#oops my hand slipped and it got angsty

[blossoms-and-petrichor]

all im saying is if crowley had been friends with freddie mercury, it only follows that aziraphale was friends with Tchaikovsky.

I'm talking them sipping tea in russia. Indulging in pastries in comfortable silence, writing in their respective diaries. One day Tchaikovsky sticks his head out of his sheet music and gasps "what if we put CANNONS in the OVERTURE" smiling ear to ear and Aziraphale gives this wicked, enabling grin. Aziraphale's favorite piece would be Dumka because it has so much beautiful imagery and because it is really Tchaikovsky trying to put his home to music. Imagine Aziraphale meeting Tchaikovsky's lovers and warning them not to hurt him with a very angelic grin. Imagine Aziraphale sending Tchaikovsky his favorite foods during the latter's depressive episodes. Imagine Aziraphale's fury when after Tchaikovsky's death, his diaries are censored by the soviet union and the later russian government, entire passages blocked out because they discussed his lovers and sexuality. Imagine him trying to preserve the books his friend once loved because if he doesn't, even more of his memory would be erased.

[bonny-kookoo]

Jungkook: Restless 🔞

In which Jungkook is simply restless, especially when making love to you.

Tags/Warnings: WAY MORE ANGST WHY IS IT SO ANGSTY, Idol!Jungkook, ADHD sex position challenge I guess?, Roma made me do it, obviously smut, multiple positions duh, primal feel?, angsty sex, denial is a river in egypt, protected sex (reader has an IUD), cum, body fluids oops, sweat?, he cums inside and outside lol, biting, manhandling, oops my hand slipped and now I wrote porn with feels again

Length: 1.6k baby, look at that

-⊶-⊶-⊶-⊶-⊶-⊶-⊶-⊶-⊶-⊶-⊶-⊶-⊶--⊶-⊶-⊶-⊶-⊶-⊶-⊶-⊶-⊶

In the time of knowing him, Jungkook had always been restless.

He can't sit still for long, can't concentrate on one thing only, has to do something at all times it seems. Only sometimes, rarely, does he become lazy or tired, it seems. You cherish those moments just as much as the rest of the time you spend with him.

Now, you and Jungkook aren't necessarily.. a thing, at least not traditionally. He worries a lot; about his job, about you, about what could happen to the both of you if anything ever went public. But there's also this sinful feeling of doing something you're not supposed to, like a kid sneaking candy behind their parents backs. There's no denial even for you that you can't help but go back every single time. The feeling of longing sometimes just.. overwhelming.

You know this is gonna hurt you at some point. Maybe it won't hurt him as much, but it will hurt you, most definitely. He's sacrificed a lot and often throughout his lifetime already- who says he won't sacrifice you as well?

He's an Idol, a performer, singer, entertainer. He's made for the stage, made to be loved by millions, and you'd never force him to forget about that and leave this life behind. No. He's got it all, and he deserves it all. It's going to be fine. You'll just enjoy the times you have with him, the memories you're making.

It's not just sex, after all. You both often simply spend time with each other as friends as well. And you believe that that's what he actually sees you as- a friend, who's just a bit more intimate than a friend should be. And while his love might just be a daydream made up by your head to make your heart hurt less, his lust for you is most definitely real.

You don't know why he finds you so attractive, and you'll probably never fully understand it. Maybe it's because you're.. there. You're available. You're all he gets in this life, without fearing the consequences.

Jungkook is an old-school romantic with a twist here and there. He holds doors for you, helps you sit down at the dinner table whenever he cooks, opens tightly closed jars for you. He's a horribly cruel man in that department- because he always gives you attention, and something that might feel like it could potentially be love- but it's not. It's just a plastic rose that's going to catch dust at some point, never to bloom and never to rot either.

It'll just be thrown away, polluting the environment. Just like him leaving you one day will pollute your heart with feelings heavy and burning like molten lava, merciless.

"I- fuck." He gasps out as he halters his hips for a second, grip on them loosening as he kisses down your spine, your back arching downwards as you fall into the pillows below, entire bed already a mess. He's out of breath, and so are you- but you know he's not done with you yet. He's never just a hit-and-run kind of guy. He works his body until it literally gives in, never satisfied with just a one-time-high with you.

And he's also a carnal lover, raw and untamed.

He bites your skin, marks it up for you to remember, but also for himself to admire. Unbeknownst to you, he's hopelessly in love with you, no matter how hard he tries to distract himself, or scold his own emotions for acting out like that. You're just going to get hurt, and he knows this. He wants to end it every single time, but he also crawls back to you every night it seems, desperate to feel your skin beneath his fingertips, taste you on his tongue. He's starving, even though he's currently taking his fill.

Maybe that's why he feels so desperate every time he's with you like this. Maybe that's why he feels as if nothing is ever enough. As if he can't get close enough.

It scares him, admittedly.

With his hands on your hips, he slips out of your heat, obscene sounds accompanying every movement as he maneuvers you onto your back, hands pushing your knees apart in an impatient manner, before he slips back inside. With his knees digging into the mattress below, he holds your wrists close, pulls you into every thrust like that, jaw clenched and eyes unmoving, focused on you and the way you look.

Divine. Enchanting. Absolutely beautiful.

He wants to cry at how your skin seems like it's made of glass with the slight layer of sweat. He used to hate it on himself, used to hate it on others as well, but in a weird way, when it comes to intimacy with you, nothing seems to bother him at all. Not your slick coating his thighs. Not your spit drooling down his length whenever you give him head. Not the cum he covers you with at the end of every round.

He wants it all. He wants you.

His knees seem to ache after just a few moments, muscles itching to move in other ways as he pulls out yet again, making you whine. "I can't-" He stammers, unsure what he wants to say. He doesn't know why he's especially restless this time. It's like nothing feels quite right.

Until you climb onto his lap, pushing back his chest to get into a proper position to ride him. It's moments like these that simply hurt him, because you're always so attentive to his needs. You don't seem to need any verbal communication with him at all to know what he needs, what he wants.

And yet, you're oblivious of his feelings, or so he thinks.

He wants to keep you safe, hold you close, show you off and hide you at the same time. He just wants you, nothing else, and that's not just his lust speaking for him.

No, he's not like that. He knows what's right and what's wrong. He knows when to listen to his heart, and when to ignore it. But with you, he can't. It's all so loud, his thoughts, his feelings, his brain won't shut up about you it feels like.

He sits up with you again, pushes you closer by the small of your back, crosses his legs and finally kisses you again.

He keeps kissing to a minimum most of the time, hates how good it feels, how comfortable it is, how much it affects him. Your lips are so soft, moving in perfect sync, and when you tease his piercing or bite his lip, he just can't help but growl out because you just have to be sent from hell by the devil himself with the mission to drive him mad.

There's no way a person can fill his mind and body up like this simply by existing.

He's desperate by now. His cum already sticks to your tits, has already made its way down to your belly, some of it even rubbed off on his own chest, but he still isn't satisfied. He's close, so close, and his muscles are yelling at him to stop and rest, but he can't stop now.

"You close?" He murmurs between his open mouthed kisses, lips traveling along your jawline now before his head falls into the crook of your neck, teeth gripping any flesh he can as he marks you up. You just whine, and nod. You stopped trying to count your highs with him. It's surely never just one, however, that much you're sure of.

You know by now how to tell when he's close as well. His actual end, that is.

The muscles in his thighs tremble visibly under the stress he's forcing them under. The veins along his arms and hands are prominent, sweat dripping along his neck and chest. He will become more vocal, start to whine, even growl, hips becoming erratic as he collects every little last drop of strength to make sure you'll finish alongside him. "Hold it." He demands, teeth clenched together as he suddenly becomes more forceful, the sound of skin against skin loud and obscene echoing off his bedroom walls, as you whimper beneath him. "Fucking hold it.!" He growls out, palms grabbing your thighs before they slip beneath the small of your back, lifting you up a little for that very specific angle he knows will send him off the edge. "Cum baby, fuck!" He finally tells you, before your hips start to move erratically, no longer under your control as your orgasm hits you full force.

You don't notice the way his cum stays inside, this time. Because he doesn't pull out, keeps you close, falls to his side with you in his arms.

He doesn't know why he feels so incredibly emotional this time. As if he just cant hold himself together anymore, if he doesn't have his arms around you. The room smells like sex, air stuffy, bodies awfully slick from your entire endeavor. Usually, it ends like this. Usually, he will part from you, shower by himself to give you time to get your strength back up enough to clean yourself up after him. He hates leaving you on your own like that, wants to care for you before and after the act because that's how you're supposed to be treated, but he knows, the longer he keeps you close in a headspace like that, the more he will end up hurting.

But tonight, he can't bring himself to leave you.

Tonight, he holds you tenderly, kisses fluttering against your bare shoulder, as he feels your breath start to even out.

Tonight, he will clean you up first, before he will change the sheets and shower himself.

Tonight, he will let you sleep in his bed together with him while he airs out the room, cold chills forcing you both under the covers that smell like fresh laundry and unfulfilled dreams.

Tonight, he will let you have his heart.

Tonight, he will break.

And so will you.

-⊶-⊶-⊶-⊶-⊶-⊶-⊶-⊶-⊶-⊶-⊶-⊶-⊶--⊶-⊶-⊶-⊶-⊶-⊶-⊶-⊶-⊶

[autisticlancemcclain]

secret santa for @leenfiend

“And you two…”

Shiro turns to look at them both, eyes narrowed, hand on his hip. Even being half-held up by Allura, Keith wants to straighten up on reflex, dust off his armour, stand at attention. He breaks away from the heavy stare, glancing over at Lance, only to find him already looking. He sneers when Keith makes eye contact, and in seconds they’re turning away from each other, scowling.

“Yeah,” Shiro sighs, looking down at his comm. “Yeah, I gotta do something about you two.”

———

The something, it turned out, was busywork.

Keith thinks he might strangle his brother. Keith knows he and Lance have been…difficult, the past few weeks — although for the life of him he could not tell you why — but sending them on some stupid mission that was so clearly just meant to waste time was just insulting.

Keith huffs, looking at the mission file again.

MISSION FILE: 24-62-XC

OBJECTIVE: find bananas. or something i dunno

PERSONEL: idiot a and idiot b. shiro said to erase that and write your names but your bickering has been driving me insane so no. suffer

LOCATION: Kunedg-12-2

DANGER LEVEL: none unless you kill each other lol

He reminds himself to mess around on Pidge’s laptop the next time she leaves it unsupervised. This whole stupid file is embarrassing, but the disrespect of the mission objective has to be the worst part. She couldn’t even bother pretending to come up with one.

“Could you maybe go brood somewhere else?” Lance snarks, startling him out of his thoughts. He lifts a delicate hand off the joystick to pinch his nose like something reeks. “Your emo-ness is throwing off my vibe and your angsty sweaty hormones are stinking up the place. Maybe go sit near the garbage shoot, or something.”

Keith bites back a growl, fists clenching at his side. “I smell fine.”

“Like finely chopped onions, maybe. Yuck.”

“That doesn’t even make sense!”

Discreetly, Keith lifts up his arm and takes a whiff. He scowls harder — he smells like the same space brand deodorant they all use. Lance is just being a dick for no reason, like he always is, like what got them into this stupid mess in the first place.

“Just — land the damn Lion, Lance. Try not to kill us.”

Even though he was trying to be insulting, Keith regrets it as soon as he says it. Lance’s back goes ramrod straight, like he was zapped with Pidge’s bayard, and the temp in the cockpit drops thirty degrees.

“Lance —”

“Do not even attempt to finish that sentence,” he hisses. His hands wrapping around the controls are slow and deliberate. His shoulders are straight as a ruler.

Keith sighs, tipping his head back and letting it thunk on the back of the chair. He should’ve — goddamn it. He’s not sure what he should have done, but they might as well turn around now and go back to everyone else. They could stay on this planet for days, now, and Lance won’t so much as look at him. Keith is sure of it.

“Better hold tight. Might slip on the control and oops! Mercy me. I’m so clumsy and careless, I might just kill us.”

The Blue-turned -Red Paladin accompanies every biting remark with a sharp jerk of the thrusters, shaking the whole lion around. Red must be happy to help, because the smoothness that Keith knows should usually accompany her movements is nowhere to be found — she’s letting Lance yank them around to his heart’s content. Keith doesn’t have much of a connection to her anymore, but he can almost feel the impression of her snapping her tail in indignation.

He grits his teeth, determined not to give Lance the satisfaction of reacting. Even as they do nauseating barrel roll after barrel roll, even after Lance dives and dips like a crazy person, even after he lifts his hands off the controls and lets them drop, totally free falling — Keith says nothing.

At least, not until he hears a soft, “Oh, shoot.”

“‘Oh shoot’ what?” he asks cautiously, knowing this might be a trap. If Lance bites back with oh, so you really don’t trust me to pilot!, Keith is genuinely going to stomp over there and strangle him.

“Um. So. Buckle up,” Lance says, and Keith has to bite back a scream of frustration.

Lance is no longer pulling wildly at the controls, intentionally driving like it’s the first time he’s seen an aircraft. His posture is careful and relaxed, shoulders loose and easily moveable. But his jaw is clenched, like he does when he’s stressed, and Keith begins to notice a flashing light in the corner of the stats display.

“Lance.”

“Everything is under control,” he says quickly.

“…Lance.”

“We’re not going to crash or anything,” he amends. “I didn’t — screw it up.”

He glances backwards, quickly meeting Keith’s eye, and Keith notices that his expression is pleading. Keith swallows the comment he wants to make and nods.

“But. Uh, the comm line to the team is cut off. Not sure why. Maybe the planet has bad signal? It was fine coming in. I’ll land and then we can investigate?”

It takes Keith a minute to realize that Lance is asking him. That Lance is looking at him to lead, as if Keith has ever ordered Lance around. As if it hasn’t been two ye — months. At least.

Keith clears his throat, looking away. “Yeah, dude. You’re piloting, your mission. Whatever you think is best.”

For once, Keith has said the right thing. The confirmation of control runs through Lance like a shiver, and a mix of confusion and relief and precious, precious hope flits through his dark eyes almost faster than Keith can register, then he’s turning back to face the control board.

“Cool. Hold on, there’s not much to land on here so it’ll be bumpy.”

It is bumpy. Honestly, Keith is surprised at how deftly Lance and Red land, for all he has to clench his hands around the armrests — this planet is truly just a thick nest of towering trees and curling vines. Lance has to slink Red between two trees and have her land curled around the base of one, because there just isn’t any space for her to touch down regularly.

“You managed not to kill us,” Keith tries, smiling.

Lance stares at him critically for a moment. Then, wonderfully, beautifully, miraculously, his expression clears, and he decides Keith is being genuine. The tiniest of smiles turn up his own lips, and he shrugs.

“Well, duh. I’m the best pilot out of the two of us, after all. Let’s go.”

He’s out the door before Keith can retort — maybe something along the lines of you literally ruin every single bonding moment we have ever had you actual twerp-brained fucker — and Keith is quick to follow. Any attempt at dialogue dies on his tongue the second he’s exposed to the outside air — and the wall of wet heat that slams into him like a bull stampeding in the wrong direction.

“Jesus H Christ on a one wheeled motorbike,” he wheezes. Every inch of his skin is immediately drenched in sweat. He’s never regretted his gloves more, and wishes with every fibre of his being that he’d actually listened to Shiro for once and worn his (temperature- controlled) paladin armour.

Lance ignores him, beam lighting up his face. “Oh, it’s beautiful here!”

Keith can actually feel his shirt cling to his back like a second skin. It’s disgusting.

“Huh?”

Because yeah, the planet might be pretty. It’s almost greener than Keith can comprehend – trees so tall Keith can’t even see the canopy; trunks covered in moss and vines; wide-leafed, curling bushes and plants; tropical flowers making the air smell sweet and fragrant. Keith watches as a gecko patters down a branch to rest in a patch of dappled sunlight. Pretty, sure.

But Keith is pretty sure he’s actually breathing in water. The air is so goddamn humid he’s not sure there’s actually any air in it, and he is sticky. Beautiful places are not sticky. 

Lance is already frolicking around like a goddamn nature fairy. He tugs off his jacket, tying it around his waist, but other than that he seems to revel in the humidity, breathing in deeply like he’s used to inhaling what is essentially gasified mist instead of air. He grins at the greenery like it’s familiar, despite the fact that they’ve never even glanced at this entire quadrant the entire time they’ve been in space, let alone this planet.

“You live to thrive wherever I do not,” Keith mutters, irrationally angry at Lance’s lack of suffering. He scowls at his back and says, louder, “We have a mission.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Lance dismisses, still in the trance-like glee. He twirls around to face a huge, fern like plant, reaching up to caress the leaves and pet the back of a beetle. “You and I both know it’s busywork.“

“Yeah, well, it’s an official mission and we’re Paladins of Voltron, so. Personally I take that pretty seriously.”

