#you have nothing to be afraid of except for what you bring to the table

[heraldofcrow]

Ok, I’m just gonna say some things real quick.

Finding out that it truly was one anon harassing my friend Fantomette for literal weeks (and me, though you’d never know because I don’t acknowledge it, nor give a damn), AND finding some pretty solid evidence about who this person really is…

Just…my God.

It was obvious enough already, I guess, but now we essentially “confirmed” it, and I find it really draining to know this person just sits comfortably in the tumblr Bloodborne fandom and is really this callous and manipulative. We are dealing with the Logarius of this fandom, haha.

I’m genuinely angry, and that’s rare. I don’t care about petty dramas and squabbles in fandom. I don’t get involved. I really don’t care. That’s why I don’t respond to harassment. I moved passed my “internet drama addict” phase a long time ago. It’s just easier to breathe when you don’t bother with things you have no real control over. You deal with enough online bullies and go through enough abusive “cyber” relationships, and it eventually wakes you up to see the obvious. It’s just an endless cycle of immature behavior.

But just this once, and mainly because I feel the need to clear it up, I will explain something.

I am aware that there has been drama in this side of the Bloodborne fandom. I wasn’t there when it happened, but I caught up on it and observed. I know who was involved, and I know who basically “won” the favor of the broader public—if you can even call this diminished fandom that.

Here are my simple thoughts on it all.

I don’t consider it my problem or business. I don’t care.

To initially avoid conflict, I have reached out to people and had private conversations that some harassing anon would never know about. I have clarified and worked out some of the really important issues that people are concerned with. There are details and elements of this story that no one even knows except me, and you wouldn’t because even some of the people that were involved are no longer around.

From this gathering of insight, I have chosen who I trust and who I believe. I listened to both sides of the story. That was all I ever needed to do, and really all anyone would ever need to do in a situation like this.

Direct communication is so important. You never get anywhere complaining about someone to yourself or your friends. It takes some minerals, but going straight to a person and confronting them is actually the most powerful and effective thing you could do. God forbid you even sort out the problem without getting others involved.

For me, I did what I felt I needed to do and was able to feel confident in my choices about to approach a conflict-torn fan group.

And guess what? It doesn’t matter. It shouldn’t matter to anyone. Why? Because aside from this post, you will never see me address or engage in this debacle. My blog is a safe space for everyone, and I mean everyone. No matter your identity or your PROBLEMS. You can have serious issues and talk to me and be my friend. I don’t mind at all. You can also feel safe to be my friend if you have a specific background or identify a certain way. I will show only love and support. I don’t hold judgements against people in general. It isn’t my nature.

If you are a bully? Manipulative? Cruel? If you repeatedly promote something violent or extremely harmful on your blog? I may withdraw in quietude and not associate so much, but that’s for MY mental health. It’s also to protect the mental health of my friends. I won’t spread that type of rhetoric or hate. I won’t even speak about it.

I am a journalist. I deal with controversy and human depravity on a regular basis. It’s my bloody day job. It weighs me down. I get easily depressed by it. That’s personal.

That won’t effect you or anyone else on my blog, because I use this blog to engage strictly in fandom. You won’t see me post about anything else related to life beyond the realm of casual entertainment. No intercultural crises, no politics, no social commentary, no current events. This blog simply isn’t for that. It’s my break *from* those exact issues.

I need this, and I won’t have it ruined. Fandom drama be damned.

I don’t care even if I make some theory post and get condescending vague-posts clearly in response to it literally a day later. Go for it, kids! I’m gonna keep sharing my ideas, and I will not start debates over it. I’m too tired for that.

This is my nest, and it’s where I’m going to hang out. If who I choose to befriend and speak to upsets you, even if you don’t have the full story or you are judging my entire character/belief system based on that interaction, that’s fine. Block my blog. Forget about me. If it makes you feel safer, then do it.

I’m going to live my own life, and that does not include catering to the particular needs of strangers in online fandoms. Harsh maybe, but I’m sure you can handle that.

My mutuals and friends deserve this same level of freedom, respect, and security. So anon…or rather person that we know is watching us and acting as a peaceful neighbor in the same fandom…you have your first and only acknowledgement from me. Go away from us, and leave my friends alone. I promise you’ll breathe a bit easier if you forget us.

[sanatomis]

⋆.ೃ࿔* ── 𝐃𝐈𝐘-𝐃𝐀𝐃!

it’s career day, and megumi has to bring his dad to school so he can tell the class about his job. the problem? he only has a 20-year-old sorcerer-guardian who has the brain capacity of a walnut.

content. canon divergence (suguru’s alive and studying to be a kindergarten teacher), possible ooc characters, female!reader.

notes. guys i’m a sucker for satoru who really, really tries and isn’t just a goofy man-child ໒꒰ྀིっ˕ -｡꒱ྀི১ also ! thank you all for your patience, it took me a while to finish this piece bc of uni, so i'm vv happy it's finally done <3

taglist. | masterlist.

“I don’t have a dad.” 

As cruel as it may be, a part of Megumi hopes that the sentence makes his teacher greatly uncomfortable. Demanding for a father to attend a Career Day at school simply isn’t fair to children without one—or, well, to the child without one. It’s not his fault his father hauled ass and left, so why is she making this so difficult for him? 

“Oh,” she mumbles. It seems his arrow hit the target, as her eyebrows pull together in a frown and she shifts her weight between her feet. “Well, you, uh, have a male guardian, don’t you?”

Megumi grimaces. Instantly, he thinks back to last week. Satoru Gojo, self-proclaimed strongest, had hit his head on a kitchen cabinet. With a dramatic pout and an overexaggerated wobble to his lips, he clung to you for hours. Some affection will make it all better!

Of course, when Megumi criticised his skills surrounding his infinity technique—because, really, how couldn’t it block a simple cabinet—the sorcerer opted to ignore him. He suspects there was some foul play at hand. 

“Barely,” he mutters, as the memory resurfaces. 

His teacher lets out a startled hum. “I’m sorry?”

“Nothing,” Megumi says quickly. He watches as she starts typing on her computer, and the realisation that she’s probably currently taking a look at his file isn’t a particularly welcome one. “What about my other guardian? Can I bring her, instead?”

“This event is geared towards fathers,” she explains. It’s obvious she forgot her reading glasses today, Megumi thinks, as she needs to narrow her eyes to read the screen in front of her. “I have one Satoru Gojo noted down as your male guardian. Surely, he will be able to attend.” 

Megumi pauses. He blinks up at her expressionlessly, and fights off the urge to push his teacher down a well. You often preach about being kind to others, and that wouldn’t be very kind. 

“Can’t I take my oth—”

“I’m afraid not,” she interrupts him before he even gets the sentence out. It irks him. Megumi isn’t fond of speaking to begin with, so when he does, he’d prefer not to be cut off halfway through. “An exception will not be made. Please, make sure to bring Gojo-san to school.” 

Megumi briefly, and for the very first time ever, mourns the fact that you and Satoru weren’t married. A small part of him calls the man a coward for not asking you to. If he’d simply taken the step, then Megumi would be able to pass you off as Gojo-san. Unfortunately, he can’t, and it’s becoming increasingly clear that there’s no way around this problem. 

“Fine,” he grumbles. It takes all of his remaining willpower to not stomp out of the classroom. Once again, he thinks of you. It’d be extremely bad manners. He can’t find it in himself to wish his teacher a nice day this time, though, and so she’ll have to make due with a slightly less polite Megumi for today. 

There’s nothing he can do about it. Satoru will have to come to the school. 

Megumi suddenly despises the idea of Career Day. 

“I need you to come to my school next week.” 

Immediately, all chatter around the dining table stops. For once, Megumi finds himself annoyed at the sudden appearance of silence. Before he said it, he knew his words would most likely have such an effect—he just didn’t expect it to be so instant. 

He tries his best to feign nonchalance, as if the topic that’s coming up didn’t make him feel stressed-out beyond belief. The confused, startled glances you and Satoru share don’t do much to help him, either. Perhaps it’s because Megumi is looking straight at him; him instead of you. Yeah, Satoru, he isn’t a fan of it, either. 

“Me?” The man asks then, and Megumi has to resist the urge to say, ‘no, I meant the snail in the backyard—yes, you,’ in the most sarcastic voice he can muster up. Satoru once again steals a look at you, ever so oblivious to Megumi's mental remarks. “Don’t you mean—” 

“I don’t,” Megumi cuts him off solemnly. His lips are pursed shut, and he pokes the slices of pork belly in his bowl with his chopsticks. One didn’t need to be of particularly high intelligence to notice the boy’s displeasure.  “I have to bring a male figure for Career Day.” 

It’s slow, the morphing of Satoru’s face, but it happens gradually and doesn’t stop until he’s positively beaming. Megumi doesn’t like it one bit. Nothing good happens when he looks like that, and he’s quite sure that all that will spew out of his mouth in a few seconds will be nothing except for pure nonsense. 

“Well, luckily, I will have the day off, then!” Satoru chimes, with a smile so wide it causes two dimples to appear on his cheeks. You copy his smile, and gently go to poke the little dent in his skin—Satoru lets you, as he always does. Megumi would think of it as cute if he weren’t so annoyed. “I will be there.” 

It seems he was right. Satoru’s words are pure nonsense.

“I didn’t tell you when,” he comments dryly. 

The sorcerer blinks. His smile is still on his face, but it’s fading, and the dimples do so with it. Your hand hovers halfway in the air, stuck with nothing to poke, and you slowly bring it back down to your side. It seems neither of you had taken time to think about that small fact—Megumi blames Satoru for dragging you down with him; him and those indentations in his cheek that you always seem to coo over. 

“Oh,” Satoru mumbles. A crease between his brows forms as his brain hurries to catch up with the newfound information. A few seconds pass, and then the previous bravado returns. “Well, it doesn’t matter! I can take the day off. When do you need me? Tell me, and I’ll be there.” 

Megumi very much doubts he can take days off all willy-nilly like that, especially after he pushed his workload onto someone else to attend his science fair last time, but then again, what does he know? If Satoru didn’t care about the consequences of his actions, then Megumi wasn’t about to break his own head doing so, either. 

“Next Friday,” he mumbles. From the tone of his voice, it’s quite clear that he’d rather be saying anything else. “We have to leave at eight a.m., please, be on time.”

“Sure thing!” Satoru chimes, and with that, Megumi thinks the dreaded conversation has finally come to an end. 

All in all—it could’ve gone worse. At least Satoru didn’t prolong it unnecessarily. Nor did he add a bunch of relentless teasing. He glances at the sorcerer. Satoru is happily munching on the dinner you’d prepared, both his cheeks stuffed full with entirely too much rice. It’s unbecoming, and a reflection of his poor manners, Megumi thinks, and he doesn’t understand how you look at the man with such hearts in your eyes. 

Though, your more than adequate cooking seems to have saved him from one of Satoru’s onslaughts. He’s grateful. Even if he doesn’t particularly enjoy the sight in front of him. 

“Hey, ‘toru?” You ask, breaking the silence with a slight hesitation to your voice. It nearly sounds nervous, and both Megumi and Tsumiki look up in alarm. Satoru hums, still chewing away. “What are you going to tell the class?”

Satoru stops eating. His chewing comes to a halt, and his chopsticks freeze in the air. A slice of pork drops from between them, and falls back into his bowl—It’s not hard to see the cogs turning in his head. “Uhm, I. . .” He swallows the food still in his mouth, and clears his throat. 

Right. It’s Career Day—but Satoru can’t tell a bunch of seven to eight-year-olds that he hunts and kills grimy, ugly, and freakishly scary curses for a living, now, can he? Megumi doesn’t think that would go over well with the other parents. The boy sighs. It’s just one thing after another. He grimly believes the world might just be out to get him. 

“I. . .Oh! I can tell them I’m a teacher,” his guardian scrambles for a solution, and Megumi can’t help but think it’s a little lack-lustre. Who would believe that guy is a teacher, anyway? Then again. . .Megumi doesn’t know a better fix for their current problem, either. He was so focused on the fact that it was Satoru that had to come to the school, he all but forgot about the fact that the dear thorn-in-his-side didn’t possess a normal job. “Suguru has told me a thing or two about his internship. I can take inspiration from there.”

Ah, yes. The famed Suguru Geto. Megumi has met him before. He hasn’t actually spoken to him, however. The man often visits, and has twin girls clinging to him when he does, and while Tsumiki seems to really like him—and them—Megumi doesn’t have an interest in seeking out some form of interaction, yet. Whenever he comes over, Megumi opts to hide in his room. Suguru never tries to disturb him, nor does he try to coax him into coming out. He’s very grateful for it. 

So, despite never speaking to him, Megumi knows about Suguru. Well, he knows enough. He knows Suguru went to school with the two of you, and he knows something really, very bad (nearly) happened that caused the man to take a step back from the world you all live in. What exactly happened (or what didn’t happen), Megumi doesn’t know for sure. You and Satoru almost never speak about it, and when you do, it’s in hushed voices—and you always stop immediately when he enters the room. 

But that’s okay. He doesn’t need to know. Suguru doesn’t force himself upon Megumi, and so he will extend him the same courtesy.  “I thought Geto-san wasn’t a teacher, yet?” Tsumiki speaks up from beside him, tilting her head to the side in confusion. “Mimi and Nana said he’s still learning. How can he be teaching, already?” 

“He’s not a teacher, yet, munchkin, well spotted,” Satoru answers with a proud grin. The nickname annoys Megumi—the feeling of irritation has been conditioned into his very being after Satoru chose it as the designated nickname for both of them. “An internship helps him build experience in the field. It means he is still learning, but he will do so while teaching.”

Tsumiki nods in understanding, her mouth opens and her lips curl into a small ‘ah’ as the information settles in. “So, you will pretend to be a teacher, then? At Megumi’s school?”

Satoru bites on his bottom lip, seemingly deep in thought. Seemingly—as Megumi is quite convinced he doesn’t ever think before he speaks. “I think so, yes,” he explains, and unknowingly retorates Megumi’s train of thoughts. How annoying. Satoru looks towards you for approval; it’s something he does very often. “It’s probably the safest route, no?”

“It’s our best option,” you say, and bring a thumb up to the corner of Satoru’s mouth. Gently, you wipe away a grain of rice stuck to his skin. It’s effortless, and nearly automated. Megumi wonders how many times you’ve had to do that. “Pretending to be a teacher shouldn’t be too difficult a task. Right, mochi?”

“Right,” Satoru echoes. His eyes track your every move, and the slight, pink colouring of his cheeks doesn’t seem to embarrass him even a little bit. Megumi thinks it should. Have some decorum. “I can do it, no problem.” 

“Alright then,” you say, and smile. First at Satoru, and then at Megumi. You look at the boy for a few seconds; you’re about to ask him if he’s okay with it. He knows you are, because you always do. “Is that okay for you, Megumi?” It’s like clockwork, almost. 

Megumi feels the need to answer with something snarky. Something akin to the sound of ‘What choice do I have?’ but he doesn’t—because you’re being kind, and you don’t deserve such a response. So, instead he turns towards Satoru.

“. . .Just don’t mess it up.” 

Satoru delivers a whole spiel about how ‘he’d never do that’ and that he’s ‘more than capable’ of telling a little white lie, but Megumi dilutes it to background noise rather quickly. He continues sputtering his nonsense when Megumi and Tsumiki stand up to clear the table, and still hasn’t stopped even when you and him start loading the dishwasher together—Megumi chooses to seek reprieve in his room while he’s distracted. 

It isn’t until many hours later, when Megumi leaves the sanctuary of his room to swipe a quick snack from the kitchen, that he first hears Satoru speak about something other than his great, and very much sufficient, ‘capabilities’. Your voices are muffled, and Megumi has to focus to make out your words. His soft, inaudible padding down the illuminated hallways comes to a halt. As if that would make his ears function better. 

“Are you sure you want to do this, Satoru?”

The boy frowns. With such gentleness in your voice, it’s hard to identify the worry lingering beneath the surface. Megumi moves a bit closer. He stops one step shy of bumping into the wooden surface, and peeks through the groove. The door is ajar—it’s something that allows him to watch how your eyes follow Satoru’s large frame as he paces around the room. It’s strange. Seeing him so. . .frazzled. 

Satoru nods. “I can do this, I know I can,” he says, and quits his pacing to look at you. Megumi can’t see his face, but he can see yours. He might as well not have, though, as he can’t make out the emotion that fills your eyes. It’s not one he himself has in his repertoire, that he knows for sure. “He never asks me for anything, princess. I have to do this right.” 

Ah, this isn’t a conversation Megumi is meant to hear. He should probably seize his eavesdropping, he thinks, and winces a little when he properly analyses Satoru’s words. They’re truthful. Megumi doesn’t go to him when he needs something. His first thought is to go to you—and his second, Tsumiki. And if he’s being honest anyway, his third thought very likely isn’t Satoru, either; He’d try to solve it on his own if it came down to it. Megumi frowns again. He doesn’t like how that realisation makes him feel. 

A careful shuffle of footsteps breaks him free from his thoughts. Megumi looks up, and catches how you place a hand on Satoru’s cheek. “I’m sure you’ll do great, baby,” you mumble. There’s a small, soft smile on your lips, one that quickly makes way for the peck Satoru places upon them. 

“Thank you,” Satoru whispers. One of his hands reaches for yours, and Megumi suddenly feels as if he’s intruding on something when the man brings them up to his lips to press a tender kiss to them. Okay, no, definitely intruding—ew. 

The boy scrunches his nose up in disgust, and hurriedly darts back towards his room. Suddenly, he has lost his appetite for a late-evening snack. Megumi lets out a deep sigh once he’s all tucked into his sheets again. Perhaps giving Satoru a shot wouldn’t be that big of a problem. Just one, though.

. . .Yeah, just one should be enough.

It’s the final, conclusive thought Megumi has before dozing off to sleep. Blissfully unaware of the conversation you and Satoru share—now behind a very closed door.

You stifle a giggle. The disappearance of Megumi’s presence outside your bedroom was quick and rampant as soon as Satoru started to kiss your hands. Something the sorcerer did very deliberately. It’s as if the boy suddenly forgot about the very special, very effective pair of eyes his guardian possesses. And with a cursed energy output such as Megumi’s, it would be hard not to recognise his presence.

“You did that on purpose,” you comment. “How cruel of you, mochi.”

