalone (becauseit’s just a prof Steve and language kink) or a part of the Attached series. Look at me crawling outta my hiatus just to share filth...

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You couldn’t believe you forgot. You couldn’t believe you forgot about this week’s reading for your European lit class.

You knew this week was going suspiciously smoothly.

The thing was, you loved literature – one might say you were contributing to literature with your writing after all – and you adored reading. So much that you decided to take course on European literature specifically. You could have picked an extra class on British lit, African authors, Australian authors, literally anything, but no. You chose this one. Like a dumbass.

That class was the bane of your existence for most of the time. There were many pieces of classics that Professor Michelson could have introduced you to, so many to choose from – but again, no. He chose romans and novels and poetry and plays that were--- not so great. Or they were perfectly readable and even enjoyable, but were virtually unknown to mankind.

Meaning that if you happened to forget or didn’t have time to read due to other duties (or simply didn’t want to), you couldn’t piece together your ‘personal impressions’ from the book from the omniscient narrator known as Google.

Such was the case of this week’s piece of oeuvre, a French play from the romanticism era called Chatterton. Which was fine. It was a play, which meant it would be short – three acts only, about hundred pages. It wasn’t like under normal circumstances, you wouldn’t handle it in an evening.

The problem was that having forgotten, you hadn’t made a reservation in the library and all the copies bar three were already borrowed.

The three remaining copies were in fucking French.

You stared at the book you had thrown onto your soon-to-be marital bed with dismay. You had taken two years of French in high-school as an elective and hadn’t really bothered with it since. There was no way you could read this damn book, so you resigned yourself to reading it with a translator – using it for about 80% of words. You hadn’t made it past the first few pages, already wanting to tear your hair out.

So you tossed the offending object on the bed. And now you decided to follow suit, plunging into the cushions headfirst, your whine muffled by the soft fabric.

It was how Steve found you an eternity later as you debated yourself whether it wouldn’t be better to play hooky tomorrow.

The mattress dipped under his weight as your fiancé sat down next to you, gentle hand caressing your back.

“No one to greet a tired man home?” he chuckled softly, eliciting a lame hum of sorry from you as you didn’t bother to move an inch – as much as you loved Steve. He was already touching you, there was no reason to make any more effort. More so when a kiss landed in your hair. “Long day?”

You hummed noncommittally. Yeah, it was gonna be with this hellish book.

“Chatterton?” Steve read the title questioningly, causing your breathing to hitch in surprise.

Oh god. It sounded French when he said it.

You rolled over in a lightning speed, staring at him in awe; he reciprocated with a quizzical gaze, eyebrows raised.

“Picking up le français, huh?”

“You speak French,” you blurted out with your heart having leapt to your throat. You sat up abruptly, visibly startling him. “How the hell didn’t I know you speak French? We’re about to get married this summer!”

“That we are,” he murmured, a slow smile spreading on his lips with a teasing edge. “Which is why I believe I deserve a welcome home…?”

You leaned in swiftly, pressing a brief kiss to his lips.

“Hi professor. Welcome home. You speak baguette?”

Steve burst out laughing, his hand clutching at your shoulder, keeping you close, puling you into kiss you without haste. He was smiling as his lips caressed yours, a courting dance tempting you to forget all about some silly book.

“Hey babygirl. I’m pretty sure it came up but must have slipped your mind. It’s been a while, I don’t really practise much these days. I’m pretty rusty,” he shrugged, almost sheepish.

Rusty. Right. You wouldn’t have it, excitement rising in your chest along with hope. Fair enough, Steve might have mentioned it before. But it must have been in passing and without you having time to investigate it at that moment. Now it seemed like as good of a time as any. Better even.

You let your fingers run along his beard, fingers catching on his chin to draw him in for one more kiss, earning an approving hum.

“Didn’t sound rusty. I believe I need your help, professor,” you whispered, brushing your lips against his, skimming over his cheek to his temple and back to his mouth, your fingers curling around his nape. The corners of his lips twitched at the blatant attempt at coaxing him into saying yes – before he’d even know what he was agreeing to. “Pretty please.”

His hands moved to your waist, squeezing the flesh, a chuckle escaping him when you pushed into him, offering your body as a promise to reward him for his service later – without shame. You truly needed him to help you. And ‘repaying’ him certainly wasn’t about to be an unpleasant act.

He tapped your bottom lip with his index finger playfully, meeting your gaze.

“What do you need, sweetheart?”

You smiled widely, reaching out for the Satan’s creation, holding it in the limited space between the two of you, both hands gripping it like a beast that might bite him unless you kept it on tight leash.

It might, you thought.

“I need to read this and write down a personal impression and some commentary to scenes that feel important. They were out of English translations. And this book is like… like censorship gods decided to kill it. There’s nothing on it online,” you explained your desperate situation, unable to help the accusatory tone from your voice.

Maybe you pouted a bit too.

“Michelson is at it again, huh?”

“Yes,” you cried pitifully, enforcing the pout until Steve pulled at your lower lip, letting it pop back quietly, one corner of his lips quirked. “You could just read a few pages here and there and tell me what’s happening? I know you brought some work home as always but… please?”

He didn’t even hesitate. You personal angel. And translator.

“Let me change and get something to drink.”

You squealed, pulling him in by the lapels of his jacket, slamming your lips against his and nearly knocking him over despite the impressive mass of muscle he was.

“You’re the best!”  

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On a second thought, asking Steve was a terrible, terrible idea.

You settled at the headboard, leaning onto it with your laptop in your lap, fingers hovering above the keyboard as Steve slipped next to you, white t-shirt and grey sweats, pressing a kiss to your hairline before opening the book.

“Alright. I assume the opening scene is a good way to start. It might be important,” he sighed, flickering the pages until he found the first act. “Ready?”

“As I ever will be… take your time. I really appreciate you helping me so… no rush. I can be your personal translator in case you need it.”

Steve shot you a curious look which you rewarded with a smile, placed the book more between you so you were able to see the layout and he started reading.

Out loud.

“Il me semble que j’entends parler monsieur ; ne faites pas de bruit, enfants,” he begun, syllables rolling of his tongue almost effortlessly.

Your hand darted to his forearm, gripping it tight – about as tight as metaphorical hands tugged at your insides, causing your heart to stumble. His voice fell silent.

“What?”

“You—you don’t need to read it-“ you stuttered, your tongue feeling heavy. “It’s okay to just… tell me what’s going on.”

Steve shrugged. “Does it bother you? It’s just that you said a personal impression was what you needed and I thought I might as well use the practice since the opportunity presented.”

You swallowed thickly, nodding on autopilot. Right. He needed no fucking practice. You hadn’t met French people, but he sounded like one when reading and you were not ready for that.

“R-right. Go ahead. Whatever works for you.”

“Ne pensez-vous pas qu’il arrive quelque chose ? … Mon Dieu ! votre père est en colère ! certainement, il est fort en colère ; je l’entends bien au son de sa voix. — Ne jouez pas, je vous en prie, Rachel…“

You swallowed thickly, something warm fluttering inside your chest and below, quickly spreading like a fire.

En colère. You remembered that one. Angry. Riled up. your brain supplied helpfully.

Riled up you were already getting, more and more with every word that fell from Steve’s absolutely sinful mouth; small tugs in lower belly, causing you to minutely shift.

Alright. You clearly had a language kink. At least when it came to Steve speaking French. Lord help me.  

You thought reading this book would be hell, but it seemed it would be purgatory.

“Il me semble qu’il s’apaise, n’est-ce pas, monsieur ?“

You took a shaky breath, closing your eyes for a moment and forced yourself to try and focus on the words, hoping to catch a familiar phrase at least.

Too bad Steve was already making you forget what words meant even in English... It was going to be a long read.

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Your eyes absently followed the text as Steve was finishing reading another scene he had randomly picked. You had long ago given up on trying to decipher what was going on with the plot, only mechanically writing down every English word Steve said when he tried to summarize a scene.

You couldn’t think straight. You couldn’t think at all.

Steve’s voice was seeping into your skin, inking into your flesh, piercing the marrow of your bones and filling it with unsatiable hunger. Your heart was racing in your chest, powerful thump-thump-thump against your sternum, the force shaking your ribcage, each beat sending fresh wanton through your veins, curling in your core and making it throb. Your head was filled with the image of Steve whispering sweet nothings – whatever they were in this unfairly attractive language spoken in his gravel voice – while his lips skimmed over your burning flesh, fingertips teasing sensitive parts of you he had had mapped out so well in the past, only to avoid your soaking core to torment you further.

The last part was not even an imagination of yours; your panties were positively damp, sticking to the cut of you uncomfortably; and it took all your willpower not to rub your thighs together every once in a while to relieve the pressure.

“Certainement cette jeune femme est fort malheureuse,“ Steve recited dutifully, causing your eyes to flutter shut, stiffening a laugh at the irony.

Yes, yes you were une femme who was fort malhereuse. Very unhappy with this situation you were. You couldn’t take it anymore, not a second longer.

You grabbed your laptop, darting from the bed, causing the torturous flow of words to cease, allowing you to finally breathe in freely.

“What’s wrong?” Steve asked, appearing genuinely puzzled as he followed you with his gaze, watching you settle the laptop on your desk with little care. “Are you alright?”

“No,” you grinded through your teeth, almost weeping in frustration as you strode back to him, the movement giving you at least the shred of friction you craved. “I’m really damn malhereuse.”

Steve’s eyebrows shot up in surprise as he blindly closed the book, his thumb staying inside to bookmark the page. He observed you, eyes roaming your figure, zeroing on your flustered face.

“Why?”

“Please put that book away,” you whispered, running a hand down your face.

Steve tilted his head to side like a confused puppy and how could he not notice, how could he be so blissfully unaware of how ridiculously sensual his reading was—but he obeyed, placing the open book on the nightstand, pages down.

You swallowed, eyes glued to how the fabric of his t-shirt stretched over his bicep and shoulder, the sight only adding insult to injury. The acute need inside you would make angels weep.

“Now what?” Steve questioned, slightly amused.

Now I want to choke on your dick and somehow have you filling me up at the same time. And Jesus, you couldn’t remember having thoughts this crude for a while now.

You licked your lips, shakily climbing to the bed, crawling over him until you straddled his lap; he watched you, baffled, but certainly not unpleasantly surprised. You nearly sighed in relief as your needy core met the semi-hard bulge between his legs.

You placed your palms over his shoulders, allowing him to see your lust-blown irises up close – and finally, recognition lit up his face, his cock twitching, causing you to whine because you certainly felt that. Fuck, you couldn’t even be mad for the smug smile curling up his lips as he dragged his warm palms up your thighs.

“Aw, ma chérie…” he muttered, his right hand grasping at your jaw, thumb stroking your cheek as his face gravitated to yours. “Est-ce que ma petite-amie aime quand je parle francais? Est-ce qu’elle est excitée? Est-ce que… elle est mouillée pour moi?“

You felt yourself melt into his front, shuddering as his nose tickled the side of your neck, lips skimming over your throat. You had only a half-idea of what he was saying but it didn’t matter in the slightest. Your hips involuntarily thrust forward, a breathless whine escaping your lips when he moved up to meet your core. Your fingers gripped at his shoulders, desperately seeking something to ground you because your head was now spinning like mad.

“Steve, I- please-”

“Fuck, I wouldn’t think… bien. Bien, ma chérie. Ma belle, belle fille… Je vais te donner ce que tu veux,” he whispered huskily, your hazy brain barely registering there was a promise there.

He did give you what you wanted; his lips slanted over yours in a searing-hot kiss, his fingers digging into your ass as his hips bucked up, forcing you to grind on his now rock-hard cock, causing the pressure in your core grow and grow, urging you to move faster-- but it was not enough, not nearly enough.

“Steve-“

He claimed your mouth again, free hand slipping under your shirt to undo your bra in one swift movement, having your breasts spill free for him to play with, to lightly pinch your nipple, the sensation like a hot rot stoking the fire in your core. When he released your lips to suck in air, he latched onto your throat instead, nibbling and sucking onto the side of your neck, the scratch of his beard increasing the sensations, fingertips stroking the underside of your breast teasingly.

“Oui, c'est ça, ma fille sage, ma bonne fille…” he muttered, voice dripping with dark satisfaction that only spurred you on, having you understand just enough to know he literally called you a good girl, nearly tipping you over the edge. “Prend ce dont tu as besoin... si belle, si éxigeante. J'ai hâte de te remplir, te baiser face contre le lit.”

You sobbed as the figurative rubber band inside you snapped, your muscles locking in place as euphoria filled you to the brim, wrapping you in utter bliss. Your core pulsed, painfully empty, leading you to press harder into Steve’s hard cock to feel something, to help you ride it out as your whole body trembled.

“Fuck, fuck-“

You were shoved to the side as gently as possible without losing momentum, crying out in surprise as your back hit the mattress, tearing you away from your fading paradise. Panting, you stared up to Steve’s face with shock as he now hovered above you, expression twisted in concentration, harsh breaths fanning your face.

“You’re too damn hot to handle,” Steve panted and through the fog of bliss, it dawned to you the he pushed you away to fight his own approaching high. “Magnifique.”

You whimpered silently at the shockwave the single word sent through you, eliciting a tired chuckle from Steve.

“Don’t you mock me, monsieur-“

“Oh I wouldn’t dare, mon cœur. But it is true I can’t wait to take you face down on this bed,” he admitted with a grin, eliciting a whine from you at the fresh surge of desire. Was that what he had said before? Jesus.

The idea struck you like a lightning, a spark of mischief flickering in your chest. If you could only…

Think, think, you surely remember something… You strained yourself, biting your cheek as you pushed to recall how conjugation worked.

“Qu'est-ce que…” you started, earning a curious tilt of his head and a raised eyebrow. “Alors, qu'est-ce que vous attendez, professeur?”

Steve shot you an incredulous look, mouth slightly agape, causing you to assume that having aimed to ask him what he was waiting for then, you more or less succeeded.

A startled cry escaped you as Steve’s body pinned you to the mattress, hands gripping your wrist on each side of your head, dark eyes hypnotizing you with lust.

“And you want me to believe you don’t remember your French, huh?” he challenged, slowly leaning in to plant a soft kiss just above your collarbone, drawing a gasp from you when he bit down playfully, his hand sneaking under the hem of your soaked leggings and panties. “Oh mon amour, mon coeur, mon âme… on va voir.”

On va voir indeed.

He slipped two fingers into your drenched core with ease, his mouth attached to yours, stealing the last remnants of oxygen from your lungs to feed it to the flames of your desire. It only burned hotter when he scissored his thick fingers and finally worked on filling you up like no one else could.

He wasn’t the only one looking forward to fucking your face first on your soon-to-be marital bed.

You simply couldn’t wait either.

Because merde, did Steve always gave it to you good.

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S.R. masterlist

Attached masterlist

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Pardon my French. Literally. I might be studying it, but I was very distracted when having Steve speak French. And in dirty talk efficient I am not.

In case you didn’t catch the translations of Steve’s phrases I tried to incorporate in the text (sans one), I’m offering a small list of translations. The lines from the book aren’t important.

So, we have various terms of endearment here: ma chérie – my dear (f), ma belle fille – my beautiful girl, mon amour – my love, mon cœur – my heart, mon âme – my soul.  Magnifique – gorgeous (magnificent).

“Est-ce que ma petite-amie aime quand je parle francais? Est-ce qu’elle est excitée? Est-ce que… elle est mouillée pour moi?“ “Does my girlfriend like it when I speak French? Is she turned on? I wonder… is she wet for me?”

“Oui, c'est ça, ma fille sage, ma bonne fille… Prend ce dont tu as besoin... si belle, si éxigeante. J'ai hâte de te remplir, te baiser face contre le lit.” “Yeah, that’s it, my obedient girl, my good girl… Take what you need… so beautiful, so needy. I can’t wait to fill you up, to fuck you face first on the bed.” 

“Alors, qu'est-ce que vous attendez, professeur?” “So what are you waiting for, professor?”

Do I really need to translate On va voir? 👀

If I have a native speaker among you, please, reach out and correct me 💗

Thank you for reading 😘 Feedback always appreciated.

[shreddedparchment]

A Wife for Thor Pt.22

Obstacle

04/08/2021

Pairing: King!Thor x Reader          Word Count: 5,413

Warnings: angst, jealousy, marital problems, pregnancy, allusions to cheating (no actual infidelity), fluff, smug Loki

A/N: It took me SO long to get this chapter down. I wrote literally like a few sentence a day for a bit and then finally got some good chunks out. This has been a tough week but this chapter makes it all worth it! I hope y’all think so too. A lot of good stuff happens in this chapter, as in stuff that I really like. If you happen to reblog, thanks so much for helping me spread my work!

Please DO NOT repost my stories on any other sites or blogs.

REBLOGS are always welcome!

The shuffle around the palace as Loki escorts you through the front gate is overwhelming.

It’s safe to say that judging by your reception when you’d shown up in Heimdall’s tower located on the far side of the city, the Asgardians are happy to see you.

Armod is also happy to see you and you rush to get into your car before you can get swarmed by eager Asgardians.

Loki joins you in the back seat and lets Armod gush over his happiness at seeing you back home and healthy. And pregnant! More than anything, the people are happy to see the swell of your belly.

Many of the women are crying as you step out of the car at the palace gate, the men cheering enthusiastically.

Some of the children have found flower petals to throw into the air and it rains white, pink, and yellow blossoms.

It's the small waving hand of a little girl with ebony floor length braids that tugs too hard on your heartstrings and you give in to your impulse.

“Armod, stop the car, I’d like to greet the people,” you ask, swayed further by the eager faces of the young girl's siblings who flank her..

As much as being Queen had come unexpectedly and as much work as it's been, loving the Asgardians has never been a challenge and you've missed your people.

Their kindness has always been the best part of your day.

Armod gives Loki a quick look but stops the car just as the palace gates are opening.

He pulls over to the side, putting it in park before hurrying out to open the door for you.

“Are you sure?” Loki checks, reaching over to place his hand over yours on the seat.

“Of course. I owe them this. I’ve been gone for so long.”

“If you’d rather go in, we can find an excuse.”

“Loki,” you laugh once. “Is something wrong? Is there a reason I shouldn’t get out of the car?”

“Not at all,” he assures you. “I just don’t want you to force yourself. I know this pregnancy hasn’t exactly been easy on you.”

“I’m okay. And I’m sure they wanna see the proof that they have an heir coming. Really, Loki, I don't mind.”

Loki sighs, but gets out quickly to move around and take Armod’s place and offer you his arm.

Taking it, you pull yourself out, and after a long moment to steady yourself on your feet, you turn to face your people.

A large number of Valkyries suddenly pour from the open palace gateway and you wait as they line themselves in front of the gathering crowd. A simple border of control to keep you safe.

The people don’t seem threatened by the guard either and they continue to cheer until you raise your hand and call them to silence.

It only takes a few seconds for the noise to die, leaving only the ambient sounds of the city, wind, and the shuffling feet as more Asgardians and visiting humans gather.

“Hello,” you begin, voice a little shaky from nerves. “I’m...I-I’d like to start by first apologizing for disappearing. And then for being gone so long.”

The people watch and listen attentively, hanging on your every word. As your hands drop down to your belly to stroke it anxiously out of habit, their eyes are drawn to it and they seem to rattle with excitement again.

Looking down at your tummy, you contemplate the little one inside and the kicks he gave you earlier in the day.

He's really in there.

“It’s been a long journey to do what’s been expected of me. Difficult, actually. Giving you and Thor what we’ve all been hoping for is a privilege though. It's important that you all know that.

"However, I'm not as strong as all of you. I'm not as resilient. As soon as I knew that I was expecting the future prince or princess of New Asgard, I knew that I had to take precautions. I had to stop thinking like your Queen and just for a while, think like a mom. I told Thor that I wanted to take some time away from my duties as Queen if only to make sure that my pregnancy would take. In order to ensure the health of this baby.

“Im so very sorry if I caused any of you any worry or pain by disappearing. That was never my intention and it makes me...I can only say that I'm sorry. I hope that you all can understand why I left. The The thing is I’m happy to say that my efforts weren't wasted, clearly."

There's a rumble of gentle laughter that flows through the crowd and breaks the slightly somber mood your speech is causing. You give them a smile and they smile back.

"And while that does make me very happy, it has not been easy to carry this baby. I have been sick and weak but after some rest I'm now feeling stronger than ever. With the constant and careful care provided by Doctors Wilson and Alric, I’m finally able to resume my duties as Queen with the knowledge that this baby is strong and healthy and my body can take the strain of bringing him-or her into this world.

“I’m so happy to be back among my people, my home. You all are my family and it fills me with such joy to know that I have made you all proud.”

The people cheer, more and more gathering along the street so that it’s now clogged and impassable. Others have taken to peeking out of windows from the surrounding buildings or finding balconies and roofs to stand on to get a better look at you.

Their excitement changes to trepidation at the look on your face as you realize that now is the perfect time to address what happened yesterday.

They’re so attuned to your mood that they quiet down again and wait nervously for you to speak.

"On a more serious note, I know that many of you must have been shocked by the lies spewed onto the pages of the Watch. And I'd like to be as clear as I possibly can about my absence from the palace.

"I only left because of the concern I had for our future prince or princess. There was absolutely no other reason for my absence in our great city. While it is true that something did happen between Thor, Jane, and myself--well, I will only say that now I know that His Majesty the King of Asgard is wholly devoted to me and our family, just as he has been from the moment he accepted me as his wife.

"Not that I ever doubted it," you lie. No one needs to know how bad things are and it is true that now you know Thor is devoted to you.

So, it's not completely a lie.

"As a people," you continue. "We'll need to be vigilant about the people we choose to trust to come into our homes. We will be more cautious now, and as a woman…"

You swallow hard, thinking about the words itching on the tip of your tongue to tumble forward and make your heart clear. Maybe it's not right to say it? Maybe it isn't the queenly thing to do?

You don't care.

"As a wife and a soon-to-be mother, I will say that Doctor Jane Foster is not welcome in my home. She has proven to be unworthy of the trust we placed in her and while her expertise is an invaluable commodity that I am sad to lose, I would rather have the second best than risk the stability of my family."

To your surprise, there are a flutter of approving nods and smiles, wives and husband's looking scandalized by the confirmation that something went down but clearly it was Thor that had Jane kicked out. A few cheers come but they quiet down quickly.