It’s a low blow, as bad or worse as his piloting comment earlier. He winces as soon as he says it – Jesus, when did he start trying to piss Lance off – but luckily Lance doesn’t hear or doesn’t care, already twenty feet down some random path. Keith groans quietly and stomps after him.

Ten minutes ago, Lance could have suggested they turn around and leave and Keith would’ve been on-board. Now, as stupid as it is, Lance’s delight in this planet annoys him. It’s not fair that he’s amusing himself, and Keith is miserable. They’re supposed to both be miserable.

Somehow, though, he manages to keep his commentary to himself. Part of it is watching as Lance seems to…glow, on this planet, as strange as that is to notice. The giant smile has not left his face, and the yellow sunlight trickling through the leaves looks good on him. He hums as he walks, dancing under bent branches, even refraining from holding them back so Keith can get through and waiting until Keith is just barely past before snapping the branch back so Keith gets smacked in the face. And that’s one of his favourite hobbies.

He must be in a really good mood, if he’s not finding an excuse to smack Keith.

“Can we find some stupid fruit or something and get out of here,” Keith complains, finally having had enough. Have they actually been hiking for hours? Keith feels like he’s been hiking for hours. He feels like he’s seen the same eight plants nine hundred times. Everything has coalesced into a sea of green and he’s hot, goddamnit, and he’s never regretted an all-black ensemble more in his life. Maybe he listens to Shiro next time. Well, unlikely, but –

Something smacks him in the face, and he yelps. 

He bends down to grab the weapon, seething as he hears Lance’s snickering, and comes up with some kind of round, firm…thing.

“Fruit,” Lance supplies. “Feel free to head back to Red. You go back to the others and they’ll send your ass right back, catboy. You know as well as I do.”

Keith knows this. Of course he does. But it pisses him off that Lance is so blase about it, like Keith doesn’t know, that he clenches the fruit-thing in his fists and actually does stomp back to Red, leaving Lance to take a hike. 

“God he is so annoying,” he mutters to no one, aggressively biting the fruit. It’s delicious, which only serves to make him angrier. He puts on a high, mocking voice. “You go back to the others and they’ll send you back, blah blah blah. As if I don’t know that. As if I’m dumb.”

It’s relieving to get back into Red’s interior. It’s not exactly AC, but it certainly isn’t humid central, and any break from that heat is a welcome one. He sits heavily in the pilot’s chair, relishing in the familiarity of it, and sulks.

Or, well, he tries to.

The thing about sulking is that it gets very boring very quickly. That’s why he usually expresses his sulking through incredible violence, and why he misses the castle’s training room so much. That place was great. All Keith had to do was press a button and boom, he was being attacked. The literal dream.

Bored, he swings his legs over the armrest, opening his bayard and examining it. It’s weird to have such a contentious thing. Knowing all the blood it spilled in Zarkon’s name…it’s no wonder that his brother was so quick to get rid of it. But still, it’s a tool. A tool cannot be blamed for its master’s action, that much Keith had learned in the Blades.

He lets the blade glow and shrink in his hold until its back in its dormant position. He can’t very well train in here, as much as he would like to. Both Red and Lance would kill him, probably. 

Red makes a keening noise in his head. It’s the loudest he’s heard from her in…too long, and it startles him.

“What?”

Her presence in his head gets stronger, more insistent.

“What?” he repeats, sitting straight up. “What, girl, what’s going on?”

He yelps as the floor shifts under him – Red stands up, unwinding herself from around the tree. A growl reverberates through the entire ship, making the control board vibrate. A bad feeling begins to take root somewhere in his stomach.

“Red?! Red, what’s –”

Before he can finish, she opens her great maw, and literally spits him out. She doesn’t leave him time to get offended, nudging him forward the second he gets to his feet. She growls again when he looks back at her, tilting her head at the path Lance disappeared down.

All at once, Keith gets it.

He sprints. Bayard elongating in his hand, he runs as fast as he can, hacking away branches and vines with ease – when he chances a look down, he sees that it’s taken the form of a machete. His first bayard change.

He does not have time to celebrate it. 

He can barely hear it over the sound of his own pounding feet, but there’s a rumbling, somewhere in the distance. Keith has been hearing it for a while – he thought it was Red, or maybe just jungle noises.

Now, he hears the human voice responding to it.

Something is wrong.

“Please don’t be doing something stupid,” he prays, pushing himself faster. It’s not easy. Keith is in good shape, but the humidity is knocking the hell out of him – every breath feels like it’s getting half the oxygen it should. He’s tiring fast. But the noises are getting louder, closer, and yep, that’s definitely Lance’s voice. Keith isn’t exactly sure what he’s saying, but he knows the voice, of course he knows the voice, it’s the only one that never left his head once in two years. In a last burst of strength, he sprints toward the sound, slashing a near-solid block of vines. 

He slashes the last layer of vines back, thrusting forward, and very heroically lands on his face.

“Lance!” he shouts, jumping back to his feet. He whirls around, sure this is where he heard the growls interspersed with Lance’s murmuring. But he can’t see him anywhere.

“Here,” sighs a voice.

Keith looks up and barely chokes back a scream. 

Swinging from a vine, wrapped up to his neck in a cocoon of them, is Lance – but it isn’t a vine. It’s thick like one, and smooth, but bright white. And…gloopy, almost, because Lance is not wrapped in a bunch of vines but in strands and strands of silk, and perched on – or maybe clinging to – his swinging body is the biggest spider Keith has ever seen. 

“Get off him!” Keith yells, proud of himself for how little his voice shakes.

“Oh, great plan, Keith. Order the animal around. I’m sure it’ll heed your demands and cut me free.”

Keith flushes. “Shut up,” he hisses. “Victims of Miss Spider’s Sunny Patch Gone Wrong don’t get to snark!”

Lance shrugs. “You’re welcome to climb on up here and get me to shut up.”

As if in understanding, the spider hisses, scuttling down Lance’s body and lunging towards Keith, snapping its fangs. Keith shrieks and jumps back. Luckily, the spider doesn’t go past Lance’s head.

“She’s outta webs,” Lance explains. He doesn’t even flinch as the spider’s massive butt – spinnerets and all – rest on his forehead. Keith gags. “She won’t get too close to you, you’re too threatening –”

“I’m threatening?!”

“– so you’re in no danger. You can put the weapon away.”

“Put the weapon away – Lance, did it already suck out your brains?”

Lance glares hard at him. The effect is significantly lessened as the string of webbing he’s hanging from slowly turns, forcing his eyes away from Keith, and then also, well. The massive fuckin’ bug sitting on his forehead. So.

“No, she didn’t suck out my brains. She’s an animal, Keith, not dumb. Eating me would be stupid and a massive waste. I’m too big. I just freaked her out, is all. I should’ve been more careful in approaching her web.”

Keith places his face in his hands and yells. Just – screams, for a minute. He can’t believe he ever missed this asshole. He lived two blissful, blissful years without having to deal with any of this shit. 

And now, massive spiders. 

Great.

“I hate you,” Keith says. 

Lance nods, shrugging again. “Fair. Can’t leave without me, though.”

“I think I might. I’ll tell Allura you died tragically. Moment of silence, blah blah. Then I go home and have a lovely, quiet flight the whole time.”

“Hm, that won’t work. Hunk will be desolate. Inconsolable, I would even say.”

Keith sighs. A smile tugs at the corner of his mouth, matching Lance’s grin. He cannot believe his own brain’s betrayal, allowing itself to be amused by Lance’s stupid jokes. 

“What am I gonna do about the spider, Lance.”

At its – hers, whatever – name, it hisses again. Lance remains unphased. He wriggles a little, even, as if the sharp fangs aren’t inches away from his eyeballs.

“I’m working on it, gimme a sec.”

Keith aquieses. He wants to slash through the stupid binds and be done with everything, but he’s worried that the spider might be faster than he is and hurt Lance before he can get the chance. If he can just find a way to smack the spider off…

“Hm. I got an idea. Keith, grab my comm.”

Keith bites back a comment about who should be ordering whom around, edging gingerly around the hissing spider to scoop up Lance’s dropped comm. He clicks it on, tapping in Lance’s password – 3425, spelling D-I-C-K – and holding it loosely in his freehand.

“Got it.”

“Great. Okay, open my spider translator app.”

“Your – what.”

“Spider translator app,” Lance explains patiently. “Been working on it with Coran. Spiders communicate mostly via pheromones, but a lot of ‘em use clicks, especially threateningly. I remember how to say ‘hi’ and ‘no harm’, and I think I remember the sound for ‘food’? But I’m not sure and I don’t want to say ‘no harm food’ but accident, or something dumb like that, ‘cause then she might get the wrong idea. I’m hoping for something closer to ‘no food’ or ‘bad food’. I think she kind of gets it, but she’s still spooked. If I click at her she might think I’m another spider, let me go. If all else fails we’ll use the pheromones Coran and I have stored in Red’s shipping dock, but that stuff really reeks and doesn’t really wash out so I’d rather not.”

Keith’s head starts to hurt. Vaguely, he starts to wonder if he hit his head somewhere and is now dreaming, but unfortunately this brand of weird is pretty regular Lance. It’s just been a while since Keith has been in full force of it. 

Plus, Coran has clearly been enabling. 

“I have Seen Things,” Keith says, stabbing at the stupid comm. The app is front and centre. It is used more than the actual communication app, Keith knows that because he finds the stupid spider app in seconds and literally cannot find the communication app. He is going to kill this boy, the second he makes sure he’s safe. “So many things in space, Lance. So many of them horrible. So many of them strange. You remember the blob people that talked by pissing? I remember the blob people that talked by pissing. That is less weird than this, Lance.”

The translation app is pretty intuitive. Keith will give him that. He finds a translation for ‘bad food’ pretty quickly, but can’t read what it says for the life of him. He glances up, taking in the spider and the sheer fucking size of it, and slowly extends his hand so Lance can see the comm screen. His fingers tremble ever so slightly. 

Lance has to strain his neck slightly to see the screen. Keith resists the urge to yell. But he quickly makes a series of clicks and tongue-sounds, attracting even more of the spider’s attention. It stares at him with all eight of its eyes for several minutes.

Then it turns, scuttling slightly away from Lance’s face. Keith lets out a huge sigh of relief – too soon – as the spider sinks its fangs in Lance’s chest.

Keith screams.

“Will you chill out!” Lance scolds. Keith’s screams only get louder, and he squeezes his eyes shut. “She is eating the silk, Keith, Jesus, stop yelling! I’m fine!”

“I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you –”

In minutes there’s a thunk, and a muffled “Ow.” When Keith looks up, Lance is sprawled on the ground, rubbing his wrist, and the spider is nowhere to be found.

“Are you physically fucking capable,” he says slowly, “of just – not doing stupid shit? Like at all? Maybe once.”

“Like you’re one to talk,” Lance retorts. He has a startling amount of dignity for someone with spider silk in his hair, still sat on the hard ground. “Your ass got stuck on the back of some whale for two years. Embarrassing.”

It is embarrassing, so Keith can’t retort. He makes a face and hopes it’s sufficient, but then Lance makes one right back, and he looks so fucking stupid in the fucking jungle and also kind of good for some reason and Keith’s heart is just barely slowing down, now, and his hands still shake and Lance just spoke fucking spider and Keith just.

He loses it, a little. 

He starts laughing and he can’t stop, and its so stupid, and he’s so fucking hot. His knees get weak and he’s landing on his ass, gasping for breath, Lance wheezing as he leans against Keith for support that he can’t even give. Who knows what other horrors lay in this stupid jungle – he and Lance are so loud they’re practically inviting them over – but Keith can’t stop for the life of him. His brain feels disconnected from his body. His stomach hurts so freaking badly. Every time he looks at Lance he loses it again. 

“Please take the fucking silk out of your hair,” he tries to say. Every word is interrupted by a wheezy giggle, so it doesn’t do much, but luckily Lance runs his hands through his hair anyways and it clings to his fingers instead. 

He calms, finally, keeping his attention on the strand of white silk, watching Lance’s thin fingers fiddle with it. He finally manages to calm down, too, taking huge breaths and trying to steady himself. 

“So,” Lance says when they can breathe again, “I’m sorry.”

“You should be, asshole. I thought you were gonna get eaten.”

“Oh, I’m not sorry about the spider. That was an honest misunderstanding.”

Keith sighs. For his own peace of mind, he convinces himself that Lance is joking. “What are you sorry for, then?”

Lance fiddles with the edge of his jacket. Keith notices, for the first time, that the tightly woven silk left red, raised welts around his skin. It must have been tight.

“I’ve been. A little. Standoff-ish. Perhaps.”

Keith snorts. “A little?”

“A lot,” Lance amends, smiling. He punches Keith’s shoulder. It is not gentle. “I missed you, Dropout. I didn’t expect to, and I didn’t like that I did. Misplaced aggression, all that.”

“You’ve matured remarkably in my absence,” Keith observes. He dodges Lance’s kick, but only barely. His smile hurts his face. “You’re almost, like…a real, functioning person now.”

“I take it back. You’re annoying. I didn’t miss you, all the letters I wrote you are a lie, in fact you can actually fuck right back off –”

Keith stills. “Letters.”

“– to the space whale, actually. See if I care.” Lance clears his throat. His face is getting steadily more flushed, and oh God it has nothing to do with the heat does it. “I don’t, in case that’s unclear –”

“Lance,” Keith says, a little more forcefully. Because – because oh God, this means. This means. “What do you mean, letters?”

“A new alphabet I came up with in my spare time,” Lance snaps, shoving Keith back and getting to his feet. “What do you think, you idiot.”

He tries to walk off, but Keith doesn’t let him. He wraps his hand around his wrist and tugs him back – too forcefully, accidentally, and Lance yelps as he stumbles right into Keith’s lap. Keith doesn’t stop him from moving frantically back, a little warm himself.

“Lance.” His tone is urgent. “Lance, I wrote you letters too.”

Finally, he stops squirming. “You did?”

“Yes. I don’t know if I can – I mean, I don’t have any here, but they’re stashed in Black, I couldn’t leave – oh.”

Lance’s lips are pressed to his.

Lance’s lips. 

Are pressed.

To his.

Lance is kissing him.

“Oh – oh.”

“Man, you really are an idiot.” 

His harsh words are significantly softened because they’re, y’know, mumbled into his mouth. Keith can’t quite bring himself to complain about that one, really, since Lance is warm but not suffocatingly slow and his mouth keeps curving into a smile and his lips are soft and. And. For once he’s too preoccupied to pick a real fight. 

Keith can live with him like this, he thinks.

“My letters.” Keith pulls away slightly, clearing his throat. “You can’t. Read them.”

Lance tilts his head. “Why?”

Embarrassed, Keith gestures between the two of them. “This didn’t – occur to me, Lance. So.”

A shit-eating grin curls across the Red Paladin’s face. “What didn’t occur to you, hot stuff?”

“You know,” Keith warns, glaring. His ears feel like they’re burning, and not just because of the stupid nickname. 

“I don’t!”

“You do, asshole, because you’re smirking like you do.” “No need to get presumptuous, Keithy. I simply do not understand. What didn’t occur to you –” he leans in again, breath tickling Keith’s neck and making him shudder – “me? Like…this? Close to you?” He presses a small kiss to the underside of Keith’s jaw. “...Liking you, maybe?” Keith’s breathing is embarrassingly heavy for what’s barely a little kissing. He tries desperately to get himself under control, but with Lance so, so close… “Or was it yourself you didn’t understand, hm? Wax a lot of poetic about me in those letters?”

Keith did. It’s true. He remembers one humiliating instance where he, in frustration of forgetting the details, tried to map out Lance’s face – the freckles that dot his nose, the shine of his brown eyes when he makes a perfect shot, the curve of his wide grin. He’s pretty sure ‘sparkling’ was used in description at least twice, which is…bad. 

In a last ditch effort, Keith gets his hands on Lance’s chest, lays his palms back, and shoves. When he’s flat on his back against the jungle floor, eyes wide and head tilted back to watch Keith’s face, Keith kisses him quiet. 

It works.

It works very well.

“Okay, we gotta – we gotta – not that this isn’t great, it is, but we gotta –”

Finally, Lance is the flustered one, the wordless one. Keith relishes in the feeling.

“Keith, get off, we –”

Finally, Lance succeeds in pushing Keith back. He rests on his heels, pouting (and subsequently ignoring the fact that he’s pouting, because, what kind of witchcraft).

“We have to go,” Lance says sternly. “Okay? We can – do this later. We gotta get back.”

Keith huffs. “They’re the ones who sent us away. They can deal for a few hours.”

“It’s been a few hours,” Lance reminds him. “Let’s just go, okay? Lots of excitement for one day.” He tilts his head back, smirking. “If we leave now I’ll set Red on autopilot and we can make out on the way back.”