Satoru hums, and kisses the inside of your wrist. “Maybe, the little brat shouldn’t eavesdrop, then,” he defends himself. There isn’t an inkling of guilt to be seen on his pretty face.

. . .Though, both of you still take some extra care to shut the door next time.

Megumi faithfully believes that, as of today, he has used-up all of his luck for the next five, no, ten years. It can only go downhill from here. For some inexplicable, mind-boggling reason—Satoru is actually pulling this off. That’s not all; he’s not merely winging it, he’s genuinely doing well. The boy can’t quite believe his eyes.

When he’d walked to the front with such an overexaggerated pep in his step, and an overabundance of bravado rolling off of him in waves—Megumi couldn’t help but watch on with a grim look, and a healthy dose of negative thoughts. It only amplified the nerves he’d collected so far during the walk to school. Somehow, watching Satoru give your flashcards a frantic do-over did very little to ease his bubbling anxiety.

There were many of them, flashcards that is. All possible questions his peers or his teacher could ever think of are written on those little pieces of cardboard. Courtesy of you, and your boyfriend. Megumi’s able to recall all those nights the two of you spend at the kitchen table—practising. He thought it was silly at the time.

But, as it turns out, it works.

Satoru is fun. To other people; Megumi doesn’t share the sentiment. Against all odds, he’s dynamic, and speaks with conviction. His flamboyant hand gestures have others think of them as amusing—captivating, even. Satoru is talking, and they’re all hanging onto his every word. No matter the fact that they’re all cleverly disguised lies.

Megumi can’t wrap his head around it. He doesn’t need to, however. If anything, he’s relieved that his peers think of his guardian as cool. While he certainly does not share the opinion, he isn’t too dense to admit that such a belief will save him a lot of embarrassment in the future. So, for this one, single day, he will let Satoru Gojo be cool. His snarky comments can resume tomorrow.

“Ah, it seems you have a deep love for your profession, Gojo-san,” his teacher says. She interrupts Satoru’s rant, and catches his attention as well as Megumi’s. Her voice is light and airy, and carries nothing that should cause him to fear the worst. Still, the boy feels on edge. “Though, I don’t remember the grade you are teaching. Could you tell us, again?”

Ah, and there it goes. The very first card in the elaborately built castle of lies.

Satoru pauses. A second passes, and then two, and three, and so on. He doesn’t speak for a good thirty, and Megumi can nearly see his mind leaf through his beloved flashcards—flashcards that are now neatly tucked into his pockets and entirely out of reach. That’s good. Because the absolute last thing Satoru should do now, is resort back to the flashcards.

Megumi shakes his head no as a signal.

“Ah,” Satoru says. “I teach kindergarten.”

Satoru didn’t catch the hint. Megumi wishes the ground would swallow him up. It would have been the correct answer—it is the answer that’s written on the flashcards—if Satoru hadn’t decided to go off route. Getting too caught up in the story he’d been free-writing, and allowing himself to get carried away by the looks of awe is resulting in his downfall, which, consecutively, will end with Megumi’s downfall, as well.

“Huh? But! What about the science experiment that exploded?” One of the children in his class whines. “I didn’t get to do that in kindergarten!”

“And the backflip you taught your students!”

“What about the first prize in the talent show? I thought your students were famous!”

The little bit of colour that normally resides in Satoru’s face steadily disappears, and he clenches his fist at his side. Ah, it’s great to know he’s at least aware of his mistake. That won’t help either of them at the moment, though. Megumi’s eyebrows furrow, and a feeling of distress overtakes him. It shows on his face. He doesn’t exactly go through the trouble of trying to hide it—there are bigger problems right now.

How utterly humiliating to be caught lying.

Satoru’s eyes find him. They’re just as troubled as his own. It worsens his anxiety.

“Oh, uhm, you see. . .” Satoru stammers, and Megumi’s stomach churns when the children around them continue to ask more and more questions. The wince his guardian lets out does little to soothe him. Megumi sighs, and looks at the ground. “Ah, I see. It seems you guys saw right through me.”

Megumi slides down in his seat. Maybe, if he tried hard enough, the ground would absorb him. It’s currently looking like a preferable fate.

“. . .I’m actually a detective.”

Oh, Jesus Christ.

“And. . .And for a detective, it’s very important to listen to what people say, because they could be lying!”

It’s a sad, pathetic excuse for a save. Megumi briefly ponders the distance between his seat and the door. Perhaps he could make a run for it. The subway station is very close by—getting on and travelling to an entirely new city to start a new life doesn’t seem like such a bad option. He sighs. No, that’s not possible. You and Tsumiki would be very worried. What else is there to do, though?

“You all picked up on my lie, which tells me every single one of you could make a great detective in the future.”

Megumi thinks Satoru might have some underlying mental problems. Though, they can’t possibly be as severe as the problems his classmates have—for they all believe the nonsense he’s giving them. Bright eyes, filled with hope and admiration, stare up at the man at the front of the class; impressed hums and entertained smiles get passed between the parents standing at the edge of the room. And Satoru, well, he seems entirely too proud of the fact that he made a bunch of children think they’re destined for a career in law enforcement. But, be that as it may, it works.

The children stir up unrest—the good kind this time, the kind that vocalises their excitement—and all rush to ask the detective a question. But, before they can even open their mouths, Satoru claps his hands together. It seems he has decided enough is enough, and it’s one of those very rare moments where Megumi agrees with him. The boy needs this to be over already.

“Alright, that’s it for today,” Satoru says, and feigns disappointment. He pretends to be affected by the sad groans of the children—keyword being pretend, as to the trained eye it’s quite clear that he wishes to leave. “I’m not allowed to tell you more.”

Ah, see, now that’s a good card.

“Wait, but, what about. . .”

“Ah, sorry, that’s confidential. Detective stuff, y’know?”

Confidential. Megumi thinks that might just be his new favourite word. The lingering feeling of anxiety slowly starts to subside with every step Satoru takes towards the back of the room—to the back, and away from the spotlight. His eyes follow the man’s large frame, but Satoru never chooses to look at him in return. His line of sight is firmly focused on the floor. It confuses Megumi, but he chalks it up to a mere whim.

All things considered (and minus the near cardiac arrest he went through), today went pretty well, after all. Much to his surprise.

Perhaps Megumi doesn’t hate Career Day. A strong dislike is more like it.

Megumi can’t count the times he wished for Satoru to be quiet. The exact number is much like the digits of Pi—huge, and absolutely never-ending. He can, however, count the times he didn’t wish for him to be quiet. As of today, that stands at a very solid one.

The birds around them chirp, and the bustle of other people is heard all around them—but they’re the only sounds gracing his ears. There is none of Satoru’s incessant chatter, nor is there even a glimmer of gloating about a job well-done. It’s eerily silent, and Megumi isn’t sure what to make of it. This isn’t quite how he imagined the walk home to go. Far from it, if he’s being honest.

“What’s up with you?”

It’s possibly the first time Megumi decides to break the silence, ever. The boy frowns, and fiddles with the straps of his backpack. There isn’t a middle-ground with Satoru, he has found out. Either he speaks entirely too much, or unnervingly little. There’s a tiny pebble in his path, and Megumi feels the need to kick it forward—so he does.

“I kind of messed up there, huh?”

The kick doesn’t have nearly enough force to it. Megumi watches as the little rock skips forward. Once, twice, and then it comes to a standstill again. “Yeah, kind of,” he agrees.

“I’m sorry,” Satoru rushes out. It’s said so fast, as if it physically pains him to say it. Perhaps it does. It’s sincere, however. There isn’t even a hint of a joke to be found. Something must be bothering him. “It didn’t go how I wanted it to go, and I don’t know why I went astray, and forgot about the cards. It—well, it was pretty stupid.”

Megumi doesn’t exactly feel the need to deny it.

“So, I get it, okay?” He continues, seeing the boy’s silence as an empty space for more conversation—more rambling. Since that’s what it is; rambles, plain and simple. Megumi doesn’t see the need for such a fuss. “I shouldn’t have strayed from the plan, and. . .”

“It’s fine.”

Satoru blinks at him. “What?”

“I said it’s fine,” Megumi repeats. Because it really is fine. Admittedly, it wasn’t smart of Satoru to all but discard your carefully planned presentation, but it ended well enough regardless. No harm, no foul. “Thank you for coming.”

That small, short sentence is enough to stop Satoru in his tracks. Megumi doesn’t, however. The man is very tall, he’s sure to catch up in a jiffy; he doesn’t need him to wait. There’s another small silence, though this one feels a lot more comfortable than the last. Satoru takes his time to process, and Megumi lets him.

“W—What?” The sorcerer stammers in shock. There is no need for Megumi to turn around and see—he can hear the smile curling onto his lips. “Did you just. . .”

“I won’t say it again,” Megumi grumbles definitively, and picks up his pace. The very tips of his ears heat up, and the apples of his cheeks turn red. The feeling of embarrassment. This wasn’t exactly how he’d envisioned it to appear when the day started.

Satoru attempts to run after him, to catch up. “Megumi!” He calls out, the very prominent, very familiar whiney lilt now back in his voice. Megumi didn’t miss it. “Wait for me, I didn’t hear you! Could you repeat that?”

“Yes, you did!” Megumi says, and throws him an annoyed glance from over his shoulder. He tightens his hold on the straps of his backpack. “Stop lying.”

“Nuh uh!”

“What are you? Six?”

Satoru’s toothy grin is infuriating. But—it’s familiar. And Megumi discovers he’s much more at ease when that grin is on display, than when the man in question is moping around. It’s a lot less alarming.

“And a half,” Satoru adds.

The scowl that’s on Megumi’s face appears almost instantly when he goes to ruffle his hair. For a man whose technique largely surrounds being untouchable, he has a surprising lack of awareness concerning this thing called personal space.

“Ugh,” Megumi groans, and pushes him off. It doesn’t work. Satoru gravitates towards him again—almost as if he’s a magnet. He doesn’t attempt to move a second time. In moments like these, it’s best to let Satoru get it all out of his system. “You’re so stupid.”

It’s true. He does think Satoru is stupid, but he can’t deny it—Satoru tried his very best today, and in the days prior. Which makes him one of the very small, barely existent group of people who have done so for him.

It seems one shot was enough, after all.

© MADE BY SANATOMIS — please, refrain from stealing, copying, or reposting any of my works.

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[nataliasquote]

Midas Touch [pt.2] | n romanoff

Part 1 | Part 2

Summary: How is Y/n supposed to process the events of the last 24 hours when life wants to continue as normal? Her head is a total mess but the two people she is closest to are the ones most responsible. In a room full of people, she is the most alone

Warnings: bad coping mechanisms, shitty husband, cheating, mentions of an injury

Pairings: James Barnes x wife!reader, maid!Natasha Romanoff x mistress!reader

wc: 5k

Note: hello :) I am back! This is nowhere near as good as I want it to be but I need to get back into writing so I pushed myself to write this :) I hope you enjoy and thank you for all the love on the first part of ‘Midas Touch’

-⧗-

If Y/n Barnes was a master of one thing, it was pushing her feelings so far down they didn’t dare bob above the surface even just an inch. There was no tell-tale sign of what had happened the previous night…

… except for the dark bruise scattered nicely across her high cheekbone.

James didn’t return home that night so Y/n woke up to an empty bed. It wasn’t the first time, and certainly wouldn’t be the last, but the vast expanse of the egyptian cotton bed sheets encased her body like a glove, and pulling herself out would be an impossible task.

Natasha knocked on the door at 10am, her uniform ironed to a crisp perfection. Flashes of last night blurred through her mind but she cleared her thoughts with a deep breath and pushed the heavy door open after a suitable and swift knock. She headed straight to the long curtains that concealed the balcony doors and tugged them open to allow a small strip of light to dance across the oak floors.

“Good morning, Mrs Barnes,” she spoke gently, watching her mistress smooth her hands over her mussed up hair. The same soft hair she’d felt beneath her own fingertips in an entirely new way. “We have plenty of time, but I would like to remind you that you have your Vanity Fair photoshoot today.”

Y/n groaned and shuffled up to prop her torso up against the thick pillows, the strap of her nightdress falling down her shoulder slightly. “Did we not reschedule that?” She asked, large eyes following Natasha like a hawk.

“I’m afraid not, ma’am,” Natasha replied with a grimace. Y/n rolled her eyes, again, and blindly gestured for Natasha to bring her robe over. Whilst the spring days were getting warmer, mornings still carried a cooler breeze that felt rather harsh if you were dressed in nothing but a silk slip. “I can still call ahead and see-”

“There’s no need. It’s just a photoshoot, not the end of the world.” Y/n’s bleary eyes were still half closed as Natasha approached, rather hesitantly, with the feathered robe draped over one arm. She reprimanded herself to stay professional but as their eyes met, she couldn’t help but see the helpless expression that she saw in them only hours before, the same one she fell for without considering the repercussions. Natasha was sure Y/n could hear how loudly her heart was beating behind her blouse and she waited for a remark or look that would truly test her to the limit, yet nothing came.

Y/n accepted the robe with a tight lipped smile and moved into the bathroom without another word. Natasha couldn’t help but linger on the blue bruise in contrast with her pale skin, but she knew not to mention it. It was just another elephant in the room, which was turning into quite the zoo now.

Photoshoot preparation was fairly minimal as hair and makeup would be taken care of on set, so Natasha just focussed on preparing breakfast and briefing Y/n on everything she needed to know.

“- and I think that’s everything,” Natasha said, placing her pen down on the table. “Oh, um, well, there is one more thing, but…”

“Spit it out, Natasha, we really don’t have all day.” Y/n peered over the top of her large framed sunglasses with a raised brow, watching as the redhead cowered slightly under her gaze. “What is it?”

Natasha swallowed and started to fiddle with her nails under the table. Why was this so hard? “It’s just your… cheek, ma’am. Would you rather we covered it up here to avoid any suspicions, or we could create a cover story? Perhaps you were hit with a tennis ball-”

Y/n held up her index finger, effectively cutting Natasha off mid ramble. The stress was evident in her tone and it was slightly irritating to the young woman who had managed to distance herself from everything rather quickly. Sure, the ache on one side of her face was still there and served as a harsh reminder of what her life was, but she had a part to play, and nothing, not even Natasha, would get in the way of that.

“I don’t care,” Y/n stated bluntly, pushing her sunglasses up into her freshly washed hair. “You can do both, cover it up and make up a story.” Her tone was blasé and Natasha frowned, unsure of how to handle her next words. “It’s not a big deal, so please don’t turn it into one. And James cannot know that you know, okay, or he will fire you if he finds out.”

Her words were like a kick to the stomach and Natasha nodded swiftly before busying herself with collecting the breakfast tray. Despite being the one to end their kiss last night and cement to Y/n that it was wrong, there was still a part of her that clung on to their relationship being forever changed for the better and she yearned for that feeling they’d shared only hours previous. But Y/n cooler demeanour squashed all hope and she even wondered if it all had been a dream. If it wasn’t for the bruise, maybe she would have been convinced.

Natasha didn’t utter another word about it, instead immersing herself into preparations. Y/n was typing away on her phone on the drive over, so Natasha stole thirty minutes to continue with her book. But the words on the pages were simply just that, she couldn’t focus on more than a paragraph. She was hyper aware of the heeled foot bobbing out the corner of her eye where Y/n had one leg crossed over the other as she scrolled through her phone, and how if they were only a few inches closer it would be brushing against her calf. But Natasha shook her thoughts away as they pulled up to the studio and fetched the bags as Y/n’s publicist greeted them at the door.

Natasha was directed to the dressing room, the kind of place she was familiar with, and she laid out her things before hovering by the door. Her role during photoshoots was minimal, and quite frankly she didn’t need to be there, but Y/n always requested her presence as a sense of comfort and familiarity. Things got overwhelming quickly on set.

“Oh thank god, I thought you’d got lost,” Y/n breathed as she spotted Natasha by the soft couch, hands clasped over her lap. “I have a favour to ask.”

“Okay, what is it?”

Y/n peeked down the hallway before quickly closing the door, allowing them a moment of privacy before the chaos ensued. “Will you stay with me all day?” Her voice was quiet, like she was afraid to admit it. Natasha’s eyes softened and she nodded. “It’s just- I’ve never felt as safe with someone as I do with you, and after yesterday I-”

“It’s okay, I’ll be right here, and I’ll hover on set so I’m never far away. And I’ve already sent the message around so no one will ask about your cheek.” Y/n smiled gratefully, counting her blessings for how lucky she was to have Natasha in her life. She went above and beyond her duties and had the kindest heart, one that captured Y/n more than she cared to admit.

Their sweet moment was cut short as a knock on the door sounded, promptly followed by the entry of the glam team. Y/n was swooped away into hair and makeup, a simple yet versatile look that could be adapted to fit each outfit. Natasha watched like a hawk, scanning Y/n’s body language for any signs of discomfort. But her mistress was also a professional when it came to performing in public, so no outsider would ever know what was bubbling beneath the surface. She chatted and laughed with her stylists just like any other day, complimenting the soft waves in her hair and the shade of blush used on her cheeks.

The shoot itself harnessed the light and airy feel of summer, utilising bright colours and soft prints that complimented Y/n’s complexion perfectly. She’d worked with the photographer a few times before, with James too, so they worked naturally together, her features enhanced by his skill and her ease in which she posed.

The camera adored her. Which wasn’t surprising, Y/n really was gorgeous. Each outfit fitted her body like a glove and she gazed down the lens with such a sultry look that Natasha shifted in her seat a few times. She watched, mesmerised - this part of her job never got old.

Natasha had come crashing down overnight, the one small taste of her mistress that she’d managed to get had got her addicted and the way the redhead looked at her was far from professional, no matter how hard she tried.

And life wasn’t helping her case either. Not when Y/n came strutting out in her final outfit, a light blue silk dress with a dangerously low back and swooping neckline. She locked eyes with Natasha and winked as the make up artist added a final coat of lipstick before stepping back to allow the set to be empty. Y/n turned at an angle to the camera and looked back over her shoulder, eyes gazing off away from the lens… and straight to Natasha. Her soft eyeliner brought out the colours in her eyes in the most gorgeous way and they seemed to sparkle in the studio lights as she turned and posed, all whilst looking directly at her maid.