"My love for His Majesty is unwavering. As is his for me. No marriage can be without it's struggles but Thor and I are as united as we have ever been. Both in love, devotion, to each other and you, our people. Together we will strive to protect this kingdom to the best of our abilities and with this child, I hope we can begin to lay down proper roots for us so that everyone on Earth will know that New Asgard is here to stay."

The crowd cheers. It's deafening and your hands are trembling so terribly even clenched into fists they shake.

"LONG LIVE THE QUEEN!" someone shouts and the others fall into the chant as it's picked up by what sounds like everyone in the crowd.

A cool hand presses against the center of your back and you lean towards him as he whispers in your ear.

"That was beautifully done, Y/N," Loki admires. "Now come along. You need your rest."

You cradle your bump and the crowd cheers louder as you wave while Loki leads you back into the car.

As it pulls away from the curb, the Valkyrie turn to follow behind you. Faces full of stern pride. Their gleaming armor shining bright in the late afternoon sun.

The large wooden and steel reinforced gates of the palace close with a thundering clatter and you lean back, heart suddenly clenching painfully. Your stomach turns and you feel like you might throw up.

You shut your eyes and open the window allowing the cooling air to help drive your nausea away.

"Y/N? You alright?" Loki checks, putting his hand on your arm.

"I'm fine," you assure him, unwilling to open your eyes.

"Are you sure? Only, you're looking a little green."

That doesn't actually happen does it? Do people look green when they're gonna throw up?

You assume he's exaggerating, but as the last bit of the swirl in your belly passes, you look at him with fearful eyes.

"I'm nervous," you admit.

"To see Thor?"

"Mm," you nod.

"He's missed you. He will probably try and hug you. Might even kiss you."

"I don't know if I can handle that, Loki."

"You'll have to. The guards around the palace are sworn to secrecy about anything that happens in here, but with the amount of information that magazine was able to get we're pretty sure there's a mole amongst our number."

You look away from him, frowning because the last thing you want is to hug and kiss Thor.

Well, that is, you really want to do those things. Which is why you shouldn't. Not until you can be around him with some kind of rational thought and control over your feelings.

You need to get a grip and come to terms with the reality of your situation before you can let yourself love hum.

You have to protect yourself.

It turns out that you have nothing to worry about.

Estrid who had come before you with your things is there to greet you. A few others of the palace staff come to see you and you're welcome back with fondness.

Because you know you have to play the part, you look for him.

"His Majesty had a sudden summons from the Lady Sif and the Warriors Three, my Queen. He apologizes for missing your arrival but he's had the small dining room filled with all of your favorites.

"When you are finished with dinner, he has asked that you wait for him in his study."

Estrid's tone tells you she's wary for you. She wants to make sure you're okay.

The disappointment you feel gives you away not only to yourself, but everyone there to see your face fall as you caress your belly.

"A blessing in disguise?" Loki suggests in your ear for just you, but the smile on his lips says he knows better.

"He'll be back before it gets too late, Your Majesty," Estrid assures you, trying to soothe your sadness. "He promised. There’s nothing more he wants than to see you."