Cold air in Red’s cockpit? Backdrop of stars and space? Somewhere to be that isn’t a jungle floor?

“Sold,” Keith says, hastily getting to his feet. The walk back to the Lion is the least complaining Keith has ever done about anything, even in his own head. 

Right before they walk into Red’s waiting and open mouth, Lance plucks a yellow, curved fruit from a tree. He tosses it to Keith, grinning widely.

“Mission accomplished.”

–––

happy holidays colleen :DD

[fadingdaggerr]

tease and unease

pairing: melissa schemmenti x gn!reader

summary: (based on following req that was sent w/o anon so they asked for it to be) “I did have a request if you're into it! Reader and melissa have been in a relationship secretly for a while. They have a fight about keeping it a secret right before PECSA weekend (mel wants to keep it a secret and reader does not). So the weekend is filled with mini fights and glaring and lots of drinks to nimb the hurt. Lol Reader gets drunk and dedicates then plays their song on piano in the lobby of the convention center - outing them. A little angsty but with a happy ending? Feel free to change anything you're not feeling and thank you!!”

warnings: very dialogue heavy oops, insecurity, verbal fighting, petty r bc i’m petty, heavy-ish? alcohol consumption, drunk!r

note: just realized that with all my fics i’ve somehow avoided using any pronouns or actually name for r. feel like i’m doing full fledged gymnastics

There is barely a second to answer the question Barbara asked you about a new show you’d started before the lounge door flies open and Janine is excitedly doing little laps around the room chanting ‘PECSA’ as she goes. Even though this is her third time going to the convention, she had been extremely excited. Whether that was because of this year’s presentations or due to last year’s event in the botanical classroom, you can’t tell. Janine’s zoomies end as she catches herself against Jacob’s chair to catch her breath.

“Please- oh my God- please tell me y’all are coming this year?” Janine asks as she’s still breathless from excitement and running a marathon between wobbly tables.

“Considering it’s mandatory,” Melissa says with annoyance in her tone, immediately your foot kicks hers as a silent ‘be nice.’

Janine’s excitement doesn’t falter once, “did you see that they have a whole presentation on which color whiteboard markers are the best for teaching each subject?” Barbara turns at the same time as you, both of you looking at each other with exasperation and a little disbelief on both ends. Melissa is desperately trying not to laugh, her hand under the table gripping your knee with a vice to not burst into a cackle right at her fellow second grade teacher.

The second she got control of her laughter, the hand on your leg was gone like it was burned by your skin through your jeans. When you try to pull her hand back for just an extra second of her touch, her hand shakes yours off as her body leans away entirely.

There is some annoyance that lingers in your chest from this interaction, and it only grows more as you take the long way to Melissa’s house from school because she insists that no one can even see you going in the same direction. Six months of this, driving six extra blocks and not even being able to give unseen affection, and she hasn’t even deemed it a good time to tell Barbara, her best friend. She had just barely allowed you to tell your friends, who didn’t even know the Abbott crew, and still won’t allow even one picture to even have her elbow in it.

As you pull into the driveway, you take a few deep breaths to try to ease this tension that you wish hadn’t begun to fester. Walking in the front door, it was easy to forget all of it when Melissa came down the stairs, nearly slipping in her fluffy socks as she hurried to pull you into a greeting kiss. Her hands hold your face as she peppers your cheeks in kisses, speaking between smacks of her lips against your skin, “you took your sweet time coming inside.”

“Sorry,” you barely get out, reeling your head back to stop the assault from her lips and wrapping your arms around and holding her, “missed you today.”

She laughs from the crook of your neck, “we had prep and lunch together.”

“Eight hours in the same building and I only get you for an hour? That’s not even close to enough,” you say, pulling back to finally take off your shoes. Nothing is quite like the sight of a flustered Melissa Schemmenti, your comment making her cheeks light up the prettiest shade of pink, your second favorite color after the green of her eyes.

As you stood in the shower, hot water practically cooking your skin, the topic of today’s lunch conversation rolled around your mind. PECSA has always been held at a large hotel with so many rooms and several pool spots, maybe this would finally be a social setting where Melissa wasn’t so guarded and actually allowed herself to enjoy time with you that wasn’t solely in the hotel room. Shit, the hotel room, you meant to call and reserve a room two days ago but were stuck grading book reports into the early morning.

“Baby!” you shout as you step onto the bathmat, wrapping a towel around you as you listen for approaching footsteps. When there is none, your voice turns whiny, “Melissaaaa!”

There’s a huff outside the door before it opens, “Jesus, amore, let me get up the stairs. What’s wrong?”

“Please tell me you called the hotel about our room,” you say as you pull her old college t-shirt over your frame, the tattered sleeves soft against the skin of your shoulder, “I meant to call the other night.”

Melissa’s eyes are soft at the view of you in her shirt, a smile playing at her lips before she answers, “yeah. I called ‘em and got the rooms all set, no worries.” Her lips press against your cheek before she walks out the room to head into the bedroom.

A sense of relief fills you, a deep breath leaving your lungs. As you settle into bed, your arm wraps around Melissa’s waist, a kiss as a silent goodnight is pressed to her shoulder, getting the typical hum in response. As you begin to drift off, nudging into the redhead’s back a little, a thought enters your mind. Rooms?

“Wait, ‘rooms’ plural?” you say against her back, but your only response is her light snoring.

—

“Mel baby, we gotta go! We have to check into the hotel at noon!” you call up the stairs as you spin your suitcase around lazily.

“Just leave without me, hon, I’ll meet you there,” she answers from her bedroom.

You frown, “the hell do you mean? I thought we were driving there together, it makes sense.”

“We don’t need anyone seeing anything, you can just get there ahead of me,” you’re a little too shocked at her words to respond before she adds, “oh, and when you get there can you get my keycard for my room?”

Your back stiffens, as does the hand holding your suitcase. Without thinking, you let go of the case and start up the stairs, stopping in the doorway to the bedroom, her back facing away from you as she packs the rest of her hair products, “your room?” 

Melissa jumps a little when she hears your voice, smiling as she recovers, “well yeah, amore. Can’t be sharing a room without everyone piecing it together, now can we?”

“Oh, of course, how dare I think anyone can see us within a hundred feet of each other,” your attitude and facial expression make the redhead frown, her arms immediately crossing.

“Don’t be like that, you know that’s not what I meant,” she steps closer, but not much. This conversation has happened only a few times in the last six months. Melissa is a very private person, one that didn’t want anyone in her business, she’d only just let her family meet you a month ago.

You take a step forward, “we can’t drive in together because no one can see us together. We can’t share a room because no one can see us together. I can’t sit next to you at work because no one can see us together. I can’t even drive here the normal way because no one can see us together.” There has never been an instance where you told her she had to shout it from the rooftops, all you wanted was to be close to her. She didn’t even let you two be seen as actual friends, just as tolerated by her, and it was all starting to dig away at you. You stepforward more as you spoke, “so, enlighten me, what do you mean?”

There’s a shift in her posture and face, everything hardens and she becomes more serious. She thinks this tough-Schemmenti-look works on you, but after watching her cry at pet commercials, you can’t be fooled. Despite the confident anger she was showing, there was no response. Without waiting, you turn around and walk down the stairs, leaving with your suitcase in your own car.

The lobby is packed tight, a bunch of underpaid sardines filling every inch of the place, yet it felt incredibly lonely. The front desk gave you your keycard, you didn’t bother with getting Melissa’s, your only goal was to get to your room and lay in the bed until the presentations started tomorrow. You were not going to a whiteboard marker presentation.

However, you did promise Ava you’d go to her presentation on “Being That Girl and That Principal,” so hiding won’t be an option for the next morning. You register that Melissa and Barbara are both in the room as well, but you hope a certain someone doesn’t notice among the crowd that had collected.

Not even ten minutes into the presentation, a warm body is next to you, red hair and perfect eyeliner. You take a deep breath in and sidestep to the left, trying to make space between you, but she closes it again. She turns to look at you, and you pointedly keep your eyes on Ava’s presentation, which is just perfectly lit photos of her around Abbott, which until now you didn’t notice that she had photoshopped out the water damage on the ceiling.

“Are you going to ignore me all weekend?” Melissa mumbles.

You shrug, “I’m surprised standing next to me is even allowed, I thought we couldn’t even be seen near each other.”

“Stop being childish.”

“Don’t think I will,” you reply, turning to walk to the other side of the room.

—

Math-a-ritas, Daiquireads, Sex Ed on the Beach, was it so hard to get a normal ass drink around here? It already took you three tries to get a normal rum and coke before the prepubescent-looking bartender got the damn thing right, but one they did, it honestly isn’t all that bad. What was starting to get bad, however, was the tension between you and Melissa. Being part of her typical group, Barbara insists on the two of you walking around with her, chatting with vendors and teachers from every school, except Addington.

Upon seeing Melissa’s hands white knuckling a glass of wine, Barbara sends a questioning look, only getting a shake of the head in response. She turns to you, almost ready to ask if you can talk to Melissa, but you’re equally sour looking.

Both women watch you down your second drink before getting up, “I’ll be back in a few, just getting another drink.”

“Do you really think you need more?” your girlfriend pipes up.

“Melissa…” Barbara warns, having been stuck in the tension between you two. She’d thought her friend was soft on you, but it was starting to look differently.

You don’t even give her the decency to look at her as you say, “I really, truly do, Schemmenti.”

You don’t return like you said you would, and green eyes are scanning the hall to find your frame. When she catches sight of you, she sees another drink downed and she grimaces. Melissa’s anger starts to fade when she sees you waver a little as you walk-and-talk with Jacob, who finally was attending PECSA-geddon this year. You turn and look in her direction, and she frowns at the instant look of minor resentment crosses your face before you stumble again. Melissa stands and starts over in your direction, ignoring Barb’s gaze.

The redhead reaches you, a hand on your elbow, “hon, you should sit down.”

“Why do you care?” you snap back, pulling your arm away. Jacob’s eyes widen, and Melissa motions to tell him to leave, to which he is quick to listen and goes to Barbara.

“You’re falling over, amore, please sit down,” she pleads through gritted teeth.

You huff and step further back, “stop it, Melissa, someone’s gonna think we know each other.” She wasn’t accustomed to you being so abrasive, even in arguments, usually you were calm and direct, something she could easily mirror when she got too in her own head. Now, you are just drunk, angry, and wanting nothing to do with her, something she never expected to see.

Melissa is growing even more pissed as she watches you finish your fifth drink, your head shaking in that cute way it does when your drink is too strong. You catch her stare, which becomes more of a glare when your eyes meet hers, and you frown. Somewhere between your first and last sip of your fifth drink, you’d gone from angry to sad drunk, and Melissa's disapproving looks were making your eyes burn.

On the third sip of your sixth drink, the realization that a DJ was at the party made you jump excitedly. You stumble through the line, using your conversation partner to keep you upright, you wait to make a request.

“What do you want?” the DJ says without a single ounce of enthusiasm.

You smile anyways, “please, please play this song. It’s one of my girlfriend’s favorites, I don’t know if I’d call it ‘our song,’ but when I hear it I think of her and her pretty eyes and face and hair and hands an-”

“Dude, what is the song?”

“Oh, yeah. It’s Bette Davis Eyes, Kim Carnes,” you laugh out, almost teetering over.

“It’ll play after Kendrick,” the DJ says dismissively, motioning for the next person in line to move forward.

—

There’s a slump in your mood as music fills the room. Where everyone is dancing and laughing, you’re gnawing on your thumbnail as the drinks catch up to you, making you more anxious than carefree. Part of you wants to just disappear to your room, the other part doesn’t remember where that is exactly. A secret third part wishes you got Melissa’s keycard for her so you’d know where she was staying tonight, though you were a tiny bit sure your rooms had to be near each other.

You just barely register the beginning of a rap song as you start to wander the room in hopes of finding someone familiar, just yearning to be with your Abbott people. You’re gripping chairs as you walk around, speeding up as you register Ava’s high ponytail back near the DJ booth. You barely catch her arm, anchoring yourself to the principal.

“Weebles-wobbles, you’re definitely falling down! You better drink some water before your liver gets revenge,” Ava half-jokes as she pushes her cup towards you, “what made you decide to let loose?”

You gulp down the whole water and sigh, “I can’t just have fun?”

“You look downright sad,” she answers with a laugh as you pout. The Kendrick song fades out, and 80s guitar starts to play, immediately making you freeze. You turn slowly towards the DJ with big, scared eyes, you forgot that you’d requested he play this.

The horror only continues when you see him point to you and say, “this song is dedicated to this one’s girlfriend.” If someone decides to sporadically drive through the window and crush you, you thank them right now.

“Girlfriend?” Ava asks from next to you, “you got a girlfriend and you haven’t said shit?”

“Not now, Ava. I think I have to leave.”

“The party?”

“The country,” you answer before ducking your head and walking as Kim Carnes voice plays in the speakers.

Her hair is Harlow gold / Her lips, a sweet surprise / Her hands are never cold / She's got Bette Davis eyes

In your perspective, you’re almost running towards the door, but Melissa sees the stagger in your steps get worse. She doesn’t think about it before she starts weaving through party attendees to get to you faster, no longer caring about her own arbitrary rules. Someone dares step in her way, and they’re pushed roughly, the lyrics of your song were making her work harder to get to you.

She'll turn the music on you / You won't have to think twice / She's pure as New York snow / She got Bette Davis eyes

When the redhead finally reaches you, she’s quick to pull you out of the view of everyone else, and for once it wasn’t for her personal benefit. As she stops moving, she keeps a hand on your arm while you steady yourself. When you turn and look at her, there’s no anger for once, just embarrassment.

She can’t even get a word in before you’re rambling, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t tell him to dedicate it to you, I just wanted to listen to it and I mentioned that it made me think of you- not like you but you. I’m sorry, please don’t hate me, I didn’t want to ups-”

Arms wrap tightly around your neck, tugging you into her embrace. Your own arms flail for a moment before they wrap around her waist, hands gripping the material of her dress. A hand rubs your back, helping you control your breathing, “I’m not mad at you and I don’t hate you.”

“You’re mad, you just feel bad for me right now,” you murmur into her skin, “you should get back before someone notices.”

Melissa only sighs, loosening her hold on you to pull you in the direction of the elevator. You’re vaguely mumbling about her being fine letting you go, but she stays connected to you. She’s acutely aware that you have no idea where your room is, but it’s next to hers, that much she knows. Melissa leans you against the wall, digging in your pockets for your keycard since she left her purse with Barbara at the party.

“Are you trying to feel me up or rob me?” you joke, or at least she thinks you’re joking since she can barely tell through the slurred laugh you let out. Melissa just smiles lightly before opening your door and shoving you in. She tries to guide you towards the bed, but you stick to her side as if you’re sewn to her.

When she finally gets you all situated, she looks at you to see tears welling in your eyes as you scan her face. Her hand comes up to cup your cheek, “what’s wrong, amore?”

You exhale, “I don’t want you to leave.”

“I’m not leaving, I’m gonna stay right here,” she says softly, thumb caressing your warm cheek.

“No, no. I don’t want you to leave,” you whine, gripping the sleeve of her dress.

She understands what you mean now, and it makes her heart fall in her chest a little. Pulling away, she assures you she isn’t leaving to placate you before going through your suitcase for an extra shirt to wear to bed, knowing that she wasn’t going to leave even if you changed your mind and told her to. It takes about eighty times as long to get you into your own sleep shirt and shorts, but once you’re comfortable, the tears in your eyes fade away.

Melissa tucks herself in behind you, arm wrapping tightly around your middle, though you wiggle and worm around until you’re facing her. A hand comes up and pushes loose hairs away from her face, the look in your eye so soft that she was almost convinced you’d forgotten everything you’d been arguing about.

“Why don’t you wanna tell Barb, or just anyone?” There’s a shyness in your tone as you play with the chains of her necklaces, “I know you wanna be private, but I don’t like being a secret.”

“You’re not a secret, I just like having you to myself,” she tries to appease you, wanting to have this conversation when you’re both sober.

There’s a look she can’t read on your face before you say, “you already have that and so do I, but sometimes I want to show you off. You’re too pretty not to.”

A wry grin crosses her face at your words, the very fragile filter you had was demolished by the rum and cokes. The hand that previously had been occupied by her necklaces was now fiddling with and twirling her hair, your eyes equally trained on the new object of your hand’s attention. Melissa’s attention settled on eyelash on your cheek, she wished it was a good moment to get it so you could make a wish on it.

“I’ll tell Barb,” you move to argue, “not because you’re telling me to, but because you’re right. I want to show you off, get you in some Schemmenti clothes.” Melissa delights in the quiet groan you let out at the proposition of one of her custom jerseys or sweatshirts, her last name marking you as hers. Her own heart skips a beat at the image in her mind.