Anyone looking at the meek redhead in the corner would just see a maid on duty. No one would be able to see the way her eyes followed where Y/n’s hands went, knowing she’d held them in hers only hours before. Nor would they see how she stared at her slightly parted lips whilst remembering the way they felt on her own. How gentle and delicate they felt, a wild contrast to her captivating and consuming presence that made everyone on set stop and stare. Y/n had finally trusted someone to see her vulnerable and Natasha treasured it like a precious stone, keeping it near and dear to her heart.

The day wrapped after a few hours and Y/n changed straight into a bikini before heading down to the pool, her hair loose and still curled from the shoot. The water was always her preferred way of unwinding and Natasha gave her some space to be alone for a while, something that rarely happened in her hectic life.

The house was peaceful as the afternoon sun warmed the patio where Y/n resided, her legs dangling into the crystal pool water below. Her large sunglasses stopped the glare from blinding her and she moved her feet slowly, following the ripples that she created. There was nothing to be heard but the birds in the trees and the occasional clink of crockery as the chefs prepared a light dinner. Natasha stayed back, her chair placed in the shade to save her delicately pale skin from the harsh sun rays. She didn’t tan like Y/n did, and looking like a lobster was not on her to do list for the week.

But her seat still gave her an amazing view and as Y/n stood up to refill her glass, Natasha took the time to admire her toned body and how it glistened from the tanning oil. Every piece of exposed skin looked smooth and she knew it would feel just as soft under her fingertips.

Her attentive ears picked up the sound of heavy footsteps across the marble floors and Natasha sat up a little straighter as James appeared in the doorway. He was focused on the woman by the pool, her damp hair sticking to her exposed back as it dried in the heat. With four strides he was at the pool edge, saying something that made Y/n climb to her feet.

Natasha was used to their PDA, but this one felt wrong to watch. The second their lips touched, she brought her book closer, trying to distract herself. But the more she thought about it, the more she couldn’t keep looking away. She saw how James’ hand instantly found the curve of Y/n’s lower back and pressed her body into him as he held the back of her head to kiss her. Natasha saw Y/n almost melted into his touch and she cursed how natural they looked. Was everything okay with them? Had Y/n really pushed her pain that far down that she could forgive her husband in two seconds? Or was this all just an act that the couple had perfected over time because this had been happening a lot longer than Natasha knew. She dreaded to consider the latter but the sinking feeling in her stomach wouldn’t let it go.

At the poolside, Y/n finally pulled away from James, her lips slightly numb. “Where were you?” she muttered quietly, not fully looking him in the eye as he brushed his thumb across her bottom lip.

“Work, doll, you know how hectic it gets sometimes.” There was something off about him, but Y/n was too exhausted to pry so she let her eyes fall to the exposed chain resting on his chest thanks to the buttons undone on his shirt. “Have you been good today?”

“Had a photoshoot,” Y/n replied, and James tensed, gripping her waist firmer as he waited for her next words. “The one for Vanity Fair’s cover next month.”

James grunted in response and dragged his hand up his wife’s body, raking in her figure in her small black bikini. Natasha watched over the top of her book, perplexed. No one could see how uncomfortable Y/n was as James’ hand gripped the back of her neck and guided her inside, her facade was good, but she prayed it would be obvious as they passed the redhead who could only pretend she didn’t see them. Y/n desperately tried to make eye contact with her maid but Natasha ignored her, sending a shudder down her spine as James’ grip hardened.

“Why are you so quiet today? Cat got your tongue?” James asked once the bedroom door was closed and the couple were finally alone. Y/n lingered by the bed as he discarded his button down shirt in exchange for a lighter and more simple one. “I asked you a question, Y/n.”

“I’m just tired from the shoot,” she replied, eyes flitting over his muscular back. “And the constant dodging of questions.” Y/n saw the way he froze, still with his back turned, and the confidence that had blossomed in her chest for a moment was snuffed out.

“Excuse me?”

Her chest heaved as her breathing sped up but she stood her ground, using the mattress behind her knees for support. “It’s hard to lie through my teeth when people are asking about the bruise on my face and I can’t tell them it was my husband. Photoshop is really going to save you-”

“What did you tell them?” James demanded as he stormed over, towering over her as he gripped her upper arm. “Did you dare?”

“I told them it was a tennis ball.” Relief flooded James’ face and he let her go, creating space between them. Y/n saw the way he looked at her cheek that was still covered with makeup. “Didn’t want to risk getting another one if you found out I’d told the truth.” The words were out before she could stop them and Y/n braced herself for the impact, expecting the inevitable.

But it didn’t come.

A hand touched her cheek, making her flinch, before it slid down to her waist and James knelt before her, his head resting on her bare stomach. His sudden change was unnerving and Y/n didn’t know what to do. He was leaning against her like a child, apologising and mumbling like a madman, and part of her wanted to push him away, but it would be a step too far. She just stood and listened to his apologies, once again blaming his work for making him aggressive and swearing that he’d never lay a hand on her again.

Part of her believed him, the naive part, but as she screwed her eyes shut, all she saw was Natasha. How gentle her touch was, something James could never do. He was always rough, no matter what, his hands calloused from years of fighting. The way Natasha’s palm felt against her burning cheeks would never be matched by anyone else and no matter how hard Y/n tried to imagine that the hands that were running across her back now belonged to her maid, she knew what Natasha’s touch was like and she couldn’t pretend anymore.

The moment the kisses started across her lower stomach, Y/n pushed James’ head away and sat down on the soft duvet, taking his hand in hers.

“It’s okay, I forgive you.”

Lies.

But for the sake of her life and safety, it was all she could say.

James was no knight in shining armour, despite his skillset. No, her true saviour knocked on the door in that moment, knocking the air out of her lungs as she breathed a sigh of relief. Natasha knew not to enter unless ordered, so Y/n scurried to the door and visibly softened at the sight of the redhead who’s cheeks were slightly flushed.

Right, Y/n was still in her bikini.

“I’m just here to say that dinner is ready and on the patio when you both are available,” she announced, smiling politely at James who had joined his wife at the door, his hand sliding around her waist possessively. “Chef prepared those oysters you requested, Mr Barnes.”

“Thank you, Natasha, Y/n and I will be right there.” The redhead didn’t linger, instead disappearing back down the stairs in a hurry.

“I’m just going to get changed, I’ll meet you down there,” Y/n said, wriggling out of his hold as soon as she could. “Don’t wait for me.”

“Don’t be too long, doll. I’ve missed you.”

He certainly had an odd way of showing that, considering he had disappeared for over twelve hours with not a word. But, once again, Y/n pushed that out of her mind and slipped on a simple white cover-up that was modest enough for dinner and padded downstairs to the patio where James had already tucked into his food. He grabbed her wrist and pulled her into a kiss, more of a display to the staff around them than anything else.

Seafood was never Y/n’s preference, so once she was sat across the table, her fork picked at parts of the salad, occasionally stomaching an oyster that James pushed her way. He glanced at her plate with a frown

“Are you on a new diet?”

Y/n almost dropped her fork and quickly fumbled to catch it before it clattered to the floor. “No,” she replied, mortified. “Should I be?”

James just shrugged, leaning back in his chair as he took a swig of his drink. His tanned chest was exposed and he revelled in the feeling of the sun on his skin, something he missed working in an office all day.

“That’s not up to me. I just want you to look good.” His vague response left a sour taste in Y/n mouth and she shifted in her seat uncomfortably, subtly adjusting the way the cover-up sat around her stomach.

“Then why did you ask?” Her mind cast back to the earlier photoshoot and the tight fitting clothes she’d squeezed into per the stylist’s request. Did they all think she needed to be on a diet too?

“You’re so sensitive,” James replied, wiping his mouth on a napkin. “It was just a question, just eat your food, doll. Or don’t, I don’t care.” Y/n looked down at her dish and pushed a cherry tomato around before eventually dropping her fork to the side with a clink. Despite how fresh her salad tasted, James’ words sank to her stomach like a stone and she felt disgusted at the thought. “What are you doing on Friday night?”

“I don’t think I’ve got anything planned, but I’ll need to check with Natasha-”

“You’re coming to the charity ball with me.” It wasn’t a request, it was a demand, and Y/n just nodded. “Rogers said it’s non-negotiable and you know how much I love having you on my arm. Rumlow will be there too, which is a bonus.” Y/n’s stomach lurched at the thought of seeing that man again. He was far too handsy for her liking and had zero respect for women, especially her. “It’ll give me another chance to show you off and put that asshole in his place.”

“James, you know I don’t feel comfortable around him-”

“I know, doll. But you’ve got me to protect you,” he countered, subtly flexing his arm that was placed behind his head.

But his words didn’t fill her with much hope. She hated feeling so helpless, but being surrounded by the men that James was associated with through work was like being surrounded by bears in a forest. How could she rely on her husband to keep her safe when he was now part of the reason why her hands shook? His slap had knocked her confidence away just like it did her breath, and the determination and independence she’d felt a few days ago was now nowhere to be seen. And she hated it.

“May I be excused?” Y/n asked, already feeling restless in her seat. James nodded and muttered something about a call, but she was already out of earshot by the time he’d finished.

Her legs didn't carry her up to her room like she expected. Instead, she found herself down the least familiar hallway, stopping outside a door she’d only knocked on once before.

A faint rustling was heard before the door flew open and Natasha’s face morphed from surprise to confusion at the sight of her mistress in the staff quarters.

“Can I come in? Please?” Neither Y/n or James ever ventured into the staff quarters, nevermind the rooms, but Natasha stepped aside and allowed her to enter, excusing how bare her room was.

“Is everything okay? You could have called for me.”

Y/n shook her head as she admired the neatness of Natasha’s living quarters. Her surfaces were dust free and bed made to perfection. “I don't know, I just wanted to get away from everything. And you’re the only person I could think of.”

Natasha frowned, her brows creasing as she watched her mistress peering out of the window at the gardens below. Y/n sensed her close presence and turned to face her, scanning her face and more importantly her eyes. A gentle hand raised to smooth the lines between the redhead’s brows upon instinct before Natasha stepped away, effectively placing a blockage between them.

“We should go somewhere else, Y/n, you shouldn’t be here.” It all felt wrong yet right and Natasha was so conscious of someone walking in on them. “Come, we can sit on the balcony.”

Y/n shook her head desperately. “No, James is out there on a call and I can’t face him right now. I don’t want to feel like I’m being watched anymore but there’s nowhere else I can go except to you and I shouldn’t, but you don’t understand, I can’t-”

“Y/n, breathe, it’s okay, I won’t make you go anywhere. What happened?”

“It’s pathetic,” she replied, adjusting the neckline of her coverup. “I’m just being ridiculous and sensitive, just like he said.”

“James?” Natasha probed, wishing she had been out on the patio to hear the conversation that had clearly shaken her mistress. “What did he say?”

“He just said something about a diet and I overreacted and asked if I should be on one and he got mad and I don’t know what the fuck is going on with me.”

“He said you should be on a diet?” Natasha repeated in disbelief. That was another score for the James Barnes hate chart, and if he didn’t pay her wages she’d have acted on her impulses a long time ago. They never quite saw eye to eye.

Y/n winced, feeling guilty for making the situation seem worse. A messy mind led to messy conversations and she just wanted to stop. “No, he-”

“So he said he doesn’t want you on one?”

“Well, not exactly, but that's all I can think about now. He wants me to look good, I’m his wife for god’s sake, I have to.” Her voice cracked and Y/n turned away from Natasha, moving back towards the door as doubt began to set in. “But what if I’m not enough, or perfect enough for him anymore? ”

Natasha had to fight to stop herself from speaking the words on her mind and she bit her lip. “No, Y/n, you are beautiful just the way you are. You don’t need a diet or anything like that,” she spoke softly. The other woman didn’t look convinced, so Natasha carefully stood up and opened her closet door to reveal a small mirror about ¾ of a full length. “Here, let me show you something.”

“Natasha, I can’t-”

“Y/n, please…” she trailed off, holding out her hand patiently. She wasn’t about to force her to do anything, Natasha could see the cogs whirring in her busy mind and knew what she was fighting. Half of her wanted to go and find James and kick him in the balls, just like she wanted to last night, but she was here for Y/n. Not him.

“I shouldn’t even be here, this was stupid-”

“No,” Natasha interrupted, stopping Y/n in her tracks. “What’s stupid is James making you feel as worthless as you do. Why do you listen to him?” Y/n avoided her gaze, choosing instead to twist her wedding ring around her finger, it suddenly feeling heavier than usual. “Do you not see how beautiful you are? How you give your heart out to anyone who needs it without caring what state it is in when you get it back? Do you not see that you are so much more than just his wife?” Natasha’s words were true, but they fell upon deaf ears and Y/n shook her head, reaching for the doorknob whilst trying to hide her trembling hands.

“I’m sorry…” she mumbled, not giving Natasha a chance to stop her before slipping back out into the hallway where she came from.

Natasha watched the door close dejectedly, her heart sinking. “Do you not see how much I love you?”

Y/n sped down the hallway with glassy eyes, her head more clouded than ever. She had so many questions, but who was she to ask when the two closest to her were the ones completely messing with her head, tugging it in opposite directions until the rope threatened to snap. She barely registered travelling back upstairs until she reached the bedroom door and threw it open without a care. James’ head turned at the noise and he spoke down the phone before hanging up and followed Y/n into her dressing room.

Y/n was completely lost with her thoughts when she felt his hands on her and barely reacted to his touch. His lips trailed up her neck to her ear and she tilted her head back purely on instinct. She felt too numb for this, but let him continue because she was his wife and that was her job. Nothing sparked her brain when he pulled her coverup off or when he picked her up and placed her on the dresser in the middle of the room. It was all muscle memory and he was too focused to notice her lack of enthusiasm.

How could so much change in twenty four hours? She lived an amazing life, incredibly privileged, so why wasn’t she happy? Couples fight all the time, her husband was an aggressive man, but a single slap didn’t mean much in the grand scheme of things. She’d get over it and maybe James would go back to being the loving husband he was before.

But even now, as his calloused hands pulled off her bikini top and pressed his lips to her soft skin, she doubted that her life would ever go back to the way it was. Not now that she had Natasha.

Yet that was nothing more than a fruitless desire. Because, despite her comebacks and displays of confidence towards her husband, he was more powerful than she would ever be and had the ability to ruin her life if she went against his wishes.

Was it worth it? Y/n really wasn’t sure. She would never be certain.

[abbyromanoff]

Hi love your work!

Could you do one where reader is WandaNats daughter (thanks to Wanda’s magic) and is dating MJ? She hasn’t come out yet and they walk in on her and MJ doing the ✨spicy✨ if not I understand thanks!

All Grown Up

Pairings: MJ x reader, WandaNat x reader (parent/child)

Word count: 1,398

Warnings: kissing, making out, getting caught, overprotective!Nat, slight humor, think that’s all!

I don’t really know MJ’s age so I didn’t feel comfortable writing smut for her, but I hope this is good enough!

No one is permitted to steal, copy, or reblog my work as their own!!

“Y/N? Y/N, honey, we’re home!” The two women were confused when receiving no answer from their child. They frowned, looking at each other before shrugging, assuming you were napping or just didn’t hear them. They went to the kitchen, placing down the few bags of groceries and unpacking the food.

Meanwhile, you were in your room, not napping, but instead cuddled up close to your girlfriend with some small music playing in the background. Her fingers ran through your hair and you smiled with pure joy, staring up at her beautiful face.

“What’s on your mind?” You asked out of the blue, breaking the small silence falling over you two. She suddenly broke out of her small trance, giving you a reassuring look before bringing her eyes back to the ceiling.

“Nothing. Just thinking about how lucky I am to have you.”

“Such a flirt.” You rolled your eyes playfully, earning a small chuckle from her.

“I’m serious, baby, I can’t believe I pulled you.” You gave her a look of faux offense.

“Excuse me, you did not ‘pull’ me, you asked me out and I thought I’d say yes.”

“Same thing.” The same comfortable silence fell between you two until she turned to stare at you, only to find your eyes still on hers. She gently grasped your chin, licking her lips and staring at yours before leaning in and pressing her mouth against yours. You sighed into the kiss, your body coming to a full relaxation as your originally tense muscles rested.

She maneuvered her body to lie on her side, now being able to wrap her arm around your waist. She rubbed up and down your back, landing on your ass and giving a small squeeze. You pulled away as a yelp left you, only to feel her pulling you back onto her.

“God, you’re so perfect.” She mumbled against your lips. Your legs tangled up together as she laid on top of your fragile body.

“You continue cooking, I’ll go get her.” Wanda nodded and kissed her wife’s cheek before she went up the stairs, her eyes traveling to her tight jeans that showed off more than needed.

When Nat finally reached the top of the steps and stood in front of your door, she heard soft sounds of music playing and assumed you were relaxing or sleeping. So, she didn’t bother to spend more than a quick second knocking. After all, you were her child, she’s seen everything with you. Except this.

“Swee- Oh my God!” She quickly shut the door, her eyes kept shut as she was too afraid to open them and risk seeing the same sight again, even if she was on the other side of the room. She quickly found her way back to the steps and into the kitchen where her wife stared at her oddly.

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah! Yeah, everything’s fine.” She sat at the table, hands in her lap as her leg bounced nervously.

“Did you walk in on them changing again? I told you to start knock-”

“Our child’s gay.” Wanda whipped her head around, gazing at the woman who looked like she had just seen a porno for the first time. It’s not like she had walked in on you two having sex, but she didn’t exactly like the thought of her child making out with someone in their bed.

“There was another girl in their bed, and they were kissing..passionately.” Nat’s awkwardness made Wanda want to laugh, and she did. Nat looked at her like she had just killed her puppy, and while Wanda wasn’t facing her, she could already see the exact face she was making.

“Relax, it’s not like you walked in on them having an orgy or anything. And besides, who cares if they’re gay? They have two moms after all.”

“I don’t care if they’re gay, I care about the girl who was on top of my own child!” She stated, starting to bite her nails as she thought of the worst possible scenarios. “What if I hadn’t stopped it when I did? What if my baby lost her-”

“Sweetheart, you’re overthinking again.” Nat let out a deep sigh before Wanda continued calmly, “If Y/N wanted to come to us, they would’ve. Maybe they just weren’t ready yet.”

“Why wouldn’t they be ready? I mean, we’re supportive, right? Oh, God, what if they think they can’t come to us with this stuff? What if we scared them away with all of our dating talks?” Wanda placed the spaghetti in four bowls. Usually, it would just be three, but seeming as you had a guest, she made extra.