"I know," you smile at her, then the others before you head for the dining room, your stomach grumbling in anticipation of the foods you know are waiting.

~~~~~~~~~~

Waiting is torture. You keep trying to read your book but your attention is pulled back to the door of Thor’s study every few seconds.

You groan, dropping the book onto the desk before throwing your head back with scrunched up eyes.

How is it possible to be desperate to see someone while also dreading it?

It feels like you'll die if you don't lay eyes on Thor but also like it'll tear you to shreds if you do. There's no winning here.

You gasp as the door opens and get to your feet in the same breath.

Thor's body is rising and falling heavily with his own labored breathing. He'd been running.

To get to you? No. You can't be swayed.

"I'm here."

His declaration is soft but heavy with meaning. More than just him announcing his arrival.

"Oh, aren't you a vision," he gushes.

"Hi," you whisper, only because you can't catch your breath.

He's wearing jeans, a plain black t-shirt stretched across his bulging chest. He's even more massive than you remember. Three months away has deprived you so fully that suddenly being in his presence leaves you hungry for him.

You want him so much.

"I've missed you, desperately," he confesses. "May I greet you properly?"

You frown, so undecided.

"Or not," Thor relents. "Forgive me, I just got caught up in the moment."

Why is this so hard?

You want to feel him.

"You can greet our baby properly," you give in.

A big part of you needs to feel him and this is the only way you can give in and feel like you're still doing your best to hold strong in your resolve to get some distance.

Thor’s eye lights up and quickly finds the swell of your tummy with recognition.

"Really?"

"I will never keep you from our baby, Thor. Even if I'm not ready for things to go back to normal between us just yet."

Thor takes a half step towards you and watches you carefully for any indication that you're not comfortable with his proximity.

You sigh, head tilted to the left slightly before you hold out your hand to him, beckoning him closer.

In three long strides Thor takes your hand and stops when he's only a foot away.

"Here," you gasp.

Your heart is in overdrive. Thor’s touch is doing things to your body. There's an initial rush of butterflies in your stomach and quickly you pull Thor’s hands to the spots where your baby is kicking in response.

Thor’s body freezes. He goes rigid. He even stops breathing.

For a moment you begin to worry that maybe you've broken him, until he suddenly drops to his knees.

He swallows hard, eyes pooling as he stares at the swell of your stomach as the baby continues to kick.

“They’re really in there,” he’s so choked up about it that his voice cracks around the words.

As he speaks, the baby kicks more.

Thor laughs but then leans in to kiss your stomach over the fabric of your dress.

“We really made her,” Thor gushes.

“Her?”

He looks up at you, confused for a second before he smiles wide, “Or him. It doesn’t matter. What matters is our baby is coming.”

Your heart swells, and you’re so happy that you could float away like a hot air balloon with the warmth flooding your limbs.

This is the moment you’d dreamt of. This is the moment that had been stolen from you by Jane and her lies. This is the moment that you and Thor had both been yearning for.

He’s so caught up in it, floating through the glow of this perfect moment that he presses his lips to your tummy again two more times before he’s rising, his hand hooked behind your neck as he meets your lips as he gets to his feet.

You’re so unprepared for it, so utterly lost in this sweet exchange between him and your baby that your lips pucker on their own.

He opens his eye and yours, already open, stare into his. He looks slightly shocked to find himself kissing you but he doesn’t stop.

Instead, his expression shifts into a pained look of desire. He pulls back, his hand dropping to grip your bicep.

“I would say that I’m sorry but I have been wanting to kiss you since the moment I left you three months ago.”

You say nothing, watching him, listening. You’re searching your soul to see if this is okay with you because it feels okay. Despite the sirens blaring in your mind about the restrictions you’d set for yourself when you’d decided to come back home, your body is telling you it needs this. Your heart is painfully aching at Thor’s touch.

You’ve missed it. You’ve missed him. 

“Is this alright? I can go.”

The idea of him going now feels like the end of the world. Rationally, you know that isn’t an appropriate response to his offering to leave you be, especially when you know you asked him for space for specific reasons.

“No,” your hands grip the sides of his t-shirt tightly, holding him in place without any actual strength since compared to him, you’re as mighty as a little mouse.

You refuse to look up at him, despite the crumbling of your resolve.

“No, don’t go.”

It’s an almost involuntary shy response to your diminishing shame at losing all control after his touch. After one kiss. You should be disappointed in yourself. And part of you is. However, that part of you grows increasingly small as Thor gently takes hold of your chin and guides your gaze up until you can meet his.

“I’m sorry, cherub. I will try and be worthy of you again.”

“I know,” you admit, knowing how sorry he’s been from the moment he realized that he’d done something that hurt you badly. “I know you are.”

“Can I kiss you, cherub?”

His voice is so deep, so alluring and coaxing that you drop your gaze again, fixing it on his collarbone before slowly you nod.

His arm winds its way around your waist and he pulls you to him before dipping down and catching your lips with his again.

He pulls away after a second because the swell of your belly gets in the way, but he laughs and looks down at it.

The pleasant sound of his happiness gives you too much joy.

As you begin to smile, Thor reaches down to press one hand to the side of your stomach while he pulls you against him again and kisses you this time with more fervor.

The longer he has his lips pressed to yours, the more enthusiastic he gets until finally you’re breathless and you pull back but instead of pulling away, you wrap your arms around him and fist the back of his t-shirt,

You bury your face against his wide chest and Thor brings his hands back up to caress the sides of your face, his lips kissing the top of your head.

“I know I may not have a right to say this, but thank you for coming home. Thank you for coming back to me. I thought I’d lost you."

His arms grow a little tighter, his heart is in an absolute stampede.

You turn your head sideways so that you can listen to his heartbeat.

"This is what I'd wanted," you whimper, starting to be overcome with the emotion of being reunited with Thor and things falling into place more easily. "This is how I'd wanted us to share this moment."

Thor sighs heavily, giving you one more squeeze before he pushes you back a little so that he can look at you.

“I’m so sorry that I robbed you of that. I was a fool,” he nods, his eye intense as he stares into yours with wordless declarations piercing into you.

The memory of your speech with the people when you arrived pops into your head and now with Thor’s arms around you it all feels a little like an overreaction. The past three months feels like a distant nightmare.

Or does this feel like a dream?

“Thor,” you begin but Thor’s lips are on you again, drowning out your words.

“Oh, to hear you say my name,” he declares and kisses you again.

Your mouth opens for him and you absolutely melt against his chest as he nearly dips you in passion.

He pulls back again, “Is this real?”

He kisses you.

“You feel so good in my arms.”

He kisses you.

“Your skin is so…” but then he hums and kisses you.

He dips down and with his arms tight around your waist but also careful with the swell of your stomach, he lifts you so that you’re level with his eye.

“I love you, so much, my cherub. Thank you, thank you for coming home. Thank you.”

“I’m sorry I stayed away,” you sigh. “I need to be strong without you, Thor. I was hurt but I never stopped loving you.”

His face goes through shame, understanding, and then elation.

In a burst of subdued anger and aggression for what he put you through, you reach up and grab his shoulder. You dig your fingers in against the taut muscle then reach up to pull one of his ears.

You’re clearly not hurting him but he allows you to move his head, understanding the need to express your anger even if you’re not doing any damage.

“Never do that to me again,” you growl. “Never say that you’ll leave me. Why would you say that? Even in passing? You were so damn sure.”

“No, Y/N, I wasn’t. The moment I saw you, I knew that I could never leave you. I’m sorry. I could never even think those thoughts again.”

“You better not, or I won’t come back next time. I’ll disappear and you’ll never see me again.”

Thor takes your threat for what it is. A promise. Truth.

He shakes his head as he leans forward to press his forehead to yours, shutting his eye.

“I swear,” he begins. “On my life.”

He keeps you there, hovering over the ground with your heads together for a few minutes before he slowly lowers you to the ground. You realize it’s because he wants to stroke your belly and you take a slight step back so that he can.

He smiles, happy. It reminds you of the look your people had when you’d arrived only a hundred times as possessive and joyful.

Again, your speech intrudes on your reunion and this time, you won’t let him distract you.

“Thor,” you coax, placing your hands over his where they rest on the sides of your stomach.

“Yes, my cherub?”

He’s excessive in the affection he puts in his voice but you know that he must be floating on cloud nine after what you both went through when you made him leave you at your house.

“I-I did something and I’m not sure if it was right of me to do it,” you watch his brow wrinkle and for a split second you almost lose yourself in the beauty of his face.

Has he always been this handsome?

“When I got back I kinda made a speech? Everyone was so happy to see me and to see me carrying our heir and I wanted to apologize to them for leaving and for making them worry. I wanted to share in their excitement for the baby and with that stupid tabloid having come out yesterday-”

“Right, the article,” there’s guilt in his voice despite there being no truth to the rumors it printed.

“I wanted to put their minds at ease and I...I did confirm that something happened with Jane but not what they were thinking.”

Thor’s expression hardens just a tad and he pulls backs towards a large armchair. He grabs your hand though and pulls you along with him until he can sit and then carefully attempts to offer you his lap, unsure if you’ll sit.

You do, because you’re tired and because you’re not eager to be away from him again. Now that you’re touching him, you’re not in a hurry to change that again.

“What did you say exactly?”

Swallowing hard, you lick your lips nervously, “Um...I told them the truth. Not exactly the truth, but enough of it that they’ll understand that Jane isn’t welcome here. I said that the only reason I left is for my health and the health of the baby, which is true. I didn’t want them to worry about us because even if we didn’t reconcile, I want us to be united for them at least.

“But I don’t trust Jane, Thor. Not after what she did. Not after how she treated me when you weren’t looking, and the people need to know that I will protect them from anyone, no matter who they are to you or me.”

Thor’s face grows pained as you speak, his arm wrapping around your waist as his other hand caresses the side of your stomach. You’re starting to realize that it’s going to be hard to get his hands off it, but that doesn’t seem like a terrible problem.

“I wish you had told me that she’d been rude to you,” Thor sighs, taking his hand off of his stomach to stroke your cheek. “If I had known-”

“She wasn’t rude to me Thor, she dismissed me. I wasn’t even worth acknowledging to her and now I know it’s because she was jealous and wanted you back because what? She saw what we had together and suddenly it was good enough for her?

“I was in her way. That’s all I was. Even if in the end she couldn’t go through with it whether it was because she felt guilty for doing this to us or for lying or for having second thoughts and knowing that she doesn’t want to be Queen or a mom, she’s a bad person to me. And I have every right to protect myself, my baby, and our marriage from her. She’s not welcome here Thor. I never want to see her again. Ever.”

He’s cradling you now, holding you close because the intensity with which you're telling him that Jane is not welcome in your home is transferring to him.

“And if you’d known, you wouldn’t have done anything, Thor. You’d probably have talked to her and asked her what was going on and she would have lied to you and you would have believed her.”

He doesn’t deny it. He does look like it hurts him to know that you know though. That’s enough for you.

“I think it took her lying and doing this to us to make you see what she’s capable of.”

Thor shuts his eye, resting his head against your chest as he wraps his arms around you again.

“I’m sorry.”

“I know you are, Thor. But you weren’t the one who lied. I mean, you didn’t tell me what was happening, but you weren’t the reason that this happened. If Jane hadn’t lied-”

“But she did,” Thor says, his deep voice anguished. “And I failed to honor my vows. You are my Queen and I should have come to you the moment she told me she was pregnant.”

You both fall into silence as you reach over to stroke his bicep. His skin is so soft. Touching it gives you comfort in a way you weren’t aware you needed. The more you touch it the more you need to feel it.

A finger stroking his skin turns into two, then four, then your entire hand is running up under the sleeve of his t-shirt.

With the way his hand curls around your thigh, you know that both your bodies are responding to your touch. Both of you are heated but instead of giving into that because you aren’t ready for that yet, you lay your head on his shoulder and curl in closer to his chest.

Thor sighs heavily, wrapping you up in his arms as he cradles you close.

“Now we know better,” you whisper.

“Now I know what losing you will do to me,” Thor agrees. “I’ve missed you so much, cherub.”

You don’t respond. You’re too choked up to say anything without your voice cracking so both of you stay like that for a while.

The cocoon of Thor’s arms is toasty and from the exhaustion you’re feeling plus all of the emotions that have drained you, your eyes are heavy and difficult to keep open.

“What about you?”

Thor’s chest rumbles with a chuckle.

“We can talk more tomorrow, cherub. Sleep.”

“I’m not sleepy,” you lie.

“Very well, then. What about me?”

“You’re sleepy?” you look up at him, full of concern.

He chuckles again, “No, cherub. What were you asking?”

“Oh! I just wanted to know if you’re okay. What Jane did to you can’t have been easy. Despite what she did to us as a couple, she said she was pregnant. You’ve been wanting a baby for so long and she dangled that in front of you like the rat that she is. And then she wasn’t even pregnant?”

Thor’s arms constrict around you as he pulls you up towards him to kiss you.

It’s slow and full of emotion.

“Even after all of that, you’re still worried about me?”

“It took time,” you admit. “Once I wasn’t so angry and I thought about what Jane really did. I hate the idea that your heart broke over her lies. I can’t believe she ever loved you if she was willing to make you feel that way.”

Thor just stares at you, searching your eyes before he rubs his nose gently against your own. When he speaks, his voice is so low, so deep, an intimate whisper. It burrows into your chest and settles right there underneath your ribs and makes you breathless with missing him and desire.

“That’s why you’re my Queen, Y/N. And she is not.”

You’re not sure if it’s an Asgardian ability or if maybe it’s something specific to Thor, but he has a way of making you swoon.

“I missed you so much,” he confesses again, that whisper sinful. “Did you not miss me?”

You nod because you can’t speak. There’s a lump in your throat made of both sadness and want.

“Was your bed as frigid as mine was in your absence? Did you miss my breath on your neck as I did yours? Or the steady beat of your heart when you pressed your breast to my back as you held me while I slept?”

Fuck, he’s making this so impossible.

“I hate you so much,” you counter, but his lips stretch into a small knowing smile as you take a tight hold of the neck of his shirt and pull him up to meet your lips.

He exhales heavily into you, tasting you, relishing in every pulsating touch as both your hearts ache and yearn almost in disbelief as if both of you can’t believe that these wants, these needs are finally being met.

As he pulls back to tilt his head the other way, he takes hold of the sides of your face again, his lips grazing yours, “I love you.”

Before you can reply or yank him back into that torturous yet blissful kiss, a voice at the doorway clears their throat.

“Well, that was fast, what happened to keeping him at a distance?”

Loki’s voice pulls your gaze and you can feel your cheeks and neck burn at how easily it seems you’ve crumbled when finally face to face with Thor.

You frown at your brother-in-law, while Thor ignores his brother and leans up to press very non-chaste kisses to your neck, “I told you coming back was a bad idea.”

But Loki’s smile is blinding and with one chuckle he backs out of the room, shutting the door quietly as Thor turns you back to him so that he can get back to kissing you.

[its-kall-the-clown]

22 with pigsy, tang, and MK. Cause they’re best dads.

I completely agree about them being the best dads! Which is why I prepared this fluffy little- *trips and falls into angst.* Uhhhh it was fluffy up until the end...oops? it gets fluffy again!

Prompt list

He's Got Us

Rating: G

“You’re burning up.” Tang pressed a hang against MK's flushed face, gently brushing his bangs away to feel the raging fever underneath.

"It's fine. I'm fine.." the boy insisted and gently shoved the hand away from his forehead.

"Mmmm I don't think so. I know a fever when I see one." Tang hums and looks over MK's whole appearance.

MK's face was flushed, an undertone of pink across his cheeks and forehead making him look like a newly budding flower. His eyes were glassed over and try as MK might there was an extra hitch to his breath that indicated he was suppressing a cough.

"I'm fine. Please just let me head out." The boy pleaded, swiftly turning his head and coughing into his shoulder. The poor boy just wanted to see the new movie with Mei. It was a holiday, a rare one that even Pigsy was closed for, so of course, the boy wanted to take advantage of it.

They cough again into their shoulder, this time more violently and without ceasing for a whole minute.

"I'm sorry MK...I would let you go out but your dad would kill me."

"Is MK coughing??!" Pigsy shouted from the kitchen already on MK like a mosquito in the summer. MK's shoulders sag with defeat. Knowing once Pigsy was involved there was no use trying to hide it.

Sure enough the pigman came around the corner, thermometer in hand. It's thrust into MKs unwilling mouth revealing what they already knew.

MK had a fever.

Pigsy tisks looking at the thermometer like it insulted him.

"Damn monkey, making you train in the rain. Now our boy has a fever." he fusses half at Tang and half at MK even though neither of them was the source of the problem.

"Dadsy... Dad. Please it's fine." He begged them both but when MK was sick Pigsy couldn't be reasoned with. He points back to MK's room with a stern look.

" Back to bed young man" he instructs and MK frowns. Making a big deal of stomping all the way back to his room. It has little effect on Pigsy even when he slams the door.

Normally Tang would sympathize more with MK...buuuut after the third hospital visit due to either a hidden injury that got worse with time or the boy slogging through a sickness only to make it worse, the sentiment got old.

The boy had a bad habit of hiding things from them. Leftover habit from MK's birth parents. He always felt the need to just, Push through even when he was hurting or sick.

More than once Tang had witnessed the boy's eyes rolling into the back of his head as he passed out from an overheating fever or infection.

"I'm on soup duty."

"I'm on medication."

The partners nod at each other, game plan set in motion.

-------------

"I'm not even-" MK has to pause his sentence to lean to the side and hack and cough. "-that's sick" he finishes with a sniff.

Tang just looks at him with a deadpan expression.

"Sure. And pigs can fly."

"Technically I can. If I took a plane." Pigsy comments with a wiry smile, entering the room with a tray. MK groans and runs a hand down his face.

"You're going to force me to stay in bed AND subjugate me to dad jokes?" He whines loudly and Tang takes the opportunity to finally shove the spoon of medicine into MK's mouth. MK's face scrunches up from the tatse but he swallows obediently.

A cup is offered to him by Pigsy and MK accepts it and drinks greedily.

The cup is replaced with a spoon, this time full of broth rather than medicine. MK huffs at first making a comment about not being a baby and Pigsy snaps back at him to shut it and eat.

And spoon by spoon the broth is drained. MK's eyes slowly dipping down till he can't even keep his head up. Pigsy takes this opportunity to tuck MK in, pulling the covers tightly around their body. Tang assists and he places a cool rag of water against MK's forehead.

The now unconscious teen hardly even noticed when his forehead was kissed by two loving parents.

--------

Pisgy took the first watch. Sitting on a stool next to MK's bed. if there was one thing about MK he was stubborn as he was and would try to sneak out.

This time however the boy stayed asleep, only mumbling gently occasionally and Pigsy would soothe him with hushed tones and a fresh cool rag.

He brushes MKs bangs gently and sighs, Tang enters the room softly and pads up to him. He feels his partner's chin sit atop his head and their arms draped over his shoulder. They sit like this for a while, just the sound of MKs labored breathing and the beat of Tang's heart against his back.

"You ever worry about him?" Pigsy asked and he can feel the vibrations of Tang humming atop his head.

"All the time. Why?" Tang asked, shifting slightly above him.

"It's just-" Pigsy sighs and pinches his snout. "I worry about him, even before all this monkey magic business. But now?"

He feels Tang shift from their perch coming around to kneel beside him.

"Sometimes I lay in bed at night, and I wonder...why him?" His fist tightens at his side as he looks at his sweet baby boy's flushed sick face.

"There are plenty of kids he could have picked. Why did he have to pick OUR kid? Couldn't he have picked someone else?" He huffed and gestured to MK. Tangs brows furrowed slightly

"Don't get me wrong, the kids perfect for the role. Smart, brave, and unwillingly to give up EVER." He smiles foundry and runs his hand against the boys hair gently.

"He's perfect….so why couldn't the damn monkey pick someone who would be OKAY at the job. Why did he have to pick OUR perfect boy?" He growls out feeling something well up in his throat. MK was out there every day, training, putting himself in harm's way. There were days Pigsy wondered if his son would make it home.

"I could never ask him to quit. He's too good at the job and helps too many people.. " Pigsy signs and pinches his snout. He feels Tang rub a hand on his back. A few moments pass of just them sitting together with Tang's talented fingers working over the muscles on his back.

"You know my recurring nightmare?" Tang asked, finally breaking the silence.

"The one where MK gets trapped under a mountain?" He asked and his partner's face nods, an apparent shiver crawling up the human spine.

"I still have it sometimes...it terrified me. But I'm having it less and less." He explains shifting into a better sitting position by Pigsy. He leans his head against his partner's thigh and Pigsy's hands go easily to his hair to run his hands through it.

"I realized. That no matter what he does or chooses to do with his life, he will always have us to fall back on." Tang turns his head slightly so he can see Pigsy better.

"He's gonna be okay. I promise." Tang pull away from his thigh and Pigsy instantly misses the contact. Instead the man leans up, sealing their lips in a short kiss.

"He's got the best two dad's ever after all~" the brag and Pigsy can only chuckle. He pressed his forehead to Tang's and closed his eyes. Just enjoying the space here they created together.

"He's got us."

[empressofthelibrary]

Opinion on Ships:

🌟Superman x Lois VERSUS Superman x Wonder Woman

💰BatCat vs Wonderbat vs TaliaBat?

🐦Nightwing x Kory VS. Nightwing x Batgirl VS. Nightwing VS Donna Troy

*rolls up my sleeves* Okay, this one's gonna be long, so I had to wait until I had laptop access and enough brain for it.

🌟 Superman and Lois. The power couple of the ages. Almost literally the Mom and Dad of DC Comics. They're perfect and I love them, and I genuinely can't see either with anyone else. Lois Lane is this unstoppable force of nature despite the fact that she's this squishy fragile human. Clark is a softhearted human despite the fact that he's a space alien with nigh-godlike power. It's so easy to become jaded when you're watching the news all the time. Being in the middle of it and reporting on it? Lois' heart could harden so easily. But it doesn't, because Clark is out there, tirelessly working to make the world better, and helping her to do the same. At the same time, with all the power he has, it would be really easy for Clark to just... Go dark. Become a conqueror. For the greater good, of course. But he doesn't, because Lois keeps him human and humble, keeps him grounded. They're the light in each other's lives and they both need the other to be the best versions of themselves.

🌠 With that in mind, I just don't see the same appeal in Clark/Diana, and I like them better as friends. They have the same "essentially a god" problems, and while Clark would be eager to teach Diana about life in rural Kansas and help her get her footing in Man's World... They can't counterbalance each other in the same way. I haven't read many WW comics and don't have a solid grip on Diana's personality, but they feel too similar to really work.

...This has made me very aware that Lois/Diana would be interesting though. Possibly the three of them as a triad. Hmm...

💰 Batcat, huh? I've never really been into this one, tbh, though the flirty rooftop chases and back-and-forth banter are appealing. The starcrossed-lovers angst of it is fun, but I think Bruce/Talia did that better. A solid 7/10, they work better when it's just Selena trying to get a reaction and not any kind of Serious Relationship.

✈ I couldn't find a laurel wreath emoji so Wonderbat gets a plane in honor of the Invisible Jet. I have to say, I... Kind of don't see where this one came from? The only comics-canon love interest of Diana's I'm aware of is Steve Trevor, and Bruce is just. Such a different dude. Steve Trevor was this hotshot daring pilot who loved adventure and had this debonair attitude. Bruce is... Not that. Hell, Ollie Queen makes more sense, if we use Trevor as a baseline for Diana's type. Or, like. Hal. Oh, oh cripes, gonna end that train of thought right now.

🦇 Bruce/Talia, though. Oh my god. Talia being caught between loyalty to her father's cause and loyalty to her heart. Between making her own choices and letting herself fall in love with the man her father approved of, even when she knows she'd have chosen him outside of Ra's influence. Bruce knowing she loves him and wanting to let himself love her, but knowing he has a duty to Gotham and can't let himself choose her over the city again. Talia knowing that and forcing herself to leave Bruce so he can be what Gotham needs! The drama of it all! The romance! These two were made for a soap-opera, I swear. And Talia's love for Bruce extending past him and to her stepsons??? Because why else would she have resurrected Jason and helped him through his recovery, except out of love? UGH, I can't. I just can't. They're too good. (Also baby-me heard Talia call Bruce 'My Beloved' and almost died because that was the most romantic shit I'd ever heard at age thirteen and it still holds up today.)

🐦 Dick and Kory are just... So good. They're so soft and sweet with eachother, and absolutely deadly on the battlefield. 100% the Battle Couple Blueprint. They slow-dance in the kitchen of Titans Tower and sing one another back to sleep after nightmares and just. The utter adoration and devotion and reverence. The ferocity and depth of their love and how it contrasts with how tenderly they care... I love them so much I can't form words. I'm still brokenhearted over their divorce, even if I understand why

🕸 DickBabs is such a notp of mine, actually. They grew up alongside one another, and while childhood-friends-to-lovers is a thing, it's never been my thing. And with Babs being a few years older than Dick, I just see her putting Robin squarely in the "annoying kid brother" box as kids. They're family, they don't need to be anything else.

🦅 Dick and Donna work best as what they are -- close friends who grew up together and aren't sure if they're closer to siblings or cousins, but definitely aren't romantically involved, gross. I like them having a sort of rivalry as kids, and being affectionately annoying as adults. I love them and how they look out for each other in a platonic/familial way. I like to think that half the League still calls them The Wonderkids, even though they're closer to thirty than they are thirteen.

[buffysummerslay]

I have watched Lucifer series finale yesterday and I am still reeling from feelings, feelings I need to work through to be able to move on.

Unfortunately, I am late to the party and I have started watching Lucifer (despite the show being on my radar for a few years already) when season 6 came out, and this turned avoiding spoilers about the ending as well as the show itself into an extremely hard task. I have, of course, seen some reactions to the ending and it was obvious that the viewers were divided between "the ending was amazing, they really did the story and the characters justice" and "what the fuck was that". I always take these reactions, especially when they come instantly after the episode has ended, with a grain of salt because, realistically, I haven't been fully satisfied with the way a tv show has ended - any tv show - since, like, 2010. However, I also know that there is a difference between "okay, the ending was anticlimactic/disappointing/etc, however, it is the journey that matters and I am still pretty happy with the show" and HIMYM type of ending where you are like "I want this show wiped from my memory because the final hour has ruined the entire experience for me". So, I took some time to reflect on the events that took place, gather my thoughts, and make my peace with the ending. After doing that, I can comfortably say that I am not fully satisfied with the ending because of one very simple reason - I can make sense of the choices taken by the character at the very end of the show only if I use "Lucifer gave Rory his word" rationale, and not because I believe in the theory they provided or the choices they make. So here are some of my thoughts about the ending of this beloved show, including both the things I liked and disliked. Be warned, there are spoilers ahead so if you haven't seen the show, the final season or the series finale, please stop reading because you don't want to manifest spoilery energy into your life!