Your hand moves to her neck and you try to focus your eyes on her face, “only when you’re actually ready. I don’t wanna rush you.” 

“No, I’ll tell her once we get back. I don’t need all those math-a-ritas spilling my business to half of PECSA,” she mumbles the last bit, and she gratefully sees you nodding in agreement. Stretching up, you press a kiss to her jaw. And another, then another. Nudging your way into the crook of her neck, Melissa feels your teeth gently chomp at her skin, a squeak leaving her throat at the action. 

Your thumb strokes over the faint mark left on her neck that will be gone before morning, a kiss placed over it. The redhead can feel the vibrations of you speaking from her neck, but it’s too muffled to make out. She hums, a barely there question of what you’re saying, and the volume of your grumbles just barely reaches her ears. Pretty, pretty, pretty. 

Neither of you answer the wake-up call or attend the continental breakfast the next morning. There’s not even an effort to leave the bed until twenty minutes before checkout where you both parted ways just to pack your things before rushing downstairs to go home. There’ll be a time where you stop driving separately and share stolen looks from down the hallway, and Melissa fully intends for that being over brunch with Barb tomorrow. Tonight, however, she wasn’t planning on letting go of you for even a second.

title is from bette davis eyes by kim carnes (also the song in the fic)

feedback appreciated as always <3

[renecdote]

The prompt "sit still and let me take a look!" spoke to me 😌

hiiii frida this has been in my inbox for so long but I finally figured out how to write again so here you go <3 also sorry. I think. it got angsty oops [Read on AO3]

The problem is that Eddie tries to catch the glass. It slips, and he doesn’t want the shattering sound to wake Buck, so he tries to catch it, and—

“Fuck.”

It slips out louder than he means for it to be, the pain catching him by surprise. It slices through his hand and up his arm, reflexive tears springing to his eyes before he blinks them away. Blood blooms on his palm, just a thin line at first, but spreading rapidly, red running over his fingers, his wrist, dripping onto the floor. In the middle of it all, a jagged piece of glass sparkles in the morning light. Eddie curses again.

Sometimes he feels like he has been dealing with emergencies his whole life. He’s good at it—he has to be—but there’s always a moment of hesitation when it’s himself, a split second or a minute, mind and body frozen even though his survival instinct in any other situation is to fight.

This is hardly an emergency, but Eddie feels frozen anyway, his mind blank even though he’s already moving, reaching for the tap. Water gushes out, tepid for the first few seconds, then cold enough that he has to grit his teeth against the ache. The blood isn’t slowing, but it’s turning pink under the water, washed away before Eddie can think about how much of it there is. Cuts usually look worse than they are, he reminds himself.

“Eddie?” Socks shuffling on the linoleum, half asleep still. Then suddenly much more awake: “Shit, are you okay?”

“Yep. Pass me a tea towel?”

There are two hanging from the oven, but Buck goes for the drawer of clean tea towels instead. He passes over a red one—fire engine red, Eddie’s mind automatically supplies—and it could be a coincidence, or it could be because it won’t stain as easily as the lighter ones. Eddie wraps the material awkwardly around his bleeding hand, trying not to move too much so he doesn’t jar the glass and make the cut worse.

“Here,” Buck says, turning a chair around one-handed, “sit down, let me take a look at it.”

Guilt gnaws at Eddie’s stomach.

“I really don’t—”

“Eds.” Serious. Too serious for a broken glass, but just the right amount of serious for the years of history between them. “Please?”

Eddie sighs, and nods, and sits down. He holds out his hand and Buck takes it carefully, fingers gentle under the back of Eddie’s hand, like what he’s holding is something precious. It makes Eddie’s heart quiver in his chest. He has to bite his cheek hard so he doesn’t do something ridiculous like cry. Or kiss his best friend.

“It doesn’t look too deep, I think it’ll be okay if we pull the glass out,” Buck says, the furrow between his brows deep in concentration as he inspects Eddie’s hand from every angle. “Do you have tweezers?”

“First aid kit,” Eddie answers, gesturing towards the hallway with his good hand. It’s not like he needs to explain where the first aid kit is, Buck already knows. Hell, Buck helped him stock it.

“Don’t move,” Buck tells him, that same flash of seriousness in the look that comes with the words.

“Where am I gonna go?” Eddie asks rhetorically.

Buck rolls his eyes. “Just—hold that towel on your hand. I’ll be back in a second.”

Eddie re-wraps the towel carefully around the glass piece and keeps pressure on his hand, holding it up so it’s above his heart, more out of habit than because he thinks it’s necessary. Without Buck, it’s hard to focus on anything except the pain. It’s nothing compared to getting shot, or broken bones, or a dislocated shoulder, or the whole body ache from being at the bottom of a collapsed well, but pain is pain. Eddie stares at the photos on the fridge and tries to put it out of his mind. There’s Christopher’s latest school photo, a shot of Eddie and Chris in Texas last time they visited, another of Buck and Christopher at the zoo, one of the three of them grinning like maniacs at the go-karting place in the desert.

It means nothing and everything, Eddie thinks, that dozens more photos just like them fill the photo albums lined up neatly on the bookshelf in the living room. Mostly nothing. Mostly everything. Sometimes it feels like they were living their lives with a hole left just for Buck to fill before they even met him. Eddie isn’t sure he believes in things like soulmates, or fate, or divine providence, but if he did, he thinks it would be because of Buck. Because of the way they fit together, a neat little family of three.

Except for how they aren’t. Buck will go home to Tommy in a few hours, and Chris is willing to speak to Eddie on the phone these days but he still isn’t ready to come home, so it will just be Eddie in his lonely house, eating a lonely dinner at the empty kitchen table.

He presses a little too hard against his hand and the pain flares, the hard lump of emotion in his throat numbed for a moment by the sting. Eddie presses down again, breathing through the hurt until he feels like he is in control again. It’s harder and harder to keep hold of these days. His eyes feel permanently gritty with exhaustion, a long shift and a heavier heart weighing him down, but sleep as elusive as it has been for the last two months. This isn’t even the first glass he has broken in the last few weeks, just the first to draw blood.

Eddie doesn’t realise how much he has slumped in his chair until he hears the squeak of the hallway floor under returning footsteps and he straightens back up. The first aid kit clatters when Buck sets it on the table, his fingers already flicking up the latch to open it. It’s more cluttered than Eddie remembers it being, and he makes a half-formed mental note to reorganise it when he has a chance. House upkeep hasn’t been his biggest concern recently. Buck has to push aside band-aids and tape and rolls of bandages before he finds the tweezers at the bottom of the box. He tears open an alcohol wipe and sterilises them, then hesitates.

“Should we—?”

“Sink will be less messy,” Eddie agrees before the question is finished, squashing down the part of him that doesn’t really care if he bleeds all over his kitchen.

He stands up awkwardly, even though it isn’t something he really needs his hands for, and Buck’s hand hovers under his elbow for a second before dropping away. Eddie feels the not-quite-contact like a tingling up and down his arm. It tingles, too, when Buck holds his hand to keep it still, the movement of his thumb over Eddie’s fingers almost a caress before his grip settles. The tweezers hang over the cut and Eddie tenses, instinctively bracing for more pain.

“Careful,” he warns, and Buck glances up at him, eyebrows raised.

“Would you rather do this yourself?”

There’s no judgement in his voice. Well, not real judgement. It’s all teasing fondness, the same kind of tone he uses when he gives Chimney shit about his extravagant coffee orders, or gives Eddie shit about his cooking, still, even though he knows his way around the kitchen at least half as well as Bobby by now.

Eddie rolls his eyes.

“I trust you,” he says, just the right amount of serious for the years of history between them. “Go on, do your worst.”

Buck’s hand is steady around the tweezers. The shard comes out easily and he drops it in the sink. He rinses away the freshly welling blood under the tap, then tilts Eddie’s hand under the light to check for the glint of any smaller pieces of glass hiding in the cut. The look of concentration on his face makes Eddie think of burning buildings and tricky extractions from bad accidents. It’s a little overwhelming, having all that Firefighter Buckley energy directed at a comparatively measly cut.

It’s not that he isn’t used to it by now: Buck taking care of him. It might actually be that he’s too used to it. At some point, it stopped being something that surprised him and became something he’s comfortable with, something he expects, something he can ask for, and… It’s dangerous, the way Buck makes him feel safe and comfortable and cared for, because Eddie’s traitorous heart wants to hold onto that feeling forever.

“Looks like that was all the glass,” Buck says. “Can you wash the cut? I’ll grab the gauze to wrap it.”

“Yeah,” Eddie agrees, relieved to have some control handed back to him.

The antibacterial soap at the sink is gentle enough, so he presses down the pump and braces himself against the sting as it hits the cut. Reflexive tears spring to his eyes and he blinks them back as he cleans his hand thoroughly. He tears a piece of paper towel off the roll one-handed and pats the area dry, then lets Buck take his hand again to press a piece of gauze over the cut and carefully wind a bandage around on top. That familiar furrow of concentration stays between his brows until he tapes the bandage in place and steps back.

“Thanks,” Eddie says quietly.

Buck shrugs, like it’s not a big deal. Maybe it shouldn’t be.

“Do you want me to…?” he gestures towards the counter, the broken pieces of glass still lying there.

Eddie shakes his head. “I’ve got it.”

He half expects Buck to push, but he just nods and turns away to pack up the first aid kit instead. He starts organising it without Eddie saying anything and Eddie’s heart throbs, hit with a wave of love so strong it almost takes his legs out from under him. He forces his attention back to the broken glass before he can let that love carry him to his knees and beg Buck to stay forever. He’s pretty sure that would only make Buck worried. He’s also pretty sure it would be nice, letting go and drowning himself in all the gentle care that would come with that worry.

Eddie turns away from temptation instead. He sweeps up the pieces of glass carefully with the dustpan, then folds a catalogue from yesterday’s junk mail around them before dropping it all in the bin. The first aid kit closes with a snap and Buck squeezes past him to carry it out of the kitchen, his body heat there and gone before Eddie can let his heart take control again and lean into it.

There are a hundred reasons he can’t have Buck any more than he already does.

There are a hundred more for why he wants him, why it makes perfect sense. If Eddie was a little less damaged, he might have realised that early enough to do something about it.

Or maybe he would have just fucked it all up; he seems to be good at that.

Eddie flexes his hand, feeling the cut pull under the bandage. He closes his eyes for one second, two, and his hand is hanging back by his side by the time Buck comes back, yawning, and beelines for the coffee machine. He grabs out two mugs, holding one up in offering, and Eddie nods, feeling guilty all over again about waking Buck up.

“Thanks,” he says again. “Sorry I woke you up.”

He’s not even sure why Buck followed him home after shift, only that he did, and it made sense at the time—still makes sense, which doesn’t really make sense at all—and even though Eddie probably should have suggested he go home and nap before whatever date he has planned with Tommy, he just pulled out a spare pillow and blanket and nudged him towards the couch.

“It’s okay,” Buck says easily. “I’m glad I woke up.”

He smiles, gentle and a little lopsided, and it’s the kind of smile that makes Eddie wonder whether Buck has always smiled at him like that. He wonders if it means anything, or if he just wants it to.

It’s dangerous: wanting.

He steps back, reaching for the bloody tea towel, careful not to use his injured hand. “I’m going to—” He gestures vaguely towards the laundry. “Before it stains.”

“Oh,” Buck says. “Yeah. I can—”

Eddie shakes his head. “I’ve got it.”

It’s not running from a situation if the situation is entirely inside your own head, he tells himself. It’s just… doing laundry.

And it doesn’t mean anything when Buck’s hand lingers as he passes over a mug of coffee after Eddie drags his feet back to the kitchen. It never means anything, because if it does—

Well.

“Hey,” Buck says, leaning in close before Eddie can pull away again, his arm warm through the fabric of Eddie’s shirt. “We didn’t really get to have breakfast earlier, so I thought we could go out for pancakes? I saw a new place on Instagram that has, like, twenty different flavours.”

Eddie loves him. He shouldn’t, he can’t, but god, he loves his best friend so much it hurts. Why the hell has his heart been hiding that from him for years? He takes a quick sip of coffee and tries to swallow the lump in his throat back down with it.

“Yeah,” he says when he can trust himself to speak. “Sure, pancakes sound good.”

Buck knocks their shoulders gently together, but instead of pulling back he just—stays. He always stays. Eddie closes his eyes, inhaling the steam from his coffee, and carefully, deliberately, he does not think about anything except the bittersweet taste of coffee and creamer on his tongue, and the stinging heat of the mug against his hands.

[worriedvision]

Here is Part 2 of this Dan Heng fic I did where he was in a private relationship with the reader. Now I was gonna do a happy part 2... but it’s gonna be as far away from that as possible. Angsty, arguably more so than part 1 lol. Gender neutral reader. I know I said I’d do a happy ending but the angst in me shone through oops

--

When the strange person first made an appearance on the ship, you didn’t think too much of it. Thanks to your hiding skills, and your blind trust in the machinery you were in between, you managed to hide from the chaos that came from the enemies. You emerged after most of the evacuees came back to their usual spots, you getting back to work on the tricky piece of machinery that didn’t seem to be acting normally when a your phone pings. Upon seeing the request to report to base, you thought it would be a light scolding for being so risky with your movements. 

Nope, it was the opposite surprisingly.

Your location had been noted by Asta through the whole invasion, and she had been worried you were dead as you weren’t moving from a spot. She let this slip with Himeko, who knew about your relationship with Dan through a secret rumour ring. When she found out you turned out to be an expert hider through this incident, she decided to request you join the trailblazers. 

“But my area of expertise is on the spaceships mechanics, I’m not a good fighter!” You protest. “Plus, I’m certain several of my colleagues would be more than happy to take my place on the ship regardless.”

“But they don’t have your knowledge on the more dangerous areas of the ship. Your colleagues, for the most part, evacuated.” Himeko responds, Asta nodding. “As well as this, you’ve also demonstrated repeatedly your ability to work by your self.”

“Ooh, is this an opportunity?” One of your acquaintances gasps, running over. Immediately you knew she was hoping to get closer to Dan Heng, and you nod before opening your mouth to say she could go instead.

“Yes...However the opportunity is only open to _.” Himeko explains.

“Oh... Well, put a good word in for me.” Your friend asks, you nodding before she walks away.

“I can’t convince you otherwise, can I?” You ask, Himeko giggling before you respond. “I suppose I should take you up on your offer then.” 

Knowing Dan Heng, you knew he would mostly stay in his room if he wasn’t out on an expedition.

--

Thankfully, you managed to get on after Dan Heng. He seemed to be in his room for takeoff, to which you fail to let out a sigh of relief before sitting with Himeko as you braced yourself. 

When you got to the first location, Himeko insisted on you going with Dan Heng, March and the newcomer. March agrees, saying it would be your first trip and you’d have fun before Dan Heng shook his head at March’s words. 

The entire expedition was rather uncomfortable, if you say so yourself. You had opted to be the evidence gatherer in the areas where you could hide, and Dan Heng didn’t seem too happy about this. 

“If you get cornered, none of us will be able to help you.” The trailblazer explains, Dan Heng crossing his arms.

“Have some faith in them guys!” March cheers, turning to you with a beaming smile. “Make sure you’re safe, okay?” 

Dan Heng didn’t actually speak to you at all through the whole thing. The times you saw him, you saw how he and March were acting like an old couple. You were very jealous, but you hide it well enough to get back on the ship where you could go back to distancing yourself from him again. The times your group had to run, you noted how often he instinctively grasped March by the hand as they ran, you having to improvise or get saved by the trailblazer.

By the time you were back on the ship, Himeko had asked you a lot about your trip. A lot more than how much she asked anyone else, and judging by the way she was looking at you, you must have made it clear you still liked Dan Heng. 

“So, do you have an eye on anyone you like?” Himeko teases, taking a sip of her coffee. 

“March 7th is a good friend, and the trailblazer saved me when I slipped up a few times.” You bashfully admit.

“And Dan Heng?” Himeko asks, spotting the way you look away. “I can tell you like him in a deeper way. Please, indulge me.”

“That’s enough, Himeko.” Welt tuts, shaking his head before getting back to working on his tablet.

“It’s fine, really. I guess there’s no point in hiding it now...” You trail off, Welt looking up to listen to you properly. “Back at the Herta Space Station, I had a private romantic relationship with him.” You admit, sighing out before continuing. “I realised I felt very jealous of the people who approached him publicly, and he told me he didn’t want to go public with the relationship.”

“...Sorry, I think I overshared there, didn’t I?” You look up, seeing Welt looking blankly at you. “I think I’ll get over it with time, but I still feel jealous. March is a really good match for him, I can see why he isn’t ashamed of her.”

“Oh don’t be silly.” Himeko shakes her head, holding your hand. “You have your own skills. I brought you here for more than one reason.”