“I mean, you did tell them they’re not allowed to date until you’re at least fifty.” The reminder made Nat roll her eyes and quickly chomp down on the food her wife made in nervousness.

“Just act normal, when they’re ready to talk to us, they will. I promise. You’re not a bad mom, there are just some things you don’t exactly want to tell your parents.” She placed her hand on top of Nat’s and she nodded, trying to relax herself when she heard footsteps coming down the stairs.

“H-hey, mom. Hey, momma.” You exclaimed, expecting your momma to be giving you the death glare right about now. But she was looking right past you, trying to get a better look at the girl standing fearfully behind you. You moved aside, letting her be seen as she stuttered out a greeting just like you. You and she both had made plans on how you’d tell your parents, but one of them catching you two kissing wasn’t one of them.

“Ah, hello, sweetheart! It is lovely to meet you.” Wanda shook the younger girl's hand as she felt the sweat on it. MJ was clearly nervous, but your mom quickly helped ease those fears.

“Uh, hi, Mrs. Romanoff. It’s lovely to meet you as well.” She grabbed the two bowls on the counter and handed them to you both.

“One rule, kiddo, no eating in your room. You’ll have to eat with us.” She was stern yet soft with your girlfriend, but your momma still hadn’t made herself known.

“Excuse my wife, she’s a bit shy with people.” MJ chuckled, trying to make amends with the other Mrs. Romanoff.

“Hey, Miss. It’s nice to meet you.” She offered her hands to shake, and Nat raised a brow at the gesture. Wanda cleared her throat in warning, giving the redhead a warning glare that had Nat easing up.

“Sup, kid.” Your girlfriend was forced to sit next to you and her while she didn’t keep her darkened eyes off of her the entire time.

“So, what are your intentions with my kid?” She crossed her arms, trying to get the muscles under her black shirt to show off to make the college student fear her even more.

“Momma!”

“What? I’m just wondering if this girl’s right for you.” You shook your head and rested it in your hands.

“Forget her question, I want to know how you two met.”

“Uh-”

“No, answer my question. What are your intentions with Y/N?”

“Well-”

“Ignore her. Answer my question first, sweetie.”

“Okay! We’ll be heading upstairs now. Thank you for the food, Mom, love you guys.” You quickly dragged your girlfriend out of the room and back up to yours, rushing to close the door until you heard a soft shout from downstairs,

“Door open at least six inches! I will measure!”

“Don’t listen to her!” You both chuckled at your parent's actions, leaving the door cracked open just a bit and returning to the comfort of your bed. You reached for the remote and turned on the show you two had been binging for a week now.

While you had thought she was joking, Nat did in fact bring a measuring tape to the door and scolded you both when it only met half of her request. Wanda had pulled her out of the room and shut the door for you to have some privacy. MJ was laughing quietly as she listened to the bickering between your parents, turning to you as she did earlier and muttering,

“As much as I love you, your moms are so much cooler.”

“I will get my mom to beat your ass if you don’t shut up.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

[babyleostuff]

Hey cutie pie❤️ I just read the Seungcheol as your boyfriend and it's so cute I'm completely in love❤️

So can I ask for a Woozi as your boyfriend please❤️

Thanks sweetheart have a great day❤️

thank you so much for your request love! I hope you enjoy this one and have a great day as well <3

WOOZI AS YOUR BOYFRIEND

genre | fluff

author's note | if you want me to do this with any other member, let me know <3

𓆩♡𓆪 I have the biggest soft spot for Jihoon

𓆩♡𓆪 because even if it doesn't show, he is the most loving person in the world

𓆩♡𓆪 he is the best listener you could’ve ever asked for 

𓆩♡𓆪 could sit a whole day listen to you talk and not complain once

𓆩♡𓆪 whether it’s some kind of drama, your hobbies, your worries, any out of the blue existential theories - he will listen to it all

𓆩♡𓆪 he may not be the best with words, but he is the best with actions

𓆩♡𓆪 will make you feel so precious and loved by his simple actions, that always make your days better

𓆩♡𓆪 even if he thinks that they are meaningless and unimportant, for you these actions are everything

𓆩♡𓆪 he may not even realise that he is doing something thoughtful with you in his mind, he is so used to doing stuff for you already 

𓆩♡𓆪 his black card is your black card

𓆩♡𓆪 spares no expenses on you, you are the most pampered girl in the world 

𓆩♡𓆪 he knows that materialistic things aren’t the most important things in the world, but he can’t help himself

𓆩♡𓆪 you’re smile when he gives you gifts is just too precious

𓆩♡𓆪 the studio dates are real

𓆩♡𓆪 I mean, we all know he spends most of his time locked up writing or producing music

𓆩♡𓆪 not that you mind - seeing him in his element and doing what he loves is the best 

𓆩♡𓆪 so usually you bring food and make him take a small break to eat with you

𓆩♡𓆪 this is your time to catch up and spend some quality time

𓆩♡𓆪 sometimes when he’s stuck on something, he plays it for you and asks for your opinions and thoughts 

𓆩♡𓆪 often times he starts rambling about the producing process and what he thinks may make the song better (sorry, but I know nothing about producing music) and so you sit there with a small smile on your face, listening to your boyfriend

𓆩♡𓆪 it’s always so comforting, that he is so comfortable with you and is able to completely let his guard down 

𓆩♡𓆪 obviously, physical affection is not of his main love languages  

𓆩♡𓆪 but with time, as your relationship progressed, he got more and more comfortable around you when it comes to affection

𓆩♡𓆪 he’s still not into PDA and probably will never be 

𓆩♡𓆪 but he secretly loves holding hands

𓆩♡𓆪 anywhere you go, he hopes that you’ll reach for his hand

𓆩♡𓆪 even when you’re sitting down next to each other, he waits for the moment that he feels your hand on his

𓆩♡𓆪 and when your sitting at a restaurant, when you put your hand on his thigh 

𓆩♡𓆪 it’s those small gestures that make him feel all mushy inside 

𓆩♡𓆪 he’s so grateful to you that you understand his limited time and busy days because of the schedules

𓆩♡𓆪 he was always afraid that his partner would demand more time together and eventually leave because of the lack of it 

𓆩♡𓆪 so he always tries to show you that he is by your side and that you can always count on him

𓆩♡𓆪 he always tries to text you back as soon as possible or give you a call

𓆩♡𓆪 is so happy that you get along with the rest of the boys, as they are one of the biggest parts of his life 

𓆩♡𓆪 generally, so grateful that you are so understanding about his work and lifestyle

𓆩♡𓆪 that’s why dates with him are rare (except for your quality time), but when they happen…

𓆩♡𓆪 invites you to the best (and most expensive) restaurants, takes you to the fanciest places, as mentioned before - he spares no expenses 

𓆩♡𓆪 he just wants to make it up to you, for the time that he is away and cannot me with you

𓆩♡𓆪 even though you reassure him that a at home date is fine too

𓆩♡𓆪 he still books that damn table

𓆩♡𓆪 but it all comes from a place of love and adoration

𓆩♡𓆪 if you were having a rough or a bad day, he’d sing you to sleep, while patting your head gently or running his finger through the strands of your hair 

𓆩♡𓆪 he always gives you extra tight hugs and extra kisses when you’re down

𓆩♡𓆪 in general, he’s so gentle with you, treating you with so much love and adoration

<3 your messages

[loveydovey-leviathan]

I know you've written HCs for the older brothers crying - so what about the younger bros? :00 (And possibly the undateables/Simeon, if it isn't too much trouble!) I'm just a sucker for reverse comfort content 😔✊

crying hcs

gn! reader | older brothers dateables

a/n planning on doing the side dateables in another post! it'll take a while tho since school is kicking my ass /_ \

.

Satan:

He rarely ever gets emotional enough for this to happen now that he's learned to control his wrath. He might cry because of a particularly sad story he's been reading or maybe a cat he's taken care of fell sick, and while he can deal with that, it's when he gets so angry his mind knows the only other way to let everything out is to cry-- that's when it hits hardest. He sobs until he's left feeling cold and desolate.

There isn't any sign to know when he's about to cry, it just happens. He could be throwing tables and chairs across the room, he could be sitting quietly reading and the tears just appear. He's always surprised when it happens, he brings a hand to his face and becomes shocked when he sees them. He tries rubbing them away but once it starts, it won't stop anytime soon. If he isn't already-- he'll run to his room or somewhere else private. There, he buries his face into his arms and just cries. He sobs untils he's completely numb.

He won't do anything to try and get you to leave if you enter the room but he scoots away when you get closer. Giving him a hug really helps-- it won't stop him from crying but physical contact grounds him in a way. Carefully wrap your arms around him, he'll slowly sink into your chest and hug you back as gently as he can, like he's afraid he might hurt you like this. You don't have to do much after that, just sit there with him until he calms down.

He reacts pretty similarly if his brothers were the ones to find him, except he actively tells them to leave once they enter. They almost never listen and they know he needs someone right now, so they comfort him in their own ways. He just needs a person by his side.

Asmodeus:

It's no surprise to anyone but Asmo cries a lot. He cries to guilt people into giving him what he wants, he cries when he thinks he looks even more beautiful than he usually does, he cries when he's happy, when he's sad-- and he's not ashamed of it. During these light-hearted situations, he still makes absolute sure to look beautiful. His bottom lick quivers ever-so-slightly, his nose turns just the tiniest bit red and he wraps his arms around himself. Afterwards, he can quickly fix himself up in no time at all. Just a small swipe of tissue and a bit of a touch up to his make-up and outfit, then he's back to looking pretty in pink.

It's when he's insecure that he cries the hardest, and it always happens in his room. He makes sure to bury everything in the deepest crevices of his heart, almost never surfacing for anyone to see but sometimes it does and he can never truly stop the tears from falling, and on top of that-- he thinks he looks hideous like this. His chin scrunches up, his eyes turn red and he starts hiccupping. He desperately tries to wipe the tears away and act like this never happened but it won't stop-- his hands start shaking and he wraps his arms himself to try and calm down. He subconsciously rocks back and forth and he vaguely feels like he wants to faint. He won't leave his room for the rest of the day.

If you find him at his darkest hour, he furiously tries to rub the tears away and act like he wasn't crying his heart out. He wants to tell you to leave in his usual light-hearted tone but the words won't leave him. His voice is stuck in his throat. Close the door, walk towards the demon and give him a hug. If you're there, he stops crying quicker than he would've alone. Softly pet his hair and whisper sweet nothings, he thrives off of compliments-- even now.

If his brothers find him, he won't even bother acting like he's okay. He knows they'll see right through him, he just sits still as he weeps. Every brother has their own way of comforting him and while some of them are a bit unconventional-- the thought that they're trying their best to cheer him up makes it easier to silence his crying hiccups.

Beelzebub:

He's never been ashamed about crying. It's natural, so when he feels the tears come he lets them fall. He's always been one of the more emotionally intelligent of the brothers; he follows after Mammon in that way. He lets himself cry when he feels like it and he makes sure to comfort his brothers the best he can when he finds them sad as well.

He always starts by holding his wrist to his chest. He doesn't exactly know why he does it but maybe he just likes feeling small. He's big and protective, perfect to keep his family safe-- but sometimes he wants to be held as well.

If you find him like this, he'll appreciate a big hug. The ones where you squeeze with all your might like you want to wring out all the sadness away (he won't really feel it but he values the gesture). He'll hug you back, of course, and his hugs are known for being the best of the best. There, he'll tell you what's upsetting him, he trusts you-- you're his family after all.

It's pretty much the same when his brothers find him; a big hug and a long talk about why he's crying. He sometimes ends up sleeping in their room, feeling like they need to do more for their younger brother in times like this.

Belphegor:

The opposite of Beel in every sense. He hates crying, loathes how weak and tired it makes him feel. Sure, he might fake some tears to get what he wants (his brothers were always a bit too lenient with him), but actually letting out the sadness, anger and guilt he burdens? He despises it but he doesn't exactly wish for it to stop altogether. The torment of feeling this way reminds him of Lilith, the memory of losing her is painful-- but it's still a memory.

His lower lip quivers just the slightest bit before the tears start falling, and from there, he buries his face into his favourite pillow. It can get gross, there's snot and tears spread all over and it's always a hassle to clean-- but it's better than letting anyone but Beel and you see him like this.

When you see his face smushed against his pillow, you don't think anything of it. He's probably just sleeping as usual, but the small shake of his shoulders and low sniffles give him away. He won't move if you sit next to him but he'd appreciate it if you rubbed his back and stayed with him as he calms down or actually falls asleep.

His reaction will change depending on which brother finds him crying. If it's Lucifer or Mammon, he'll yell at them to leave. He tolerates Levi, Satan and Asmo, but Beel is really the only one he wants there. The familiar smell of food and the joy in his heart when his twin offers him food in an effort to cheer him up never fails to make Belphie smile.

[observeowl]

Unwanted Marriage | Chapter 2 - Getting to know each other

Series Masterlist

Other than your family and hers, it wasn't that bad of a wedding. However, there were lots of interactions and formalities to be done which made you feel drained out once you entered her home.

You waited for 3 years to marry Marcus, and in the end, you married someone else.

You sat on the bed, reflecting on what happened today. You got married to a woman you met barely a month ago and have little to no interaction with. "What are you thinking about?" Romanoff entered the room unannounced, making you jump. "Nothing, just family."

"Don't worry about them, I have already taken care of everything." She said it so easily like it's something she does often. "You don't like my family, why did you agree to help them?" You asked. You can't imagine he was going to marry Stephanie willingly. "This was arranged by my family. Not me. But, you're an exception."

Natasha Romanoff, the most powerful woman in the city, is now at the mercy of her family.

"You don't have to care about Romanoff's or Y/L/N's. All you need to do is to be yourself."

Rumour has it that she became more brutal and cold-blooded in the business world after becoming disabled. No one dared to be close to her. After becoming disabled, those rich and famous people are reluctant to marry her anymore... But her eyes... are very attractive.

You shook yourself out of your thoughts and said that you were going to take the first bath while anxiously leaving. Natasha only smirked, taking out her phone from her pockets and told her men to keep an eye on Y/L/N's family.

You told yourself you were going to take back that video from Stephanie no matter what. When you were done, you figured you might as well fill the tub for her so she could relax in it for a while. Seeing as she could handle herself, you went to settle the sleeping situation. There was only one bed in the room. You tried searching for some sleeping equipment and eventually found a cover you could use. However, it was at the topmost section and you were barely touching it when Natasha came out. "Are you afraid of cold?" You curse her ability to remain silent as the cover falls on you. "No. I'm going to the guest room." You said as she gathered everything. "We are already married. No need to be ashamed."

"That... that was an accident!" You couldn't even bear to look into her eyes as you remembered the embarrassing moment. "Brooke will clean up the room tomorrow. Just bear with me for tonight. Don't worry, I won't do anything to you."

===

You woke up the next morning and Natasha was already gone. Your phone rang in your bag and you rushed to get it before it hung up. "Y/N, do you wish to take back your video?" Just hearing her voice made your day turn sour. "Stephanie! What do you want do you mean? I have already married to Natasha Romanoff. What do you still want me to do?"

"Don't worry. Haven't I told you that I would give it to you? I'll send the original copy since the video has no meaning to me. Whether you believe it or not. I have already deleted the rest of the copies."

You checked the message she sent and you have no idea if both you and Romanoff were drugged when she got this video. How in the world did she get Natasha to have sex with you? "What are you looking at so focused?" Her voice came out of nowhere and your phone slipped out of your hands towards her. Naturally, she went to pick it up and you got it back just in time before she saw anything, hopefully.

"Good morning Mrs Romanoff." The kind-looking middle-aged lady whom you assume is Brooke, greeted you. "Just call me Y/N is fine."

"Alright. What do you like to eat? I can cook different things for you every day." There were already eggs and toast on the table as she brought your tea. "Thank you, Brooke. Has Natasha eaten?" You asked. "Miss has not eaten yet." She replied. "Then I will bring it to her later."

"We're so happy that Miss has married a beautiful and caring person." It made your cheeks flush and you stood up from the table. "Well... I'm full, I'll bring her food upstairs now."

You wondered why you were so initiative as you brought the tray up. You could have left her to her own device. There were people to serve her, why did you offer to do it? You knocked on the door before entering. "I heard you haven't eaten so I brought your food." You said as you set it on the table near her. There was an awkward silence as no one moved or said anything. "I'll- I'll head out first."

You rushed down the stairs past Brooke as you felt your heartbeat rising. She asked if there was anything wrong but you said there was nothing before running away. Brooke thought it was weird and went up to check on Miss Romanoff. But she was already dressed and ready for a day in the office.

Clint knocked on the door and entered, ready to collect Natasha and begin the journey. "Y/N has sent her resume to a magazine publisher owned by the Stark family and has an interview later." He reported. "Stark family?" She repeated. "Do I need to inform them first?" Clint asked. "No need, there's nothing to worry about."

Natasha, Clint and you were sharing a car when you asked about her knowledge of your interview at Stark News. "Brooke told me." She said casually as she was typing on her laptop. She wastes no time and continues to work even during travelling time. "Oh... Um... thank you for sending me."

"What did you say?" She finally turned and faced you. "Thank you... for sending me?" There has to be something within the sentence as she closed her laptop with a slam and told you to get out of the car. You question if you heard that correctly, but she only repeated what she said and told you to get there by yourself.

"Natasha Romanoff, you crazy woman!" You shouted as the car drove off and you were left at the sidewalk once again.

"There is no need to go this far Nat. Are you shy?" Clint teased as he looked into the rear mirror.

"Shut up!"

===

"Hello, I'm Y/N Y/L/N." You introduced yourself as you stepped into the Chief Editor's office, Tony Stark. And the first thing he asked was, "Am I handsome?" You were stunned for a moment. You had prepared yourself for some ideological questions, but not this. "Uh... yes..."

"It is you then!" You were shocked by the swiftness of his decision. "Actually, I am satisfied with your potential and experience, so this is just to test you."

Subsequently, someone showed you to your table and you were sitting there thinking that has to be the weirdest interview you've ever been in. That interviewer just now is a real narcissist. "Hello! Did you pass the interview?" Your tablemate moved her chair closer to you and asked. She has a long brunette hair with a cute smile. "I'm Wanda Maximoff. You can call me Wanda. We'll be colleagues then. How did you answer the question of the editor?"

"Did you also answer it? So what does the question mean?"