The main thing I have a problem with is the time loop. I will begin by saying that I really dislike time travel in general - I think that it is an overly used plot divice that more than often creates holes in the story instead of driving the narrative where it needs to go, unless the concept of time travel is integral to the show, like for example in Timeless and Fringe. However, in this case, I dislike that the major characters have made a major decision (a serious, impactful, life-altering decision) based on a flimsy theory. And since they have told us exactly what will happen in the end, we simply didn't know why and how, I have expected a more bulletproof reasoning instead of a rushed conversation wrapped up in five minutes and sealed by a promise. Lucifer leaves Chloe and Rory and goes back to hell, Rory grows up resenting him and she becomes so angry she travels through time to confront him only to end up being the reason for his departure, therefore creating an unbreakable time loop. She makes her parents give her their word that they won't change a thing in order to make sure that Lucifer discovers his true calling, which is helping souls in Hell break their hell loops and ascend to Heaven. And the reason I am so hesitant to accept this is because of two reasons:

1. Lucifer has made amazing progress through the show when it comes to his character development, finding his worth and making peace with his identity, and yet you are trying to tell me that this is the only way he would discover his true calling, especially now when he has a higher level of understanding himself than ever before? And especially since these thoughts and doubts have already been in his mind aka him postponing to become God long before Rory's arrival into their timeline!

2. The consequences of our actions are the results of the choices we make, not the other way around. And sometimes, different choices can lead to different outcomes and sometimes the array of choices we make lead to the same outcome. It is absolutely possible that if they broke the time loop and made different choices, that their actions would lead them to the same outcome aka Lucifer finding his calling while remaining in their lives. I think that it is fully possible for them to make a timeline B (the timeline that would have been created if they broke the time loop) based on the discoveries from the timeline A (their current timeline). There's no reason for me to believe otherwise.

Apart from the discovery of Lucifer's calling, the only thing that came out of the time loop was pain, suffering and probably a lot of loneliness. Even the good things that came out of the time loop (like Lucifer and Rory bonding) are a consequence of the pain that it caused. Of course, if they broke a time loop and created a completely new timeline, choices they would make there could theoretically end up having worse consequences on their lives. They could also be better, or they could be completely the same. The thing is, we don't know, we can only speculate and that is exactly what bothers me. The main characters made a major decision based on a speculation. I don't necessarily have a problem with the things that have happened, but rather with how they happened and how they were explained. Or better to say, how they weren't. I think that they should have completely dedicated the season to exploring this and reassuring us that this is the right choice to make and the right way to go.

Also, the concept of free will and making one's own choices has been pretty integral to the show. We have watched Lucifer struggle with the concept since the beginning of the show because he was convinced he is only a puppet in his father's grand plans. There were many events in the show reinforcing that belief, like Chloe being the gift from God. It took him seasons to accept that he chose to stay in her life, to be close to her, to be her partner in work as well as in life and in that acceptance he finally found the strength to tell her that he loves her. He chose her and she chose him. And while one can argue that leaving them and going back to hell was Lucifer's choice (since, technically, he could have chosen to break his word to his daughter and change things), it is one he didn't want to make. In the final episode he says that he desires to watch his daughter grow up and before he leaves for Hell he tells Chloe he doesn't want to leave her (she even responds that she doesn't want him to leave either, but that this is the choice that they are making for Rory's sake), making me feel like he is making this choice out of duty, out of fear and not because he wants to. He finally accepted that the choices he makes are his and his only, and the final choice in the show was made for him instead by him - I really don't think that the character deserved this. Lucifer gave Rory his word and we know he always goes by his word - they have turned one of the most essential qualities of his character into a plot device and an instrument that caused pain. Additionally, since Rory asked him not to change anything, it was implied that Lucifer can't come back to Earth in order not to risk changing anything even though it is completely possible for him to balance his work hours in Hell and his family time on Earth, like Amenadiel did. I also found this completely unfair and it felt like Lucifer was "banished" to Hell, not only missing out on being with Chloe and watching Rory grow up, but also staying away from his friends and the life he had built for himself. However, on the brighter side, Lucifer doing this - something he doesn't completely understand, something he doesn't want to do - is incredibly selfless of him and only shows how much he has grown. A character who has been described as selfish and self-serving from the very beginning does something so ultimately selfless, something that doesn't serve him in any way - quite the opposite, it pains him. As I said, I don't necessarily mind how things played out, I mind the lack of guarantee that they had to be this way. The only thing we don't know is if Lucifer and Chloe were in contact over the years since Chloe could have kept in touch with him behind Rory's back - maybe she sent him pictures of Rory, and maybe they exchanged letters. I am very doubtful because this would probably make the whole situation harder on them nor do I think that they would risk it because they wouldn't be able to know if their actions are breaking the time loop or if they are a part of the original timeline but hey, this is the stuff that fan fictions are made of!

And finally, I very much disliked the parallel between Lucifer and God - Lucifer abandoning his child for the sake of doing his job and that child growing up resenting him - if it was their intention to draw such a parallel. I think that God somewhat "redeemed" himself in Lucifer's eyes and that through accepting himself Lucifer also learned how to stop resenting his father for the things that transpired between them, and I don't necessarily believe that Lucifer had to walk in his father's shoes to understand him. So, in my opinion, this was completely unnecessary. Something I did like was Lucifer's calling - I think that it shows nicely the full circle he has made and that the souls he thought he is supposed to torture he is now helping heal. In a way, Hell is also the reflection of who Lucifer is - when he saw himself as broken, as evil, as unworthy and undeserving, Hell was also a place of torture - it was a reflection of him. And now that he accepted himself and that others have accepted him for who he is as well, it is a place of healing. In the end, Hell is his kingdom and he can choose to rule it the way he wants to. He broke his own hell loop and he truly became a lightbringer.

And, of course, Lucifer and Chloe (they are so soft and I am so soft for them). Taking into consideration my very bad OTP track reckord, I kinda expected a much, much worse ending for them - I mean, the Devil falling in love with a human, what could possibly go wrong, right? I knew from the very beginning that they aren't getting a pure, wholeseome, family-like ending. In order for that to happen, she would either have to become immortal (leaving Trixie, losing her detective identity), or he would have to become mortal - both of these scenarios feel cheap and I never would have wanted this for them or the show. Another option was to give them their happy life on Earth but then they would either have to leave a somewhat open ending or deal with the fact that ultimately, as a mortal, Chloe will die. And if they were given their happy ending on Earth, who knows if they would end up together in afterlife. Even if they did, it definitely wouldn't feel as emotional and as gratifying as it does now. The thing is, it is easy to give in to the pain of their separation when we measure it by the pivotal moments of happiness and loss that drive the lives of humans - him not being there when Rory was born or when she grew wings or when she started school - and it is even harder when you know how much she needed him and how much he wanted to be there for her. It is even more painful when you think about Chloe spending her entire lifetime without him, carrying all that pain inside of her, and him spending what had to be centuries alone in Hell. However, this is a fantasy show and many of our characters are immortal, celestial beings who have a different understanding of time, so maybe the idea of what a happy ending is and the rules for measuring happiness aren't the same as they would have been under other circumstances. Chloe became lieutenant and tried to make a difference, and she got to raise her daughters and see them grow up, and Lucifer helped so many souls heal, doing so much good. And now they get to spend the eternity together, solving crimes and kicking ass in the afterlife! Many of their friends and family are immortal, celestial beings too and (I am pretty sure) they can pay a visit to their human friends in Heaven... or see them in Hell, but let's hope not! In the end, what is one lifetime compared to eternity? Of course, none of this makes for the time they have lost, the momories they didn't get to make and the moments he wasn't there for, but now there are so many new memories they will get to make and so many moments to catch up on. It is bittersweet, but I think that's how it was supposed to be - in the end, pain is part of life.

I also have a few (dis)honourable mentions:

1. I am really sad and disappointed Lucifer didn't get to say goodbye to Trixie. She was gone for the majority of the season, but she was also a very important person in his life and he loved her. And we know how much she loved him.

2. I can't get over Rory travelling through time to kill her father because she is angry at him... sis, you kill him before he makes you, you wipe yourself out of existence.

3. I can't believe that they were surprised that Chloe got pregnant after having loads of superhuman sex (without any protection, apparently) after another human already got pregnant with an angel not that long ago.

4. Lucifer saying goodbye to Maze will forever remain one of the most beautiful scenes in the show.

5. The final major scene between Chloe and Lucifer, where they say goodbye before he leaves for hell, lives in my head rent free. I was choking on tears watching that scene, I literally had to pause and rewind three times. Such a beautiful(ly painful) scene. Also, when you have a ship and a person A says to the person B "close your eyes", pain is coming. I swear I travelled back to 1999 when Buffy said the same thing to Angel before sending him to a hell dimension.

6. When Chloe dies and goes to Heaven and Amenadiel greets her and asks her if she's ready to go home and then takes her to Lucifer was so pure. Her Heaven is being in Hell with Lucifer and there's something deeply poetic about that.

7. Hearing hello detective for the last time cleared my skin.

I have really and truly enjoyed the show, and the minor inconsistencies I see in its ending can't change that. I loved the show because it told stories about people and it allowed them to drive the narrative, and I can't say many shows these days do that.

[fragileizywriting]

New fic is out for this AU!

pairing: Cat!Marinette / Ladybug!Adrien (Lady Noire / Misterbug) word count: 3,247 chapter: 1/1 rating: G summary: “You make me feel safe and wanted.” “You are wanted, little kitty.” “You know what I meant.” “I meant by me. You are wanted by me— and I know you know that— but I want to repeat it anyway. I always want you to be happy here.” AO3 | Start AU Here | Previous Fic in AU

“Kitty?”

“My mom.” It’s all Lady Noire can reply through all of her sniffles. She curls up tighter into a ball on the couch, pinching her eyes shut to the point it hurts, curling up her arms and legs and tail and head so that she becomes a single black smudge on the couch. A stain. Just simply a stain. “My mom. Always my mom. It was my mom again.”

Her head hurts. It’s foggy and full of cotton, so stuffy from everything. She’s grateful for the shade in his room that gets darker and darker as the minutes tick by, casting the space in total darkness, so that way he doesn’t have to see how miserable she is.

It must be horrible to have to live with an east-facing window. Her plants would love it. Her eyes, though, not so much.

She grabs for a decorative couch pillow above her head, swiping it and hiding her face, giving her even a bit of reprieve from the light.

Adrien sits down in front of her on the couch. She hears the noise of his pajama pants crinkling as he sits cross-legged on the rug underneath the coffee table, hears how he drums his fingers on his thighs, and hears how slow and steady his heartbeat is. He’s always so steady. Always so firm and anchoring to her. Even if the world continues in its attempt to rock her boat and tip her over and submerge her. Adrien always holds on for her when she’s too tired and too scared and too lonely to do so. “I’m sorry, kitty.”

“Her idea of comforting me is by telling me to be stronger. Whatever it is.”

He pauses. “Do you… do you want to talk about it?”

“It— it doesn’t matter. What I was upset about in the beginning is gone— I’m more upset at my mom now. Tell me how your day was first.” Because it’s always better to ask first about others than talk about her own problems. She doesn’t want to think about it for so long. If there’s any chance of forgetting about it, even for a little while, she’ll be happy.

And Adrien knows this. He knows this, because he knows her, and knows that her changing the subject is a cry for help. A flag upside down, calling out in distress. She’s sinking. It hurts. She’s injured. It shows. The silence is enough to make her remember the turbulent storms that made her cry in the first place, causing her to coil tighter, causing her to coil smaller, all in an attempt to get rid of the noise in her head.

He puts his hand on her head.

The hand at her scalp is soothing, and still damp from the shower— her lashes flutter when he gets a purr out of her, even if it’s a little watery. “My day was okay.”

“What did you do today?”

“I had school,” he shrugs a bit, jostling the hand that pets the soft parts of her ears. She knows about school. She’d spent the entire day boring a giant hole at the back of his head, chewing on her tongue like it was personally causing her grief, doing her utmost best like she always does to not accidentally tell Adrien that she’s the superhero that vaults through his bedroom window every afternoon. “Nothing, really. No extracurriculars for me today, either.”

She knows that, too.

She’d asked him at school.

He’d managed to stammer out a whole sentence to her today. To Marinette today.

He doesn’t have a problem talking to Lady Noire. But Marinette is an obstacle that he genuinely can’t conquer, no matter how many times she tries.

“I just came home and did homework and went to take a shower and suddenly…”

“And suddenly I’m here crying into your couch. I’m sorry,” she tries to fill in the gaps when he struggles on what to say next. “I’m always showing up with some kind of problem, aren’t I?”

“I don’t mind. You know I don’t. I love taking care of you— you’re my best friend. You know that, right?”

She does. Of course she does. That’s why it hurts so much.

“Some hero of Paris I am, huh?” Oh, she sounds bitter. “Showing up at a civilian’s house crying about personal life?”

“Hey,” he whispers, with something stern in his voice. “Stop that. Don’t talk like that— that’s not nice to yourself. You know you’re allowed to have problems outside of fighting Hawkmoth.”

And that’s it, really. That’s what gets another round of tears to freefall down her cheeks, but they come out sideways because she’s laying on her side— she can’t feel the tears track down on her black hexleather mask, but she knows she’s crying. She knows there are tears sloping across the bridge of her nose and joining with the tear pattern from her other eye, because she can feel how wet the whisps of her baby hairs feel against her ear when the tears finally get there. “I wish I didn’t have this.”

“Oh, kitty— I’m so sorry—”

“My mom just wants what’s best for me,” she feels herself get smaller and smaller, hiccuping hard enough for her to jump. Will she disappear? She wants to. Can she? Will Adrien let her? Probably not. He has a habit of wanting her to be happy, even when she wants to do nothing but disappear forever. “But we get into arguments about what that is all the time.”

“I know.”

“How I should be trying harder in school.”

“Yeah.”

“How I should”—she pauses, trying to think of something, anything, to fill in the gaps—“be trying harder to balance my civilian life and superhero duties.”

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, kitty.”

“How I need to be better. How I need to stop crying. How I need to do everything except what I’m doing now, because it isn’t enough.”

“Kitty…”

“She wants me to succeed, but instead of comforting me, she keeps adding more stress onto my shoulders by telling me how I should be dealing with my problems instead. And it hurts. And it’s painful. And I’m lonely. And I can’t do anything about it.”

“You have something you can do. You can stay right here with me. You can stay right here until it feels better. All of it. Everything.”

“It’s hard being a superhero,” she whispers. What an understatement of a lifetime. What does she choose to talk about first? What does she pick to say? “I don’t know how Mister Bug does it without breaking down.”

“Maybe he does. Maybe he struggles just as much as you do.”

“I don’t know. It’s hard to imagine that. Do you think he’s okay?”

“Well, he’s just a human. Just like you are. He has problems too, doesn’t he?”

“I can’t picture Mister Bug having problems. I should ask him.”

“I don’t think you need to,” Adrien shrugs. “I think he already knows how much you care about him.”

“Then, should I be going to him and telling him what’s wrong? Do you think he’s upset, knowing that I choose to talk to someone else about my problems?”

“I think he’s happy that you have someone you trust,” he whispers, damp fingers tracing the shell of her hexleather ears. She can’t feel it like her normal skin, because it’s a magical suit, but the little triangles at the top of her head twitch as if they’re sensitive to touch. “I think it makes him feel content, knowing that you go to someone you like and talk about your issues instead of bottling them up.”

“Love,” she corrects. “Everyone knows that I love you.”

“Love,” he repeats back to her with a smile. “Right. Yes. I think it makes him feel good, knowing you go to talk to someone you love about your problems.”

“The whole world knows, you know. Even Hawkmoth knows that you’re my best friend. People talk about it on social media all the time. We’re a pair. We’re a duo. We’re a matching set.”

If only people knew just how close the two of them actually are. Selfies taken on the street when either of them finds each other, pretending to act like simply a celebrity finding another celebrity on the streets of Paris, instead of being two best friends.

“We’re a team,” he whispers.

“Team shark.”

“Exactly,” he talks even softer. “We’re a team, little kitty. You and me.”

“Because no jaw is too strong,” she replies.

“No smile is too full of teeth,” oh, there’s a smile in his voice.

“And no mouth is too wide to keep me away from you. Never. No Akuma. No Lady Noire’s mother. No stupid photoshoots that they pencil you in at the last minute. No world-ending apocalypse that Mister Bug and I have to fix every month. Nothing will keep me from you.” They settle into a silence that is only partially filled with her sniffles and the occasional wipe of her mask with the back of her hand. It’s a shame she can’t feel his fingers on her back, following the lines of her spine like she knows he’s doing— but it’s the sacrifice she pays up in order to stay protected from Akuma battles.

“Nothing will keep me from you, either. No nightmares, no Akuma, no fangirls that drive me crazy.”

She listens to the silence, opening her eyes to the darkening room, watching the sky outside his floor-to-ceiling windows start to orange and purple. It’s such a pretty sight, watching those clouds drift lazily by as Paris turns into a sight reminiscent of a dream. No wonder he doesn’t draw the curtains closed. Or maybe he just wants his room accessible to her at all times. “You know, sunshine, my uncle said that if I bottle up too many emotions I might start to break things.”

His eyes look like stars, looking at her in alarm and worry. “Like, you’re going to get violent?”

“No! No. Never. Not really. You know I wouldn’t.”

“Oh. Wait, then I don’t understand what you mean.”

“It wouldn’t be my choice. It would be just like a misfire of my powers.”

“A misfire?”

“It’s kind of like a protection, or a last-resort. When I’m so stressed out that my body just goes into self-preservation, making sure that it’s impossible to take my miraculous ring in case I’m indisposed.”

“Oh. I never knew this.”

“It’s to stop me from getting Akumatized.” As if the explanation makes this any better. “But it’s still not a good thing. Self-preservation is a pretty selfish thing to happen.”

“What”—she watches him lick his lips, as if he’s trying to choose his next words carefully—“what does it look like?”

“How do I explain this— it’s kind of like— uhm. Do you remember that movie we watched?”

“We watch many movies together,” he snorts, scrunching his nose into something silly when she cracks a smile.

“Come on. The one with the wizard.”

“Do you know how little that narrows it down?”

“The one with the demon.”

“Oh boy. Remind me not to join any charades groups with you— we’d lose every round.” The two of them snicker at each other.

“Okay, it’s the one where the woman who falls in love with—” she pauses. “A guy.”

“Wait a minute. What were you going to say?”

“Just some guy.”

He narrows his eyes. “Some guy you really like.”

“He’s okay.”

“What’s his name?”

She twiddles her thumbs. “Howl.”

Recognition sparks in those beautiful emerald green eyes of his. “Oh. Oh. The love of your life, yes. I’m aware.”

“He’s not—”

“Yes he is.”

“I’m not—”

“Don’t bother lying, little kitty. I know why you love rewatching the movie with me, you little gremlin.”

“The music,” she argues, feeling her cheeks heat under her domino mask. “The atmosphere. The flowers—”

“The magician boys,” Adrien grins. “Howl especially. Admit it. You have a thing for blondes.”

“I— I do not. Anyway,” she tries her hardest not to grin back. If only he knew. If only he knew that she’s not thinking of Mister Bug when he says that. “Shut up. Stop looking at me. Stop it.”

“Am I right? Am I?”

“You’re harassing me.”

“It’s not harassment, it’s endearingly interrogating.”

“I’m moving on! I’m moving on from this topic!” She paws at him when his mouth twitches hard, trying to keep his laughter out. “Do you remember when Howl got so upset that his hair changed color?”

“And there was goo coming off the walls?”

“Yeah! Exactly! The room was shifting super weird and goo was dripping everywhere? Something similar happens with the black cat miraculous when they’re super upset.”

“Similar? Or do you actually make goo?”

“Just similar. I’m not a gooer.”

“Are you sure?”

“I promise, I’m goo free.”

“How free of goo are you?”

“Pretty gooless.”

“I don’t want to see you all gooey,” he ducks his head, smiling at her with a quirk of his mouth like he always does when he’s teasing. “I don’t ever want to see that happen. Ever. And it’s not going to happen, because you and I are a team, and team members don’t turn into goopy sludge.”

Does he know how much that means to her? To hear the words out loud that he doesn’t ever want to see her get to the breaking point where her miraculous powers start to drain and create vacuums in the air around her? That he’s willing to do whatever it takes to make sure that she never gets to the stage where she breaks windows and concrete and whatever surface it is she’s standing on— whatever object she’s holding?

Her smile is so watery.

So, so watery.

“What? The concept of a jelly Lady Noire too strange for you?”

“Anything that isn’t my kitty in her normal and natural form is too strange for me,” he shares a smile with her, those beautiful green eyes looking at hers. “But don’t worry. If it ever gets to that point where you’re a gelatin, I’ll love you. Even when you’re gooey.”

“Gross.”

“And oozy.”

“Ew.”

“And goopy.”

“Ugh. Why do I sound so disgusting?”

“I’ll love you even if you’ve turned into a slime.”

“Watch out, Hawkmoth. Slime Noire is here. Even though I don’t actually turn into slime physically, I am emotionally. Try taking my miraculous now.” They share laughter hard enough to hurt in the spaces between her ribs. His laughter soothes an itch that is somewhere next to her heart— it’s a warm and gentle balm. She loves him. She loves him so much.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he tells her when she finally picks up her head from the couch, wiping at her eyes, smiling down at him. He has to crane his head up to look at her from where he is, sitting on the rug, but it doesn’t look like he minds it. “I’m glad you showed up, kitty. It’s lonely without you here.”

“I like coming here.” As if she even has to admit it. As if he doesn’t know. The only reason why she doesn’t stay permanently in this room is because of all the plants she’s populated her room with. And, of course, the whole problem that Adrien doesn’t know her secret identity. Hard to take a shower in a hexleather suit. It’s not like she would be able to move in and be able to use the bathroom. “You make me feel safe and wanted.”

“You are wanted.”

“You know what I meant.”

“I meant by me. You are wanted by me— and I know you know that— but I want to repeat it anyway. I always want you to be happy here.”

“You already make me feel happy. Always.” Oh, she can feel how her cheeks stain harder underneath her hexleather mask. “I know your house is quiet, but— when I’m here with you— it doesn’t feel so overwhelming. Being in my house makes everything so loud. So many cousins asking me to help them. So many aunts and uncles begging me to cover their shifts or go do errands. And my mom—”

Well.

“You don’t have to do any of that here.” He lifts his arms up, offering himself for a hug when she cuts herself off and starts to think about it all over again. She slips off the couch quick enough to startle him, planting a knee at the side of his hip and another between his legs and crushing his broad shoulders into a hug. His fingers find a way through her braid, just like always, massaging a certain spot on her scalp that makes her eyes role and see stars. “You don’t have to do anything. I want you here.”

“You’re just trying to make sure I don’t turn into Goopy Noire.”

“Maybe I like the idea of being able to save the citizens of Paris from a sludge,” he laughs so warmly into her shoulder. “Being a superhero of my own. Who knows. Or maybe I really do care about you, kitty.”

“What a weirdo.” Oh— her voice is cracking.

He doesn’t mention it. “God, I know. Caring about my best friend is so stupid these days.”

“Yeah. Who does that?”

“People who love one another.”

“Wait. Are you admitting you like me?”

“Don’t tell anyone. No one will hire me for modeling gigs if they found out about my secret.”

“You know what? Just because of that, you’ll be the first one to get consumed by my goo.” She dissolves into laughter so hard that the both of them tumble backwards on the rug from how much the both of them shake, grinning at each other like the idiots they are, snickering and poking fun at each other.

“Ew,” Adrien manages to say at some point during their laughter. “That sounds disgusting.”

“It’s the price to pay.”

“What price? What am I paying for?”

“No idea. But it’s the price you’re going to have to pay,” she wheezes out between snorts, peeling away from their hug just enough to make eye contact.

He can’t see her as well as she can see him. It’s dark now, and it’s way too dark for human eyes to see in his room. She can see him in perfect clarity, of course, because her miraculous allows her to see in the dark as if it were still daytime— so she gives herself the luxury of looking at him without him pulling a face or teasing her.

Just a little snippet.

Just a little indulgence.

Just a little moment that is hers that she won’t share with anyone else.

And yet, it’s as if he knows what she’s thinking about anyway, like he can read her face in this much darkness. His thumb rubs circles on her domino mask, wiping away her tears and her worries and her problems with that smile he only gives her. It’s not his Agreste smile. It’s Adrien’s smile. Toothy and stupid and silly and his— he’s not self conscious about himself in front of her. He never is. “You’re important to me, little kitty.”

“You’re important to me too, Charming,” she wiggles her toes in her boots before tackling him into another hug that makes her feel all warm and fuzzy. “I love you.”

“I love you too. Always. Every day. Gooey or not.”

AO3 | Start AU Here | Previous Fic in AU

[paperpocalypse]

duty.

50 Wordless Ways to Say “I Love You”: 13. Playing your fingers through their hair while sitting next to them on the couch.