“Could you both promise me you won’t tell any of the others about this?” You request, both Welt and Himeko agreeing before you go silent once again. 

[rhonuscorner]

Oops I was holding my stylus and my hand slipped.

Very extremely self-indulgent doodle, I'm not quite sure where it came from, it started as an excuse to draw robo hands. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ I don't necessarily mean this to be sexual in any way - though if you want to interpret it that way feel free 😂 I'm not judging, it's still suggestive - but I figure that Sun doesn't get to interact with adults much (and Moon even less so) aside from parents coming to pick up/drop off their kids, and FazCo staff. And y'know, I see them as curious attention starved animatronics. Why not let them explore a little in a safe manner with someone they trust right?

That's my excuse. I regret nothing.

ANYWAY. I worked on this while brainstorming for a Sun/Moon/Reader story because everyone is doing it and I gots an idea! A very angsty one and I happen to really love writing that sort of thing, and I get to do proper illustrations and concept art!! Already got the first three chapters drafted and it'll give me an excuse to design a proper y/n. The one up there getting happily fondled is super random.

So yes! Lots of stuff in the works, I'm excited! \o/ Hope ya'll like angst lol.

[dearjjunie]

always (kang taehyun x gn!reader)

wc: 901

genre: angst, fluff, right person wrong time au

warnings: hint towards sex in the beginning (literally the tiniest hint), a lot of late night/early morning emotions put into this :,)

a/n: this is my first time in years writing a fic so i apologize in advance ! but i will be working hard to improve my writing in hopes to make you guys happy ! (even tho this may be angsty oops.) pls remember to like and reblog if you enjoy <3 mwah

he looks down at you laying against his chest, you look so peaceful he couldn’t even think about waking you up right now. moving your hair from covering your face as he kisses the top of your head “you deserve more than this” he whispers softly into the night as you shuffle and pull him closer, if he had it his way he would stay in this place forever. holding you close, saying sweet nothings knowing you won’t hear him or remember, but keeping hope that maybe his words will become a part of your dreams, that maybe it’ll be different next time. slipping away as quietly as he can to make sure you’re asleep, looking back one last time before he closes the door.

it always ended like this, with you waking up alone in a bed with memories of him still there. the slight dip and creases in the sheets that he left behind, the faint smell of his cologne still in the air, the tooth brush he left behind knowing that even after the cycle of push and pull continues, he’ll always be back.

it would start with a text, claiming it would be different, he changed, telling you he wanted you truly and only you. only to be left with nothing but the remains of his presence that he left behind, no matter how hard you try to stay away you come running back just as fast as he does. but you weren’t innocent at all, it was equal fault if not the universe itself for making soulmates meet at the wrong time.

maybe one day you can both get it right.

that’s the day you decided to make it work.

a few months later you’re laying in bed with your mind racing, endless thoughts of him, your future, anything and everything going around your head, things have been so good, the only thing you need is him. you groan as you fail to doze off again, not finding a comfortable sleeping position anywhere. ‘fuck it’ you say as you reach for your phone on the bedside table, praying to the universe this time will be different.

yn

why is sleep so uncomfortable

delivered 4:38 am

taehyun

why are u awake . it’s 4 am

delivered 4:40 am

yn

i could ask u the same lmao

delivered 4:41 am

taehyun?

delivered 4:42 am

do you wanna meet at our spot?

delivered 4:44 am

i cant stop thinking about you

delivered 4:44 am

taehyun

i’ll be there in a bit just wait for me at the tree

delivered 4:53 am

slipping on some comfy warm clothes and shoes, you start your way towards the tree that has become your designated meeting spot to get away from the world.

after a short walk you arrive, sitting on the ground with your back against the tree and pulling your knees closer to your body, you sigh and take in the view around you, checking your phone for the time that stares back at you. 5:12. less than half an hour before blue hour, the magical hour as everyone calls it. you wish with everything in you that was true, you needed something to work out right.

hearing footsteps and raising your head up, noticing the blue-haired male also in comfy clothes standing a few feet away from you, he walks over and grabs your hand to pull you up, with no words spoken you both start walking up the hill to your spot.

once you got to the top you sit on the hill with him following your actions, your eyes gazing over the city below. all those people with such different lives, everyone being different but always the same.

you feel his eyes on you, looking towards him as you tear up “i’m tired of this game, i want you. only you.” looking into those brown eyes full of stars as you admit what you’ve been holding in for so long.

he turns his body towards you and motions you to do the same, grabbing your face with both hands as he wipes your tears with his thumb. “it’s always been you, only you.” you let out a sob as you cling onto him, wondering how things got so complicated so quick, why it took so long for the emotions overwhelming you to break free.

he pets your hair as you pull away, looking deep into his eyes for any signs of hesitation, any sign that this was like the other times, only to find nothing but love and adoration. “i’m sorry i took so long, but i know what i want. you.” he whispers to you with sincerity.

you look over to the city again, seeing the blue hue over the scene in front of you, looking down at your phone as you get a notification, with him curiously doing the same as the time turns right in front of you. 5:53. you look back up at each other “i need us to be real this time” is all you’re able to get out before he’s softly pressing his lips against yours, this kiss is different from past ones, used to the rough lust-filled kisses. breaking away from the gentle kiss, you look into his eyes and smile for the first time that day “then let’s be real” he smiles and leans in for another kiss. today was the day you were both determined to stay.

[geddy-leesbian]

(screenshot because I accidentally hit post while trying to copy paste something and had to delete it oops)

GOD THE LEON ONE IS SO FUCKED UP CHSBSNALFLF

first off, the timeline is different than the actual game. Luis is able to get some suppressant for Leon before any shit gets burned.

Luis gets captured again, and taken to Saddler. He had injected all the suppressants he had with him just before getting carried off, so Saddler couldn't re-infect him. But it turns out that isn't even Saddler's plan.

“That Agent Kennedy is proving to be quite a thorn in my side, much like you. I need him to live long enough for him to appreciate his gift and go home to spread it to the rest of the world, but he's starting to cause too much trouble. You like him, don't you?” “This isn't about him. Say whatever you want about me, but keep his name out of your mouth.” “But you'll want to hear this. He's quite fond of you. He doesn't want to admit it, but I've been in his head. He likes it when you tease him. He trusts you. You could send him on wild goose chases over and over, and he'd keep following you until time ran out.” “No. Never.” “It doesn't have to just be wild goose chases. Doesn't he owe you a dance? If you were to tell him that he had more time than expected, that he needed a break to relax before moving on, he would listen.” “You really think that I'm that selfish? That I'm willing to trade his life for mine? That I'm willing to trade his life for a dance?”

“Do you really think that you're not? You already chose your life over his. He doesn't have any suppressant. You used all of it on yourself, just so that you couldn't be re-infected. If you were willing to die for him, that was the time. Had you left all of it behind and accepted your own fate, he would have enough time to escape with his life and mind intact.”

Then he gets handed over to Krauser, who is pissy and a lot less concerned about Leon staying alive. So he gives him an ear piece, puts a tracker on him, chains him up again somewhere and says that he can either call Leon to come rescue him and Leon won't get hurt, or Krauser will abandon Saddler's plan and use Luis as the bait in a trap for Leon. (And ofc beyond that point he says he'll kill Leon if Luis isn't cooperating with the plan, and brags about being the one who taught Leon everything to the extent that Luis is actually worried.)

Luis just plays along, thinking that he'll be able to outsmart Krauser and somehow get Leon to the machine. Then Krauser sends him some pictures: His machine completely smashed, as well as everything being set on fire. It's 100% impossible to save Leon, and he breaks down sobbing and admits everything.

Leon's already made peace with the fact that it was a matter of when, not if, he'll die on a mission, so he's pretty chill about the whole thing and just asks Luis to kill him before his infection gets too bad 🙃

-

DON'T WALK AWAY is angsty but not that fucked up. it all started one night when I was listening to one of my many Serrennedy playlists, and forgot to loop it so after the last song spotify decides to autoplay Don't Walk Away. a song that I had never had any strong feelings about. but then I realized I'm a Fool because it is so Serrennedy and I've been sleeping on it

I know just what you're doing. You don't want to put the hurt on someone. You've been trying to convince yourself you're better off if you just turn and run.

But I'm gonna hold on tight. I've got a feeling you'll only happen once to me. And no one, not even you, is ever gonna make you wrong for me.

Don't walk away! Or are you looking for a price to pay? Is that your master plan? Don't walk away! I'll do everything to make you stay. I've got to make a stand. Don't walk away! I'm not afraid. Don't walk away!

so yeah the fic is just right after RE4 when Leon and Ashley are waiting to get picked up, and Luis is trying to slip away because he thinks he's a shitty person who doesn't deserve Leon, and Leon's like fuck that you're coming with me

[cinnabun-faerie]

Urianger Proposal Headcanons

A/N: Oops, I always make his angsty. It has a happy ending at least! Sorry. I hope y'all enjoy it anyways.

This is for the Wedding Event, so if you’d like the check it out, you can find the info here ! You can find the masterlist for it here !

he was more than sure that he wanted you as his partner

you were were amazing after all

and you had helped him through so much

while it had not been love at first sight, he gradually grew feelings for you

the same was for you

and he could want nothing more

when he tries to ask you, he becomes oh so clumsy

whenever he wanted to ask you, he somehow made a fool out of himself

he may have slipped on the wet floor or had accidently sent some of your favorite flowers to Thancred's room instead of yours

"I didn't know you felt this way, Urianger."

"What?"

"These flowers."

"Those are meant for-"

"For Y/N, I know. Just go give them to her."

he would have given to you, but he may have fell and squashed them

his nerves are very much running wild as well as his mind

would you agree to marry him?

yes were already in a loving relationship with him, but would you really want to take that next step with him?

if you weren't ready, he would understand

he would wait forever and a day for you

but what if you were repulsed by the thought of being married to him and left?

or what if you said yes but got cold feet on the day or the wedding?

he shutters to think of the aftermath

he was rather unlucky he supposed-

"Urianger."

oh no, he had zoned out, leaning against the wood of the bookshelf

"Yes my dear?"

"I would love to marry you."

????

"Pardon me, but I know not of you speak of. I have not yet asked."

"So you were planning on it. Yes you have. Just now, you mumbled the question out after I asked you to reach a book for me."

well it was out, he supposed

not ideal, but you didn't refuse him

"Will you allow me to ask you again properly?"

your giggle calmed him a little and he reached out and took your hand

smiling, he brought your hands to his lips

"Marry me."

"I already gave my answer."

"I wish nothing more than to hear it from thine lips once more."

"I will marry you, Urianger."

as soon as you speak those words, Urianger leans down to kiss you

[beneathashadytree]

Hi! I hope you had a good day! All I can think about is Reiner ngl 😭. Hopefully I can request a Reiner x reader. Where Reiner begged Peick and Zeke to take you with them to Marley if shit went south (like you wrote in the Bertholdt x reader one) and the reader is prego with Reiner child. How would Reiners mom and his family react bringing her home? (I’ve been honestly thinking that his family would hate the reader because she’s a devil in there eyes especially his mom 😀.) but slowly learn to like the reader after the years being in Marley (I BEG let Bertholdt be alive in this ) And love break my heart make the hate so Angsty (Only if your comfortable !!!!!)

And keep up the amazing work!!!!!! I love them all !!!!

MIRACLE - REINER BRAUN X READER

Warnings : canon-divergent AU, Bertholdt is alive and well in this, implications of sex, teenage pregnancy, vulgar language curse words, Reiner and reader are both 17 and then 18, reader is female!

Genre : mixture of angst and fluff

Word count : 5.8K words (I got carried away again afshdkdk)

Synopsis : Reiner never thought he'd make it out alive, let alone have a blessing added into his life.

Additional notes : As you can see, I wrote so much and took a while to post this oops. It was so much fun writing this (I'm a sucker for domestic Reiner and angst; sue me), so I hope you enjoy this! I'd love to hear your feedback of course. PS: I apologize for the very bulky format, but Tumblr has a paragraph limit, so I had to lump some paragraphs together when it came to posting.

Requests : Are open! Check the rules over here.

Want to support me financially? Here’s my CashApp!

Masterlist

Pieck didn't have it in her heart to voice any complaints---not when Reiner's last ounce of strength had been used up to yell a single name, a plea in his raspy voice for his comrade to pick her up. The cart titan wanted nothing more than to selflessly help him out, but it really wasn't as easy as he'd made it out to seem, considering the fact that she'd already had to snatch both Bertholdt and Reiner himself away, after having dragged Zeke's mangled body out of Levi's shackles. Still, honoring her now-unconscious friend's request, she swiped at the girl's small body, picking her up as quickly as she could in that huge body of hers, trying her best to be gentle in the process (she often forgot her own strength in this form). It wouldn't have done if she'd accidentally hurt her; the blonde would've given her an earful, going off on a tangent about how much the girl Pieck had rescued meant to him, and how precious she was, in a way that had him wanting to treasure her.

Sure, Pieck could mildly understand the sentiments behind his request; the affectionate yet somehow sorrowful look in his eyes held a thousand stories of adoration and trials, and she could tell that this girl was someone who'd entered his world to turn it upside down. After all, she wasn't blind, and she could easily tell that he was madly in love with her just from the desperation that had bled through his shouts for her to rescue the girl the moment things went south for them in Shiganshina. But still, wasn't that a bit too extreme? At least, in her opinion, that is. Sure, she could excuse his hurry by believing that he was enamored by her, but what had him dealing with the situation as though it were a matter of life or death, when he himself was slipping away? Despite her compliance, Pieck still didn't get it; she didn't get it all, and she didn't think she really wanted to know.

***

"How are you feeling?" Reiner's voice was soft, as calm and collected as he could muster, despite the thick steam that his body emitted as it tried to heal itself, pulling himself to sit upright as he checked his girlfriend's body over a million times, "Anything hurting?" his question laced with worry, and the furrow in his eyebrows showing how concerned he was.

She gave him a weak nod, hand reaching up to rub at her temples, clearly sporting some sort of headache, "Nothing much, just a migraine," squinting at the bright sunlight, she felt around and realized she was sitting on planks of sturdy wood, "Where are we?"

A momentary feeling of shame washed over him, after having nearly failed to protect her in the mission he couldn't finish, "On the ship Zeke took to Paradis. We're going back home."

"To Marley?" she couldn't do much in protest but to frown, and Reiner was suddenly reminded of the fact that the mainland was far from home to her; in fact, she probably would've never believed it even existed months ago.

His lack of reply to her question and his faraway gaze towards Bertholdt's unconscious body to the far north of the deck counted as confirmation, and the girl sighed beside him, the sound a mix of sadness, melancholy, and helplessness. It didn't take a genius for him to understand that she'd simply given up the fight, knowing better than to argue with him about taking her back to Liberio. Even if he himself didn't know if the technicalities would all work out immediately, at the very least he knew that she'd be under his watchful eye---and she knew perfectly well (after having several arguments concerning this topic) that he had every right to be as protective as he was of her.

He had to admit, her presence in his life had been a factor he hadn't taken account of when he'd planned on retrieving the founder as had been instructed of him and his two remaining comrades. Bertholdt in particular had been especially weary of the girl's presence, his anxious nature leading him to overthink that maybe she'd caught onto their secret, and that that was the reason why she'd expressed the desire to get closer to his blonde friend. But his worry had been entirely in vain, because the truth was that she simply found Reiner so enticing in every possible way that she couldn't stay away from him. And that character he'd adopted after what happened with Marcel only drew her in further. He seemed so dependable, so wise, and so charming, in an unconventional almost-brutish way. Every thing about him, she'd said, from the way he'd laugh boisterously with Connie over dinner to the way he'd cooed as a lost kitten licked at his cheek, had dragged her into a never-ending loop of fond stares and a want to get closer to him. Reiner (having grown up so lonesome and starved of proper affection) couldn't find it in himself to push away her more-than-obvious advances, often indulging in them more than he should have (much to Annie's chagrin, as she would sit, staring at them talking quietly with something akin to disgust in her eyes, believing that he was getting far too ahead of himself).

The attraction was far from one-sided, after all, so it really was no surprise to the cadets when they saw how their strong big brother Reiner wound up dating the girl who'd weaseled her way into his heart, filling every nook and cranny with the warmth he so craved. Perhaps he was a coward who ran away from his duties and shut off his subconscious to adopt a personality he never should have tried to delude himself into thinking was real, but he was at least a young man who couldn't deny how he felt; not when his head was swimming with thoughts of her in the same way she'd confessed she couldn't get him out of her mind, even after they'd joined the scouting regiment and knew they'd be even busier than ever before.