"Because the Chief Editor is so handsome, many people keep thinking about him. So he deliberately asks this question to determine those who are serious about work." You nodded your head as she explained. "How about you?" You asked. "Even though he is good-looking, I have my own admirer so I won't be affected by him. Besides, I don't swing that way. If you get what I mean." She winked at the end of the sentence.

"Newcomers, don't be lazy! Come and have these documents copied!" Someone with blonde hair gave us a file of documents without saying anything else. "She is the editor of group 1 which are all veteran employees. Those people like to bully newcomers." Wanda explained as she pointed towards the table they were gathered at. She took the documents from you, "You haven't officially started work yet, so I will go get this done!"

After saying goodbye to her, you received a call from Natasha. "I'm outside your company." She said and ended the call. You walked out and looked around but you didn't see her car anywhere. As you were looking, a car stops in front of you and winds down their window. And sure enough, it was Natasha with her few cold words. "Get in."

"This morning you chased me out of the car, why are you now so kind to pick me up? And in a secretive way?" You didn't wait for her reply and continued. "Forget it, to celebrate my success in the interview, I will treat you to a meal."

"Treat me to a meal?"

"Yes... why? Don't tell me you want to chase me out of the car again!"

"Y/N, it's not convenient for Natasha to go out, let's just-" Natasha cut Clint off. "It's okay. Let her treat me."

And so you were at one of the most prestigious restaurants and even managed to get one of their private dining rooms. Clint was telling the orders to the waiter when you waited and Natasha was typing away at her laptop. Suddenly, another waiter entered and whispered to the waiter's ears that Mr Lancaster was here and wanted to book the room you were currently in.

"This room is always reserved for Marcus! How come somebody is using it now?" You can clearly hear a woman's voice from out the door.

Without announcing, she opened the door and it was someone you recognised. "Ah, I thought who is the person blocking my way, it turns out to be you!" Natasha started analysing the situation.

"Maggie, long time no see. I never thought that you still love to follow behind Stephanie." Enraged by your remarks, she retaliated. "So what if I'm with her, we're doing great! Unlike you? Looks like you are living rather miserably, after being dumped by Marcus. You even dated someone disabled!"

"You!" Before you said any further, Stephanie stepped forward, covered her mouth and pulled her away. "Idiot, stop it! So sorry for Maggie's manners. Didn't think we would bump into each other here. Marcus, let's go."

"No need to apologise. This lady is just speaking the truth." You can bet that that was how Natasha charmed several men and women to swoon over her with her sweet and deceiving words.

"What are you stunned about? Where is the menu?" Maggie still didn't recognise who was in her presence and shouted at the waiter. "Sorry, I will prepare your room immediately, please come with me." He misunderstood her intention and replied with the wrong words. "What? Are we not better than this disabled?"

At this point, Stephanie had enough of her words and pulled her out of the room without saying anything. "What are you doing?!" She only managed to get one sentence in before getting slapped by her friend. "Stephanie Y/L/N! What are you doing?" She held her cheek and asked. "Do you even know who that person is? Natasha Romanoff! Do you think after what you did, he will let you off easily?"

"Na- Natasha Romanoff? I'm done for..."

You apologise for the commotion when they finally exited the room. "I've said it before. In my eyes, they are nothing."

===

Back at home, you changed into your sleeping gown and was looking through your laptop, someone knocked at your door and you automatically assumed it would be Natasha. "It's me, Clint." He said as he took one step into your room. "Maybe next time-"

"Next time we won't be eating out anymore. Don't worry." You understood where he was getting. "Thank you, Y/N."

Soon after, your phone started ringing and it was Stephanie calling you.

You: Hello?

S: Y/N, let's talk about what happened today!

You: Do we still have anything to talk about?

S: Today, Maggie was too anxious and she didn't know Natasha's identity (Behind the phone, Maggie was pleading Stephanie to help her.)

You: So what if she didn't know who she was? She's allowed to treat her that way?

S: ... Y/N, can you just let this incident slip, for my sake?

You: For your sake? Who do you think you are?

S: Y/N Y/L/N!

You: You don't have to be afraid what Natasha will do to you guys, cause in her eyes, you don't exist.

You hang up the phone once you said your piece. You were gradually learning to not be a pushover and stood your own ground.

Series Masterlist

[cozage]

The Daughter's Return Part 3

Chapter 18: Ace's Perspective - Prison

Start From Beginning | Next Chapter | Table of Contents | Read on AO3

Characters: female reader x Portgas D. Ace Word Count: 1.6k

“You’ve got a visitor.”

The gruff voice from the Marine stirred Ace back to consciousness, but he didn’t raise his head to see who it was. It wasn’t worth the effort anymore.

 He had given up long ago. He had made peace with dying. His execution was in a few days…or was it hours? Time had a funny way of moving when you couldn’t tell what day it was. 

He had fought early on, when they had first captured him. He yanked at his chains and screamed in frustration, waking the entire floor with his rage. Even weakened by the sea prism, he had put up a good fight. 

But slowly, he grew tired. And in the time he took to recuperate his energy, he thought of you. He thought of the baby. The two things that mattered most in this world. And you were safe. He didn’t know where you were or what you were doing, but Ace knew that you were anywhere but in the hands of the Marines. Impel Down would’ve exploded with guards if you were behind its gates. And there were heightened security measures because of him and Jinbe, but not near as heightened as if you were there. 

Plus, he knew if you had been captured, someone would’ve been down to rub his failure in his face. No news meant good news. And that’s how he knew you were safe. 

He was thankful he had abandoned you, as cruel as that sounded. He had left you in Alabasta because he was confident he could kill Blackbeard on his own. But after seeing the traitor’s power, Ace knew that even with you by his side, you would not have won. And then you would be here with him, trapped in a prison cell. He wouldn’t have been able to live with himself if you were here next to him, awaiting execution. But you were safe and sound somewhere miles away, all because of that choice he had made.  

So nothing else really mattered. Ace had been waiting to die since he was five years old. This felt like a fitting and dramatic end. Public Execution. He should’ve been reflecting on his life, but he only thought about you. 

He spent most of his time imagining what it would’ve been like for the two of you to settle down and raise a child. A small house, nothing fancy. Maybe near the beach, so your child could play in the ocean. A little island where the two of you could actually be normal people with normal lives. You could have a garden, and the two of you would sing and dance in the kitchen as you cooked dinner. Your kid could grow up in a normal house, and have friends that could sleep over on the weekends. 

That’s what he was dreaming about when the voice jarred him from his thoughts, bringing him back to the cold reality of his actual future. There would be no slow dances in the kitchen, no garden to tend to every morning. All that awaited him was-

“Still breathing in there?” 

Garp’s voice almost made Ace look up. But he kept his head lowered. 

“You’ve caused quite a lot of trouble.” Garp sat down right outside of the jail cell. “Navy Headquarters…no, all of the world government is a mess. All of Whitebeard’s commanders are planning to move on Marineford to save you.”

Ace stiffened at that news. To save him? No. So many people would die if that happened. He wasn’t worth those lives. And if you were there…if something happened to you…Ace couldn’t breathe.

“Kill me, then.” He still refused to look up. “Just kill me.”

“Can’t do that either,” Garp sighed, chuckling lightly. “I’m afraid there’s nothing Whitebeard wouldn’t do to get you back, even if you were to die right now. It appears we’ve finally angered the King of the Sea.”

If there was going to be a war, Ace knew you would be there. And he couldn’t allow you to die. You had to survive; nothing else mattered except your life. 

“Look, old man…” Ace whispered, tears streaming down his face. “I need a fav-”

“I wanted you and Luffy to grow up and be good Marines,” Garp said, not hearing Ace’s words. “But hopes be damned, you both turned out to be hoodlums.”

Hoodlums. Pirates. Ace had never lived up to his grandfather’s expectations. Roger had asked Garp to watch over Ace, and look how that had turned out. If Garp knew about the baby, you would never be safe. Garp had always been a Marine first. If Garp knew, then the Navy would know, and you would be the first to die on that battlefield. 

He couldn’t-he wouldn’t-tell Garp about you.

“Notorious, dangerous pirates at that,” Garp continued, staring at Ace intensely. 

Garp went on to talk about Luffy and his accomplishments at Water 7 and Enies Lobby, but he didn’t mention your name at all. Which meant you must’ve left Luffy’s group before they made it to Water 7. 

He couldn’t blame you. If the roles had been reversed, he would’ve left Luffy the moment the snail call ended. 

“I told Luffy about his father,” Garp said.

“To hell with our fathers,” Ace snarled. “To hell with you if you ever thought we could be marines. We have cursed blood running through us. This was the only path for us. But let me make one thing clear…”

Ace finally looked up, locking eyes with his grandfather. “The only man I will ever call my father is Whitebeard. Got it, old man?”

Garp smirked and shook his head. “Whatever you say, boy.” He stood to his feet and began to walk away, but paused. 

“What was that favor you needed?” He asked. 

No, Ace couldn’t tell him now. It would be a death sentence for you. 

“It’s nothing,” Ace said. 

Garp hummed and looked back one last time at Ace, but walked away without another word.

It was just Ace and Jinbe again, silence filling the air between the two men. 

“Jinbe,” Ace started. “I need a favor. My little brother, Luffy…will you look after him?”

Jinbe chuckled deeply. “I doubt that’s what you were going to ask Monkey D. Garp, boy.”

“It wasn’t,” Ace admitted. “But this is still important.”

“Humor me,” Jinbe said. “What were you going to ask him?”

Jinbe was avoiding the question. Ace knew that. He knew how big of a request it was to ask Jinbe to watch over Luffy. It wasn’t a very fair request either. But it was a better question than what he was going to tell Garp. 

Ace knew it was a risk to tell Jinbe about you. It was a big risk to tell anyone about your status, especially in a prison where he was probably being watched. But he didn’t see any snail cameras around, and if he spoke in code, perhaps it wouldn’t be a bad idea for someone else to know. Someone who was outside of the Whitebeard Pirates who could help protect you. 

“It was about Y/N.” He finally looked at Jinbe, trying his best to show there was more to his words. “We were close. I just want to make sure she’s okay.”

“Whitebeard’s daughter?” Jinbe almost looked impressed, and Ace was reminded once again of just how lucky he was to have you. 

“She’s been pretty sick lately. Throwing up and such. Has a terrible stomach bug. Just wanted to make sure she gets looked after until she’s better. But I realized I can’t ask a Marine to help with that, you know?”

Jinbe’s eyes widened, and Ace knew he had understood. He trusted Jinbe with his life, and now he trusted Jinbe with yours too. 

“I see..” Jinbe said cautiously, nodding in agreement. “I hope she feels better.”

Ace could see there were a thousand things running through the fishman’s mind, but it was too dangerous to ask it here. 

All Ace could do was wait and hope. Wait for his end, and hope that his trust in Jinbe would somehow pay off. 

And he would dream too. Of you by his side and a baby in his arms.

--

Note: Going to be a little break for me to get everything in order for the final few chapters! We'll resume with Marineford on Thursday, November 9th :)

Tag list! @taeyoge @teiza @tojislawyer @trafalgardnami @bloopbopsblog @dancingnewcat @dxestyi @flooofity @nyxthedragon01 @deadsnothere @h-rhodes1598  @morgyyyyyyy @trafalgardvivi  @fiestynatureweeb @frogpogjoghurt @beepboopcowboy @ms-portgas @luvyallbabes @appalost @zuchkaa @saybeyonce @stray-npc @kitsunechan707 @theyluvmesblog @heartysworld @aira-needs-sleep  @mothmomjay @ophelias-flowerss @aqualein @sehyojae @fanficwriter5 @forgotten-blues @amberash05 @firefistnoct @depressed-but-make-it-cute @stuckinthewrongworld@lizpoir

[papercupids]

living w svt; headcanons (maknae line version)

or alternatively, sweet sweet domestic fluff scenarios w the maknae line of svt

pairing -> lee chan x reader, vernon x reader & seungkwan x reader.

warnings -> nothing, it's all fluff.

words -> 1.3k

a/n -> this idea came to me so randomly but domestic fluff is a scenario i love so much and i decided to do this !!!! the '97 line is ready as well and it will be out next week i think <3 enjoy !!! :)

-> read the '97 line version here -> read the '96 line version here

☆ chan.

"oh, babe you're up," chan calls out as he hears the door unlock and you're met with the lights on in the living room, not that the darkness in your room already didn't tell you that the sun had already set.

you wanted to take a nap just for an hour, since it was the weekend, but also what you did not want was to sacrifice time from one of the only days that you would get with chan and you'd slept after telling him to wake you up. bad decision, really, because he never woke you up unless it was necessary.

currently you were way too much in love with him to be mad at him for not waking you up. so you sit on the couch beside him and lean your head onto his shoulder and cuddle his arms.

"feeling okay?"

"mmhm, just a little hungry. i think i'll go have the leftover pizza. what are we watching?"

"uh, i'm not sure, whatever you want?"

"i'll go grab the pizza, just put on one of your favourites,"

the favourites were movies that were very diverse in genre. both of you had some movies that you liked in common (namely, some disney movies, some ghibli movies and some romcoms that ended with you both crying on the couch) and some horror/thriller movies that you liked (and chan pretended to not be scared but you could always count on him to have a pillow on his face to save himself from witnessing jumpscares) and a few drama movies from chan's choice (that you considered way too boring and almost always dozed off in the middle of them and chan always had to carry you to the bedroom).

"should i put on frozen? frozen 2?"

there was no answer. chan was suddenly scared.

"babe?"

just what he was afraid of. the pizza box dumped in the garbage bin.

"do you care to explain what happened to my leftover pizza? that i specifically told you i wanted to eat later?"

he laughed nervously.

"i was hungry, babe," he whines.

"and you didn't even tell me you ate it, you’re such a liar, oh my god, i can't believe i'm living with you. what more could have you have lied to me about,"

chan came closer, carefully as your back faces him, his arms wrap around you and feels your comforting smell around him. even though you were being mad at him and this was the worst possible time to be thinking of this, but he loves you. he truly does. 

"let's order again, or better yet? let me make you something?"

that brings a certain excitement to your face as you turn your face to where he's resting his face on your shoulder. 

"really?"

"anything for you, my love,"

"except saving pizza,"

"i'll save it for you, next time, c'mon,"

seungkwan.

"seungkwan, i swear to god, if i clash into anything,"

"you won't, you won't, don't you trust me?"

"not really, but i'm blindfolded and my only help is you right now, so, i'll lie,"

seungkwan had took the opportunity of you both crossing the 3 year mark today to blindfold you and lead you somewhere and although contrary to what you said, you did trust him, but you couldn't help but think about what this could lead to.

after walking around a bit with holding his hand like a lifeline, he finally stops, the keypad beeps as he enters the code in, and you wondered if you were at his place, or some hotel? or somewhere? you couldn't figure it out.

"you can open it now,"

and your hands fly to the knot of the cloth tied around your eyes, and you find yourself standing in the doorway of an apartment. the door was open and you could see seungkwan's sofa and his favourite coffee table. and as you finished taking in the scene of one of the most pretty living rooms you've seen - complete with big windows and a kitchen on the left side.

"what is this, kwannie?"

"uh, an apartment, my apartment to be specific. but," he bends down on one knee, and takes out the key and a note of paper which has the code to the door. "do you wanna move in with me?"

"oh my god, seungkwan,"

"is that a good oh my god, or a bad one,"

"oh my god,"

"my knee, babe, my knee," he joking points that his knees hurt fron kneeling as you try to take in his proposal.

"ofcourse, yes, kwannie, are you kidding,"

since he hasn't gotten up yet, you bend down to hug him, right in the doorway, and pretty soon you're both on your knees.

"i love you so much,"

-

a few days later, you’re sitting on one of the boxes as a makeshift stool, your coffee on the table, as you sipped it, the sunlight came in through the window and warmth spread throughout the room. you couldn't believe that after such a long time, being childhood sweethearts, then a tough, tough phase of a long distance relationship, you were finally here. here with the love of your life sleeping soundly in the bedroom that you both shared.

albeit a lot of unpacking was yet to be done, you looked around the home that was now for the both of you.

a morning has never felt this good.

and as if summoned, your lover wraps his arms around you from the back, "good morning,"

you turn yourself to face him and cup his face, placing a soft kiss on his lips, cheek and then finally, his forehead. 

"indeed, a good morning,"

☆ vernon.

there’s sunlight on your face, vernon thinks. and it makes your face glow in ways he didn't think was humanly possibly. even when you're half drooling on his chest, and have your arm and leg wrapped around him, with disheveled bed hair, to him, you’re the most beautiful creature alive.

his hand strokes your face softly and sonewhere between that, your eyes flutter open.

"we fell asleep on the couch again?"

he nods, smiling as he takes your features in.

it was one of the things that you both often did together, had dinner, put on a movie, cuddled and then fell asleep on the couch, no matter how small it was compared to the bed that occupied the bedroom, it seemed to be way more sleep-able and you were convinced that you'd slept more on the couch than ever on the bed.

"we should stop falling asleep on the sofa,"

"hmm, maybe,"

"maybe, why? the bed's clearly bigger,"

vernon doesn't say anything he just keeps on looking at your hands clasped together, plays lightly with your fingers, he loves mornings like these, when there’s nothing like a deadline or an alarm, no schedules to be attended to or nothing expected of him. just being here, with you and he has the freedom to use the day as he pleases. he loves that.

"but you know," he gets distracted a bit, fixing your hair away from your face, he doesn't wsnt it to be covered, not even a bit. "the bed's clearly bigger, babe,"

and you look at him, confused, as to why he repeated what you just said.

he chuckles, "oh my clueless angel, when we sleep on the bed, we don't have to be so close because it's so big, but the couch on the other hand," he emphasises his point by pulling you in closer, closer that you already were and you csn count his eyelashes, see his skin so closely that you can make out tiny bumps in them.

"we need to be close like this,"

"so you were the mastermind behind this,"

"obviously,"

"you're so frustrating, ugh," and you try to wiggle your hands away from his grasp to sneakily make their way to his tickle spots mainly around his stomach and his sides.

he bursts out laughing soon enough, but you can't defend against him when he comes in with the tickle attacks. 

both of your laughters mixed together carries to the room a few steps away, the bedroom, the bed completely made and untouched as the sun pierces through the window casting a golden light on the sheets.