Pairing: Five Hargreeves x Aristocrat!Reader

Word Count: 2,407 words

Warning: Wonky and inaccurate aristocrat/rich people politics and marrying young because of it, please bear with me

[A/N: No powers!Historical!AU]

The elegance of the Hargreeves estate is of the dark, academic sort – polished, reserved, all sharp lines and dim lighting and old books – and you’d feel quite intimidated by it if you were any less acquainted with its occupants. You and your sister always look out of place when you visit, bright splotches of summer color roaming the narrow, perpetually autumnal hallways; and when congregating with the siblings in the library or outside, any visitor could glance at your merry group and immediately tell apart the hosts and the guests. 

It’s all a reflection of your respective parents, really – if you had any say in how you presented yourself, it certainly wouldn’t be in the vivid, youthful hues of your mother’s choosing, and you’re sure that some of the others have similar sentiments. 

Because while your family and Five’s family are certainly different in some ways, their respective heads are both pretty damn suffocating.

“Looks like it’s a draw.”

You grunt, displeased, and collapse back in your chair, bundling up in your blanket. “Can’t take a loss, can you, Five?”

“Not if I can help it,” he answers. His frown and crossed arms speak to his dissatisfaction with the result; losing is never an option, but clear-cut victories are always better than a draw. “Want to play again?”

The suggestion is tempting. Very tempting. You reach out and pick up your king, feeling the cold, smooth marble against the pads of your fingertips, and purse your lips in thought. Your eyes flick up briefly to meet Five’s.

Oh.

“Maybe tomorrow,” you finally say, putting the piece down. “I’m getting a bit tired.”

Five studies you for a moment, head tilting in that particular, scrutinizing way of his. Then his expression smooths out and he nods.

After putting the pieces back into place, the two of you exit the warmth of the library and head towards the guest wing. The walk is silent; you keep your borrowed blanket wrapped snugly around your shoulders, the bottom dragging across the perfect, wooden floor as you look at the paintings hung along the wall. They’re landscapes, mostly – of dark green forests; cold, still oceans; blue-grey mountains shrouded in mist. Impersonal and very fitting for the tastes of Five’s father, that’s for sure.

When you reach your room, you smile at your companion, and it feels unnaturally polite. “Well, goodnight, Five.”

“Goodnight.”

The boy turns and strolls back down the hallway, and you wait until he disappears around the corner, chewing on your bottom lip, before pushing the door open to enter your room.

“You two are duller than an ashtray. 'Goodnight’?”

“Sh –” you bite back an expletive, whipping around to glare at the intruder on your bed. “Lila, go back to your own room!”

Your sister just stares at you from her upside-down position, arms and legs splayed out as she smiles. “You still haven’t talked about it, have you?”

“We don’t need to,” you snap back quietly, closing the door as quickly as you can without slamming it. “He understands it as well as you and I do.”

“You realize Mum never said you’ll have to marry the guy.”

“Of course not; she just strongly suggested it.”

“Still not an order.”

Her flippancy causes you to glare. “Lord Harold is rich and he’s willing –"

“He’s a massive creep,” she interrupts, giving you an incredulous look. “And you just came of age, [Y/n]. You’ll be miserable.”

“I can get it annulled after five years, remember?”

“You’re really going to last for five years?”

She’s trying to pull something out of you, you know it. You try to maintain your composure.

“A massive debt isn’t going to just disappear,” you repeat. “It was either him or Lady Helen, and Helen got betrothed last month. Harold’s the quickest way to fix it, in case you forgot.”

“And in case you forgot, it’s literally not your problem. Stop making a martyr of yourself when you don’t have to.” Lila sits up and swivels around to face you, crossing her legs. Her expression is expectant. “I’ll figure something out, so don’t throw a fit, alright? The debt’s going to be mine along with the estate. You can afford to disappoint Mum for once in your life.”

Your brow furrows. “Lila  –”

“If you keep arguing, I’m going to smother you with a pillow,” she says. “Either you agree with me, or you tell your future love affair that you’re marrying a human toad in the spring.”

“Future lo – it’s not like that! We’re friends!”

Lila holds your indignant gaze. Then, with practiced, unladylike ease, she hops off your bed, puts her hands on her hips and raises her eyebrows at you.

“You have the worst case of denial I’ve ever seen in my entire life,” she says.

“I’m being completely honest,” you retort hotly. And you are. You and Five are friends, and although the nature of your relationship is admittedly more comfortable than any other friendship you’ve had over the years, nothing between you and Five had ever been non-platonic.

(Not that you would mind something non-platonic – but as you’ve reiterated to Lila many, many times, you’re just as content being friends. Having a genuine, close companion in your world is rare, and you’re tired of everyone deciding what you and Five should be when the two of you are more than capable of figuring it out for yourselves.)

“Why do you care, anyway? Everything will be easier for you if I marry Harold.”

“And more miserable for you.” She lets her arms fall to her sides. “Look, I’m the oldest, so I’m supposed to be the miserable one, not you. It’s not the end of the world if you don’t marry Harold. Give yourself more time to grow up.”

You don’t know what to say.

Seemingly finished with her piece, Lila smiles before brushing past you, nudging your blanket to the side on her way to the door. You glance away when she looks over her shoulder at you.

“Sleep on it.”

… You do, though it’s a lot less sleep than you’d hoped.

—

The next morning is slow and lazy. It’s a good thing in your opinion, because as mentioned before, you had spent a great deal of the night thinking about what your sister had said, and your head feels quite foggy as a result. A cup of tea and a horse ride with everyone outside in the snow both help somewhat over the course of the day. However, by the time the sky begins to darken, you’re back in your room to take a nap before supper, and quickly return thereafter.

When you hear three quick raps on your door, you groan and drag yourself out of bed.

“Lila,” you grumble as you turn the knob and pull, “can’t you go bother Diego instead –”

You swallow your words when you see your actual visitor. Five gives you a brief, tight-lipped smile.

“Mind if I come in?”

“Uh,” you respond intelligently, then shake your head and step to the side, remembering your manners. “Of course.”

Five walks in and heads towards the window. You go to the couch nearby and sit down, slightly perplexed as he finds an interest in the candle burning on the sill – he’s welcome to hang around in here, certainly, but the two of you usually convene in his room or the library. The guest room doesn’t have much to offer in terms of entertainment.

In due time, the boy turns away from the frost-covered window and joins you on the couch.

“Your sister said you weren’t feeling well,” is all he says.

So that’s why he’s here. Shrugging, you put your hands in your lap, fiddling with the family ring on your middle finger. “I’m just a little tired, that’s all.”

Your lackluster explanation isn’t enough, if his short, replying hum is anything to go by. Five leans forward, folding his hands and resting his chin on them. And what else? he seems to say.

“It’s … It’s just been a busy year, with Lila and me coming of age and all. More responsibilities and expectations, and all that,” you eventually continue, staring down at the thick, luxurious carpet at your feet. “Though I don’t have much of a right to complain. Lila’s bearing most of the pressure, since she’s the heir apparent …”

“She doesn’t seem too bothered,” Five points out, tone bland.

You allow yourself to grin. “Because we’re on vacation. Five, if you saw Lila this summer, you would’ve seen how hard she’s been working.” Not to mention all of the proposals that she had so graciously shot down, on account of her veto power and general distaste for marriage. “Honestly, the two of you have a lot in common and I don’t know why you butt heads so often.”

“I have my reasons.”

At that cryptic snark, you reach out and gain purchase on his hair, ruffling it in righteous revenge. Five grunts half-heartedly, elbowing you away. A small smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth and you almost feel like this conversation is going to be normal – that is, as normal as it gets with a Hargreeves.

(His hair is very soft. You feel bad for messing it up, so you attempt to smooth it back into its original state; about a minute into that attempt you realize what you’re actually doing and withdraw. You shouldn’t be so improper.)

Do you have to do this?

You decide to pay the piper before you can talk yourself out of it. “You know,” you say when the joviality fades, “she’s the one who suggested that I talk to you. About my possible betrothal.”

Five’s expression flattens. He looks straight ahead again, resting his elbows on his knees. “What is there to talk about?”

“Well, you’re my closest friend and one of the smartest people I know, so I ought to ask for your opinion on the possibility of …” You reconsider for one final moment, then inhale deeply and let it out. “Of me refusing Lord Harold’s offer.”

To your slight surprise, Five nods.

“Did you talk to your mother about it?” he questions.

“Not yet,” you murmur. “To be honest, I’ve been thinking about it for months, but I only started seriously considering it last night. And now I really don’t want to marry Lord Harold. He unsettles me and I’m not ready.”

He frowns. “Neither of them is going to accept that as a reason.”

“I know.” You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. “They’ll kick up a fuss over finances and it’ll be a bit of a scandal. That’s why I’m asking for your advice.”

Being the pragmatist that he is, you had thought that Five would be more averse to your plan. He himself had done things that he did not want to do in order to help his siblings, so you had assumed that despite his immediate dislike of Lord Harold since the night of your coming-of-age celebration, Five would tell you to endure a few years with the noble before disposing of him and collecting your dues. It’s the easiest way to get what you and your family needed, after all.

The fact that he’s so accepting of your decision makes you curious …

“First of all, even if he recognizes your refusal – and you’ll probably have a hard time with that, which will be an issue all on its own – your mother will try to find someone else to ship you off to,” he states, eyebrows pinched. “Preferably within the next year or so, right?”

“Yes.”

“How likely is she to push back your marriage by a few years?”

“… Not very likely,” you admit.

The boy pauses, thinking, then sits back.

“I could propose to you,” he offers, “if you’d like.”

You accidentally laugh out loud, you’re so taken aback. Five? Proposing? “Come again?”

“You heard me the first time.”

“We’re practically penniless. Would your father even give his blessing?”

He rolls his eyes. “Penniless or not, you’re an aristocrat with a title. If nothing else, Dad will accept that.”

“Neither of us want to get married.”

“And yet it’s your most realistic option thus far.” Five pins you with a serious gaze, and it finally hits you that he’s genuinely, actually asking. “Are you okay with it or not?”

“I …” You fumble over your words, staring at Five with wide eyes. “I mean, yes, I’d be okay with that, but … are you sure? You’d marry me just to get me out of another marriage?”

(Your question is not born of a doubt that he’ll go through with it. Five is a person of his word. But this is a big deal, and you’re both young, and most importantly of all, you don’t want this to be a mistake.)

“Let’s just say that I’d rather it be you than anyone else,” he mutters, shrugging softly. “This is your back-up plan, anyway. And if the marriage goes sideways, we can have it annulled after a few years and you’ll get a settlement too.”

He says it as if he’s discussing the weather. You chuckle, inexplicably reassured and amused by his bluntness. “Not even ten minutes into your proposal and you’re already thinking about an annulment? I fear for our future, Five.”

“There are worse things to be afraid of,” he replies sardonically. “Bring it up with your mom when you go back. If you can’t get out of a marriage, write me and I’ll talk to my dad.”

“Alright. You should bring Allison with you, though.”

“I suggest the same with Lila. Make it convincing.”

That won’t be too difficult. You nod, and with that, the deal seems to be sealed.  Although you’re still processing what just happened, and Five is likely realizing just what he and you are potentially getting yourselves into, the two of you share a small smile nonetheless. It is hard not to.

“Thank you,” you murmur after a while. 

Five glances over at your hands, then down at his. “Don't thank me yet."

"Alright, then. If you insist."

As your friend twists the steel ring on his index finger, you think to yourself, yes, you do want more time to grow up. But if the world won’t give that to you, you figure that a life with Five would be the next best thing. 

[liddolwhynot2000]

Chains: Part 4

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Summary: Both times he's watched a woman hold his heart in their grasp, and walk away without it.

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Parings: Levi/Reader, Erwin/Reader

Genre: Angst, One Sided Love, regrets, heartbreak, death, I think I should stop being mean to Erwin woops

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ChainsPt1 ChainsPt2 ChainsPt3

Drabble#1

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Being a leader was never on Erwin's agenda, not when he started out in the military at least. But he accepted that the only way to achieve his goals was to rise to the top, because there was simply no one he could entrust his dreams to.

He's accepted his role as a monster, the villain who gets innocent soldiers killed for his goals. People throw stones at him, hurl slurs at him, and Erwin thinks it's okay. It's fine.

Someone has to play the devil. Someone has to step up and take the heat. Who better then the man who spouts words like fast acting venom, whose one inspirational speech sends their loved ones to their graves in a matter of minutes?

His own actions lit this fire. His determination to discover what's in that basement, his absolute ruthlessness, they all contributed in him sitting where he is right now.

A one armed, pathetic man, who can't even sit up on his own.

The physical exhaustion is taking its toll on him, messing with his mind. Half of him wants to retire, to settle down in peace. The stress of his job has taken its toll on him. Erwin firmly believes that he shouldn't be alive right now, that his punishment was supposed take place inside the stomach of a titan. Its sheer dumb luck that some soldiers, in their devotion to him, rescued him. Otherwise, his corpse would be rotting away outside the walls right now, missed by no one. He isn't dead right now, and he should be grateful.

Except Erwin wishes he was dead right now.

Most soldiers retire after losing a limb the way he has, but Erwin can't bring himself to take the easy way out. He wants it to be difficult for him- especially since all he's done is get others killed. Some sort of deity-God or whatever is out there, is the reason he's still alive. Was it a sign he should move forward? Or a sign that he should stop and rest? Maybe it was punishment for his lack of humanity. Erwin doesn't know and frankly, he doesn't want to know. Not when it has the potential to jeapordise the mission that gives him the will to breathe.

He comforts himself, reminding himself of his goals. He has to prove that his father was right about the outside world. His entire purpose for living all these years, for pushing and exhausting his soldiers, has to come to fruition. Their efforts couldn't be in vain, their deaths wouldn't meaningless. Erwin is alive to achieve this. His time in hell is waiting for him, but not yet.

Not until he reaches the finish line.

His resolve is a little strengthened, so Erwin allows himself to settle into the pillows. He welcomes the darkness as he closes his eyes, determined to get some rest. He convinces himself to stop wishing for his own death, and allows sleep to finally overcome him.

He also pretends that every fibre of his being isn't screaming for you to be here, sitting besides him, holding his hand.

____________________________________

It's painful, watching you and Levi go around each other in circles. He remembers feeling like shit, having to watch the woman he wants as his own, engage in a soft courtship with someone else. The fact that he has to see Levi everyday at work makes it even worse, knowing that the short man holds the heart of the woman he desperately wants without even trying.

He had been in his position once too, except his loose hold had caused you to slip away from him.

Erwin's beginning to accept his situation, that he'll never have you. He's had several moments of weakness, where all he wants is to storm to your house and tell you how he feels. Beg you to forget about Levi and give him one last chance. But he knows it won't work.

He knows he'll only be making a fool of himself.

So he begins to chain up his own heart. The organ that keeps him breathing, making him live even when his mind wishes he wouldn't, he has to stop it from its philanderous ways. The traitorous thing kept opening itself up, presenting its vulnerability to others, even when he knows better. He's fooled himself one too many times that someone like him can actually love like a normal person.

First Marie, then you. He isn't sure he can take more of this, the hurt, the loneliness.

Both times he's watched a woman hold his heart in their grasp, and walk away without it.

In their defense, it's not like they callously threw it away. It's not like they didn't try for him. The problem wasn't them, the problem was Erwin himself. It was best for everyone if he kept himself on a leash from now on, locked his heart in chains that would take a lifetime to undo.

But, much to his despair, no chain is strong enough to completely keep everything he feels out. He tries and tries, yet when he's on the verge of passing out from overworking himself, he keeps seeing your face.

And he keeps wishing that his mind would stop taunting him about you, why can't he see you smile at him?

Why must he visualize you smiling at Levi, gazing at him as though he's your everything?

Why can't he, even if its delusional and entirely fabricated, see you as his?

Life really is too cruel.

____________________________________

Having known Levi for so long, he isn't surprised by his threats anymore. He's made a habit of being as nonchalant as possible in the face of an irate Levi. It's the only way to keep the man in line and from slaughtering half the people that cross his way for breathing too loud.

He remembers how he and Levi started out, Erwin was the one who extended the olive branch and made a move towards friendship. Despite his concerns about Levi's interest in you, he stuck to his priorities as a soldier and made it a point to befriend the man who would later become the most brilliant soldier the military has ever had.

He doesn't regret it, by any means, not as far as his professional life is concerned. But a part of him, the one that perisistantly tears at those chains, insists that he should. It's a horrible voice, dripping with self loathing, that reminds him how back then, he still had the power to stop Levi from coming near you. Erwin shuts it down of course, because its been years now, and disregarding his prolonged infatuation with you, he does consider Levi his friend.

He's reminded that Levi considers him a friend too, as he tries to stop him from going on the expedition to reclaim Wall Maria. He makes valid points, and maybe if Erwin's goals extended beyond that basement, he would have agreed to sit this one out. To value humanity over himself again.

But he can't.

He's always been too selfish, too reckless. Uptil this point, all his goals have aligned with saving humanity. But the jig is up, Erwin can't pretend that he's a saint anymore. He's not fighting for humanity like Levi thinks he is, it's always been about fighting to sate his own curiousity. To justify his hand in his father's death.

Like a glass shattering, he can see this realisation dawn on Levi. His image of the pristine commander who gave it all up for humanity has been effectively ruined. He now sees Erwin for the piece of shit he actually is. All this time, Erwin imagines, Levi likely thought that Erwin had never pursued you out of obligation to his duty. That he was playing hero by sacrificing his personal wants.

He sees the hurt in Levi's eyes, the absolute betrayal clouding him. He can tell he's questioning everything, wondering how he had never seen through the Commander he had sworn his devotion to so blindly before. The short man is a master of not expressing himself much, so he doesn't let his thoughts show on his face. But Erwin knows that these few minutes have tainted their friendship.

He feels upset about it of course, but a part of him is glad. And as he watches Levi leave his office, his footsteps loud, he feels something akin to relief.

At least there's one person in this world who finally sees him for who he really is, who won't buy into his lies anymore. Someone who he can actually feel some shame in front of while giving out his orders. Someone he doesn't have to look in the eye to lie to and convince them of his intentions.

Even if it meant you would likely find out about it too. But then again, Erwin is a master at earning the hatred of others, to the point that he's sure most people pray for him to die in the most gruesome ways possible.

Although, it feels much more soul crushing to so much as think about you of all people looking at him like that.

The idea of you harbouring that hateful, disgusted expression others do towards him, is far more painful then when he lost his arm.

____________________________________

In all his time in the Survey Corps, many things that should surprise Erwin, have not. Or at least, that's the impression he purposefully gives to the world. His mind is practical, often choosing to immediately think of how to utlize the information he's learned in the best possible way. He's never shocked, never hesitant on planning what's next.

But today, for the first time, he's speechless. There's no plan of action to think of, no battle to jump into. There's no enemy he needs to deal with either. All he has to do is control the chains in his heart, and their increasingly dull resistance.

He's already had to accept that he's lost all of his chances with you, that you'll never look twice at him again. But now, it's even worse. Even his heart can't afford to ache for you, because you're pregnant.

It's history repeating itself at its finest really. He wasn't even this heartbroken when you and Levi got married, having coped with his loss with another binge drinking session and a meaningless one night stand where he could only see you. But this hurts too much, even for a strong man like him.

Erwin is used to being on the recieving end of bad news, so he smiles at Levi and congratulates him with a smile that's seen better days. He ignores the knowing looks from Hange, and the cool indifference with which Levi accepts his well wishes, all the while giving no indication of how he truly feels.

He makes himself follow his routine, to go to his office and work on his papers, and not grab a bottle of alcohol like he wants too. He goes on to solidify the plan for the upcoming mission, and not dwell on the idea of you becoming a mother to a child that's not his.

He works well into the night, before his bones grow weary and his hands scream at him to stop writing. He does his best to convince himself he doesn't need to sleep yet, but ultimately gives in and goes to bed. He thinks of the mission again, while drifting in and out of his dreams

As he embraces the darkness of sleep, Erwin wonders if a man whose dead inside can even classify as being alive.

Because if he survives the mission, it'll only be a victory for his body.

____________________________________

Levi knows him too well, Erwin concludes to himself, as the short man kneels before him.

'.. I order you to die..'

The last time he was ordered to do something was by Commander Shadis, and no ones ordered Erwin around since then. He's been in the military for a long time, he knows how to give and take orders without feeling much. Its been a while since someone looked at him so fiercely and told him to do something no questions asked.

It should irk him, like it secretly used to before. Infuriate him even, that he's worked so hard to get to the top, only to have to be ordered about.

Instead, he's relieved. This order is the first in his life that's brought him so much relief, that's offered him an escape from his demons. His cell in hell is wide open for him, the guard impatiently waiting for the prisoner arrival.

Erwin has no plans of keeping him waiting any longer.

He smiles at Levi, and thanks him out loud. Because Levi has just saved him. He no longer has to be the demon that bears too many sins to count, the bastard that everyone looks to for orders. He'll finally be free.

Free of all responsibilities, of the burden of leadership, of being such a monster. And most importantly, Erwin almost giddily notes to himself, free of watching you and Levi create the family he wants with you.

He's grateful to Levi, who looks at him with a solemn expression. He doesn't want him to die, but if there's anyone who knows why Erwin is so okay with this order, it's Levi. The two of them look at each other meaningfully, aware they don't have the time to say more.

Erwim thinks his eyes manage to get across at least one message.

Take care of her Levi

Because Levi's eyes had looked like they were saying something too.

Of course I will

As he yells and charges towards the Beast Titan, spurring his cormades to do the same, he feels something shift inside of him. The chains stop rattling, going deathly silent. They don't loosen or untangle themselves. Rather, they disintegrate completely, not leaving behind even a speck of dust, let alone any evidence that they had existed before.

It makes him feel light, and fittingly enough, free.

In his last moments, time slows as he sees that rock heading in his direction, he knows his time has come to an end. It feels like ages past in those precious seconds, because he sees you.

He sees your pretty smile, hears your sweet laughter and envisions you standing in front of him, wearing that white dress, and vowing to love him forever. It's a sight that's so wholesome, that maybe he could have died with a smile on his face.

But he doesn't get to be lucky, not after selfishly playing the role of a monster his entire life. Before his lips can curl to express that one emotion, every part of him suddenly hurts. His vision goes black, leaving him aching to see you again for just one more second.

When he wakes up, he's in an endless void, surrounded by metal bars and, ironically enough, wrapped up in chains.

He's dead, and he knows it. Erwin can only bitterly chuckle at the beginning of his well deserved punishment.

____________________________________

A/N: Surprise!! 🎉. Heyooo! I know I said part 4 will be fluff, but in my defense, I just couldn't get the idea of exploring Erwin's heartbreak before he dies out of my head. I have tagged a smol fluff drabble between Levi and reader, set in Chains. It's right here. So do read that!

How much did you guys like that? I felt kinda emotional writing it 😅

[kookiepredictions]

Message from his DF’s Higher Self

To the Littlest One,

I was summoned by you I think. Damn boy, are you tired? Cuz you’ve been running through my mind all day. Everyday. Where do I begin? There’s always so much to say but I’m never sorted out. You want to know how I feel about you? Well it’s not a one word or one line answer you see. In my previous connections, I’ve always had some issue or the other. There have been connections where things were THIS close to being something special, and yet, I couldn’t unsee that there was still that bit missing. And I realized, I’m really looking for someone EXACTLY like me, and I knew I set myself up for failure because truly that’s impossible to have? When I saw you for the first time, I was shocked because I couldn’t believe how someone could be so much like me. It was like looking at my male version. And yet, there were so many obvious differences. I would be all excited and tell whoever cared to listen (most didn’t) that look, this guy is just like me! I think I’ve found my perfect match like they write in books and stuff. It didn’t matter to me that you didn’t know I existed. I was incredibly happy just knowing that I wasn’t wrong in believing that somewhere there is someone who is your exact match. I was O.B.S.E.S.S.E.D with you! I couldn’t get enough. You’d think my first impression about you was wrong and as I got to know more about you, I’d change my mind. But it was the exact opposite. The more I knew, I surer I got. I found a happy place in my life, everyday religiously watching you do weird stuff that convinced me more and more that yeah, he is the one. Ironically though, I never wanted to do anything about it. I thought someday we’d just meet and you’d see what I saw— that we’re perfect for each other. I had things in my personal life to take care of and I started doing exactly that, and Divine (and other) intervention got us together. Of course initially I was a little wary and thought it was all too good to be true, but that’s just me. Getting to know you has been one of the most special, life changing events in my life. So I have no idea why you want to start over again, or change anything about it. I wouldn’t want to change anything about any of it. You have been a wish fulfilled, a literal dream come true for me, right from the start to now. When I first saw you, I had a certain idea about you, the things you might say— and when you did speak to me, it was exactly how I always imagined it to be. With every word and action, you became more and more perfect to me. It was like someone made a list of everything I wished for in a person since when I was old enough to wish for things, added a ton of other wonderful things and the result was you! You have always, ALWAYS said what I wanted to hear, treated me the way I wanted to be treated. You were like this magician who always magically knew what I wanted. How did you know? How did you know what no one had ever known. And those people were so much closer to me. And so it not just confuses me but also makes me sad how you see this whole thing differently. Maybe you can do better, maybe you have better things to offer, I get that. But it was still perfect the way it was. There is no need to go over it repeatedly and wish it was different. I would never ever never want it to be any other way.