And with the recklessness that came with youth, came bouts of times when Reiner really, really couldn't stop himself from begging to see her whenever he could find the barracks devoid of any other cadets, and with the unbridled passion they both shared as most teenagers often did, they often found themselves lost in each other's moans, bodies entwined and writhing in pleasure on the sheets, just barely making themselves look presentable before the others would come back. Their disheveled appearance wasn't turned a blind eye to, and everyone had their fair share of teasing to dish out to the flustered and yet entirely shameless couple. Bearing it with red cheeks and blinding grins that held some sort of secret, the two 17 year-olds maintained their nightly escapades, even sometimes having Eren or Ymir help them sneak out and ensuring they wouldn't get caught (not that there weren't a few close calls when Levi's sudden appearance hadn't been put into consideration and they'd been forced to hide in a nearby storage room where they still wound up muffling their sighs of pleasure on the spotless floor as they came as one).

As caught up as he was with bedding his girlfriend at every possible chance, Reiner was every bit attentive as he was all over her. He'd always kept a close eye on her, in tune with how she felt and reacted to everything, so he'd know the correct course of action to take. Hell-bent on being the perfect boyfriend as he was the perfect comrade, he'd noticed how she grew more fatigued, irritable, and even sick at times. Undoubtedly concerned for her well-being, especially after witnessing firsthand how tender---sometimes sore, even---her body had gotten over the past while whenever they'd get the chance to fall into each other's arms at night, he found her breaking down in his arms, whimpering how she'd missed her period and how absolutely terrified she'd felt. The implications of her words had sent him spiraling into shock and worry, unable to voice his thoughts of how he hadn't intended to forcibly tie her down like this, especially with his impending betrayal. Knowing that the revelation of the truth would be inevitable, Reiner had sat her down on his lap, petite hands clasped in his huge palms, offering some sort of grounding and stability as he prepared her for the huge news that he knew would either make or break them.

His whispered confession of his secret had let to a horrified gasp, with her almost scrambling to get off of him as though being within a five mile radius of his presence disgusted her. Unsurprised but still every bit as heartbroken, the blonde had left her to her devices, allowing her to process the information over days and weeks. But when his lingering glances became too much to ignore when she herself was itching to find her way back to him, she found herself gulping and reaching out for him with shaking hands, knowing that he was still every bit of the young man she'd fallen for. They were both foolish and senseless, and they found consolation in loving each other---that much she couldn't deny, no matter how many times she discovered that he was a traitor. And with a quivering voice, she'd told him of her visit to the infirmary; of her confirmed pregnancy that frightened her to no end, and of how she still wanted him to be by her side, and her by his, even should the world come crashing down on their shoulders. Back then, Reiner didn't know whether to break down in tears or hold her like he'd never let her go ever again, so he'd opted to doing a bit of both.

And right now, with the ocean breeze licking at their hair and the seagulls crying overhead, Reiner felt a sense of dread inside him, but oddly enough, he also felt he was looking forward to the upcoming period of their lives, come what may.

His girlfriend pushed herself up slowly, trudging across the deck to stand near to the metal rail, gripping it tight as she fluttered her eyes shut, inhaling sharply, "So this is what the sea is like," she mused, voice carried by the wind and reaching Reiner, his heart pounding as he saw her mingle with what she'd always been deprived of; the nature she'd never seen.

Glancing down, he lamneted the fact that his limbs hadn't all grown back, wanting nothing more than to stand up and join her. Instead, he settled for smiling at her figure as her hand subconsciously fell to her still-quite-flat belly, thinking of the future that awaited them once they'd reach the pier.

"C'mere sweetheart," he rasped out, fondness in his eyes, calloused palms waiting until she was within arm's reach to pull her down beside him, "Lay down beside me, you might get sea-sick." Settling her tiny palm against his tattered shirt, she rested her head against his broad chest, and he was sure that if she strained her ear, amdist the sounds of the waves she could hear his heart pounding in his chest as his mind wandered to what might lie ahead of them.

***

Standing in front of his house, limping a little and clasping his girlfriend's hand tight, Reiner came to the realization that he really hadn't thought this through. With a quick glance to her left arm, he realized her lack of armband said one of two things, one of which was an impossibility, the other punishable by crime---an unfavorable position eitherways, and one he knew his mother would be quick to notice. Picking up on his sudden discomfort and hesitance to knock on the door, his lover turned to frown at him, "What's wrong, Reiner?"

Shaking it off because he didn't want to concern her when she had more than enough to worry about, he shook his head, giving her a small smile and a peck on the lips to momentarily satiate her, "'s nothing. Don't sweat it."

The words directed towards himself too and not just her, he gathered all his nerves and rapped his knuckles against the wood, waiting to greet his mother with the happiest expression he could muster. The woman in front of him looked as though she'd been worn down by the years, to the extent that he almost couldn't recognize her. But they were still the same kind eyes that had tried to comfort him when he was a young child who was confused as to why he was the only one among his peers without a father, and her lavender shawl was the same tattered one he'd clutched years ago when he couldn't sleep at night.

"Reiner?" she breathed, tearing up at the sight of her son who now towered over her, "You're back?"

With a small hum, he gave her his warmest smile. As she flung her arms around his neck and pulled him down to her chest, she let loose a few sobs in his shoulder, missing the warmth of the child that had been taken from her years ago. As much as a part of him loathed her for bribing him with a dream that would never come true, Reiner couldn't help but blink his tears away. Before he could even register the hug, she'd pulled away, eyeing the girl standing awkwardly but politely behind them.

"Is that one of your warrior friends?" she enthused, tugging her inside with a curious twinkle in her glossy eyes, "Or... someone special to you?"

"Let's not rush things," he patted her back gently, a weak smile on his face as he stood between them, "But yeah, she's my girlfriend. She's not a warrior though."

With a frown, she glanced at her arm, "You should be careful. We might be in the internment zone, but the laws are strict and you still have to wear your armband at all times," her tone wasn't unkind though, and she ushered them to the living room while she began to peel some oranges for them by the sink, "You don't know where the guards are lurking." Nervously, the young couple glanced at each other, remaining silent, and as she turned to see them fidgeting like that, his mother's eyes widened while she balanced the plate of fruit between her hands, "Don't tell me... Reiner?! Have you forgotten what happened because your father was Marleyan?!"

Curling his fists against his pants, he shook his head, "No, I haven't, I---mother, that's not it, she's not from..."

Drifting off, his mother's scowl only grew, and her feet remained rooted to the spot, her grip on the plate steely, "How long have you been together?" she asked through gritted teeth.

If he could curl into a ball out of shame, he would've, but all he could do was stare at his lap, "A year. Give or take."

Crash!

"Mother!" Reiner cried out, stumbling over the carpet as he tried to hurry and clean the remains of the glass dish on the floor, but the old woman made no move, shaking out of fury and pure, unadulterated rage as she gave the girl on the couch a glare that could've shredded her to pieces.

Her silence was eery enough as it is, and the clinking as Reiner carefully picked up the largest glass pieces only made it more unnerving. No one dared breathe loudly, his girlfriend almost statuesque as she still remained silent, knowing that she'd only probably make things worse if she spoke.

"You've... you've brought a devil into my house."

Eyes softening, he dropped everything, trying to cross the damage to make his way over to the woman who'd brought him into this life, "No, she's not... listen, it's a long story---"

"Reiner!" she yelled his name, face growing red as horror struck her, "Her people are the reason why we live in fear, why your father left," gnashing her teeth, she stomped her foot down, flames flickering in the eyes he'd grown up beside, "She's the spawn of Satan himself, the reason why humans were at risk of extinction, and she's filthied our house with her bloody hands!"

"Mother, she's never hurt anyone," he tried to reach out for her, only to have her jerk away from him, a pang resonating in his heart, "Please, I know it's difficult to believe, but I love her, and she loves me."

Snarling at him, she touched her chest, "What would you know about love, Reiner? When was the last time you've witnessed that emotion, when all you've ever had was me?"

"I know enough, I'm not a child anymore," he began to raise his voice, though it didn't seem like he noticed it, "You don't get a choice eitherways, she's here to stay with me."

"What good could ever come from someone like... like that?" she groaned, disgust lacing her voice, "It's like you're trying to ruin what you've built by associating yourself with that wretched devil."

"She's carrying my child."

The middle-aged woman froze in place, unblinking at his deadpan expression. It didn't seem like she fully processed his words, and it took her a couple of seconds to speak, "Pardon?"

Locking his jaw, Reiner backpedalled to rest a firm hand against his girlfriend's shoulder, partially to affirm his statement, partially to steady her shivering form, and partially to ground his own self, "She's pregnant now."

When his mother spoke again, the bitterness wasn't held back from her words, "So you've knocked up a whore."

"Excuse me?" in an offended tone, the girl finally spoke up, a scowl set deeply on her face, "I'm not some common hussy you speak of like that."

"I'll call you whatever I want, scum," his mother spat out, looking down on her as she sneered, "Spreading your legs for any man that comes near you, I bet that's what lowlifes like you do."

Livid, she tried her best to maintain her voice leveled, "Ma'am, I've never even been near another man aside from your son---"

"And that was enough for you to get pregnant with that demon child as soon as you saw him, like the animal you are," Karina scoffed, venom in her eyes as she slammed her hand down the small table to her left, "Terminate it."

"What?" the girl hissed, eyes narrowed, about to get up, had Reiner's grip on her shoulder not tightened to get her to remain seated, "You don't get a say in that---"

"That's my child, mother," Reiner's voice was colder than she'd ever heard, and it was honestly rather surprising to both parties that they shut up for a moment, "Are you aware of what you're saying?"

"See some sense, child, she's just using you as a ticket to leave the island," she sounded exasperated as she pointed at the girl protectively touching her belly, "That wretched slut only ever wanted to be tied down to you."

"I'm the one who dragged her into this, and frankly, while I don't want to discuss my intimate matters with you, trust me, she's far from being the one who was the reason behind the pregnancy," crossing his arms, Reiner gave her a challenging glare that he never dreamt he'd give his mother.

As she gaped at him, she tried to reason, "That's my grandchild, who'll carry the family name! If their mother is that bitch, then I don't want them."

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Reiner grumbled, "When are you going to realize that you can't live your life through me? I'm capable of making my own goddamn choices."

"She's even turning you against your own mother, you never would've cursed at me---"

"Because I was a cowardly 12 year-old when I left!" the blonde raised his voice, frustration evident in his voice as he tried his best not to go overboard and end up yelling at the woman who, at the end of the day, had raised him, "I hope you'll come to your senses someday, but until then, we're going somewhere where we could take care of our child," turning to gently pull up his girlfriend, he mumbled under his breath on their way out, completely ignoring his livid mother, "I should've known better than to come here."

Doing his best not to slam the door behind them, he let out a heavy breath of air, slumping his shoulders and instantly wrapping his arm around the girl's waist, pulling her back into his chest as he squeezed her tight. Breathing softly into her neck, she held him back just as firmly, as though leaning back on him for strength just as he stabilized himself. The comforting embrace lasted a couple of minutes, before he unwrapped his arms from around her, rubbing her stomach comfortingly.

Before they could take any steps forward, a small body plowed into Reiner's side with a yell of his name, with more force than he'd anticipated, causing him to nearly lose his footing in surprise.

"Gabi?" he grinned, picking her up, earning an excited nod and equally enthusiastic laugh, and he couldn't help but hug her close, "You've grown so much, holy crap. How old are you now?"

"Eight!" she proudly said, puffing her chest and pointing one thumb towards her self while the other arm clung to his neck, "And just so you know, it's only a matter of time before I'm the second Braun to inherit the armored titan," she sounded so smug, before turning her head and finally noticing the girl, "Hey, who's she?"

"Gabi, it's rude to point," he sighed exasperatedly, already feeling how heavy she'd grown in his arms, "Anyways, she's my girlfriend."

Hopping off, the brunette leaned in close so she could inspect the young woman, "Woah, you're beautiful! How did Reiner ever date you?"

With a laugh, she replied, "He did get quite lucky, yeah."

"You haven't seen your cousin in five years and here you are ganging up against him," he shook his head, "Where are your parents?"

Gabi waved behind them, and he turned with a look of surprise to find his uncle and his wife standing together with kind smiles. Greeting them with quick hugs that didn't express half of how he felt and how much he'd missed being home, he wondered how long it would be before his happiness would be shattered.

"Say, who's the lovely young lady beside you?" his uncle asked, "She looks rather taken by you, if I'm not mistaken."

Awkwardly laughing, Reiner rubbed the back of his neck, "Yeah, we're together."

"How long have you guys been---"

Before he could begin to anxiously sweat profusely, a hand clapped down on his shoulder, startling him and cutting the conversation off (much to his relief).

"I've been looking for you two all over," the soft voice he'd been fretting about not hearing ever again was comforting to finally hear.

"Bertholdt, you're alright," he breathed, wrapping an arm around the shoulder of his best friend, "When were you released?"

"I left the hospital this morning," he jerked his thumb in the direction outside the gates, "I got word from HQ that they want all warriors gathered at 4 PM, said it was important," he turned to the pregnant girl, lowering his voice and his eyes growing softer, "Think you can blend in?"

After a moment of thinking, she nodded, "Yeah, no big deal. I'll stay in the yard."

"Good, c'mon," with a wave towards his friend's extended family, Bertholdt practically dragged the couple away from any more prying questions.

***

The meeting had proven to be quite useful, considering that without it they wouldn't have been able to stay in Liberio. Once at HQ, the top brass had discussed their funding and salaries, granting the returned warriors the choice to receive hard cash or lodging instead. After much consideration and discussion with his beloved, it was only logical to pick a standard two-bedroom house to live in, instead of splurging on a mansion that was neither practical nor necessary---especially considering that since there were no urgent missions for the next while, he'd have no regular income of money---so that he could stash away the remaining cash portion for use in their daily lives, until they could find a better alternative. As of now, his girlfriend was heavily pregnant and found it difficult to go anywhere without waddling like a penguin. Her walk had earned them several stares as they made their way to visit his old house---or at the very least, attempt to. So far they'd tried knocking on the door once a month, and every time a venomous reply had been thrown their way after the door had been cracked open.

"Mother, how long do you intend to keep this up," Reiner sighed exasperatedly, "All we want is to talk to you."

"The baby is healthy," his lover spoke quietly as she touched her stomach, the baby kicking as though knowing they were talking about them, "In case you were wondering."

A moment of silence, before---

"To hell with it."

Another sigh of defeat, and then they were on their way back home again, bumping into Zeke who'd only just made it out of his grandparents' house.

"Difficulty getting through again?" he gave them a sympathetic smile, "C'mon, why the long faces? It's not the last chance you'll get to try and make amends."

Frustrated, the teenager ran his fingers through his hair, "Thing is, we shouldn't have been discussing things in the first place. It's my child, and I'm the one who knocked her up."

Rolling her eyes, the girl punched his arm, "You could've phrased it differently."

With a quick apology, he bent down to kiss her lips chastely, blushing at the way the wonder boy smirked at them knowingly.

"See, this is how she ended up pregnant in the first place."

"Zeke!"

As they strolled back home, Reiner found himself lost in thought, feet kicking up the gravel absent-mindedly. He must've spaced out completely, because his lover was soon nudging him.

"You okay, love?"

A little startled, his eyes went wide, before he nodded, settling into a more comfortable walking pace. They lapsed into silence for a couple of minutes as they trekked the path to their home, until he found the courage to speak up again and spill what was on his mind and had been taking up his thoughts for the past God-knows-how-long.

"Have you... thought about us taking our relationship further?" his voice was quiet when he asked the question tentatively.

Chuckling, she took his large hands in hers, "Honestly, how much further can we go when we're already having a child together that might pop out any day now?"

Cracking a smile, he patted her head, "Finally, we'll get to see them," his hand lingered on her hair, "But no, that's not I meant. I meant us, as a couple, without a third party."

"You mean... marriage?" she softly questioned, and he could only nod with burning red cheeks, "Well, I'd be lying if I said I haven't. You're too charming sometimes."

"Flatterer," he coughed, "You just want a foot massage at home."

"That too," cheerily admitting it, she gave him a breathtaking smile that instantly disarmed him and had his heart fluttering in his ribcage, "No, but seriously, I know we're young and all, but it's not like we've got the luxury of time either."

Reiner had tried multiple times to forget that he didn't have that many years ahead of him, not wanting to put them through the hurt of thinking of something tragic like that, but she handled the topic surprising well, even broaching it herself. She never failed to surprise him. She went on to say, "Being with you forever... isn't that the thing I've wanted from the start? And if I can't have forever, then all the time I can borrow works for me too," staring at the sky that held the airships she'd never seen before, she looked so peaceful; so beautiful to him, "Carrying your last name is only one final confirmation."

His voice was low and thick with emotion when he spoke again, hazel eyes a few shades darker as his gaze intensified, "Have I ever told you how absolutely head over heels I am for you?"

With a flirty wink, she grinned, "Might wanna remind me when we're inside, then, future husband."