[atrwriting]

aemond x fem!highborn!reader one shot

this man makes me think such unholy thoughts that i needed to get this out

as always, warnings: SMUT!, foreplay (f receiving), aemond is the king of consent, dom!aemond, dirty talk, dubcon because drinking

you never drank.

no. never.

it was considered unbecoming of a lady of status, especially yours. you were lucky to have obtained a position as one of lady helaena’s handmaidens, and your family never let you forget it. you weren’t of the commonfolk variety, but your family name would never hold as much weight as “lannister” or “stark.” you had to play your cards right, and you usually did.

but not this night, no.

tonight was a night of celebration for the greens against the blacks and you were expected to sit for it. wine was flowing, laughter could be heard all around the banquet room, and people had yet to stop dancing. as one of helaena’s more trusted ladies, you stayed by her side as she chose to sit away from the pleasantries that most people were taking part in. she let her husband dance with any lady he wished, but everyone close to her knew she was more relieved than jealous. you chose to sit on one side of her to keep her company, and hee dutiful brother, the one-eyed prince, aemond targaryen, sat on her other side.

“you must drink more, lady y/n,” helaena insisted, pouring wine into your glass. “you mustn’t let me fill your joy.”

you scoffed. “your company is most enjoyable, my queen.”

“mmm,” the prince next to her mumbled. “we are glad you decided to join us tonight, sister. you as well, lady y/n.”

oh, by the old gods and the new, that fucking silky voice of his could drive every woman in his vicinity wild, and you were no exception. heat immediately rose to your cheeks as you bowed your head in graciousness and smiled at the prince. your shyness would not allow you to meet his gaze as you took another sip from your chalice, smirking into the wine.

“i’m afraid i must retire,” the queen announced, rising from her seat. “lady y/n, i must order you to remain here and keep my brother’s spirits high. whether he will admit it or not, he’s about as unaccustomed to ‘fun’ as i am.”

you could’ve spat out your drink.

you? alone with the prince? keeping him company? leaving your duties? leaving your queen?

“should we walk with you, my queen?” you sputtered. “shall i call the other ladies?”

she shook her head. “i order both of you to show the other a delightful evening as i am incapable of it. i bid you both a good night.”

and with that, she left.

the feeling of being buzzed was creeping on you, battling the anxiety you also felt. you cleared your throat, and turned to the prince.

you smiled softly as he rested his one eye on you. that did nothing to subside the blush on the tips of your cheeks as it was proving very difficult to remain confident in front of a man with features like the prince. his voice was intoxicating, but coupled with his strong jawline, his sharp features, and the mischievousness that played within his purple iris… he was dangerous in the best sense.

“so,” you began, attempting to break the tension. “i suppose dancing is off the table. what is it that will bring you joy this evening, my prince, as the queen has ordered?”

he smirked. “ever dutiful to your queen, you are.”

you laughed as the alcohol coursed through your veins. boldly, you remarked, “who am i to deny an order?”

he hummed in response, tracing the rim of his wine with his long finger. his gaze fixated on the chalice’s contents before it rested on your face. “i’ve also grown tired of tonight’s festivities.”

you nodded in understanding. you heart fell slightly as you felt dismissed by the prince, but at least you would not make a fool of yourself in front of him.

“then i bid you a good night as well, my prince,” you replied, bowing your head.

he shook his head. “it would please me if you joined me for a walk.”

your eyes widened slightly as his words hit you. in response, you smiled. “of course. where to, my prince?”

and that’s how you found yourself in one of the many forgotten and unused rooms in the castle.

finery adorned every wall and crevice in the palace, and aemond had introduced you to his favorite private area with a large window and seating area. he had more wine brought for the two of you, which you both were drinking generously.

“there’s nothing like flying,” he spoke, a bright smile on his face as he told stories of his favorite missions. drunkenness had found him as well, and kept him within its grasp. “there’s nothing like that heat from the dragon’s fire. it causes fire to well within your own belly.”

you laughed. “you are a very skilled rider, my prince. helaena and i love watching you from her window.”

“i am glad my sister has found companionship,” he admitted, taking another sip of his wine. he was silent for some time as he stared off into the distance. “has she found a suitable match for you yet?”

drunkenness had you by the restraints as well, but so did your anxiety. you bit your lip. “no, my prince, but the queen has many other important matters to attend to. i am very content in my position by her side.”

“the ever dutiful lady,” he chuckles, setting his chalice down. “tell me, lady y/n, i must now if you’ve ever shed the chains of formality just once.”

it was your turn to laugh. “my prince, the most unbecoming thing i’ve done is spend time with you tonight without a chaperone and enjoy far too much wine.”

“and have you enjoyed my company as much as you have enjoyed the wine?” he asked suddenly.

you were taken aback by his boldness, but it would not serve you to be shy now. you smiled softly. “i have, my prince. very much so. if we’re playing a game of truth, then i suspect it is my turn to ask you the same question.”

he chuckled. “i have had my fair share of the pleasantries that young men find themselves in, but i do not have the appetite of my brother. tell me, lady y/n, has my brother ever tried to get into your bed?”

you almost choked on your wine. “n-no, my prince. i’ve never… the king has never done that.”

the prince sat up then and place his goblet down. you followed in suit, but also to keep it from spilling. aemond say maybe a foot from you as he stared at your face, causing the temperate in the room to rise.

“and what would the ever dutiful lady say if i asked to join her in her bed?” he asked barely above a whisper.

your lips parted in response as you stared back at the prince. “m-my prince… i’ve never been with a man in that way.”

“and what if i were to… lift your skirts?”

you felt his fingers began to trace circles on the bare skin of your thigh, underneath your dress.

“and what if my fingers were to find themselves on your soft skin?”

his voice was hoarse with wine and lust as it fanned across your face. every passing moment, his fingers raised in height and began to inch closer and closer towards your hips. his lips were only a few inches from your own, practically begging for a kiss.

“i want to uncover what secrets you hold, my sweet,” he whispered. “would you let me?”

“yes, my prince,” you breathed, biting your lip.

“have you ever touched yourself?”

you shook your head.

“so you’ve never known pleasure.”

“no, my prince,” you answered shakily as his fingers toyed with the fabric of your undergarments.

“would you let me show you?” he asked.

“please, my prince,” you nodded.

you leaned in closer, ready to kiss him, but the prince pulled back. “i won’t kiss you yet, no. i want to see your beautiful face for the next few moments. would you give that to me?”

you nodded, eyes wide with a mixture of fear, lust, and excitement.

his fingers found their way beneath your undergarments, and you jumped closer to the prince in fright. he held you tightly against him as he grabbed you by the back of the head and weaved your long hair in between his fingers.

“be a good girl for me, sweet,” he ordered. “you are to tell me what feels good.”

you nodded. “yes, my prince.”

you felt a singular finger glide up and down your folds. he did it so easily that you immediately felt like a whore for how wet you were for the prince. having never been touched before, you gasped at the sensitivity. the prince immediately found the most sensitive part of you: your pink, swollen bud.

“oh, my prince-“ you gasped, screwing your eyes shut as he drew circles on it. “it’s-it’s—“

“tell me, beautiful, tell me how it feels.”

“no, my prince, a lady—“

“a lady will do as her prince commands,” his tone was rough with you. “you’ve never been more of a lady than in this moment, lady y/n. let your prince show you how much he adores you.”

you moaned at his words. “you feel — your fingers feel so good. they shouldn’t feel this good…”

his thumb found its place working his magic on your clit, and one his fingers travelled lower to trace along your entrance. your teeth sank deeper into the already ripped skin of your lip as you tried to fight how good it felt to have him in such an intimate way.

“i’ve never felt this way before,” you cooed. “this is wrong…”

“tell me to stop then,” he ordered as he pushed his finger through your entrance. “tell me you want me to leave your dripping cunt unsatisfied.”

you cast your gaze down in your lap, where his hand was nestled between your thighs.

he picked your chin up to face him. “is that what you want? for me to stop?”

“no, my prince,” you spoke with hazy eyes. “but…”

“do you want me to be cruel and leave you empty, here, with no one around?”

you shook your head. “no, prince aemond, please don’t.”

“then tell me you want me to ravish this sweet cunt,” he ordered.

heat rose to your cheeks. “please, my prince.”

“say it.” his movements grew more aggressive as he fucked his fingers in your tight, gummy walls. “now.”

“take me, my prince,” you cried.

his grip on your hair did not falter as the circles he drew on your clit became harsher and faster. you tried to muffle your cries the best you could, but nothing could silence you from his assault on your cunt. your pelvis began to grow warm, and suddenly you were bucking your hips into his hand.

“all for me, my sweet?” he taunted with a smirk. “is this sweet cunt all for me?”

“yes,” you breathed. “yes, my prince, it’s all for you.”

“you are so right around my fingers, my dear, you’ve been such a good girl for your prince,” he spoke. “making such a mess on this couch for me. i’m so pleased with you.”

the heat, the tension, and the pleasure all began to build up too much. it was building, building, and building in your hips, your stomach, you shoulders, your lips — fucking everywhere, and you felt like you were about to explode. you were bucking your hips wildly into your prince’s hand, and you didn’t understand where all the pleasure would go when he stopped.

“my prince, i don’t know what’s happening…” you rambled. “i feel as though… i might explode…”

“let it take you, my sweet,” he ordered. “let it wash over you and feel everything i’m giving to you. i want to give you your first orgasm, my beautiful girl.”

you were whining in his hold, tears threatening to spill over your cheeks as aemond fucked you relentlessly with his hand. your hands were gripped at your skirts, the couch, anything as you feared touching him and keeping him from making you feel the way you were.

“‘s too much,” you cried.

“do this for me,” he ignored you.

“my prince—“

“do this for your prince.”

a strangled cry left your lips as you felt like a string was being wound so tightly in your lower abdomen you felt as though it might pop. aemond refused to let you out of his hold, keeping you upright so he could witness your expressions for himself.

“please don’t stop,” you whined. “it feels so good…”

“right there, my dear?” he asked, pushing his finger deeper and coaxing your inner walls. “is that where my lady needs it most?”

“yes, yes, yes—“ you basically cried. “oh my gods…”

“that’s it, my sweet, let it go.”

“i can’t—“

“let it go,” he ordered, rubbing your clit harder. “finish all over my fingers. it’s what i want most.”

you couldn’t fight him any longer. your hand raised to grab the fabric on his arm as you came. heat spread all throughout your body as you struggled to keep your voice low, but all the while you felt like you were bursting. every nerve ending in your body was screaming as aemond continued to use his fingers between your thighs throughout your orgasm. your breathing was strangled, and you wanted nothing more than to kiss him, but he kept you in his hold.

“now that i’ve seen the wonder that is my lady experience pleasure, i don’t think i’ll ever be able to leave this moment with you.”

[starsxblazing]

Hi! Could I request for Cassian, who meets a child Illyrian who had their wings clipped as the bastard daughter of rebels, so the IC take her in. But she’s just scared of all of them and won’t talk and hugs tattered doll but somehow not Cassian and is always cuddling with him, following him, having him carry her around and it’s just a sweet wholesome affair?

Thank you so much for this lovely request! The amount of fluff that I was able to put into this was so heartwarming. The bat boys as dads just hits that soft part of my heart. I tried to figure out a name but naming characters within the acotar universe is daunting so I just generalized it and I hope that's okay!

Teddy Bear

-----

Cassian’s mind was working overtime as he flew beside Azriel on his way to the hidden camp that the latter had discovered. He could have sworn that all of the Illyrian rebels that had served Amarantha had been slaughtered by their own hands. Of course, as their luck would have it, there was a small camp that had somehow remained hidden that they had to take care of. His brother had given a small estimate of numbers that they would be handling but the upcoming fight had to be handled swiftly. 

He could only think of one bright side and that was that there were no reports on women or children so he hoped that it would be an easy defeat that would have them home in a timely manner. They landed so that they weren’t spotted, Azriel using his shadows to keep them covered to the best of his ability. The camp truly was sparse and there were nothing but males mingling around outside with no innocents in sight. 

They both jumped into the ambush, using the element of surprise to their advantage. The last thing that the rebels would be expecting was two of the people that they feared as much as their High Lord. The resistance was weak and they made quick work of the males outside before moving to search the rest of the grounds.

There were a handful of spineless males hiding within their poor, tiny excuse of make-shift cottages that were no match for either of them. Cassian wondered what the point of rebelling against the Night Court was whenever they couldn’t even have the bravery to face their consequences with dignity as the others had. Azriel and himself were both taken by surprise in the smallest of the cottages when the home was empty with the exception of a small child. 

His heart dropped at the sight of the small female sitting alone at a tiny table with a doll that had most definitely seen better days. He wasn’t well versed in younglings but he assumed that she was having a tea party that was an even worse make-shift ordeal than the roof over her head. She smiled at him before she squeaked in pain when her small wings twitched in her happiness.

Her fear filled the room when she noticed Azriel a step behind him. Being a spy and generally aware person, he noted the change in the female's demeanor and quickly stepped outside. The smallest sound of a sigh escaped her but she looked up at him expectantly when he took carefully placed slow steps towards her. She grinned brightly whenever he crouched beside her with his own gentle smile.

“What are you doing, sweetheart?” he asked in a tentative voice.

“Having a tea party!” she exclaimed happily but frowned immediately after. “Daddy will be mad if he sees you here.”

As he feared, the small child was afraid of her own father. The Illyrians view of females, no matter their age, made him sick to his stomach. It made him want to search the camp to find the male to simply bring him back and slaughter him again. He instinctively ran a hand over the top of her head that she giggled at before his eyes drifted to her wings.

He shouldn’t be surprised but it broke his heart nonetheless to see that she had already been clipped at such a very young age. The male’s obviously wanted to keep her hidden, especially since she was the only thing other than warriors amongst the poor excuse of a group. 

“I promise you that it will be okay,” he assured her gently.

“It won’t.” She shook her head vehemently with worry shining in her eyes. “He’s really mean.”

“What about your mom?” His throat was tight and his eyes burned but he somehow managed to keep his voice even. “Is she here somewhere?”

There was another shake of her head, her dirty and matted dark hair moving with the motion. His heart was shattering for the tiny female that he didn’t know but there was no way that they could just leave her there. He wasn’t sure how to approach the subject because he knew nothing about children but he so desperately wanted to help her without terrifying her further.

“I don’t know her.”

“That’s okay,” he whispered as he ran his hand over her head again. “How old are you, sweetheart?”

“Four!” she answered, her voice happy once again as she pulled her battered doll from its seat and into her lap. “And this is my best friend!”

“Your best friend is lovely,” he chuckled quietly which earned him another smile in response. “Do you have any other friends?”

“No,” she answered, her eyes filling with tears. “Daddy keeps me here all by myself.”

“Would you like to go somewhere else where you can make new friends?”

The question left him before he even had time to think about what he was saying. He did his best to keep his expression gentle even though his heart was pounding in his chest. If there was nothing else that he had ever wanted in his five hundred years of life, it was to help and protect this small child that he didn’t know. 

“Where?” She tilted her head in curiosity but fear lingered in her eyes as she gripped her doll tighter. “Daddy won’t like that.”

“I will protect you from him.” 

Cassian didn’t have the heart or even knew the words to say to let her know that she no longer had a father. She watched him silently for a while and there was nothing that he wouldn’t give to know what she was thinking. He stayed quiet as well and his heart somehow managed to break and swell at once when she stood and wrapped her arms around his neck. 

He lifted her gently but frowned while trying to decide if she was underweight for her age or not. The first stop that he would make would be taking her to Madja to check on her general health. He didn’t care about anything else other than getting her the help and care that she needed so he would let Azriel report to their High Lord. 

“Have you ever flown before?” he asked as he looked down at her, noting the hint of fear on her face. 

“No,” she answered in a whisper. “It looks scary.”

“I promise that I won’t drop you.” The child glanced up at him before her eyes drifted to the sky above them when they stayed outside. “You will love it.”

When she gave the smallest of nods, he eased into the air as gently as he could so that he didn’t scare her. A grin bloomed on her face when they evened out and began soaring and the sight had him doing so as well. He felt his heart warming at the way her wings twitched in excitement and she gripped her doll tightly in excitement.

Azriel had disappeared and by the time that he had returned to Velaris, the female had fallen asleep in his arms. It took Madja longer than usual to answer the door since it was late into the night but a small gasp came from the healer at the sight in his arms. He was swiftly ushered inside and Madja frowned at the state of the child before he was shoved out of the room.

“I hear you made a new friend.” Cassian cursed when Rhysand appeared beside him. “Azriel gave me a full report and I assumed that you were here.”

“I couldn’t just leave her there,” he whispered, worried that the child would wake up and hear him.

“You have a good heart, Cass.” His brother gave him a small smile before looking towards the door across from them. “I bet Nyx will enjoy having a new friend.”

“Just as long as she isn’t as afraid of him as she seemed to be of Az,” he muttered as he rubbed his temples. “How do you even tell a four year old that you murdered her father?”

“You don’t,” Rhys answered simply. “Az says she’s attached to you so it seems like you now have your own personal little best friend.”

“And what about Nesta?”

“We’ll ease into it.”

Cassian nodded and took a deep breath when he saw the small female emerge with Madja. There was a bright smile on her face until she noticed Rhysand beside, her fear causing her to back up and hide behind the healer. His High Lord placed a hand on his shoulder before disappearing through the door. Once they were alone, she ran up to him and jumped happily into his arms.

“Feeling better after your nap?”

“Yeah!” she exclaimed happily, her attention turned to the windows showing the empty streets of the city. “Can we go outside?”

“We’re actually,” he started, booping her nose which earned him a giggle. “Going to my house where you can get a hot meal and a good night's sleep.”

He managed to accomplish the tasks of getting her fed and into bed but he decided to wait on the bath so that one of the females in the family could help her since Nesta was staying the night at the river house. From what he knew of females and their hair, it would be a task to brush the knots and matted patches that he wasn’t sure he could take on. He had just laid down, his heavy eyes starting to close when his door slowly opened.

“Everything alright, sweetheart?” he asked groggily, tensing in surprise slightly when she crawled into bed with him and clinging to her doll.

“I had a scary dream.” When she clutched onto him, he felt her light shivers from fear and the wetness that came from her tears. “Wanna stay with you.”

“That’s fine,” he whispered as he wrapped his arms around her, his heart warming when she relaxed and drifted swiftly back into sleep.