To me, you were and still are the kind of person they only talk about in fairytales. Does that mean I think you have no flaws? No. I know everyone has flaws and I have always believed that is what makes each of us unique and more special. And I have stopped buying onscreen personas since when I was like 13. Okay, maybe 15. Perfection to me is not the absence of flaws. Perfection to me is in the way I feel about someone. And I have always felt so wholesome around you, every moment spent with you was perfect. You were perfect, everything you did was perfect. If I were to sit you down and categorically tell you to do exactly as I wanted, I still couldn’t do a better job than what you had already done. Plz I’m embarrassed to admit that I have spent days, weeks, MONTHS daydreaming about you. Repeating every word over and over and over in my head and feeling every feeling it caused in me. I don’t see the “mistakes” that you see. Maybe you don’t see them either, and that’s why you are confused as to why you are being punished. Then maybe you should consider the thought that you aren’t being punished? I am not keeping away because of anything you did or didn’t do, I am keeping away for my own issues. You might think I have it all figured out, but I’m sorry to burst your bubble, I’m still a work in progress as well. You think I have over exaggerated ideas about you? Well I think you have put me up on a pedestal and don’t see how I’m struggling too. Do I absolutely need to be away to focus on myself right now? Absolutely. I have a tendency to be put who I love (there I said it, I wish it wasn’t said this way, but I guess this is the need of the hour) before me, and lose myself in the process. And unless I learn how to prioritizing another person without de-prioritizing myself, I need to be by myself. Have you ever felt like this connection was getting the better of you— that you had no control over yourself whatsoever? That’s how it has felt for me too. I need to find my own footing before getting involved in anything at all. Do I seem stubborn and difficult? Good. Because I have been easy and impressionable before and it has taken everything away from me. You must understand, this has got nothing to do with you. These problems have existed in my life before you came, and they will continue to exist unless I take care of them. You might think you can solve all my problems, if only we were together. That’s not true. The problems are inside of me. You can, at best, distract me from them. Only I can truly uproot them. Not only is this my duty here on earth, it is my right to be able to do that, and I am going to defend my right, whether or not you agree with me, and no matter how mad it makes you. It is never my intention to hurt you or anger you, but if that’s the price I have to pay, so be it. And it doesn’t even have to be about problems either. I have the right to live my life the way I want to. Always. Whether or not you are in my life. And I have the right to do so without having to explain myself. This is something I have learnt pretty late in my life— I really used to be the exact opposite. I have spent YEARS unlearning that pattern and I am not going to abandon my beliefs anymore, not even for you. And I’m not even apologetic about it. If there is any love in this connection, it will honour my freedom and my choices. Even if I abandoned myself right now “out of love”, and years later when I realize the folly in that, I’d forever hold you responsible for that and hate you all my life. That’s not going to be a very successful connection, is it? My morals, principles and beliefs are what make me who I am. Abandoning them is literally changing me, might as well change my face with surgery. They are staying with me until my last breath. Anyone who wants to be in my life has to respect and accept that. You don’t have to though. And I really want to make sure you understand this. I don’t expect you to do anything that you don’t want to do. Nothing at all. When you had no idea I existed, I liked you even then. The point is, my liking or loving you isn’t dependent on what you do or don’t do for me. It has everything to do who you are. Now, you might not see yourself that way. You might think you are nothing special to be liked or loved. You might feel the need to do a ton of things so that people like you. But you see, that’s all just you, not me. Don’t project your feelings on to me. For me, you have always been special and everything you have ever done has been special. Now, the answer to the difficult question: have I ever been hurt by you? Yes. But I have never thought it was your “fault”. For me it was always my fault that I was too reliant on someone else’s opinion of me, and a push to the direction of learning to be self-validated. And it was a huge leap in my growth! To be honest, I don’t entirely know what fault you hold yourself responsible for. I have no idea what “wrong” choices you have made. All I see is, you had prior commitments and you chose to honour your commitments. You chose to stick with the people who were there in your life long before me. Not only do I respect you more because of it, it has always been a very attractive quality about a person to me— being mindful of everyone in their lives. The only thing that makes me mad is when you fail to realize that I have the right to do the same. You can choose to fight me over my freedom and ways of dealing with things, but know that it is a fight I will always win :p

You seek my forgiveness but it is not me who hasn’t forgiven you, it is you. You want love from me but it is not me who doesn’t love you, it is you. Fear all you want, doubt all you want, but you could inquire in 10, 20, 100 years if I love you, and the answer will still be the same: yes I do. And if you ask me 1000 times what we should do about it, my answer will also be the same— this really is the time to focus on ourselves. It might seem like I’m going further away from you, but I really am coming towards you with every passing day. How and when— not everything needs to be known right now. If you are patient, everything will make sense when it’s the right time. Maybe then you would even hate yourself for not being more understanding, and wish that you had acted different right now. Just like you now wish you had behaved differently back then. The tighter you are holding on to this, the longer the wait is getting. Holding on tight to your love is an old paradigm. This is the time to be freely flying beside each other. I know because not very long ago, I had to make this exact choice. Either to let go of you and risk losing you forever or to hold on tightly to you and lose myself forever. I made the 2nd choice with a lot of doubt and difficulty, and it turns out that our connection has only gotten stronger from there. You feel like you are the only one in this journey but this is truly a journey of two. I assure you, every phase you cross, I have crossed it before you. There was a time I was addicted to you too. No matter where I went, what I did, who I was with, I was more interested in knowing what new weird thing Jungkook did today. Back then, nothing else was any more important than a little attention from my dream boy. And yet, there was so much anxiety and fear mixed with those experiences. Those were absolutely beautiful moments and everything I ever wished for, then why couldn’t I completely engage in them? Because I hadn’t learned to love myself yet. And so everything lacked, no matter how special. I can tell you for sure that me being in your life right now will do the exact same for you. So far you literally have followed all of my footsteps. And this is another reason for me needing to focus on myself. Until now, it was only about my own dreams and goals in life. But now I see how we are both almost tethered together in this connection, and I seem to be leading the way, aren’t I? For you to figure out the maze, I have to do that first. You know how you feel drawn to me, like you can never get enough? You might feel like it is your need to be loved by me, but really it is the need for you to follow in my next footsteps that is to focus on yourself. This is why you are never satisfied. Even when I am with you, you are still anxious about something you anticipate happening in the future. You are restless because you are not addressing the problems inside of you. You are trying to control this connection and this situation from outside, but that’s not where the issue is. You really think I’m some angel descended from heaven? Time to burst another bubble. I have a dark past too. I have hurt people, been destructive and done things I wish I hadn’t. The only difference? I have forgiven myself. I was young and didn’t know any better. It doesn’t help either that our society only teaches us to focus on the external things. Those mistakes didn’t define me nor will any other mistake I might make in the future. Nothing else defines me other than that I want to be happy and I’m committed to learning how to be happy and will learn and grow all my life in pursuit of happiness. You feel like you’re attracted to me because you need a loving person in your life, but what you’re really looking for subconsciously is to learn to love yourself because you see that I love myself. There is literally nothing in this world that makes a person more attractive than self love. It is the ultimate goal for every soul and someone who masters it is a veritable flame for all moths. No amount of love is enough for the person who doesn’t love themselves. Believe me, I’ve been there. You think I’m mad at you, but the thing is, the mire I focus on myself, the more I’m able to understand you more. So yes, even though you make me so mad so often, it doesn’t last at all. This connection has changed me in ways that surprise me too. In my past connections, if I was hurt, I would make sure I’d give back the same hurt back ten times so they knew what I went through. Not anymore. Very soon into this connection I’d realized that no matter how much I was hurt, I could never bring myself to do the same to you. And gradually I learnt to not be hurt at all in the first place. Because I always understand where you come from. And I always will. Not because I’m some saint, but because I have been through all of that. You are not wrong in wanting to be loved, or wanting assurance. It’s been a tough journey hasn’t it, being through situations and people that have distorted your perception of your own self? So much so that you now believe you are that person. But if you really were, then why did I see someone else when I first saw you? And after all this time, why do I still see that same person? No matter what happens in between, why hasn’t my perception changed of you? How is it that we are both looking at the same but different person? You might argue that your version of you is more accurate, not mine. Then why do you believe so strongly that your version of ME is more accurate, that you are ready to fight with everyone else over it? Why do you believe so strongly that you just KNOW me? Because as Twin Flames we are lucky to have someone designated to see ourselves in our divinity when we have forgotten that about ourselves. At this point, I don’t even care what you think about yourself. I know what I know and nothing and no one is ever going to convince me otherwise. Flaws and all, you are perfect to ME. But no one can convince you of that better than yourself. Unless you forgive, love and accept yourself, you will always feel like there’s not enough love in your life. No matter how many times we go over this, this is where it will always end up at.

Don’t get me wrong though, I feel your change and transformation. I feel your heart opening up, I feel you getting more and more vulnerable. And I know it’s scary. But this is the only way. When I had to let go, I realized what terrified me the most was if I was going to lose the “feeling” that existed then. The whole dreamy, head-over-heels, giggling like a little girl, and getting unmentionable thoughts 24/7 type of love feeling (yes is it that hard to believe it exists?) As it turned out, not only did the feeling not go, it transformed into this beautiful version where I have so much more control over it— I can feel this way when I decide to, instead of it being all over the place before. Ironically here, you feel like falling constantly when you hold on. You find your ground when you let go. Does it seem like I don’t think about you at all? The reality is, I’m just more at peace with these feelings. Instead of fighting them or trying to get rid of them, I let them stay with me with the instructions that they let me do other things like work, and they stay quietly beside me all day, and only get activated when I want them to lol. You are suffering because you are trying too hard to get an outcome, a result out of it, I’m just here enjoying the ride, wherever it takes me. If I leave you, you will be shattered, probably feel betrayed and unable to trust anyone else. If you leave, I’ll love you regardless. I have nothing to gain from this, and yet I gain the most beautiful, precious things from it every single day. All because I let go. I let go, not of you, but of my expectations of an outcome. In return, you stayed. And with you, the most high vibrational feelings that literally poets write about, singers sing about, and people everywhere spend all their lives looking for. I found them right where I was. It does make me sad to see you in pain but I know it’s only temporary and more than that, essential to get to where you must get in this lifetime. But it doesn’t have to be that painful. It took me years to understand certain things, and if I could teach just one thing, it would be acceptance. Resist less, accept more. Accept situations as they are. And watch them magically transform. The last thing, if you really, REALLY want to do something for me, something that would make me happy, and if I do in fact, have the right to ask for something from you— it is that you put yourself first right now. Independent of me. Pretty please. I know I’m kinda awesome and hard to resist lol but there must be things that you have wanted to do that had nothing to do with me. Explore yourself without judgement. And allow me the freedom to do the same. There is no one I want more than you in my life, but there are things I want to explore and do which have existed way before you came into my life. If I couldn’t do them, I would hate you for the rest of my life and I definitely don’t want that. I don’t want to rush a connection so special and rare. I don’t want to start something not knowing for sure that I can be consistent with. Whatever I start is going to be forever and for that we both need to be 100% ready without any doubts or reservations. If we’re not there yet, that’s alright, we should have enough time to prepare. Just know that no matter what happens, this connection is not going anywhere, and these feelings are not going away, cuz they never have. And IF, in the rare occasion that it has to end, know for sure that it will be decided by two people, not just one. It is the right of both people who are working towards this connection. Believe in Divine magic and timing. We’re going to be alright.

Enclosing I’d like to say: Are you a dictionary? Cuz you’re adding meaning to my life. Are you a camera? Cuz every time I look at you, I smile. Do you have a pencil? Cuz I want to erase your past and write our future. (Okay that’s enough Google search for today)

[sleepybutwriting]

I Believe You're My Soulmate | Wakatoshi x Reader

_____

Pairing: Ushijima Wakatoshi x Reader

Summary: Soulmate AU where the first thing your soulmate says to you is written on your wrist. With the phrase you got, you always pictured your soulmate as some nerdy guy, but boy are you wrong.

_____

“I’m sorry to bother you, but I believe you’re my soulmate.”

Those were the first words you would receive from your soulmate, engraved on your wrist as a constant reminder that your true love was out there somewhere. And he was a huge fucking nerd! 

At least that’s what you had always pictured. Why else would the first words of your soulmate be so formal?

As much as you liked the idea of one day putting a face to the sentence, you never thought of finding your soulmate as a top priority. You believed that whatever happened, happened, and you would find them when you were ready. So in the meantime, you focused on you.

And along the journey of finding yourself, you always managed to learn something new. For example, you really loved to play volleyball. You first got into it when one of your friends Hinata from middle school had begged you to set for him. The more you learned about it, the more you wanted to do.

You ended up following him to Karasuno High, where you both continued your volleyball journey and joined the volleyball team. Although none of the girls on the girl’s volleyball team were as motivated as the guys one, so you would often end up sitting in and practicing with them whenever you had free time in order to get in some extra practice. 

Today, Kageyama, wanted to work more on his serving, while, Hinata wanted to work on his spike, and you wanted to practice your receives, so you all made a plan to come in early and work with each other. It was the last day before summer break so you all thought it was important to cram in as much as you could. You were at it for almost an hour when the rest of the team finally showed up.

“Before we begin today, I have some great news” Takeda stated excitedly, causing everyone to abruptly stop and focus their attention on the young faculty advisor, “It appears that a few players from our team have been offered to attend the Shiratorizawa summer volleyball camp. It’s really hard to get into and although it only lasts for a few days, it’s a wonderful learning opportunity for up and coming players to expand their skillsets. Directed more for first years.”

Everyone’s mouth dropped, eyes staring expectantly waiting for Takeda to say which of them had got in. Even you were bouncing up and down silently praying that it was you who got picked. There would be nothing you would love more than to play with the best of the best from other schools. A good chance for you to show off your skills as well as learn new ones. You’d been waiting for another chance like this ever since you had played against Nekoma and Aoba Johsai in a practice match. You needed another challenge.

“What are you waiting for? Tell us who got in!” Tanaka shouted, unable to stand the suspense.

“Yeah!” Nishinoya added, backing him up. Takeda just grinned at their impatience before continuing.

“The players from Karasuno they selected are… Y/N, from the girl’s team, and Hinata, and Tsukishima from the boys.” You and Hinata stared at each other for a second before you both shouted out in joy, high fiving each other. The rest of the team also joined you giving the three of you a ‘congrats’ while patting your guys’ backs. Tsukishima didn’t seem affected by the news, the serious look he always kept on his face never fading.

“Wow, Tsukki! This is great. Aren’t you happy?” Yamaguchi questioned him.

“I would expect them to choose someone like me. And I guess I could picture why they would pick Y/N. What she lacks in blocking, she makes up for in receiving and attacking. But what I don’t get, is why they picked a small fry like Hinata.” Tsukishima answered, obviously trying to rile him up.  But Hinata played right into his hand,  marching right over to him and beginning to argue with him on how he’s improved.

You probably would have done the same if you weren’t already used to Tsukkis cold personality. You knew he just got a kick out of getting a rise out of people and accepted it as a part of him, so it doesn’t bother you as much as it did when you first met him.

When school had finally ended for the break, you were eager to already begin camp, not wanting to wait until tomorrow. But the day had arrived sooner than you had expected. Shiratorizawa Academy wasn’t too far from Karasuno. You had passed it plenty of times when out on your team practice jogs. But you and Hinata had still made a plan to meet up halfway so you could walk in together. 

You had told Tsukki about it, but he wasn’t interested. Stating that, ‘just because we’re on the same team, doesn’t mean we actually have to show up together.’ So it was just the two of you. Both gleaming with excitement.

“Did you get any sleep last night?” Hinata asked jumping up and down in place, unable to contain his excitement. With each step you took, you could also feel your smile beginning to grow.

“Of course not. How could I?”

“Me neither. Kageyama was trying to hide it, but I could tell he was jealous.” Hinata laughed, thinking back to Kageyama’s face when he heard the news. “Man, I wish we were there already.”

“Well, then why are we walking so slow? Let’s pick up the pace already.” 

“Last one there has to pick up balls next practice match?”

“Deal.” and with those final words, you both took off right towards the Academy at full speed, trying to outrace the other.

You had arrived out of breath and sweaty, nearly collapsing the second you both passed through the doors to the gym. “I win!” You both shouted at the same time. “No, I did!”  you both argued again simultaneously.

Hinata quickly looked around the gym before locking eyes with Tsukishima and calling him over. “Who do you think won?”

“You’re both losers to me, so what does it matter? And I would appreciate it if you two didn’t acknowledge me while we’re here. I’m here to learn. Not babysit.” And with that, he turned and walked away not wanting to discuss the topic further.

“Dang that was harsh.” You mumbled, watching him walk away.

“Yeah. He must not have slept much either,” Hinata joked, causing the both of you to snicker. 

The first day of camp had you all riled up. You had seen a lot of people from other schools that you had recognized, but a few people were completely new. Some you had never even heard of, but all of them were great players, even for being first years. You felt really intimidated by everyone but had no problem getting along with, and even making friends with a few of the other girls, as well as a few of the guys.

And even after you had practiced all day, some of you would continue to practice playing two on two or even three on three matches. Just depending on how many people you had gathered that day. And this day was no different. You and Hinata had even convinced Tsukki to join you in a three on three practice match against, Kindaich from Aoba Johsai, Goshiki from Shiratorizawa, and Lev from Nekoma. Hinata even decided to up the stakes by making a wager that the losers had to clean up, and buy the winners dinner.

So now you were all pretty into it. Most of the other students had headed home, but a few upperclassmen from Shiratorizawa who had watched you all practice, lingered. Goshiki had mentioned that they were keeping an eye on him to take notes and tell him what he needs to improve on, but they were a little distracting. Mostly because of how intimidating they were.

Wakatoshi, who was apparently the ace that Goshiki had planned to replace, was really tall with a muscular build. While the redhead next to him, Tendo, was only slightly shorter with a skinnier frame. You weren’t exactly put off by them, but their general presence was pressuring. Although you had never officially met them, you had seen them play and they were both incredible. Practically unstoppable. And you wanted more than anything to be on there level. So, of course, it would be a distraction to play in front of them.

But nonetheless, you were determined to win. Mostly because you were starving and really didn’t want to clean up. So you gave it your all, Hinata and Tsukki doing the same.

The game was getting close to the end, and you just needed to score two more points to win. Thinking he had this, Hinata ended up screwing up on one of his receives and sent the ball flying backwards, directly towards the two upperclassmen who had lost interest a while back and were now talking to one another ignoring the match. Until someone shouted a “lookout!” successfully grabbing both of their attention.

Before you knew it, your body was flying towards the ball in a last-ditch effort to save it and send it back towards your two teammates. You jumped as high as you could and had managed to make contact, sending it over to them perfectly, but it had all happened midair, so as soon as you hit it, you lost your form and you were now heading straight for the ground before Wakatoshi caught you, causing you to crash into his chest instead of the floor.

You were trying to wrap your head around what just happened. It all happened so gracefully and fast that you were still in a little bit of a daze. Slowly, your mind started to come back to you. And as you processed what had happened, you couldn’t help yourself as you uttered out “what is this some kind of Wattpad novel?” while laughing like crazy.

It was just so smooth, and he was like a real-life prince that it had all fit so perfectly as something out of a storybook. Wakatoshi was about to speak before Tsukki yelled over at you abruptly interrupting him before he could get a word out.

“Hey! Do you want clean up duty or something? Quit screwing around, were outnumbered here!” Tsukkishima yelled, pulling your thoughts away from the man in front of you in time to remind you that you still had a game to win. You didn’t waste another second wiggling out of his grip and darting back on the court.

Hinata ended up scoring the last point earning you a final win. The two of you high-fiving while the three losers walked away sluggishly to the supply closet to get the cleaning equipment.

“That was a great spike, Hinata!” You praised, Tsukki just rolling his eyes and mumbling an ‘it was okay.’

“Forget my spike, what even was that save you did with the ball. I mean with your reflexes, you’d make a great Libero.”

“Ooo,” you responded giving the thought a once over, “I guess it would be fun to give Noya a run for his money.”

Tsukki just laughed at your comment, like it was the funniest joke you had told all year. “You’d make a better libero if you could catch your balance after you receive the ball.”

“Tsukki you’re always so cold. When will you just admit that you’re jealous of my mad receiving skills?” You argued before a deep voice sounded, cutting your argument short. You turned around only to come face to chest with your prince charming from earlier.

“I’m sorry to bother you,” Wakatoshi stated, bowing slightly at you, “but I believe you’re my soulmate.”

The two boys had the same shocked reaction as you, but they were still able to move unlike yourself. Immediately yanking their gazes to stare at your frozen form. Your brain had officially short-circuited. Here you were, staring up at this greek god, whos towering over you. He’s nothing like the nerdy kid you pictured as your soulmate. He was...better. Is that even possible?

How was it that the dream guy you pictured growing up, just seemed average when compared to your actual soulmate?

Oh, god. How long were you standing like this? You have to say something quickly. Your brain was yelling at you to respond to this man. You just kept repeating the phrase ‘say something cute.’ Hoping that something cute actually would come out and you would be able to win him over. Until finally, you managed to spit something out.

“H-hi soulmate. I’m Y/N.”

...Shit

[mieohmy]

𝖨𝗇 𝖺 𝖥𝗅𝖺𝗌𝗁 | 𝖢𝗁𝗐𝖾 𝖵𝖾𝗋𝗇𝗈𝗇

PAIRING: the Flash! chwe vernon x reader

GENRE: fluff, humor, angst, friends-to-lovers, superhero! au

WC: 4.4k

NOTES: mentions of violence, trauma, FIRE, injury, nothing major (when Vernon is acting as the Flash, his voice is altered to protect his identity (duh) so that’s why y/n is obviously not able to tell who he is ^^ )

SUMMARY: it started with cookies. that’s all you wanted, really. but you got a bonus with it, except you wouldn’t really call it a bonus- just a... lovely addition that happened to steal your heart in a flash, whether you knew it or not.

  ❧

“Don’t touch that!” you whisper exasperatedly to your little cousin. You were exhausted. How did parents do it? You planned on going to the mall to get some cookies from the best bakery you’ve ever gone to, and your aunt conveniently wanted her kids to see Santa at the mall. So you offered to take them there with you, to give her a break because you knew a four-year-old and a six-year-old were a l o t of work. 

You were waiting in the line for Santa, your little cousins bouncing and messing with the decorations. You stared ahead, counting the number of people in front of you. You sighed. One more kid until I can get my cookies. 

You loved your cousins, really, little Camden and Hana. But the E N E R G Y. You frowned, were you like that when you were young? As soon as you finish that thought, the line moves up, and you’re at the front! Camden looks up at you. “How much longer?” he whines. You smile. “We’re almost there. Just wait a little more, alright?” Hana pouts, and you grab her tiny baby hands and swing them, hoping to cheer her up.

As she giggles, one of the worker elves calls out, “Next!” You look at them with a bright expression, gesturing them forward before being interrupted by a loud CRASH and BOOM. 

You immediately look around, hearing screams and chaos. You’re frozen, until a strange whiz! passes by you, hair blowing back from the speed. You recoil before remembering the kids(!!) and look down. Camden’s near you, ears plugged, and you sigh in relief. Then suddenly, the image of Hana pops into your mind, and you inhale. 

Head whirling, you search the place. You hear more screams, and is that the smell of burning? Where is she???? She wasn’t standing next to you, and you have absolutely no idea where she went. You feel a wave of fear course through you. You bend down to Camden, grabbing his shoulders. You don’t notice your hands shaking. “Listen, Camden. Wait here and do not move. I promise I’ll be back soon ok?” He nods, hands plugging his ears as you leave. You run around the central plaza where Santa was sitting.  

You see flames, hearing the roar and shiver, still frantically scanning the area. People are disappearing, probably escaping as they should be, but you can’t leave Hana. You run around the circle until you hear a familiar whimper. Your eyes zero in on a miniature house that was a part of the Christmas decorations. You squint, and you think you see a little girl’s body huddled inside the house. You hear the roars and crackling growing louder, but you ignore it. 