***

"He's fussing again," she groaned, the baby swaddled in the blanket crying as he kicked about, pulling him closer to her chest in a vain attempt to pacify him with her familiar scent. Chuckling, Reiner leaned down to look at his son's red face, "What did you expect, he's only two months old and this is his first proper outing," tenderly, he stroked his tear-stained cheeks with two of his knuckles, "Mother used to tell me that I was a restless baby too."

"He's a carbon copy of you already, imagine being as annoying as you are too," she grumbled, causing him to playfully glare at her, before his son distracted him again.

"Look at him," he mused, a happy sigh escaping him without even noticing it had, brushing his little blond locks with his fingertips, "He's so small." With a snort, she playfully elbowed him, "You're the one who's too big. He's the perfect size for holding."

"Never thought we'd be parents at the age of 18, honestly," he hummed, holding his arms out as a silent invitation to pass his wriggling son to him, "But I'm glad it happened." As Reiner began to hush him and rock him gently, she looked on in awe as he began to settle down in his arms, as though his father's presence alone was enough to ease his nerves.

"I carry him for nine months, and he still ends up being a daddy's boy?" she huffed in pretend-annoyance.

With a smirk, he quipped back, "Guess he likes your husband more. Can't blame him, really, neither of you can resist me."

At the mention of it, she subconsciously touched her ring finger, "Still can't believe we're married now," she spoke, wonder in her voice, a blissful sigh escaping her, "It's so nice, though, living in our own little world."

"Wouldn't have happened without Porco, though," Reiner said, voice lowered so as not to disturb his resting baby boy, "Who knew his father was an officiator?"

"It's not just that," she shook her head as she leaned her head against Reiner's sturdy shoulder, watching the rhythmic breathing of the child in his arms, "Porco must've gone through a hell lot of crap trying to cover up the fact that I'm not from here. He must've fabricated lots documents and government papers, and that can't have had no risks."

His tone dark, Reiner added, "Especially since he isn't too fond of me, and especially since it's important to have a clean record as a warrior."

Wrapping her arm around his shoulder, she pressed a gentle kiss to his neck, and Reiner felt something stirring inside him at the sweet intimacy, "He's a good kid."

"My memories of him aren't the best, but I'm willing to look past that after the huge favor he did us," Reiner admitted, before turning his head with a hopeful look in his eyes, "So? Wanna give it a try?" Nodding, she exhaled sharply, "How many times have we gotten kicked off your mother's doorstep, now?"

"15 times, this'll be the 16th," he rolled his eyes, "How stubborn can one woman get, really." Arching her eyebrow, his wife gave him a pointed look, "The pot calling the kettle black?"

"You sure pick up idioms fast," he grumbled, looking away to knock on the door for what felt like the hundredth time since his arrival to Marley. Before she could quip back a smart reply, the door swung open, revealing his scowling mother, giving them a mild look of offense for having them step in front of her.

"What do you want?" she barked, impatient as always.

"We just thought you might want to see him," the young mother stiffly said, clearly not wanting to interact much with the woman who'd called her every insult under the sun. Skeptical, Karina eyed the child from afar, and Reiner could swear her eyes almost instantly shifted to something akin to longing. "He looks... a lot like you did back then," she croaked out, voice thick, before she blinked twice, as though trying to stop herself from drifting away from the plan she'd originally had.

Reiner had the sudden epiphany that she probably had an innate desire to see her only grandchild, but her deeply ingrained morals denied her of the pleasure. Knowing that she'd never voice her wishes out loud, he decided he'd be the one extending the olive branch---if not for his sake, then for his son's sake, so as not to deprive him of the happiness a grandparent's presence brought. "Want to hold him?" he offered, waiting for the nod that only came a minute later.

Still on the doorstep of the house he'd grown up in, he carefully began to lift his arms, cooing his name and ready to snuggle his son into the arms of the only person who'd made him feel safe and loved as a child. The baby only whimpered twice at the change of surroundings, before he surprised them all by clutching at his grandmother's shirt with his tiny fists as soon as he settled down against her chest. Breath hitching, Karina didn't move a muscle as the boy's chest rose and fell rhythmically with every rock of her arms.

She breathed his name out, and it was like a magic spell had been cast and blanketed the entryway, her eyes glimmering with what could easily be taken for tears. In that very moment, every single person in the room knew that everything had changed; that nothing would ever be the same again.

Even if it took them a million baby steps to maintain a sense of normalcy in this dysfunctional family, the new parents both knew---with absolute certainty---that they would wait however long was needed to ensure that their boy grew up, loved and beloved by every person that had a string of fate tied to his pudgy index finger---they had more than enough love to share between them, and they were sure that he'd ensnare the hearts of every person he crossed, given time. After all, he was a miracle child, born of abnormal circumstances; they'd be damned if they didn't give him the entire world and more.

Taglist: @blondeboyfriend

[elius-learns-to-write]

hi! omg i luv ur blog 💘 can i request/suggest (kinda angsty but then fluffy) where r has trouble sleeping and a lot of nightmares/anxiety & mother!nat is there to comfort her? 🥺 like the whole team is super understanding and comforting but especially nat (bc we love mom nat around here!) anyways thanks so much ily bestie!

Hey Bestie! thank you so much for being patient and for supporting my blog! I know this has been in my inbox for so long but still! here it is. Sending my love to you <3 i have just realised that there is not a lot of comfort in here oops.

warning: this does include details of death and blood so keep that in mind if you read this <3

It’s Okay

You had always gotten nervous in public spaces 

Or at night when you couldn’t sleep

Or when you didn’t know all of the details of a plan 

Or when it was 3am and you were too scared to sleep

The point is you always seemed to have 100 thoughts plaguing your mind 

“Y/n sweetie I’m gonna need you to concentrate on my voice okay?” Wanda's voice waded through the watery noise in your head. You knew she was right and that logically there was no reason to be so upset, but you just couldn’t help it. It had all started after the group had decided to not tell you about the meal they had planned at this fancy restaurant that Tony wanted to try and of course this had sent you into a spiral and you were now very very aware of every possible outcome. “Come on kid, you’re alright, breathe slowly” Tony tried, or was it Steve maybe it was Bruce. When you got like this, voices sounded the same and nothing felt real. You couldn’t breathe and that was your main worry.

The team had gotten used to it and always reassured you that it was okay 

They didn’t mind and would always be there

And no matter how much you appreciated all of the support there was 1 person the team always knew to call

Natasha

Crash, thud, bang. The noise coming from outside the room had woken you from the sleep you had allowed your brain to indulge in for once. Whenever you did this though your mind would be over run with the horrors of life and death. 

Peeling the covers off of you, you slowly crept from out of the bed. Where was the rest of the team? Had they woken up? You hadn’t heard anyone else get up but in your hazy state of mind shrugged it off as them just being deep sleepers. Something you would later regret telling yourself. 

As your hand pulled the handle of your room down to open it you heard another noise. Laughter? Hesitating you looked around in the hope of finding a clock but as your eyes frantically moved in an effort of finding one the floor seemed to start to sway beneath your feet. Soon the darkness engulfed you.

For the second time that night your body jolted forward and you gasped for air, the dryness of your mouth hitting you like a punch to the gut. When was the last time you had a drink? Where did the laughter go? Why had you passed out? So many questions and yet it felt like you were trapped in an endless game of hide and go run with a twist, you didn’t know who you were running from and how much time you had before they found you. 

Before you could even begin to think logically again the loud twang of metal hitting the ground sounded from down the hall. Slowly stepping outside the room you had woken up in which you had realised wasn’t your own, you guessed you had been in Steve’s bedroom which was odd given that he wasn’t in there. Maybe he was out helping Bucky with his nightmares? 

Bare feet slapping against the cold marble floor of the tower you tried to navigate your way through the dark to wherever the team had gone. The sounds of machines whirring stopped you, the lights must be getting turned on. Sure enough, bright white light blinded you, spreading through the faster Pietro could run. Blinking away the pain and blind spots from your eyes you were met with big red letters painted on the floor.

 ‘The crowds will come and flood your world, yet you will remain empty and incomplete’ the red bleeding off into a winding path that would probably lead to whoever had wormed their way here. Even with this in mind the words seemed to swim through your mind; you had always felt empty even when your life was full but you never told anyone but Natasha and she would never tell anyone your secrets she had promised. She wasn’t like that. Repeating that phrase like a prayer that would save you, you followed the red wet paint. 

Red can signify many things: energy, passion, lust and the one you should have paid more attention to. Danger. 

Instead of being faced with some psycho who broke in all you were greeted with was the horrifying image of your family dead on the floor. Blood trickled out of anything it could noses, ears, mouths. Eyes open with a stare of pure terror. A scream tore its way though your throat. The familiar metallic substance flooding your senses. 

Knees crashing to the ground as you sobbed and sobbed and sobbed and sobbed. Because when you have nothing, when all you have is gone, what can you do but cry yourself a river and let your soul float away on the memories of simpler times? 

You knew your knees would bruise from the mpact but you didn’t care. You didn’t deserve to go through this painlessly after what they had gone through in their last moments. 

A creak made itself heard above the sound of your cries, head slowly lifting to see what it was, damaging your throat further when you saw the lifeless bodies of the avengers sitting up and staring back at you. Salty tears streaming even quicker as you tried to scramble away. Slipping on nothing. Suddenly the lights shut off again. You didn’t move. You didn’t scream. You didn’t even breathe. 

“Wake up y/n”. What?

It had been Nat that woke you up from the nightmare

Even though the whole team had been aware of what was happening all they could do was watch in horror as your body writhed in fear

After making your way to Nat’s room where you knew you would spend the night

Unable to brave it alone

You finally found it in yourself to talk

“You were all dead” you croaked from the cocoon of blankets the redhead had wrapped you in. sitting down next to you and wrapping her arms around your body, you found yourself desperate for the comfort of her hugs. “We don’t have to talk about it right now, just know that I will never ever abandon you. How could I leave my little sunflower to fend for themselves? You give me a reason to be better and I will never leave you. Nor will anyone on this team for that matter” she spoke softly, as if cooing a terrified animal out of their hiding spot. You had and always will have a family as long as you have Natasha. She would make sure of it. And soon you drifted off into a peaceful slumber to the sound of her sweet hums. “You are my sunshine, my only sunshine, you make me happy when skies are gray, you’ll never know dear, how much I love you. So please don’t take my sunshine away”.

[evilwriter37]

(so sorry if this is a bad time but I got the idea and NEEDED to scream about it with someone) So this is kind of a sequel to my Buffalord Soldier au, but IMAGINE:

A Midnight Scrum au where, Hiccup never learns that Viggo was the one to administer the Scourge's cure to him. The Riders are too ashamed maybe, or they're just so relieved and want to put it all behind them—point is, they unanimously agree NOT to tell Hiccup that Viggo saved him for some reason. It slips out, however, when Viggo puts out that bounty (which we KNOW doesn't actually mean he wants Hiccup dead, wdym lmao), and Snotlout or Tuffnut bursts out, "ugh, can this guy make up his mind already? First he wants to save Hiccup and now he wants him dead? I mean, seriously!"

And everyone freezes.

"WHAT did you just say?"

The secret is out, and so Astrid tentatively explains things to Hiccup, and he's... Hurt. Confused. So beyond stressed.

The events of the episode follow as normal, with the added angst of Hiccup not understanding Viggo's motives, only this time, Hiccup actually reaches Viggo.

In a moment of panic, Hiccup asks Viggo why he saved him when he wanted to put out a bounty on his head anyway, and Viggo says, "I'm afraid my brother might've misinterpreted my motives. I don't want you DEAD, my dear. I told you, some things money simply cannot buy me."

"Am I supposed to understand what that means? Because I don't know if you've noticed, but I don't exactly speak PSYCHO."

Viggo proceeds to kiss him, and maybe his hands wander too far or something more happens, but the motive is this: to leave another "mark" on Hiccup's psyche. Something for Hiccup to DEFINITELY remember this time.

(and THEN the Riders save him. Maybe. :P)

Omg, I didn't realize that was you that wrote the Buffalord Soldier AU. (I didn't piece the usernames together. Oops.) Anyway, loved that story to pieces. I'm going to go bookmark it after I answer this ask, actually.

And holy shit, holy shit, holy shit, the ANGST. The BETRAYAL. The HURT. Ohhhhh, this is a great idea and I'm so glad you sent it to me! It's absolutely wonderful and so in character for Viggo. I love that line as well, about things money simply can't buy him. Because, technically in this case, money can almost buy him Hiccup, but it won't win him his true affection. Oh, this is so angsty. I love it!!!

[keepingupwithpotters]

“Don’t look at me like that.” “Like what?” “Like you still love me.”

This is slightly longer than usual and it doesn't even have a happy ending, oops? I presume you knew what you were doing when you sent me an angsty prompt ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

And a happy birthday to @mppmaraudergirl !!! Hope you'll enjoy this unrequited pining dumpster fire queen :) I only wish it was set in 6th year to complete the set 🔥🗑❤️‍🔥

The dim light from the embers was trying to illuminate the Heads’ Office as he feasted his eyes on her. He thought about rekindling the fire to see her more clearly. Would she believe him if he said he was cold in April?

Just the fact they needed more light to see —her face in his case and the parchment in front of her for Lily’s— was enough proof that they’d been here for hours now, paying the price for not doing this in the last two weeks.

He tried not to think about why they were unable to do so, the first weeks of April a black blur in his mind he’d rather not visit.

Lily’s silhouette was a good distraction from his unwanted thoughts, he turned his focus back to it. He was just about to suggest adding more logs to the fireplace, weather be damned, when he realized Lily had been talking to him for a while now.

“—tried putting her with Bones last month but he said he will land himself in the hospital wing on patrol days if we ever pair them again, so we need a new partner for her.”

“How about Selwyn?”

“No, she's a half-blood, we can’t risk it.

“Fenwick?”

Lily looked thoughtful for a moment. “Fenwick could work.”

Happy that he had thwarted the danger, he went back to his favorite pastime.

“You know, this would finish a lot faster if you were helping me instead of gawking at me from afar.”

“I’m sorry, am I disturbing you?”

“You’re disturbing my concentration, Potter. Either close your eyes or come here.”

Never one to reject an offer like this, he hurried beside her. She had another thing coming if she actually expected this to stop him from drinking her in though. He could see the shadows of her eyelashes now.

“I can help you with that performance anxiety, Evans. I heard imagining me naked should do the trick.” He swallowed the words not that you’d have any problem with it back, afraid even this was pushing the limits.

“Thank you for that mental image.”

They were still pretending nothing had happened then. Fine by him.

She did look a little flustered though, he just hoped it wasn’t in anger. He decided not to risk it anymore, taking advantage of his new proximity to the redheaded witch to follow the freckles on her cheeks. Even he couldn’t fuck this up if he never opened his mouth, could he?

Guess not.

“C’mon Potter, work with me here.”

He’d be worried if he couldn’t hear the smile in her voice. “I am. I came over here, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, to go over the patrol schedule with me,” the smile spread from her voice to her lips now, “not to continue your ogling beside my face now.”

He relented after that; still deathly afraid he could offend her unexpectedly. They went through the rest of the pairs slowly, easy laughter filling the air after a while. Lily was tapping the quill against her cheek, pondering about who to give Abbot as a partner, when he slipped up again.

It wasn’t his fault that the light hit her eyes just the right way when she was pursing her lips deep in thought. He was only human after all.

Still sprawled on her seat, it was proof of just how relaxed she was when she only laughed upon noticing, “Don’t look at me like that.”

A smart James, a James who wasn’t drunk on Lily’s laugh, would’ve never said what he said next.

“Like what?”

But he was far from that smart James now, the knowledge of what he probably looked like slipping through his foggy mind.

Her laughter hadn’t died fully yet when she said, “Like you still love me.”

Ah… Well, he brought that onto himself.

That was the hardest part about being friends with her probably. But it was okay, he had done worse things for Lily Evans than pretending he didn’t love her.

“You serenade your heart out to a girl one time…”

He didn’t bring up the other time the very same words were breathed tenderly in the dark. He wasn’t sure what was allowed yet, their newfound friendship still so fragile, so delicate.

When he realized he couldn’t have her in his life anymore unless he buried his feelings, that’s what he did, the opposite choice looking so unbearable that he hadn’t wasted a second thinking about it. So what if he sometimes felt like a tight fist was mangling his heart? He was listening to her laugh now, wasn’t he?

And he remembered what it was like, in that brief period, where he didn’t even have that in his life. Prefect meetings left abruptly, conversations ending quickly when he entered the room, gaze solely directed to people who could never appreciate them the way he would… He had been starved for her eyes, her voice, her touch. He thought he didn’t have her before, but there was never a time he didn’t have Lily Evans so completely than that damn week.

Which is why he fixed it, really, she left him no other choice. He promised her friendship, swore his feelings for her were gone, vowed to never try anything again. And as a reward, he got her back.