The next morning, he awoke to the girl jumping on his bed in her desperate attempt to wake him up. A light chuckle escaped him when she jumped onto him when she realized that he was awake. Breakfast went by smoothly but when he mentioned leaving to meet others, she became visibly nervous, hugging her doll tight against her. Just as he went to reassure her, Nesta was coming through the door. She watched his mate cautiously as she backed towards him and hid behind his leg. 

“Hey there,” Nesta said in a gentle voice that Cassian knew was only for children.

His mate knelt down to appear smaller and hopefully coax the girl from her fear. She didn’t seem reassured enough but she did ease a step out from behind him to peer at her. A small smile stayed on Nesta’s face even though she didn’t receive an answer and Cassian was at a loss about what he should do from there.

“How about we go meet Nyx?” he asked, picking her up but didn’t miss that she still watched Nesta and he assumed that it was as good of a response that they would get.

She nodded and smiled when he got them in the air. There was always the option of walking through the city to show her but he could only imagine how much she enjoyed flying. It was a deep rooted Illyrian need to fly and it was something that had been taken from her.

The nervousness was written all over her face and she gripped his hand tightly once they landed and walked through the door of the river house. He hadn’t been expecting the entirety of the Inner Circle to be there but he hoped that meeting them all at once would help in some regard. His heart sank when she squeaked and hid behind him once again. Even as Nyx ran up to her, she still refused to budge before she extended her arms out to him.

No sooner than she was off of the floor and into his arms, one arm was around his neck while the other continued to hold tightly to the tattered doll that was her comfort item. He gave all of them an apologetic smile as he sat on the couch with her and held her. Rhysand brushed against his mental shields so he dropped it so that they could communicate without words.

“Once Feyre learned of her, she and Elain went into town and bought her some new clothes.”

“That was sweet of them.” He was sure to keep the appreciation in his tone. “I could use all of the help that I can get.”

“It looks like you have a child of your own now.” Rhysand’s voice held a hint of amusement that was also full of love. “She will overcome her fear with time.”

“But I need her to let one of the females help her with a bath and do her hair,” he groaned as he looked around the room. “She was hesitant with Nesta so maybe there is some hope there.”

The High Lord pulled out of his mind before he glanced at Nesta and he knew that he was asking her if she was willing to help. Cassian knew without a doubt that his mate would even if it was just to make him happy. Nesta moved to sit beside them and rubbed the girl’s back soothingly before she removed herself from him just enough to look at her. 

“Let’s go get you cleaned up so we can brush out that pretty hair of yours.”

“Can you come with me?” she asked, looking at him with eyes full of hope.

“I will,” he answered gently. “I will be right outside of the door.”

She seemed placated but he was given no option than to carry her up the stairs to one of the guest rooms. Surprisingly, she allowed Nesta to help her with the task of being sure that she was completely clean and he was pleased with how much better that she looked. 

“Pretty girl.” The girl giggled again when he knelt to eye level with her. “Now let's finish up with your hair.”

She relented and sat on the floor, allowing Nesta to take on the job of carefully brushing through the knots while he sat in front of her. As he had expected, it took a decent amount of time but by the time that his mate was finished, she appeared more comfortable.

“I’m so pretty now!” she exclaimed as she looked at herself in the mirror and had a small, shy smile on her face when she glanced at Nesta. “Thanks!”

“You’re welcome, beautiful girl.”

The child was terrified each time that she was brought to the river house but warmed up to Nyx within a few visits. He noticed that she was the most comfortable when it was just the three of them outside together away from the presence of others. She still came to his room each night to climb into the bed with him and Nesta and was beginning to wonder how he had ever gotten through life without her. After several mental conversations with Rhys, he was assured that it was what a parent felt for their child.

It was the last thing that he had expected when he went on such a quick and simple mission but he couldn’t have been more thankful for it. He loved the small girl just as much as he did his mate and his love only grew when she had fully come around to Nesta.

It had taken a couple of months before she became comfortable around the rest of the Inner Circle. Amren was the only exception but he couldn’t fault the girl for being afraid of someone that even grown Fae feared.

By the time that their first Solstice together came, he realized just how blessed that he was with the new addition for his family. A piece of himself that he didn’t even know was missing had been filled by his adopted daughter and he knew that there was nothing that he wouldn’t do for her.

Tag List:

@amara-moonlight @allygrace74 @sidthedollface2 @historygeekqueen @hnyclover @kalulakunundrum @historygeekqueen @bubybubsters @thisblogisaboutabook @mybestfriendmademe @caroline-books @wisdomofthebrain

[trulyaiko]

A PROMISE TO BE BROKEN.

SYPONISIS ✧ scaramouche and you were best friends for who knows how long, your platonic love for him becomes romantic as you spend more time with him. one day, you find scaramouche suddenly making plans with new friends of his and you're not against it! but it takes a turn when some of his friends try to hook him up with someone. afraid to ruin your friendship with him, you don't tell him and you distance yourself from him.

WARNINGS FOR THIS CHAPTER SPECIFICALLY ✧ swearing, angst (yehey), a bit of ooc scaramouche,

WORD COUNT ✧ 1006

you looked with sadness in your eyes as scaramouche and his friends started to drive off out of your village.

you couldn't help but the thoughts starting to come into your mind once again.

"what if scaramouche spills your secrets to them?"

"what if scaramouche takes their side instead of yours?"

"what if scaramouche never wanted to be your friend in the start?"

you started to shake a bit; looking away from the window, you noticed a frame of you and scaramouche on your study table.

a picture where scaramouche was doing a piggyback on you as you took the picture. both of you were smiling so hard that you even started to smile a bit as well.

looking at the rest of the pictures of you and scaramouche, you would notice that both of you would do the same piggyback pose and take a picture of it every year.. except, for this year that is.

you looked at the back of every frame and noticed that it would be taken on your birthday.

your birthday passed one month ago. both of you never took the piggyback pose after that.

though, scaramouche did you give you a birthday gift. it was a matching keychain. it was in your hair color and scaramouche's hair color. both of you would put it on the zipper of both your backpacks.

you noticed that it was getting late and it would be best for you to sleep now. the thoughts wouldn't stop rolling in so, you just let it happen. not getting a single answer to one of them.

rushing out of your house once again the next morning, you knocked on scaramouche's door and started to sweat a bit. you heard the doorknob click but to your surprise, it wasn't scaramouche who answered it. it was his mother, raiden ei.

"ah! y/n, what brings you here?" she asked in a soft tone, making a small smile as well.

"is scaramouche ready for school yet? we're going to be late." you spoke in a fast tone, looking at the back of his mother to see any traces of scaramouche.

"oh, dear. scaramouche already left." she spoke with worry in her voice.

"he left.?" you questioned in disbelief with wide eyes. clearly not being able to process the information given.

"yes indeed, he left with some ginger-haired man and a few other men. i was concerned since both of you would normally be the ones to walk to school together but he said that you wouldn't mind."

not mind? not mind.? so to put it short, he left without telling you.

wow, what a nice friend.

"ah.. alright. thanks for the information mrs. raiden. i hope you have a great day ahead." you said in a small voice as you waved goodbye to her as she did the same before closing the door.

you couldn't believe it! he didn't even ask you if it was alright to not walk you to school today. it's not like it bothered you that much. right? right..

practically running to your school, you met up with a few of your friends. kazuha, ayaka, and yoimiya. the four of you had met during elementary.

you greeted them fast and sped down the hallway to your first class of the day. which so happened to be with him.

you decided to ignore him as not to cause much, drama, to the class while the teacher came in and just did what she needed to do.

after class was done, you took a small glance at scaramouche before leaving for your other class.

he looked so happy, so.. free. it was like those days before you officially became him his friend. it's like all those effort just to be his friend was nothing anymore.

you wondered how his friends were able to do that so easily. did something change? did he want more friends now after realizing that you were his only friend growing up? maybe.

you left the classroom, not bothering to give scaramouche a "good morning" or anything. you just left in irritation and annoyance.

though, it was still bugging you however. the fact that scaramouche didn't even ask you made you so annoyed. even if it's not a big deal to other people – it was to you.

"y/n!" you heard someone shout your name. removing the thoughts out of your brain. turning around, your eyes became a bit wider.

"what do you want, scaramouche?" you said with no tone. glaring daggers into his eyes.

"psht, why the face? gloomy, much?" he spoke with a teasing laugh at the end. does he seriously not care for what he done earlier?

"maybe it's because you didn't even ask me if it was alright to leave without me earlier!" you shouted at him in anger.

"it's not a big deal y/n, stop being so dramatic." he spoke in a teasing tone, completely disregarding what you spoke.

what does he mean, dramatic? dramatic!? he was the one who left you without anything to say!

"dramatic!? what the fuck do you mean? you left me with no clue, you didn't even say anything to me before class started a while ago!" you spoke in a more angered tone. not caring if people were to watch you or not, which luckily, no people were in the hallway as of now.

"oh stop acting like a bitch! what do you want me to do!? beg for your apology like some queen!? 'oh, i'm sorry queen y/n, please forgive me'. i would never say that, you.. you whore!" he shouted with anger again.

you stared at him in sadness, he called you a what now?

we promised not to call each other such stuff.

tears had started to come out of your eyes, slowly becoming a waterfall soon.

"y-y/n, i d-didn't mean that-" he started to reach to your face to wipe your tears but you pushed his hand away. running away to the female washroom.

a promise to be broken. once more.

A/N ✧ I KNOW ITS BAD PLEASE DONT MENTION IT 😭✌

TAGLIST ✧ @rhiancries @mothermothika @yukiipc @bobamai1 @berriov @mrscarolscaramoucheplease @thenightsflower @3verlyn @barilnisanzu @shadow-00 @the-glitching-potato || form || if your name is in bold, that means i can't tag you for some reason </3

[atinylittlepain]

June - Part Two

joel miller x f!OC

series masterlist

warnings | 18+ dark themes surrounding suicidal ideation and attempt, smut, angst

a/n | hi, folks, welcome back. i'm quite excited and also quite nervous to start sharing more of June with you. This is work touches on very heavy topics, so please take care in reading it, and know that my DMs are always open if you'd like to talk about it. Thank you for reading.

..........................................

Little red flower on your wrist

Maybe the angel fired and missed

Blue and red horses on the run

I think the angel is jumping the gun

"Blue and Red Horses" by Adrianne Lenker

.............................................

A slip. That’s what the doctor calls it. She had a slip, slip, slip. 

He had been waiting for her on the porch, same as always. And when the sun turned to syrup and she still wasn’t home, he went inside to get his jacket. Two steps at a time, skidding to a halt in the sliver of light coming from her room. 

Head lolled back, the most peaceful he’d ever seen her, except when she’s sleeping. Somewhere between that, and something much deeper. He’ll grow a beard if it keeps her from getting her hands on a razor again. Dripping down her finger tips, onto the thigh of his jeans. So much of it, his hands started shaking. Drip, drip, drip. 

They keep her overnight at the clinic. White clothes, white sheets, white bandages, and the blossom of red they hide. She sleeps, mercifully. And he sits, his head propped on his palm, trying to figure out what went wrong.

Had something changed? He doesn’t think so, at least not for the worse. She had been eating, talking, working. They had found a rhythm, hadn’t they?

She sleeps, and he sits. Vigil, guard, whatever it’s called. Only letting one eye slip closed at a time, afraid that if he looks away, she’ll disappear. And when she wakes up in the morning, turning her head toward him, a sheepish smile curling her lips, Joel finds something that feels like anger resting heavy on his chest.

Keep an eye on–

Make sure she doesn’t have access to–

Bring her in if she says anything about–

He nods numbly at the doctor’s orders, his eyes darting over to her. Chin tucked down, picking at the edges of the gauze around her forearm. He has to swallow down a scream because why is everyone around him treating this like the most normal thing in the world? Why is no one else freaking out as much as he is? But he nods and he guides her out of the clinic, his palm hovering between her shoulder blades, unsure what will happen if he closes that gap, makes contact. She’s silent, chastened, like a child leaving the principal’s office. It makes him feel sick.

“Aren’t you going to be late for your shift?”

“Are you serious?” 

“I was just asking.”

“Well I’m not. Not going anywhere.”

“You’re upset.” It’s a statement that makes him scoff, frustration rising hot and jittery up his neck, steadying himself with a palm pressed flat against the kitchen counter as he looks at her.

“A little bit. What made you do that?” He has to take a deep breath when she shrugs, knuckles tensing into a fist, open, close, open, close.

“Nothing made me do anything. I was just ready.”

“For what?”

“Just ready, Joel.” Back and forth, back and forth, his jaw slides in a hard grind as they stare at each other, unblinking, a yawning space between them.

“You need to eat. Sit down.” He’s a bit surprised when she listens, but then he sees it. The way her shoulders fold around herself like frail wings, fingers steepled in a light press on the table, her lashes brushing her cheeks with the droop of her gaze, a frown that folds like wet silk. And suddenly, he can swallow his anger, a bitter pill that leaves an urgency in its wake.

He toasts the bread in the pan, a thick slice smeared with butter on both sides. Something solid, affirming. And jam, but not the red kind, no, no, no. Blueberry, she likes blueberries. And they have blueberry. She traded for it two days ago. Before, before, before. 

Sweet, sweet, sweet. A prayer in the pass of the knife. Stay, stay, stay. 

And he sighs, long and low in his chest, when he sets the plate down in front of her. For you, for you, for you. She picks the piece of toast up, carefully, fingertips only, tilting it this way and that.

“Eat it, please.” He sits across from her at the table, his arms folded in front of him, steady eyes, something in his chest unfurling when she finally takes a bite. It’s slow, methodical, a languid roll to her jaw as she chews, her eyes holding his as she swallows. He watches every bite until the plate is empty.

“I want to lay down.”

“Okay.” 

She looks displeased when he pulls a chair into her room, sitting down right next to her bed with his knife and a scrap of wood. She turns her back to him, a long sigh making the covers rise and fall. Silence, save for the light scratching of his work, shavings floating down around his boots, worry holding his throat in a tight fist.

…

“I’m not going to stab myself.” Her crassness is a slap in the face, enough for him to relent and pass her the kitchen knife, letting her get to work on the vegetables for dinner. She slept for most of the day, something the doctor had told him to expect after she lost so much– 

“Shit.” His body slips into motion before his mind, palm circling her wrist to draw her finger into the warmth of his mouth to stop the–

“I didn’t mean to.”

“I know you didn’t, June.” He lets go of her wrist, a reluctant release. She curls her hand against her chest, something small and wounded. And then they snap back into the task, the crease of time smoothed out. 

…

“Why do you want to leave?” He left out one word in his question. Me, me, me. 

“I just do. Same as you.” But he doesn’t, not anymore, a secret he’s been keeping tucked between two of his ribs, an aching truth. He turns his head on his pillow, studying the slope of her nose, the stillness of her eyes, looking straight up at the ceiling of his bedroom, her hands clasped together over her stomach. The moon casts slants of light across the bed, across her face, her scar turned silver along her temple. For a moment, there is no sound except the dull croak of crickets, one last symphony before the end of the season. 

“I won’t if you won’t.” She tips her chin toward him, owlish and unblinking in her wide stare.

“Okay.”

…

“People say she’s crazy, you know.”

“There’s plenty of reasons to be crazy in this world, kid.” This is new. Good, clear hope fluttering in his chest, though he tries to school any excitement out of his expression should Ellie detect it and flee. Neutral ground, the dining hall for lunch. 

“Yeah, but people say she’s crazy crazy.”

“Ellie.”

“Sorry. I guess I’m happy for you that you found someone.”

“It ain’t like that.” 

“Sure, Joel.”

“How’s Dina?”

“We’re not doing that.”

“Not doing what?” 

“I’m not gonna tell you how my girlfriend is doing.”

“Well I just told you about mine, didn’t I?”

“So she is?”

“Is what?”

“Your girlfriend, you just said–”

“Wait– no– I didn’t– that just came out.”

“Sure, Joel.”

…

​

They go to movie night. Sitting in the back of the hall. Some film from the nineties, all the actors with British accents, all the women in the crowd letting out a sea of sighs. He studies her face, awash in pale blue light, eyes steady and tracking. An imperceptible drag of his chair, an inch closer, and a leap. She doesn’t flinch, doesn’t recoil, when he drapes his arm over the back of her chair, his fingers barely brushing the outside of her bicep. Up, down, up, down. Her eyes don’t leave the screen.

“Do you like this movie?” Only the faintest warble of his voice breaks his whisper, and she finally glances at him.

“Yes. You should be watching.” I am, I am, I am. Watching so closely. 

He fills his lungs with cool, clean air when they step out of the darkness of the town hall and into the darkness of the night. His arm feels boneless, electric, from the way he had kept it framing her shoulders. And then he sees the little drops of light running down her cheeks and his heart curls up into a tight clench.

“Why are you crying?” He’d like to tuck those words back in his throat, instant regret at the way she swipes away any evidence, sniffing hard to stop herself back up.

“That movie always makes me cry.” He realizes all at once that he hasn’t seen her cry since that night in that field. Her hand in his, relief stretching like a taut muscle when her fingers curl around his, staying like that the whole walk home. 

“Are you hungry?” “Not really.” He slices two plums, purple soaked flesh that dribbles and bleeds down their wrists when they sink teeth into tartness, hip pressed against hip where they’re leaning against the kitchen counter. It’s impulse, obscene instinct, coaxing her hand to his mouth so he can lap at the juice that drips between her fingers. Sweet, sweet, sweet. 

This time, she takes. Turning toward him, closing that space with a tentative lean, her head jerking away once before she finally presses her lips against his, drinking the sigh that washes through his chest. Her fingers twine behind his neck, a perfect weight pulling him down into her. And something snarls, a touch of impatience in the way her tongue slides against his, teeth a sharp graze. His hands curl around her hips, a careful press that she preens into, her chest brushing against his. He has to slow her down when her movements flare frantic, something he knows will eventually spook her right out of his hands. Forehead to forehead, his nose running the arc of hers as she catches her breath, tiny pants that wash over his mouth.

“Will you tell me what you want, June?” 

“This.” This, this, this. He takes her hand, a quiet tug upstairs and into his room and then his fingers start to turn desperate. And hers do too. Undoing buttons, swiping through zippers, pulling and pushing, seeking new skin. A patient unraveling, slowness he struggles to abide by. A careful allowance of wandering, palms sweeping over the bare softness of her stomach, up along the crook of her collarbone, dipping down to trace the swell of her breasts, the quick catch of her breath when the pad of his thumb slips over a peaked nipple. She steps out of his hold, his heart sinking, buoyed when she lays out on the bed, slinking down onto her elbows, warm in the light of the lamp he had half a mind to flick on.