Running to the house, you crouch and look it through the window holes. Hana’s inside, huddled and whimpering. You’ve never felt such relief run through you before. “Oh god. Hana...” you murmur. She looks up at you, tears at the corners of her eyes. It almost causes you to tear up as well. Voice shaky, you call her name. You feel waves of heat from behind you, but you focus your attention on her. “Hana, please come out. We need to get out of here.” She shakes her head. “I’m scared... it’s really hot in here..” “I know,” you look back, seeing flames surrounding the area, causing your heart to clench. “But you need to get out. Then we’ll be safe, alright?” You slowly open the door to the house and hold out your arms. Hana slowly creeps forward, and you immediately take her into your embrace. 

Turning around, you see the fire encasing you two. Letting out a shaky breath, you just hold Hana tighter, squeezing your eyes shut and thinking, “Is this it? Oh no.. I left Camden alone. What kind of person am I? How-“ You don’t get to finish as you feel a gust of wind and maybe a hand around your waist. 

You open your eyes and suddenly, it’s like you’ve been teleported outside. Glancing down, Hana’s still in your arms, staring at you. Sighing in relief, you bury your face in her hair, letting out muffled thank god’s and we’re safe. 

You hear a noise and look up, mouth opening in surprise. The Flash?! He looks down at you two, eyes widening in shock. He coughs before asking, “Are you two alright?” You can only slowly nod, processing everything. He’s about to leave when you grab his hand. Sucking in a breath, you look him in the eyes. A familiar warmness to them. “I- just, thank you. You have no idea how indebted I am to you.” The Flash nods. “It’s no problem. It’s my duty.” He looks around before mentioning, “Didn’t you have uh- a little boy with you two?” It didn’t dawn on you how he knew, but you were distracted with what he said. 

Shooting up, you immediately think of Camden. Shoot. You spot him with his parents, crying as they comfort him. Once he sees you and Hana coming over, he runs into your embrace. You tightly hug him and Hana, looking back at the Flash with a small smile on your face. He returns the smile before disappearing in a second. 

❧

Your friends rush to hug you, all talking about the “Unexpected explosion at the Westpointe Mall.” You laugh, “I’m fine. It was honestly scary, and I’m a little traumatized, but everyone’s okay.” “Thanks to the Flash,” your friend adds. “I owe my life to him,” you say, eyes sparkling as you imagine him saving you. Your friends let out an ooooh, and you groan before denying anything. You chat with them for a little before receiving a text. 

It’s from Vernon. You quickly tell your friends you have to go, them all teasing you about your ‘date’ (that you dismiss with an eye roll). 

Walking out, you spot him, and he quickly brings you into his arms. You didn’t exactly know what your relationship with him was.  You always denied it, saying the classic, we’re just friends, but anyone could tell you two definitely had something more. 

You inhale, smelling his comforting scent. “I heard about what happened,” he mumbles into your hair. You just nod, enjoying his comforting embrace.

You pull back, and he leads you to his car. Settling inside, Vernon plays some cringy old love songs, and you giggle, the both of you singing along. When you arrive at the cafe, you both order before finding a seat. “So,” Vernon starts. “What, uh, is the whole story?” You swallow before recounting the whole incident. 

“And then the Flash suddenly comes in! I owe everything to him, he saved Hana and me. He was so cool and brave..” You realize you’re rambling before looking back at him. His ears are red, and he’s smiling slightly, you note. “Wow. Well, uh-I guess he seems like a nice guy ?” Vernon replies awkwardly. You raise an eyebrow. “Why are you acting so weird all of a sudden?” He chokes on his drink. “What? ha, whaddya mean?” 

You narrow your eyes at him. Then it hits you. Your eyes widen, and you snap your fingers. “I know what it is. You’re-“ Vernon suddenly reaches up and covers your mouth with his hand, you’ve never seen him so panicked before. In the process of doing so, he accidentally knocks your fork, but quickly catches it with his other hand. Your eyebrows raise in shock at his incredibly fast reflexes, then you remove his hand from your mouth. Leaning in, you speak in a hushed voice, “Vernon... it’s okay to be jealous. It’s not a big deal. Besides, I’ve known you for years and only met the Flash once. Of course, I would choose you over him, dummy.” 

Vernon dramatically sinks back into the seat in relief, placing his hand over his face before sitting up and returning to you. “Yeah sure, you’re right. I shouldn’t be jealous..” You laugh and place your hand over his comfortingly, not removing it until you two leave the cafe.

❧

“-crime rates are rising. Be careful when you go out, people! Especially in places with large gatherings! Well, that was your-“ you shut off the TV. It's been getting more dangerous recently, you think. There have been more and more bombing attacks going off, and the Flash has been rescuing the people from all of them. You shiver, remembering the heat. Flames flickering over you. Hana’s cries. Your respect for the superhero grows. You shake your head, getting into bed. 

You didn’t tell anyone so they didn’t worry, but you had been having recurring nightmares after the event at the mall. Sometimes it was just flames burning you or you not being able to save Hana and Camden. But whenever you woke up, there was always a bitter, smoky aftertaste in your mouth. It got really bad sometimes, so you would either watch social media and eventually pass out or stay up the night, unable to fall back asleep. 

Today was unfortunately one of the latter nights. You throw off all the blankets, it was wintertime, but you could only feel the heat. The images flash in your head again. Bright. Loud. Pain. You exhale shakily. Your first instinct is to reach for your phone and call Vernon. 

“y/n??” you hear his raspy voice. Your whole body sweating, you reply in a small voice, “Can you please come over, now?” There’s a pause before he responds, “On my way.”

All you say to him when he arrives is, “I can’t sleep..” and he guides you to your bed, going in after you. He wraps his arms around you, probably already drifting off. It was really hot before, but Vernon’s heat was comforting and tranquil. You slip off before you know it. 

❧

You’re walking to the grocery store when you’re stopped by the sound of police sirens and disorder. Another bombing, you overhear. “There are so many bombings. What’s really going on?” you wonder. Your curiosity gets to the best of you, and you walk over to the commotion. There are police talking to huddled people, obviously traumatized. 

And then you see him. The Flash. He was talking to a policewoman, and you continue to stare at him. He seems so familiar to you, but you can’t place where and when you might've seen him before, excluding the one time he saved you. He must’ve noticed because he says goodbye to the police and walks over to you. 

You’re surprised. You didn’t think a superhero had time to talk to a normal person like you. He stops in front of you. You look up at him curiously, admiring his suit. “So how’re the kids?” You’re confused for a moment, but then you laugh. “They’re fine, I think. Luckily you saved them so hopefully, there are no scars,” unlike me. He smiles. “Where are you going? Uh, just to be safe. Don’t want someone walking at night by themselves.” You allow a small smile to form. “I can take care of myself, but thanks anyway. I’m just going to the mart. Don’t you have other things to do?” He shrugs as you two continue walking down the street. “Not unless there’s another bombing.” 

When you arrive at the front of the mart, the Flash awkwardly shifts from foot to foot. You glance at him, confused. “I, um, shouldn’t go inside there, you know. My suit and all.” You laugh. “That’s what you’re worried about? The suit? I would expect the fan girls rushing to take a picture with you, but don’t worry, I won't ask, mr. superhero.” He grins. “I’ll wait for you here then.” 

You don’t actually expect the Flash to be there when you exit the store, things in hand, but he’s there. He spots you. “Finally, it was getting weird standing here alone. Luckily no one asked for a picture.” You smile, before shuffling through your bags, “I bought some snacks as thanks for you, but the only place I think is open at this time is my place. We could go there to eat if you have time, that is..” You don’t know why your cheeks feel hot. He pauses for a minute, before shrugging. “Sure.”

You open the door, saying, “Please excuse the mess,” as you let the Flash into your apartment. You might be internally freaking out. He walks in as if he’s been here a thousand times before. “Oh, nice place?” You smile. “Thanks. We can go to my balcony and eat. It’s pretty tonight.” 

Leading him out, you show the snacks you bought. It was mostly snacks that Vernon forced you to try and were now your favorites. You look at him nervously. “I hope these are okay?” He seems pleasantly surprised. “Yeah, these are fine.” 

You two chat about your life, his superhero stuff. It was surprisingly refreshing as you gaze at the night, clear and stars shining bright. You turn to look at him and find him already looking at you. Your breath hitches. It suddenly feels a lot warmer. You think he’s leaning in, maybe you’re leaning in until a sudden breeze blows past and you shiver. The Flash inhales. “You should uh, get inside. It’s cold and getting late..” “Right,” you said, breaking out of your trance. 

But before you go in, you look back. “Will I see you again?” He only smiles. “Take care.” And then he’s gone in an instant. You fall asleep that night, no nightmares. 

❧

You do see the Flash again. Around two weeks later, he comes crashing into your apartment.  “Oh my god, you-“ He groans, collapsing on your couch. “What happened??” He coughs. “Another bombing. Got everyone out in time but barely.” His suit is all scorched and red. You wince at the burns. 

Hesitantly, you ask, “Can you remove your suit? T-to treat the burns?” He can only nod. Grabbing your med-kit, you sit on the ground next to him. “I won’t mess with your mask..” you softly murmur, “but if it’s bad, I’ll promise not to look, cause you’re in no shape to do it yourself.” 

You assist him in taking off the top part of his suit. You remind yourself to focus and not get distracted. The burns are red and harsh, and you shudder at the thought that you could’ve been through that if it wasn’t for the Flash. Taking the burn ointment, you warn him before softly rubbing it on top. He groans in pain, and you try your best to soothe him, gripping his hand tightly with your free one. 

It goes on for the rest of the night, and he passes out on your couch. The next morning, he’s gone with a simple scrawly thank you written on a notepad. You wonder how he found it because it was in a drawer that he did not know about, or at least you thought. Your thought is momentarily forgotten as you remember to text Vernon. 

Recently, Vernon had been busy and wasn’t texting you often, which you understood. But today, you were supposed to meet up later with him, just to hang out because you felt like you haven’t seen him in so long. 

Once you get there, he’s sitting down, anxiously bouncing his knee. You immediately brighten. “Vernon! I missed you.. What’ve you been up to that’s been taking you from me?” you pout. He nervously smiles. “Just school and work ya know??” You frown, but mumble “Alright..” You two catch up, and you tell him about the Flash, recounting that one night under the stars. You leave out the ending, though. Vernon’s eyebrows raise comically. “Geez, that’s cool. A superhero hung out with you? I’m jealous..” You nod excitedly. You decide not to tell him about the one night with the Flash’s unexpected visit. It didn’t seem right. 

As you two get up to leave, you notice Vernon limping. “Vernon?” you ask. He looks back at you. “What’s up?” You examine his body. He’s slightly hunched over like he’s injured. “Why are you limping??” He freezes. “I-well- I didn’t want to tell you.., but someone spilled their hot water over my legs... and yeah.” You open your mouth, but Vernon stops you. “It was an accident, alright? No need to get angry.” “I just care about you a lot,” you huff. He assures you by enlacing your hands together. You sigh but decide to let it go. 

❧

The Flash shows up at your place several times. By that, you mean at least once a week. The bombings are getting more and more frequent, and you’re not sure why. All the attacks are random, and the CIA still haven’t found any information on the bombers yet, so it’s up to the Flash to save them. Each time, he comes back with more and more injuries. 

Around the ninth(?) time he shows up, you frown in disapproval. “Listen, this is too much. There are so many bombings going on, and everyone expects you to save them all. You can’t keep doing this by yourself. Where are the police and security?” He just shrugs in defeat. “It’s my duty to help the city. This is my job, and if I have to save people from bombs daily, then I will.” You pout. “It’s not fair. Why can’t I be a superhero too so I can help you?” He laughs before wincing in pain. 

You tend to his injuries once more. Yes, he had accelerated healing, but constantly getting burned and hurt was taking a toll on him. Plus, you could tell he was just physically and mentally exhausted. Once you were done, you stare at him. His eyes were closed, so you assumed he had fallen asleep, but suddenly they flicker open. That’s when you notice the dark eye circles underneath them, even with the mask on. 

He just stares back at you, before softly muttering, “I’m so tired..” You’re about to respond, but he grabs your arm and pulls you forth, so your face is a lot closer to his than before. Frozen, you open your mouth to say something, but he leans up and places his lips on yours. Your eyes instinctively close. You’re not sure how long it lasts, but you’re finally able to pull back. He’s already half-asleep, exhausted. You quietly turn off the lights and leave him to rest. 

❧

Vernon was drained. Balancing his superhero life and normal life was getting difficult recently. With all the attacks, he was constantly stopping by your place as the Flash, then zooming back to his place to be Vernon again. His life was getting extremely hectic and busy, but he knew it came with being the city’s hero.

 He doesn’t know why he started stopping by your place, especially risking his identity being exposed. Maybe it was just the exhaustion or wanting to see you. It was really difficult to hide his identity from his friends, especially you. He was so busy and had no time to hang out with anyone, constantly saving lives and then going to classes and work immediately after. 

Finally having some free time to do his schoolwork, Vernon types away on his computer. He needed to take full advantage and catch up, because well, his grades weren’t doing too well. A notification catches his attention. It’s an email from... the CIA? 

The CIA contacted him? They’re the only ones who knew Vernon’s identity and promised to keep it a secret in return for working alongside them.  He’s shocked when he reads the email. It’s simple. Meet up at a restaurant today. 3 pm sharp. 

Once he gets there, he sees an officer waiting for him, beckoning. After he sits, the officer leans in. “We were able to track the bombers down and find the whereabouts of their next attack.” His eyes widen. They tracked the attackers down? The officer continues, “The next bombing is tomorrow, 7 PM at the Art Galleria. Get the bomb before they can set it off. We’re gonna be closing it but get all surrounding people out if necessary, and we’ll take care of the rest.” Vernon nods, processing the information. The officer gives him a last, don’t be late, and sets off, leaving Vernon to sit alone. 

❧

The next morning, you’re texting Vernon, telling him about your exams in the afternoon and asking if he wanted to go see ‘Picasso’s art’ with you around dinner time after you finish. He texts back a small, “No sorry I’m busy later :/“ thinking about his “plans” for that evening. You respond with “awww, it’s ok. I’ll go by myself and I’ll be safe! Promise! Also- don’t text me during my exams, my phone will be off!” Vernon smiles, putting his phone away in his pocket. 

He carries on with his day until around six-thirty. He’s visualizing the plans that’ll happen in about thirty minutes while also thinking about how he can make it up to you for not being able to go. 

Then it hits him. Picasso’s art? That’s at the art galleria. Which meant you were going to the art galleria later today. Around dinner time. The next bombing was in thirty minutes. Shit, he thinks, hand reaching for his phone before remembering your text. 

Your phone is off. You’re probably concentrating on your exams, then going to the art galleria without knowing anything. He sighs, running his hand through his hair. It’s fine. He’ll just somehow find you before you get there and move you to a safer place. 

He ignores what you said and texts you anyway. He types, ‘Y/n, don’t go to the galleria, no matter what. Just listen to me please.” Vernon also texts your friends, hoping one of them will catch you and give the message. 

Groaning frustratedly, he decides to put on his suit and go look for you. Making up an excuse in his head, Vernon runs around the art galleria, passing by everyone with a gust. But he can’t find you. Vernon was getting annoyed. It was getting closer to seven, and he needed to find the bomb. Where were you? 

He spots the police. They’re surrounding the whole place, getting ready to help people once he gets them out and preparing to arrest the bad guys. Vernon searches, but you’re nowhere to be found. He can only hope you’re not here. He zooms past the guards, going in and flying through the whole place. He grabs every person in sight and moves them out in 5 minutes. Now to find the bomb. 

He frowns. Why are there so many people at the galleria today? He just wanted to know where you are. He dashes into one of the exhibits, filled with paintings. He immediately stops. 

It’s you. You’re held by a hooded man, three other dark figures in the room next to what he figures is the bomb. 

Vernon’s heart plummets. How did he not catch you before? He can only look as the man laughs, holding you close with his arm tightly over your chest. Vernon can’t read the expression on your face, but you’re rigid, and your hands and feet are tied. The man grips you harsher. “Well, if it isn’t the little Flash. Move one inch and the bomb goes, along with the girl.” 

Internally, Vernon scoffs. He could take this whole group out in two seconds flat. But he was worried about you. He contemplated his chances, before lunging forward. He deals a few blows to the man before moving to you, undoing your arms and legs. Then he wrangles everyone and brings them out front to the police, everyone in slow motion. 

Strolling back into the galleria, he smashes the bomb with his foot. All in a few seconds. You gasp when you see suddenly him by your side, huddled over you. “Are you alright?” You could’ve gotten seriously hurt,” anger seeping through his voice. You frown. “I’m fine. I said I could take care of myself.” Raising his voice, he snaps, “You could’ve died! How did you even get in here? I went through the whole place, and you were the only person I wasn’t able to get.” 

You sigh. “Why do you care so much? Is it because you’re actually one of my closest friends?” He freezes. What? 

“Vernon,” your voice cracks. “Why didn’t you tell me?” His eyes slowly land on you. You’re sitting on the ground, arms around your knees, and staring at the ground like a hurt child. 

Vernon tried to respond, but nothing comes out. You stand up, shaky, but manage to take a couple of steps before he grabs your arm. “Y/n... I-“ but you interrupt him. “Do you like me? Like actually like me?” you ask softly, trying to catch his eye. He finally looks at you, swallowing. “Yeah.. and no. I love you Y/n. And I’m sorry for not telling you, no one knows except for the CIA. I just wanted you to be safe, and especially after today, I can’t lose you.”

You think you feel tears form in your eyes as you throw your arms around him. He relaxes, relishing in your warmth. You’re about to release him, but he tightens his arms around you. You look up, and Vernon leans down to capture your lips with his. It feels warm and you ignore the fluttering in your stomach. 

Breaking the kiss, Vernon realizes something. “Wait.... how did you know I was the Flash?” You roll your eyes, a grin on your face. “It was so obvious, whenever I brought it up you acted soo awkward.” He squeezes your waist playfully, letting out an oh my goddd. You look at him in amusement. “But really, it was after the Flash-I mean you- kissed me that one night. I dunno, it felt like I was kissing you.. and then after that, it just kinda clicked.”

Vernon thoughtfully nods before saying, “You know, we’re literally just standing in the middle of an exhibit. We should probably get out of here. I’m thinking Chinese tonight?” You smile widely. “Whatever you want, mr. flash-who’s-also-my-boyfriend-now?” He grins before picking you up in his arms, zooming off into the night.

❧

You think it’s pretty cool to have a superhero boyfriend. Especially one that can take you to get cookies at your favorite bakery in exactly 2.4 seconds (yes, you timed it). 

[an-annyeoing-writer]

Chanyeol x Reader: a day from humble slave’s life. [+18]

Word count: ~5k 

Warnings: s*xual themes, slavery, objectification, minor fat shaming. Please, don’t mistake this with non-con, for it’s not, but if you feel like an impression may trigger you too, simply don’t read it.

This is a fantasy. As much as I tried to portray Chanyeol’s personality accordingly, it has little to do with how I see him as a person, and - especially - with who he really is. Nonetheless, this is NOT meant to insult anyone.

The story was originally a birthday gift for my friend, and therefore, Reader’s age is specified and it’s also mentioned to be her birthday - forgive me that ^_^

7 A.M.

Even before your eyes open, the first streak of consciousness is how you welcome the world.

It’s not going to be a good morning, you think at first; your eyes are sticky as soon as you try to pry them open, your muscles ache, your hair is a mess. How disgraceful, you think. You can’t show yourself to the world like this. Thank God for the attached bathroom.

Look pretty, you were once told, that’s all you can do well.

The words, back then, didn’t sound half as appreciative as you considered them now. But with time, they became a motto, a goal, a purpose. They did say that you’re not good for anything else, but they also said you’re good at this one thing.

Look pretty for the one who deserves it. Whatever your Owner shall want to do with your body, you shall obey.

And if He doesn’t say anything, if He doesn’t even look at you, living His life as if you didn’t exist, then the least you can do is be pretty as to not offend Him: you owe Him your best quality, after all.

The shower is over, the make-up done, the clothes, selected carefully, wrapped around your silhouette as to expose what’s the best in it. The corset is so tight it hurts. But it’s worth it if that’s what He wants.

Off to eat a breakfast. The corset’s gonna get even worse after you eat, but that’s also the price you agree to pay. Eat, to stay healthy: not stuff yourself, not pleasure yourself with sweets. Eat to stay healthy and not cause Him any problems, so that your body stays in the best shape. He expects no less.

He’s there, you realize with surprise. He doesn’t stay around too often and usually doesn’t eat the breakfast at home. But He’s there, sitting in the dining room. Someone is serving Him a breakfast: one of many others, men and women, that He owns. They’re useful, you think. They can cook, they can keep the house clean.

All you can do, is to look pretty.

So you bow deeply as soon as you see Him, and when His gaze finally meets yours, you kneel on the floor next to the door, eyes on the ground as to not annoy Him, letting Him enjoy the sight of what He owns. It probably looks weird, you think, a woman kneeling on the floor with other people around, not an intimate situation at all – she’s not His lover, after all, just a property.

You don’t know if He looks at you, but your posture is perfect as if He did.

When He stands up and goes to the door, you dare not to look up.

When He’s right next to you, His fingers find your lips and put a small chocolate on your tongue, a token of approval; the chocolate is so, so good that you melt in its taste, and you take as much of it as you can, playing with it in your mouth long after He leaves without a word.

*

10 A.M.

Everyone knows, more or less, what’s His job: the exact crimes remain unknown, though, and His secrets stay safe: no one in the house would ever dare to spread them around. And it’s not like it’d be easy to do, either – only some of you are allowed to leave the house in the first place, and you’re not one of these. There’s no reason for you to leave, anyway, since everything you’d need: cosmetics, clothes – there’s nothing more you’d need, right? – other people only give you, and you’re given the exact things that suit His taste, no room for you to do wrong. There’s no reason to give Him surprises, either: you’re like a product, a window’s curtains that are changed to their owner’s liking, not picked randomly in a shop, but chosen by what he likes and what suits the rest of the house.

Your dress now is made of the same purple fabric as sofas in the living room when you’re called over and enter the spacious room with huge windows; a few familiar faces sit in various places all around – not your friends by any means, but people you just saw here before.

“Are you, for real?” one of them says. Your Owner laughs in response.

“See for yourself, Xing” He answers and motions you over.

A small movement of His fingers, a signal you’ve been taught long ago.

On your knees, it says, and you instantly catch the cue, a bit nervous at first, glancing at the stranger’s face just to make sure he’s alright with it: out of pure politeness, because you know that even if he didn’t like it, you’d still do it – it’s not him you’re here to obey, after all.

You don’t ask questions as you unzip his jeans, all the modesty gone as your lips wrap around his cock, as casually as it’d be to hand him a glass of water, no objections: you’re so good, so obedient.

You glance to your side with your eyes slightly blurry from tears. You see an amused, but content smile on your Owner’s face and that’s all the motivation you need to grow bolder, to suck harder. Your throat is not so good just yet, it still needs to get better, you realize, and you choke yourself on the man’s length, punishing yourself for not being good enough. It amuses them. You feel their eyes on you, a quiet sound of someone taking a photo, tears run down your face, your makeup smudged, your hair messy from where the man grabbed it, holding onto it as he set a righter pace for you to follow.

When he cums, you hold still. You swallow what you’re given.

“Thank you, sir” you say in a rough voice, your throat strained. The man smiles at you kindly, and you can’t help but smile back.

You know better than to ignore your Owner any longer though, and you turn to face Him, still on your knees of course, eyes on His shoes.

“Look at me” He instructs. You obey.

He stares at you with a smirk.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?”

“Yes, sir” you reply honestly.

“You can go. Don’t interrupt us.”

Your duty is fulfilled. It feels so good to be useful.

*

1 P.M.

You’ve been sitting in your bathtub for what feels like hours, but it’s okay, it feels good, the water stays warm, your bathroom is so luxurious you can’t help but savor every minute of having access to it: not owning it, of course, but it’s nice nonetheless.

Everything in this room belongs to Him: the tub with heating system, the thick walls, the expensive cosmetics and the softest towels, and, of course, you.

How much do you love to be owned? He asked you once: do you like where you are, what you are?

Yes, sir.

Don’t you just say that to please me?

I mean it, sir.

Do you, really? Come here, then. Show me how grateful you are. Let your mouth convince me, but not with words.

It felt intimate, to be allowed so close to the one you looked up to. Being allowed to please Him was a blessing, and you wished you’d do it more often, but never dared to ask: you’re too low to demand His attention, so even if He was to say no, it’d be a waste of His precious time to consider your plea in the first place.

So instead, you savored every moment He allowed you, as much as you savored the memory of His small groans, the way He relaxed under your fingers, leaning back in His armchair and not even looking at you, but clearly enjoying this little paradise His humble slave served Him. Oh, how well He trained you, you know just what to do to make Him feel good. He deserves the best of you for He’s the one who gave it to you in the first place.

The memory sends a pleasant tingling down to your core and your fingers instinctively reach down, willing to relieve yourself.

But you stop yourself halfway.

You’re not meant for receiving pleasure, stupid, you remind yourself. There’s a smile on your lips at the thought. You’re good, you won’t do this, it’s not something He’d enjoy knowing of, and therefore there’s no reason to do it.

You choose to stay desperate and you’re proud of this choice.

There’s knocking on your room’s door.

“[F/n]? You’ve been sitting there for ages. Come out, I have something for you!”

“Ah, five minutes!” you call back.

“I’ll wait, then!”

You choose to rest just a little bit longer. She can wait, you decide. The water is just too warm.

*

1:30 P.M.

“Seriously, I thought you died in there” are the first words you hear upon leaving the bathroom. Your friend seems annoyed and it’s, truthfully, justified. But then her face brightens up. “Ah, look, I’ve got something good!”

She has boxes with various types of food sprawled over your bed, variety of tastes, mostly healthy, but some sweets as well, and these are mainly things you haven’t tasted in ages since you didn’t really consider yourself worthy of such luxury.

But then, you haven’t seen her lately, you missed her: she always brings something good to share, either be it food or jewelry you can wear for some time before returning it. These are little breaks in your routine, small pieces of something different than you usually experience. It’s good to recall how usual, human life looks like, even if you’re back to your own usual self soon later.

You notice a new, leather collar wrapped around her neck. You feel like you’d look good in one if you had it, too. Your Owner just never thought of idea as such, but who knows, maybe He’ll see her and decide it’s a good one? You can always hope for it.