He kept all his promises so far, their past not-relationship (never a relationship) a taboo neither of them touched… until now. Once again Lily was steering the wheel and he was helpless but to follow her lead wherever she took him. Control had never been in his hands, and he was back to looking at her to figure out how he would be hurt next.

He wondered if this was a test when Lily looked satisfied with his answer. Was there a wrong answer to give here? Did he pass?

Lily stretched in her seat unaware of his musings, his wound still too fresh, he kept his eyes away from her this time. “I think we’re almost done here. Look it over one last time and we should be good to go.”

He took the parchment over from her distractedly, giving the schedule a lazy once-over when something caught his eye.

“You’ve put me with Remus.”

Her face stayed impassive but he could see she was fidgeting with her quill. “Uh, yes. Does that work for you?”

Suspicion arousing because of her skittish behavior, he turned his eyes to the schedule to locate her name.

There.

Lily Evans & Dirk Cresswell

“I thought you hated patrolling with Cresswell, isn’t that what you said before?”

She was unable to hide her apprehension now, her face flaming up rapidly before his eyes. “Not–not exactly.” She averted her eyes. “He asked to patrol with me at the last Slug meeting, said his current partner was causing some problems.”

He tried to relax his jaw, knowing it’d make everything worse for him if he proved her discomfort right.

“The schedule looks perfect, Evans. I think we can wrap it up for the night.”

Her relief choked up the room. “Yeah, let’s just close up the office and leave this bloody room at last.”

“Actually, you know what, why don’t you leave closing up to me?” He continued without paying attention to her halfhearted protests, “No, no, you earned it. Let me deal with the aftermath, it’s the least I can do.”

She gave him a relieved smile. “Thanks, Potter.” She was already halfway to the door when she said her goodnights.

He didn’t get up from his armchair right away, eyes stuck on the door she just left.

Pretending he didn’t love her may not be the worst thing he’d done for Lily Evans, but it was surely turning out to be the worst one for himself.

[hopes-peak-postal-company]

um hello mod hajime!! may i request a slight angsty oneshot but it ends with fluff ofc with azul and gn!s/o where they begin to avoid and ignore azul for days because they thought theyre not good enough for him but azul has had enough so he confront them about it? tysm!! ^^

I WON'T LEAVE YOU.

summary. azul wonders why you're avoiding him. worried and nervous, he asks you about it.

includes. angst / false angst. established romantic relationship. gender of s/o isn't specified. 2nd pov.

notes. hii, thanks for requesting, anon!! this was a bit difficult to write since i usually don't do angst w/ a happy ending ( i'm more used to writing full-on angst or false fluff ) but it was fun! and i definitely missed the 'slightly angsty' part, oops—

also first actual oneshot with 1k+ words :00 i pushed my luck with this one so hopefully this doesn't look like absolute trash like my other writings w/ 1k+ words.

( i also listened to a shit ton of angsty songs for this so hopefully i got the vibes right for this one :]] )

he wasn't sure. what could have he done wrong?

your touch, your warmth slipping away from his grasp. only your longing yet short gazes was he received but it doesn't give him the answers he wants and needs.

throughout his entire life, azul felt alone. tucked away in the darkest pits of his mind, where he and his emotions lie. your existence brought light and meaning to his life, your sweet voice beckoning to his wandering lost soul like a siren leading a sailor's doom.

yet your voice was nothing alike to the dangerously alluring voice of a siren. it was soft, comforting this sad, pathetic excuse of a mermaid.

you reached out to him, your arms wrapping around him as the warmth seeps into the cracks and filling him up with an emotion he couldn't explain.

for once, azul felt happy. he felt he was someone other than a sly fraud or an insecure kid.

he was happy. with his body, with his business, with his self and especially with you.

and yet you were drifting away like the ice drifting around the coral sea, you were far and your sweet voice turned faint and slowly, it was gone.

he reaches out to you, trying to grasp on whatever he could to get your attention yet you always directed to someone or something else.

he watches you from afar, laughing along with your friends. a joyous expression crested on your face yet there was a familiar emotion lingering in your eyes and laugh.

sadness.

that's why he wonders what could've done to push you away like this, what could he do to fix his sinking relationship with you.

his fingers clammered together, sweat glistening on his pale skin. the familiar rush of anxiety flowing in his veins, the need to have you by his side and to hear your encouraging words, thoughts running through his head like a hamster stuck on a wheel.

azul stood before the ramshackle dorm's doorstep, his knuckles were so close to knocking against the wooden door yet he couldn't bring himself up to it.

like a string or two holding his limbs in place, a tiny voice screaming at him to just go home and talk about it tomorrow.

azul knows better than to procastinate, and with something as important as your relationship isn't going to make things better.

he knocked once.

twice.

the doors swung open, a gruff groan and a reached azul's ears. "ace, stop pulling me in your bullshit by using my dorm as a hide—"

as yours met with a pair of sky blue eyes, mixed feelings of dread and confusion struck you.

your lover stood before you, his lips pushed onto a relaxed line yet his brows were arched upwards and a sense of worry shone in his eyes, glancing around the surroundings occasionally as his fingers were picking on his left hand's glove.

"hello, erm, (name)." azul's voice reached your ears, snapping you out of your frozen stand.

you let go of your grip on the door ( you didn't even know you were holding onto it like it's lifeline. ) and offered azul a slightly forced but kind smile. "out ... uh— what are you doing here, azul? do you need anything?"

"i actually do need something." azul cleared his throat, his knuckles pressing against his lips for a second before his arms found themselves hanging on his side. "do you mind if i come in?"

you shook your head, "no! not .. not at all!" you replied, sucking air through your teeth as those words leave your lips. moving out of the doorway, you smiled. "come in."

as he stepped into the dorm, a familiar feeling wash over his jumpy figure. the cool and frigid air tickling his skin, the scent of freshly baked goods beckoning from the dorm's kitchen.

"you baked cookies?" azul asked, glancing towards you.

"yeah, i was bored and fortunately had some money to bake some." you answered, shrugging your shoulders.

the walk towards the kitchen was dolefully painful; a bitter taste staining both of your tongues and through the uncomfortable silence, it was clear what was in your and his mind.

the homey and tender feeling of the kitchen felt uneasy, contrasting against the suffocating tension. azul settled himself down on a stool, his eyes carefully watching you head towards the counter and serve a plate of chocolate chip cookies.

"so ... azul." your voice ringing through the air, breaking the silence like a rough knife. "what is it you need? since you came all the way here."

despite having no vemon tainting your tone, your words felt like a million thorns pricking his heart, unlike the times you spoke out his name like a heavenly hymn.

( your eyes didn't even reached his. and when it did, it felt distant. )

"i, well—" azul coughed, eyes staring down at the cookies before him. nausea stirring in his stomach at the sweet scent and sight of it.

"it's just .." he paused, words left to wait as his mind screamed at him, his nerves shaky and almost ready to explode on the spot.

"why are you avoiding me?"

dread.

dread crawled down your back from the saw him, and guilt punching your gut as soon as the question leaves his mouth. ( and his desperate tone only made these emotions worse. )

your back was faced to him, hands buried deep in sink filled with bubbles as the fork twirling around your gloved fingers fell and crashed onto the edge of the sink.

the sound of running water filled the air, sunlight passing through the cadet blue curtains.

"azul, what makes you think of that—?"

"(name)!" his hands slamming on the table, causing you to flinch at the sound, along his voice yelling out your name that followed after. "(name), i ... just tell me why."

his eyes bore into your back, and even with it turned, you can feel the desperation— the worry seeping out of his voice and action.

"i'm sorry about that— but, why are you ignoring me? is it something i did? did i do anything to make you upset?" azul asked, his lips quivering as tears slowly creep up from his eyes, the stinging pain causing a slight voice crack at the end.

"azul, it's not that—"

"then, please tell me why you are avoiding me." he pleaded, his gaze meeting yours as you turned around to face him.

your breath hitched. both of your breaths hitched at the sight of your faces; eyes glistening with incoming tears and bittersweet frowns.

"i ... it's stupid— i just let my intrusive thoughts get to me, i'm sorry." you turned your head away, forcing yourself to tear away from his gaze and stare down at the tilted floors. ( you can see your face faintly reflecting on the tiles, making you realise how pitiful you are. )

"that can't be it. (name), whatever you're feeling, please tell me." azul begged, "you can't leave me in the dark about your feelings! isn't that what you told me once? to not bottle up my emotions?"

"i know that! it's just—"

"you're contradicting yourself. your feelings are as important as mine, you don't have to hide whatever you're feeling to me!" he cutted you off before you can even explain yourself, his footsteps coming close as his shadow grew larger with each step he takes.

"azul—"

"do you not trust me, (name)?"

the desperate question rang in your head, alike to the bullet being shot through your thick skull. the tears building up in your eyes dripped down to the floors, rolling down your cheeks as you lift your head up to glance at him.

through the blurry vision— you saw his eyes, you saw the tears threatening to roll down from the corners of his eye. you heard his voice cracking with each word he spoke out, you heard the shouts you chose to ignore due to your insecure thoughts.

"i ... of course, i trust you! it's just felt i wasn't good enough, i just felt i wasn't doing anything like a good lover would do!" you cried as your shaky hands bundle up into a fist. "i was worried about what i'm supposed to do, i was worried i might be the best for you."

azul stared, his teary face turned into an expression of shock. "angelfish—"

"i'm so sorry, azul! i ... i was so selfish that i didn't realise you were hurting!" your sobs echoed through the room, tears sliding down your wrists. ( and probably some snot dripping down your nose— ) "i didn't mean to, i didn't know! god, why am i so—?!"

warmth.

your cries were muffled, your face planted on his chest. tears ( and maybe snot ) wetting his vest yet azul couldn't care less about it, the only thing he's focused on is returning the comfort you gave him.

"i love you, dear. i love you so much, (name)." azul whispered, his warm breath tingling your ears. ( he smelt like peppermint and sweet cologne, how charming. )

his arms firmly wrapped around your figure as his touch was gentle and tender; and it only invoked more tears to pool in your eyes.

"i swear, i won't leave you."

[atsukashii]

Hi! I love your writing so very much 🥰

For the event, could I possibly get: Tirza x Midoriya + she/her pronouns + ☀️ + green

Thank you thank you 🥺💕☺️

how long do I have to wait how many nights do I have to pass

✘ he was the one who got away, but now the number one pro hero has returned to japan, and come home to you

✘ GENRE: fluff

✘ WARNINGS: none

✘ WORD COUNT: 1.4k

To the world the name Izuku Midoriya was synonymous with the pro hero Deku. But to you, Izuku Midoriya is synonymous with sorrow, desperation and hurt. To you, Izuku Midoriya is the one who got away.

You’d been by his side since elementary school, where Katsuki Bakugou had coined the name Deku, which caught on in the opposite way than what he had initially intended it to be interpreted. You had been friends with the shy, hero crazed boy who had helped you draw your hero costume and equipment when you had decided you both were going to be pro heroes. You had been by his side as this quirk he was supposedly ‘born-with’ had manifested. And you knew, from the moment you saw All Might talking to him, just who’s quirk he had inherited.

You had been by Izuku’s side from your earliest memories, and you had loved him for as long as you could remember. You’d loved him for so long, and you were planning on telling him the moment you had finished your studies but never got the chance, because he’d left for the U.S a day later, working at an agency courtesy of Professor David Shield. And you had let him go, and took your heart with him.

Those six months had turned into three years, and now he was back.

“Can you please at least say hello to him? That’s all I'm asking here,” Your friend Ochako pleads from next to you, and you finally turn away from the bar to face her. You had been dragged out to a bar by your friend, only to discover the whole thing was an official ‘welcome home’ party for your first love that you hadn’t seen in years. So you’d reacted like any mature person, and hidden amongst all the bodies at the bar, cradling the same glass of water because you had work tomorrow and couldn’t afford to turn up hungover.

“I will,” you reply, looking over across the room at the green haired man laughing along with a bunch of your old high school friends. You give Ochako a pointed look as you swirl back around on your stool. “Later.”

“For fucks sake, even Bakugou is over there. Ba-ku-gou!” She combats, waving her hands to emphasise her point.

“Good for him.” She huffs out a breath of frustration at your antics but really, you don’t want an audience when you first talk to him, because you don’t know what is going to come out of your mouth. Will it be what your heart wants to say, that you missed him every single minute he was gone, or your head, where you’ll just simply say welcome back and move on with your life. You weren’t willing to take that gamble in front of your closest friends.

“Go have fun, I’ll talk to him later, I promise.” You swear, and even hold out your pinky which makes your friend let out a shocked laugh.

“Why don’t I believe you?” she asks, and you simply shrug, watching as she shifts through the crowd towards the table and the star of honour. The minute you know you’re out of eyesight and earshot, you leave your glass on the table, grab your jacket and sneak out the side door of the complex. Inhaling the chilled night air, you hesitate in the alleyway of the bar, letting yourself revel in the silence of the outside world. Getting used to having Izuku was going to take a while, especially considering he would no doubt be visiting his mother, who still lives next door to your own. You could never escape him, and why should that change even if you want it to? You only take a step further into the alleyway before the door bangs open behind you.

“Y/n?” His voice is deeper than you remembered it, but then again, he had been only a high school graduate when you’d spoken to him last. Slowly you turn around to face him, taking in Izuku’s face one inch at a time. Freckles still dusted his nose and cheekbones, and those deep emerald green eyes still glowed like sea glass - stop, you mentally plead. Don’t go down this road.

“I thought it was you. I saw Uraraka talking to you at the bar, and I wanted to see you before you left.” He’s taller too. You’d been the same height through most of your schooling, but now he towered over you by at least a foot. As Izuku stops under the dim light on the wall, you notice the undercut he now has and hate how it makes goosebumps break out on your skin.

“How have you been?” He asks, one of his hands clutching his other wrist in a nervous tick that holds your attention. How have you been? How have you been… miserable, lonely, lovesick, missing you… but you can’t say that. So instead you muster all the confidence in you to tell him the opposite, that you’ve been fine.

“I-” Your voice breaks on the word and you feel the world around you freeze. Your heartbeat echoes through your head and the happiness on Izuku’s face shatters and pain flickers to life in his eyes as he looks at you. A scarred hand reaches up and gently caresses your cheek and only then do you notice that you’re crying.

And the moment you recognise their existence, your chest heaves and you burst at the seems. The gruttal sob that leaves your lips has Izuku lunging forward and bringing you into his arms. Burying your face into his chest, you don’t try to stop what you’re feeling, and just let it run its course as you listen to him talk.

“I’m so sorry Tirza.” He repeats over and over like a mantra, softly running his hand over your hair whilst holding you close to his chest. Once your sobs cease and your tears slow do you finally trust yourself to talk.

“I missed you,” you get out, stepping out of embrace so that you can look at him properly, and gage his every reaction. If you’re going to get your heart ripped out, you’d at least like to try and see it coming.

“I missed you so much, but I couldn’t tell you. I missed you, but I was so proud and happy for you, because you were doing what you loved and even though I loved you, I didn't want to try and take you away from what you were born to do.” You try to explain, knowing you're making a mess of it all, but still trying to get it all off your chest. Izuku’s green eyes blink at you owlishly for a second, and fear enters your body for a second. But only for a second.

Because in the next, Izuku has your hand in one of his, and his lips on your own. Your eyes widen in surprise at the sudden affection, and you carefully place your hands on his shirt to push him away? To pull him closer? You’re unsure, but when he finally pulls back and looks down at you with so much adoration, your heart almost stops in your chest.

“I’m so sorry I left. I wanted to tell you how I felt back in highschool, but then I got offered a placement in the U.S. I almost didn’t take it too, but then I knew you would kick my ass if I didn’t,” Izuku rambles and you nod, knowing fully well that you would have. “And then I was going to come back after six months but they asked me to stay longer, and then I came to visit, but your mother said you hadn’t been back home since you graduated.” You cringe at the memory, knowing you hadn’t gone back because you didn’t want to be asked about him.

“But I get it.” Izuku finishes, pushing your stray hair back from your face. “It’s the same reason I went and sat on the beach when I missed home.” Because across it was you. “I’ve loved you since I was in middle school, and I’m sorry it took me so long to say it.” You let out a shocked laugh at his words, which turns into a soppy one as you grin at the man in front of you. He was home, that’s all you’d wanted, and now it was staring you in the face. Him. It had always been him.

“I love you Izuku. So so much.” You say, crying into your laughter as he joins you.

“We’re idiots for waiting this long,” He groans, leaning his head on your shoulder, and another laugh slips from your mouth, but one that actually has you smiling.

“The biggest idiots to ever live.”

a/n: Thank you for your kind words anon, you get a big MWUAH from me :)  i didn't mean for this to have an angsty start, but oops... also i think these are getting longer and longer. Note to self, you can't write short drabbles for shit. Looks like its full length fics for me

✘ EVENT STATUS : OPEN  ✘