“What’s that?” you ask, picking a random box. It smells good, sea-like.

“I have completely no idea, but it tastes good” she replies, stuffing her face with some vegetables she holds with sticks. You learned already that as much as she likes food, she never uses her brain to memorize any dish names. It’s not like she has too much brain to begin with, so who cares, anyway. She’s not a cook, but a slave like you, a different kind, but just as devoted and happy with her place. “Ah, try this.” She fetches some sort of candy and puts it by your lips, reminding you briefly of what happened this morning. You take the candy, it melts in your mouth almost instantly.

A few seconds later, her lips are on yours instead, and you taste the pepper with cinnamon she just ate; it’s a strange connection, but it tastes good, and, somehow, it suits the candy’s flavor still present on your tongue.

You feel stiff at first, but quickly melt into the sensation. You weren’t caressed like this in ages, your mouth has only one purpose on daily basis; it feels nice. Her hand is soon on your breast, squeezing it through the thin fabric of your silk bathrobe. She doesn’t wait long before pushing the fabric off you, your fresh and clean body, exposed to the air, getting still hotter with every passing second.

The door creaks and you two finally part; your eyes are on the man that stands in the door frame, his eyebrows raised at your friend as she lets out an awkward laugh.

He rolls his eyes, only half-amused with what he just saw.

“We’re going home” he says sternly. Then, without bidding you a good-bye, she gets off the bed and runs to him, and soon, you’re left alone. You didn’t even notice that your robe was off all this time.

But at least you get to keep the food, right?

*

5 P.M.

“Why aren’t you eating?”

He doesn’t invite you over for dinner often, so you try to enjoy it as much as possible. Yet, your stomach is still full – it wasn’t a wise choice to eat that much at once. You feel like you will blow up if you eat a gram more of the pork in front of you.

“I’m sorry, I’m not hungry, I ate earlier” you explain yourself. It’s not a reply that satisfies Him, but He doesn’t pry, and you hope that He will just brush it off.

“Eat.”

You don’t object, you know you can’t. Your stomach is so full you want to throw up. You take a bit of the pork and slowly munch on the meat, hoping that it’ll become more bearable with time. You don’t want to stretch your stomach like this, you’ll feel hungry more often, and what will He say if you gain weight?

You have to endure.

“What did you eat?” He asks.

“Quinoa with vegetables, fish, oats with milk, candy” you answer truthfully. There were some other funny combinations that you consumed, but you decide these are the essentials.

“Hmm, that sounds like a lot. What if you get fat?” He asks calmly.

“I, uh… I don’t think it’s possible if it’s just one time” you try to state so as humbly as possible, but you feel like no matter what you said, it wouldn’t sound good. Maybe you should have apologized instead? Asked Him to be merciful?

“Are you trying to argue with me?”

“No, sir” you answer instantly, your face showing fear at the thought; you wouldn’t dare, no, never. He seems to see it, the way you shiver at the accusation, and He smiles. You’re relieved. You know that He may punish you, that He may use it as opportunity to give you pain, and even tell you that you deserve it – to not feel bad about doing it to you. However, knowing that it’ll give Him satisfaction, that He won’t do it because He’s authentically mad at you, but just wants to play with His toy, is what makes you happy and excited for what’s to come.

For now, at least.

“I thought so” He just says and goes back to His meal.

Just as He told you to, you continue to eat your portion, trying to stuff yourself as much as possible, knowing that your stomach will hurt even more, and thanking God for not wearing the corset any longer.

“On your knees” He suddenly says when you’re almost done. You don’t object, you do as you’re told. “Crawl there” He motions you to sit nearby, not too close to him, off the rug and on the cold panels, hard under your knees.

He leans chin on His hand, watching you, almost bored.

“Make yourself vomit.”

You swallow your saliva nervously and glance up at Him, hoping that He’s just joking, testing your reactions. His face doesn’t change though, and, as you hesitate, His eyebrows raise in doubt. Will you do it? Will you humiliate yourself as a punishment? Will you ruin yourself once again, not through sex, but through being genuinely disgusting in front of Him?

Will He even like it? How could He enjoy such sight? Won’t He feel sick, since He barely just ate? Is it really what He wants?

“What are you waiting for? Did you not understand me? Or should I go over there and push my own fingers down your throat? That’d be so gross. You don’t want me to dirty my hands, do you?”

You quickly shake your head. Of course, no, He doesn’t need to do something that disgusting. You’ll do it, you can do it.

You push your fingers into your throat until you feel the food go back, and you close your eyes tightly, throwing up all over the floor, sensing it dirty your legs, but refusing to look at it. It feels disgusting, painful, the acidic sensation in your mouth making you want to throw up again.

“Look at me.”

You obey. Your face is still twisted in disgust and He watches you, almost unmoved with the scene that just unfolded.

“Gross. Wash the floor, and yourself. Can’t keep it clean today, can you?” He snorts. “I’m not hungry anymore” He announces suddenly, then stands up and exits the room, leaving you on your knees among your own vomit, allowing you to dwell on your pathetic, miserable self.

You sit there, breathing heavily for what feels like an hour at least.

Then you stand up, still dirty, and still disgusting, probably stinking, too.

And for some reason, it feels good, because you just did what He told you to, and there’s nothing more fulfilling than listening to your Owner’s commands, no matter how destructive and unpleasant would they be, and how unwanted and unattractive they would make you seem.

*

8 P.M.

You lie in your bed, exhausted. Your skin feels dry from all the washing today, especially since you spent so long in the tub earlier. You have your thin robe back on, and your eyes are getting sticky from how tired you are, so you close them and let your body relax. That’s so good, that’s so comfortable.

You don’t know how long you lie there, drifting off despite the early hour, before something rouses you out of the blissful state. You open your eyes and look around: the room is empty, lamps still off, but some of the street light entering through the windows allows you to see the surroundings rather clearly, especially since your eyes already accustomed with the darkness.

And said surroundings are quiet and empty, but your instinct tells you that you should get up just because, and you choose to listen to it: you’re not that tired anymore, you got a bit of rest and this day is far from over.

You stand up and turn on the lamp on your bedside table, its soft light brightening up the whole room, although not too intensely.

The door suddenly opens and a woman speaks to you from the corridor.

“Master wants to see you. Go to his room. Hurry.”

With that, she leaves, and you’re dumbstruck for a few seconds. You quickly realize your mistake: it’s not the time for you to be slow or hesitate. Whatever He wants, you’re here to deliver. It surprises you, though, He never makes requests like such. You wish to know if you should change into something more elegant, more suitable, just in case He’s not alone – the bathing robe exposes a bit too much and you’re worried that He wouldn’t appreciate it right now. Yes, more precise instructions would be appreciated.

But with what you’ve got, all you know is that you should hurry. You don’t take nor change anything, then, only making sure your hair looks presentable – the makeup is already gone, but it will have to stay this way – you fix the belt of your robe, too, not wanting it to slip by accident since you have nothing underneath.

You get up and go. You know where to go, although His room and yours are a few corridors apart – the mansion is big and you need to pass through all the most important places to get there, including the door to one of the living rooms and other servants’ bedrooms.

You knock on the door after a short hesitation: not too quiet, not too loud – it’s hard to measure, you rarely ever knock on any door, not to mention the door to His very bedroom.

“Come in.”

You open the door.

The bedroom is not that much larger than yours, but it seems more personal – there are souvenirs, ornaments, belongings that you don’t get to own, things that prove He owns this place.

And then He’s there: in sweatpants and nothing else, droplets of water randomly running down His back where He didn’t dry them with a towel, or where they slipped from His wet hair. You don’t get to enjoy the sight for long though, because He grabs a shirt and pulls it over His head, and you lower your gaze, realizing that staring probably wouldn’t be approved.

“Bend over the table” He instructs, still not looking at you. He walks around the room and enters the attached bathroom, doing all these small evening things: skincare routine, perfumes that seem to help Him sleep and so on. You stand where you were told to, trying to stop yourself from peeking curiously; it takes Him a few minutes of completely ignoring your presence before He finally sighs and turns to you.

He stands behind you, out of your sight. There’s a silence for a few moments before He suddenly pulls on your robe and throws its lower part over your upper back, exposing your behind. His hand pushes on your shoulder, forcing you lower, pressing you against the table’s surface. You don’t flinch.

“Spread your ass” He says, and you obediently move your hands to your cheeks; it feels awkward at first, the air hitting your most private parts, although you know already, there’s no private, and all of you belongs to Him only, all of you is for Him to see, judge and use. “More.”

It almost hurts and you wish you knew what exactly He sees back there; but you don’t. He doesn’t touch you, and a part of you wishes He did – you crave His touch, but you’re aware of your place, you learned to act accordingly.

You jump slightly when He unceremoniously pries your pussy open with His fingers, your hands tremble slightly – it feels so good, His fingers feel so good you could come just from feeling them on you, no matter where, really.

“I heard it’s your birthday today” He says suddenly. His two fingers dive into you and you struggle to keep your composure; your thoughts fly away before you manage to form them into an answer. He pulls His fingers out, spreading your apparent wetness all over your folds. “Is it true?” The touch disappears for a moment and you finally get a chance to breathe.

“Y-yes, sir” you force out.

“I see.”

His fingers are back there, rubbing you slowly a few times, as if checking for any deformations – of course there are none, but He checks nonetheless.

“What’s your age now?” He asks. You wonder if He really doesn’t know, it’s not like He has a reason to care.

“T-twenty one” you mumble in a strained voice.

“Twenty one. In centimeters, that’s how high heels you can only wear from tomorrow on, understood?”

“Y… Yes, sir.”

His hand must be stained with natural lubricant, you realize, as He moves it higher, smoothly pushing one finger into your ass. It’s a miracle you manage to stay still. He doesn’t dwell much on that place though; instead, He pulls out and neatly puts the robe back into place.

“Up and face me.”

Sometimes, you wish to be roughed up – to have your hair pulled roughly, to be manhandled. But He never does that. You know your place. His word is enough to make you do whatever He wants, so why be rough? He’d get unnecessarily tired, and you’re not worth of His sweat, are you?

You stand in front of Him, eyes down, His breath on top of your head, you almost feel His body warmth – you didn’t notice He’s so close, but He is, if you just reached out…

He doesn’t hesitate before pushing the robe open, exposing your front. His hand wraps around one of your breasts, squeezing it so hard and so suddenly you almost scream, your knees trembling. You force yourself to stand straight, but God, does it hurt. He pinches your nipple, no gentler, but at least doesn’t keep it for so long. He does the same on the other side, and you swear you’ll have them all purple tomorrow, and it lasted less than a minute. They hurt so much.

As soon as He loses interest in your breasts, you wrap your arms around your chest, trying to soothe it. His hand moves to your chin instead, forcing it up.

“Open” is all He says and you obey. “Wider.” You try to, but it’s not enough. Pushing fingers into your mouth, He pushes your jaws even further, to the point it hurts and you feel like it will soon break. But you don’t object. He pulls on your tongue – it’s hard not to pull back. You gag as He pushes His fingers deep, but – thank God – takes them out before you can repeat your act from earlier.

You pant when He finally retreats and the contact breaks.

“When was the last time you came?” He asks as soon as He decides you’re in the state to provide an answer.

“T… three weeks ago, sir” you mumble.

“That’s not too long ago, is it?”

“Not too long…” You whimper slightly, confirming.

He doesn’t really hold you accountable of this on usual – only when He, for some reason, feels like making you a bit more desperate, a bit more pathetic. But it’s not something that happens often. On most days, He doesn’t even care for your presence, so even if He – or anyone else He approved of – decided, on rare occasions, to use your pussy for a change, He couldn’t care less if you came, as long as you didn’t make His own experience any worse.

But then sometimes, just sometimes, He wanted to see you struggle.

“What’s the longest you went for?”

“A-a month, sir…”

“Well then, what about we make it two?”

You gulp.

“If you wish so, sir…”

“But that’s starting from tomorrow. You will come today.”

Your eyes snap up at Him as He turns around and sits back on His bed, crossing His legs leisurely. You don’t dare to move from your spot – a good choice.

“Kneel down and touch yourself. Leave the robe on, but don’t cover yourself.”

He watches you with a small smirk as you get down. Your pussy is already exposed; you spread your legs as far as you can and lean slightly forward on one hand, the other finding the most aching spots.

Your Owner watches as you start to rub yourself – and you’re shook about how little it takes for you to find yourself on edge.

“Stop.”

You press your lips together, holding back a whine that tries to push through your lips. It hurts, you wish you could just make yourself come, you’re so needy, so starved for it, it’s been so long…

“Give me your robe.”

You don’t ask. You take the fabric off, fold it neatly and stand up, head low, reaching out with your both hands. The man takes it without care, throwing it onto the floor, far from you.

“Go to your room now.”

“Yes, sir…”

You glance briefly at the clock on the wall – it’s almost nine. And you only wonder, how many people will you pass by, going through the cold corridors, with your pussy leaking and your breasts slowly turning blue.

*

11:49 P.M.

You’re asleep when the door opens again – the sound waking you up slowly, your sleepy movements incoherent as you try to turn the light on. You stop though, as, in the darkness slowly dissolving in front of your eyes, you recognize the silhouette that just welcomed you. Your hazy mind doesn’t proceed it fully though, yet, and you don’t know, what would be the right way to react – stand up? Kneel down? Out of no cue, you stay where you are, watching with wide eyes as the man approaches your bed and sits on the mattress.

His hand finds the edge of your sheets and pulls them away from your naked frame – you often slept naked, and now that he rid you off your usual evening attire, it feels like an even righter thing to do.

“S… sir…?”

“Don’t move. Don’t talk.”

You stay in your place, your eyes following every movement, and when his hand cups your sex, your breath hitches and you struggle to stay still – of course you struggle; you want to grind down, to prove how needy you are, like a bitch in heat.

But he said, don’t move. So you don’t.

He spreads your legs a bit and teases you, stretching your entrance a little just for the sake of his entertainment, like most of the things he does to you, anyway. But then he suddenly stops and starts to gently rub your clit. You press your lips together. It feels so good, so hot, you wish you could moan, scream for him.

But he said, don’t talk. So you don’t.

His other hand is soon on your hair and he pulls you up, not too gently, but not unnecessarily roughly either. His face is so close, his eyes boring into yours. What did you ever do, to deserve a proximity like this? To deserve that much attention? To deserve his hand pleasing you so well, so good?

Nothing, is the answer. You’re not worthy of it, yet he gives it to you: how generous of him, isn’t it? To be touching the filthy animal you are. He’s so good. He feels so good, and you struggle even more, trying to keep yourself together and hold back for the sake of feeling it just a little longer.

“You may come, if you want.”

“Sh… should I?”

He smirks.

“Do you want to?”

You hesitate, a second too long.

His hand disappears and you’re left panting, writhing, squeezing your legs together for friction, but feeling as though nothing can satiate you as well as his fingers did, and you finally let out a cry. How vulnerable.

When you come back to your senses, you feel his eyes on you and quickly return the gaze – you don’t want him to think you’re ignoring him, never. You may have lost your mind for a few moments, but it’s back there – figuratively, for you’re just a dumb whore, there’s no much mind left in you.

“I told you, that you will come today, but you didn’t listen.” You quickly glance at the clock – it’s 00:02. Oh, God. Oh, no. “And now that your birthday is over, I don’t need to hold back, do I?”

You want to say that he shouldn’t hold back regardless of the day, but you soon realize it probably wouldn’t be in your best favor.

And that he doesn’t really need your approval.

Please, reblog if you enjoyed!

[zhuilingyizhen]

Tsundre Jin Ling who has no idea how to deal with his feelings for his (only) 3 friends

Side Note: Wow this ended up long- & thank you anon!! I really loved this ask.

At first he thinks that he’s supposed to feel like that towards all his friends. I mean, the three juniors are the only expieriences with friendship he’s had so far. So of course he loves likes them! Thankfully, he’s not as oblivious as Jingyi or as self-sacrificing as Sizhui. He is possibly more afflicted with dumb bitch disease than Zizhen, though. Very, very possibly.

But once the feelings of “I wanna hold his hand.” and “How would it feel to kiss him?” and “I never noticed how attractive he is.” start settling in, he realises two things. One, he’s a cutsleeve, and two, holy shit he’s in love with his friends.

There’s some major problems with this revelation. Of the 4 juniors, barely one and a half of them can healthily express their feelings, and I can guarantee that Jin Ling is not a part of that minority, being the tsundere he is. His mommy/daddy issues (rather, the lack of having living parents) also play a part in his not being able to successfully process or display his feelings. Plus, he’s not stupid just blind. He only has three friends. He’s in love with all three of them. In the scenario that they all reject his feelings and decide leave him, he would be alone again.

Imagine how he’d feel. Though his parents both left, that was due to their deaths, not them wanting to leave (though there is the fact that his mother was willing to give up her life for her brother possibly knowing that she would be leaving her son behind, but even then her main concern at the time was her brother’s life so it isn’t exactly a fair comparison and oops I’m rambling-). Jin Ling wouldn’t be able to live with himself knowing that his only friends (the ones that he loved & cared about) had willingly left him. Not that they would ever do that, but he doesn’t know that yet.

Another problem with his feelings is that he really doesn’t have anyone to talk to. The only parental figures in his life are his three uncles (JGY, WWX, and JC) and possibly WN? I’m not too sure about their canon relationship but them having a nice uncle-nephew like relationship would be nice. JL, seeing his uncle’s past experiences in romance, immediately crosses out JC from the list of possible confidants. We all know what happened with JGY (though assuming this was before everything went down, I would say that JL isn’t as close to JGY, & asking romance advice from him wasn’t exactly an appealing solution). WWX & WN both have strong familial connections with LSZ, so it would definitely be awkward talking to them about JL’s feelings for him (and almost worse having to tell them he also liked LJY & OYZZ). Plus, he wasn’t very much interested from getting a shovel talk from LWJ, who would most certainly hear about it from WWX. His friends weren’t exactly an option either, unless he went to them talking about his feelings for their mutual friends. And the idea of that was so mortifying that JL almost puked from embarrassment. Almost.

Plus, even if he asked in a hypothetical context, his friends know that he wouldn’t have a crush on anyone outside his tiny group of close knit juniors. Well, Sizhui and Zizhen know that. Jingyi is too dense to realize that Jin Ling is 1. Gay and 2. Desperately in love with them. The other two assume that JL likes one of them, but for the life of them can’t figure it out. JL is just too tsundere-y around them.

He has several options on how to deal with his quickly progressing feelings.

A: He confesses to them, and hopes that they don’t end their friendship.

B: He could slowly distance himself from his current friends, and possibly make some other friends. Leave them before they can leave him.

C: (similar to B) He could throw himself into his sect leader duties and use it as an excuse to not spend as much time with his friends, and brush them off whenever they ask about him. Become a bratty JC.

D: He hides his feelings for all three of them. Lets the feelings build up inside him, push his friends away whenever they ask, and accidentally act extremely suspicious and moodier than usual towards them.

He obviously picks a combination of the last three. Also probably has vehemently denied having feelings for any of them whenever the mere mention of romance is brought up, which has led to many awkward silences.

At this point, Zizhen is sure that JL has a crush on one of them (he’s betting on Sizhui). Sizhui himself is still trying to figure out who it is that JL likes (but he’s a bit closer to the truth than Zizhen) and Jingyi... Jingyi is questioning the odd behavior that’s going on between his three besties.

Sizhui is the first to figure it out. The juniors excluding JL (who’s busy on so-called sect stuff) are hanging out. LJY & OYZZ are discussing a romance novel that OYZZ read, and LSZ is just listening in. The gist of the novel is that a warrior falls in love with a young maiden from his hometown and the prince of a neighboring kingdom, who they are soon going to war against. The warrior has to choose what’s best for his home, and ends up slaying his male lover. Though he goes back to the young maiden and his family, the warrior ends up drowning himself in despair and guilt at having to kill the prince.

(The next part was kinda written as a fic, cause I didn’t wanna do like a screenplay of what happened.)

The two chat about it, with Sizhui occasionally offering his opinion, before Jingyi interjects. “Why couldn’t the warrior have just been with them both?”

Zizhen asks what both Sizhui and he were wondering. “What do you mean?”

“Well, he clearly loved them both. There had to be some way for him to date both of them.”

(End short dialogue fic thingy.)

It got Sizhui thinking about their situation. It was clear that Jin Ling had feelings for at least one of them, if his defensive behavior and blushing were any clue. But he hadn’t really considered the idea of him liking more than one of them, or even all three of them. The more he thought about it, the more it made sense. LSZ could never exactly pinpoint who JL likes because JL had always acted the same (tsundere-y, blushing, & defensive) around all three of them. The different behavior most likely meant that...

Jin Ling liked all three of them.

Discovering this had left Sizhui reeling. The fact that he was on a picnic with the other two people one of his closest friends had a crush on didn’t exactly help, so he quickly excused himself (though this suspicious behavior went noticed by Zizhen and Jingyi, and they vowed to figure out what was afflicting the usually calm member of their group).

For one thing, Sizhui wasn’t completely sure how he felt about his friends. He was certainly fond of all three of them, but in love with them? That was quite a revelation. But it made sense. He was already close to the other three juniors, and he certainly loved them. However, the question was whether or not it was platonic or romantic love. Most of the physical contact he had with people were with his friends (mostly Jingyi, since they live at the same place & are usually together). So it would make sense that he would seek more romantic touches from them, right? Sizhui wasn’t quite sure about this all. The first thing to do was to confront Jin Ling about his feelings. Maybe they would figure it out together, all four of them.

Turns out, Jin Ling doesn’t want to talk about his feelings (seriously Sizhui, what were you expecting? Emotional maturity?). Sizhui quite literally had to chase him around Lotus Pier. Eventually he catches him, and gets Jin Ling to sit down with him for tea. (Sizhui didn’t even have to restrain him! That went better than expected.)

Not one to beat around the bush, Sizhui is pretty blunt with his questions.

“Do you like a zhen, a yi, and I romantically?”

Jin Ling was only half expecting that and chokes on his tea.

At first he denies it, but Sizhui refuses to let him leave until he tells him the truth. Which means JL either has to go with option A, or wait until Sizhui let’s him leave.

They sit there for almost an hour before the owner kicks them out. After that, they just kinda... chill. Jin Ling won’t say anything, and Sizhui won’t leave until he gets an answer, so they’re stuck in a deadlock.

Meanwhile, Jingyi and Zizhen are looking all over the Cloud Reccesses for Sizhui, but he is nowhere to be found.

Eventually, Jin Ling breaks first (he really needed to get this off his chest) and tells Sizhui that he likes them. After that, he immediately kicks Sizhui out the door and goes to mope around somewhere. Preferably with Fairy.

Sizhui finally returns and Jingyi breaks both the the no running and making loud noises rule once he sees him. Zizhen has to go back home, because by now it was pretty late. Thankfully, they got back before curfew.

The next step in Sizhui’s plan to get Jin Ling, Zizhen, and Jingyi together (he still wasn’t sure how he felt about it all himself, but he could at least make his best friends happy, right?) was to talk to Jingyi and figure out if Jingyi liked the Young Mistress & Zizhen.

This was easier than expected, cause though Jingyi is oblivious, he isn’t oblivious to his own feelin- oh wait. Well, at least he won’t deny his own feelings after figuring out that he has them. He and Sizhui have a very long talk, and yup he has feelings. He also holds Sizhui’s hand a little because feelings.

Meanwhile Jin Ling is freaking out back at Lotus Pier because he just remembered that there is a night hunt that week (and everyone will be suspicious if he doesn’t attend).

(Jiang Cheng is moderately concerned so he follows Jin Ling on the night hunt decides to visit Xichen on the day of the night hunt. On business, of course.)

The night hunt happens as usual, though Jin Ling is suspiciously quiet. Sizhui and Jingyi are more attached by the hip than usual.

They kill a few fierce corpses. Woohoo. But then Zizhen gets attacked from behind and Jin Ling pushes him out of the way. The two Lans deal with the corpse and Zizhen smiles and thanks Jin Ling, which leads to an incredibly blushy Jin Ling. Which makes Zizhen think. Because blushing + close proximity = signs of a crush. And currently Jin Ling is almost on top of him from tackling him earlier. So...

“Oh my god, you have a crush on me?”

Which was not the response Jin Ling was looking for. It also almost gives Sizhui a heart attack because oop this isn’t gonna go well. At this point, Jingyi can’t be fazed by the disaster that is his friends. Until Zizhen straight up kisses Jin Ling on the mouth, which makes him do a double take cause really guys? Right in front of his salad chicken wings?

Jin Ling is confused, Jingyi is confused, Zizhen is kinda confused and a bit dazed cause kisses sometimes do that, so Sizhui has to deal with this clusterfuck of emotions.

He gets everyone to sit in a circle (crisscross apple sauce) which, looking back on it, probably wasn’t the best idea considering they were on a night hunt. Sizhui, now knowing that at most of them have feelings for each other (still isn’t sure about Zizhen), decides to go first.

“I like all of you romantically.”

Yay confession! Jingyi isn’t surprised since he knew from their talk, so he just kinda smiles. Jin Ling, having never figured this out, would have spit out his tea again had he had tea. Zizhen just accepts it, because yeah, it makes sense.

They sit in awkward silence as Jin Ling tries to not choke on the air, Jingyi moves a bit closer to Sizhui, and Zizhen & Jingyi eventually breaks it.

“I like you all, too.”

“Same here.”

Which leaves Jin Ling, who has been attempting to find an excuse to get out of here at. It’s one thing to have feelings and another to find out that they’re returned. This wasn’t one of the outcomes he had prepared for. So he sits there until he realizes that his friends are waiting for a response.

“What’re you all looking at me for?! You can’t expect me to say it after you guys already went.”

Jingyi silently threatens to tickle him, which is somehow worse than having to spill his feelings?

“Fine, fine. I like you guys too. Can I leave now?”

Sadly for Jin Ling, Jingyi forces him & the others into a hug, because feelings.

They all just kinda sit there for a while, before Jin Ling realizes that it’s time for them to get the heck out of there because he has to get home before his uncle yells at him.

Little did he know, Jiang Cheng had been watching him from the bushes and his new boyfriends would be getting the shovel talk very, very soon...