Thin, frayed cotton, his fingers catching on the fabric, hooking, sweeping down the line of her legs and then she’s bare before him, something better than perfect. A soft hinge of her hips, an invitation for him to rest there. And he does, palm skating from the crook of her knee up and up, jumping from the swell of her hip to circle her wrist. He wants it to hurt, just a little, the kiss he presses into the gauze wrapped around her forearm, a cry breaking in her throat when he holds his mouth there, a hot stamp, a silent plea. But he wants to soothe as soon as it stings, so, so soft, lips smoothing over her pulse, the fine tendons jumping beneath his mouth.

“Please.” Oh, he likes the way that sounds. Warmth rising up and up, lips curling up and up, a curved press to her stomach, dragging lower, the hook of her hip bone, the soft crease of her thigh. And he breathes her in, coaxing the sloping backs of her thighs over his shoulders, thumbs rubbing circles into the tensing muscles, slow, slow, slow. Swollen, the glistening middle of a plum, dark and slick and dripping down his chin. He goes greedy with it, insistent in the way he drinks from her, lapping up everything she has to give, tongue a hot, demanding press that makes her hips jolt. Easy, June. Easy, easy, easy. His eyes drag up the heaving plains of her stomach, the gentle shake of her breasts, neck long and taut, lips parted, a portrait of the pleasure he’s pulling from her. 

“Joel.” Joel, Joel, Joel. Like a wave crashing in his ears, her whole body furling up around him before slackening, smooth and soft and sighing, her hands in his hair tugging up, up, up. He hopes that she tastes herself on his lips, and he thinks she does when she groans, low and mewling into his mouth. A fire flushes up his neck, his cheeks, when she takes him into her hand, soft, soft, soft, her eyes not leaving his. And he’s already so close to too much, the way her wrist flicks between their hips. No one’s ever been so gentle with him. It makes him ache.

“Please.” It’s his turn to say it, and her turn to permit, her legs slipping open even more, long lines of muscle and ligaments, a silent affirmation of want. Warm and soft and wanting, pooling thick in his spine, seeping, bursting, until he’s full of the feeling, his hips pressed so close, so snug to hers. She seizes around him, a long exhale that breaks high in her throat, and he stills, pressing his face right over her heart, willing ease into the pumping of blood, the coil of muscle. She hooks the swell of her calf around his hip, a soft press, a silent command that makes him huff out a quiet laugh against her sternum, the sound fizzling out in his throat when he meets her watery gaze. Wide eyes, blown out dark, dark, dark, swallowing him up. 

His arm is a frame, a protection, curled around the top of her head, keeping her steady and safe as each press of his hips sends them shucking further up the bed. And she holds on, little half-moons of her fingerprints pressing into his shoulders, the arch of her heel slipping along his low back.

“June.” Over and over again. June, June, June. A cry, a prayer, a demand, a steadying sound that he breathes out against her lips. And he’s not being patient anymore, desperation driving his hips to a heavy rhythm, little sighs slipping from her throat with each beat. 

Need, need, need. He needs to feel her like this, his fingers a plea, a mess against that place that makes her preen around him. Her back curves, tight and hot, the taut peaks of her breasts pressing, dragging against his chest. She unfurls for him, his name a high, clipped sound in her mouth. And he shouldn’t, shouldn’t, shouldn’t, pain in his sigh when he pulls away from her warmth, smearing himself against her stomach, pale, pearling, pleasure. 

It’s broken and ugly, like she can’t take a deep enough breath, her chest catching, shivering with the sob. All he can think to do is lay the weight of himself over her, solid, insistent, sweat and spend cooling sticky against skin. His palms find her ribs, steady pressure to smooth the shake.

“It’s okay. I’ve got you.” She needs this. He knows she needs this. Something finally tearing open inside her, spilling out, his hands waiting and willing to hold it.

“You just cry, June. It’s okay.” He whispers it to her, words stamped into her skin, just beneath her collarbone. She cries and cries and cries. And he holds her through it, until her breaths start to turn smoother, slight hiccups of salt. Her eyes are heavy, swollen, slipping down her cheeks. He presses his lips over one, the other, her lashes flickering, quick winged reaction. 

Clean, warm water, long sweeping palms. Soap that smells like honey passed between open hands. They’re close and quiet in the steam of the shower. 

“Does it hurt?”

“A little. I don’t like the way the stitches feel.” He wraps fresh gauze around her forearm, hiding the jagged, dark lines, smoothing his thumb down the trail of her destruction.

Socked feet that slip against his ankles. Her palm an anchor against his stomach, her cheek pressed warm and soft over his heart, clockwork setting back into time. 

“Goodnight, Joel.” “Goodnight, June.” 

[bts-0t-7]

So What? | MYG | Chapter 11

Pair: Hybrid Cat Yoongi x F Reader 

Summary: Running from a past that foreshadows him, Yoongi is adamant about ever turning back to his human counterpart form, in hopes that nobody would recognise him and take him away. You worked at a cafe with your best friend. As a more-than-normal day seemed to go by, you discovered something amidst your housing block. Perhaps - just perhaps, the nighttime is where the angels arrive. 

Genre: Angst, Fluff, Hybrid, non-idol au

Warnings: Contains explicit language, abuse

Chapter Warnings: Explicit Language 

WC: 2.2K

Taglist: @bearr02 @svnbangtansworld @vintageoldfashion @rkivemaar @idkjustlovingbts @ldysmfrst @codeinebelle @bontensbabygirl

A/N: Seokjin is too smart for his own good in this chapter. I SHALL REPEAT, DO NOT COME FOR ME - PLEASE - I’m sorry for the pain

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By the time the hearing was over, it was past dinner time and everybody was exhausted. You were more than ready to go home and crash in bed, dreaming that this never did happen. You knew you needed to talk to Yoongi soon - preferably before the verdict, was Jimin’s answer to you when you finally confronted him head-on with the matter. 

You looked over to see Yoongi yawning and nodding to something Joon said to him. You’ll have that talk tomorrow. Tonight, the two of you will just cuddle in bed for some well-deserved sleep. 

“Remember the talk, Y/N.” Jimin reminded you as he dropped you and Yoongi off. “Don’t drag it on for too long.” He turned to Yoongi. “You were great today, man. See you on Thursday. Goodnight!”

The both of you waved Jimin off before entering your apartment building.

“What was Jimin saying just now?” Yoongi asked. 

“Oh, nothing. We’ll sleep first. Today took out everybody’s brain cells already and we need them at full capacity if we want to talk tomorrow.” You reassured Yoongi. “It’s nothing serious.”

Except it was everything but not serious. 

You got out of bed early in the morning, brain lagging from the lack of sleep. But you truly couldn’t sleep. Not when the possibility of everything going bad today was already a good reason. You were afraid to bring up the topic to talk to Yoongi. You had figured that he knew and didn’t want to tell you so you had given him some space and time but you were getting impatient. 

Although, you did not fully understand the weight of mateship but you understand being true to oneself. And that was what you were going to do today. You were going to approach - not sure how, but you were going to do it - and have this talk before tomorrow. You wanted to clear the air before the verdict hearing in case of anything. 

You knew that the possibility of Yoongi being a free hybrid after tomorrow was extremely high and at the same time, you wanted to see his point of view on the matter so that you could act accordingly during the hearing. You didn’t want to cause a scene when there was no need for one. 

Whipping up a simple breakfast, you set the table in time when Yoongi came out of his bedroom, yawning. 

“Smells good.” He plopped down on the chair. 

Yesterday drained the both of you and you wanted some space and time to think alone so you chased Yoongi to his own room. 

As you sat down, Yoongi was quick to pull you to his lap and buried his head in your neck. You let him be and started eating, occasionally sneaking him some bites from your own plate before bringing his plate over to feed him. You treasured the calmness of the current time, knowing that it would not last for long. 

After breakfast, the both of you called in a lazy day, taking the blankets off the beds and cuddling in front of the television. You knew that you should start to talk before lunchtime so that if anything happens, you hope that you will have time to cool down. 

You had truly hoped nothing would go worse than your imagination had taken you last night but it seems that your predicament was more than wrong, leaving you in the current situation. The both of you were fighting and screaming at each other, both sides trying to calm down but are as stubborn as mules. 

“No, you don’t understand. It is not something to take lightly. A mateship is for a lifetime. It bonds the souls. You don’t understand that it is not something that can just be tossed around like that.”

“I am not tossing - if we are using your words - the title around. I am asking you why you wouldn’t tell me that I am your mate.” You tried breathing slowly. You didn’t want to get worked up in this situation where the air is already deadly. “I’ve waited! I’ve found out and waited for you patiently - that maybe you were not comfortable enough to tell me. But I’ve waited, Yoongi! 

Yoongi kept silent. 

“Why, Yoongi?” You started growing frustrated. You wanted - needed - an answer from him. Even if it is not an answer you want to hear, you still need an answer. You needed closure if this was not what he wanted. 

You knew you weren’t the easiest to come around and you also knew Yoongi is stubborn. He always says that you deserve better - a better hybrid, a better life, a better everything. The both of you are hardheads, never backing down from a fight. 

“I am asking you, why? I need an answer, Yoongi. This is not fair to me.” You pulled at your roots. You did not like confrontation and all you wanted to do was hide in the room right now. But you knew that this was a long overdue talk. 

“Well, why do you think I never told you all these months then?” Yoongi suddenly turned to face you. “Why do you think I kept silent even when I found out? Why do you think I kept silent when I knew you found out?”

You didn’t want to say it. You truly hoped you were wrong - hoped that your intuition was just fooling you and he would say something else. 

“Huh, why?” He screamed. 

You flinched. 

Oh, you have never heard Yoongi scream. You have never seen him so distressed and worked up. Half of you wanted to go over and comfort him but you stood your ground - stubborn as he is. 

“Why?” You questioned. Your voice sounded meek even to your ears. 

“You want me to say it? You want to hear it?” Yoongi’s hands were pulling at his hair. “Fine! I’ll say it for you, spell it out for you so accurately you will never think you misheard!” Yoongi yelled, ears flat against his head and tail swishing sharply behind his back. “Because I don’t want you! I. DO. NOT. WANT. YOU. AS. MY. MATE!” Yoongi roared. “Is that clear enough for you?”

It was silence after that revelation. You looked at Yoongi - really took a good look at the fuming male hybrid standing in the middle of the living room. His chest rose up and down in frantic motion, trying to regain his breath. You bored your eyes into his, finding the truth in there. A tear streaked down the side of his eyes and he used the back of his hand to wipe it away. 

As you move forward, he moves backwards. Yoongi suddenly turned around snatched his collar off the hook and half-stepped into his shoes. “I’m leaving.” was all he said before slamming the door straight in your face. 

You sucked in a deep breath. And another. And another. Until you felt like your walls were constraining, you raised a hand to beat the sofa. When that wasn’t enough, you screamed your lungs out, throat burning - but right now, who the fuck cares? It wasn’t until you lifted a hand to throw the key bowl did you stop and look around. 

The dish where you put all your keys - or key-bowl, as you liked to call it - was made by Yoongi a few weeks ago when the both of you went to a pottery class. He gave it to you saying that you wouldn’t lose your keys as easily if they’re all in one spot. So no matter how much you wanted to smash it, you just couldn’t bring your heart to do it. 

And you looked around. The whole house was filled with memories of you and him. Before him, it was just a shelter to you. A place where it can shield you from the harsh weather and the noise of the outside world. You were drowning in the world of an endless abyss that you didn’t know how to get out of. Until Yoongi came along. The ferocious, characteristic cat that you thought was just as it is. Your house started to feel a bit warmer - that you had someone to come home to.

And then the silence shattered once again when you found him so sick on your bed, bringing him to a vet only to realise he was definitely not what you thought he was. Slowly but surely, Yoongi opened up to you. Sure, both of you had ups and downs, but isn’t that normal for every relationship? The both of you grew with each other - or at least you thought so. 

Now - now you were no longer sure who you were to and what you were to him. Standing in the middle of the living room where he stood just spare a few minutes ago, made your heart constrict so tightly you thought it was going to burst. 

“I need to get out of here.” You muttered to yourself. “Leave, leave.” At this point in time, you couldn’t be bothered by the mess your house is currently in. “Keys, keys. Where are my keys?” You started to grow frantic. “Keys so I can leave. Leave, leave.”

You found your keys and yanked your jacket off the ottoman, shutting the doors behind you. If you were sober, you would have called Jin to pick you up. But you were anything but sober. Sober in the sense of alcohol, certainly not sober in the sense of emotions. 

You turned on your car and drove it out of the parking lot below your apartment building, towards the direction of Seokjin’s house. Normally, Yoongi would play some music but this time, only your heavy breaths kept you company as you fought to stay calm. 

Taking no less than 10 minutes to reach Seokjin’s complex, you parked your car and headed up to his house. You needed your brother and you couldn’t be bothered if he was sleeping, in the shower, or working. You needed him here, you needed him to keep you grounded with those stupid dad jokes he always makes. 

You would have called Lils if she wasn’t halfway across the world visiting her relatives. You punched in the passcode to his house and entered, quickly shedding your shoes and coat. You looked up in time to see Seokjin coming out of his kitchen, a chopstick in hand and a mouth full of rice, saying, “I gave you the code not so that you can just barge in here like nobody’s business. Might I remind you that this house is still under my name, which means my rules -”

You slam your body into your brother’s, arms going around his waist as you bury your head in his chest. Realising that there’s more to what meets the eyes, Seokjin wrapped his arms around you, easily lifting you up and bringing the both of you to the couch. 

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong?” He cooed, placing down his chopsticks and wiping your tears. You couldn’t answer him. You didn’t want to answer him - ‘cause if you did, it would be real. 

Seokjin, sensing your discontent, sighed. He didn’t pry any longer, deciding just to let you cry it out. You were a sensitive soul, he knew. As much as you tried to prove to everybody that you grew out of it, he knew you best - and knew that you were just getting better at hiding your pain now. He wishes that you would open up more to him but you were big now and he knew that. He knew that some things needed to be learned through experiences. 

So he keeps an eye out for you but does not linger too long. He saw the way you and Yoongi act together, he saw the way you looked at him on the witness stand yesterday afternoon. He had asked Jimin what he meant by ‘the talk’ and bribed him into giving him a piece of information. He didn’t know how crucial that was until you came in bursting into tears.

You had gotten attached.

But he wasn’t blind. He knew that your hybrid was attached as well. So why did it turn out like this? Why did he have to break your heart and not admit it? Seokjin didn’t want to pry too much, but he really wanted to understand. Exactly what happened? 

“Come on, let’s get you washed up and into bed.” Seokjin sighed. He carried you to the bathroom, filling up the bathtub with warm water and put in a bath bomb and some salts. “I’ll be waiting outside for you once you’re done. Don’t take too long.” He left a set of clothes on the counter for you. He had saved some of your clothes with him for when you wanted sleepovers. Better than wearing his clothes. 

Seokjin scrunched his nose. 

Yeah. 

Nope.

[ramblingandwritings]

Dante NSFT alphabet

18+ for filth. The 18+ is there for a reason. If your blog says you're a minor you're gonna get blocked

Honestly, this was a long time coming

A = Aftercare

If he's in control of it, he'll pick you up, still impaled on him and take the two of you to the couch to relax. Nothing quite like trying to find something to watch while cock warming. If he gets bored watching tv, then he'll start itching for another round, starting the whole thing all over again

Dante enjoys being gently cared for. He's not used to being treated sweetly and looked after but he absolutely adores it

B = Body Part

He's very proud of his chest. His muscles are impressive and he knows it which is why anytime you're looking in his direction, he'll start flexing

He's honestly the least picky partner one could ever have. If you ask he'll just randomly pick a part

C = Cum

All for creampies, it doesn't matter what hole either. He keeps his cock buried deep inside of you while cumming, only occasionally giving lazy half thrusts, never pulling out too far. He'll finger fuck his cum back inside of you when he eventually has to pull out

D = Dirty Secret

Sweet, tender sex is the number one way to his heart next to food. It takes him a while to be able to ask you to be sweet with him, in some ways he feels like he's not worthy of it

E = Experience

Not as much as you'd figure. He's had a few one night stands and that's about it. He knows that anyone near him is a target, it's worse for anyone seen to be THAT close to him, so he's held off for the most part

F = Favourite Positions

Doggystyle. He likes the view of your ass jiggling while you take him, it's made better if you're face down against his desk

G = Goofy

He takes sex as seriously as he takes most things. The only exception to this is if you came in close contact with danger and he was afraid of losing you. He keeps his face buried in your neck to hide that his eyes are damp

H = Hair

He's doesn't shave, he just keeps things trimmed up a bit. He shaved when he was younger, but now he just doesn't give a shit

I = Intimacy

#1 intimate lover in the tri-state area after he gets comfortable with you. Dante doesn't have issues letting you know he loves you or letting his guard down during sex

J = Jack-Off

Not as frequently as he used to since he can come to you now. When he's away on business, you'll just randomly get a video of him stroking himself wherever he could get some privacy

K = Kink

Bondage, pain play, lingerie, anal, pegging, whatever you're into. It's probably easier to list what he's not into or at the very least comfortable with

L = Location

The front of the shop is fun, but risky if he forgets to lock the door. Nothing beats having you bouncing on his lap while he takes calls

M = Motivation

Wearing his clothes is an easy way to catch his attention

N = No

Anything that manages to actually digust him is off the table. CBT isn't his thing and he's not gonna do anything that seriously harms you like branding or scarification

O = Oral

He will ask you to sit on his face, full force. You can't hurt him, but you're more than welcome to try

He's also a deepthroat champ

Unless you can unhinge your jaw like a snake, then good luck actually getting him in your mouth

P = Pace

Fast and sloppy, pleasure is the goal and nothing else matters If you want something different then it's all good

Q = Quickie

Quick fucks are all good in his eyes. You want him in a storage closet? His cock is already out of his pants and semi hard. He'll let you have him anywhere you want him, just ask. Or just grab him by the belt and drag him where you want him, he'll get the message

R = Risk

If it doesn't cause serious harm, somehow disgust him or cause someone to catch a charge, it's good to go

He's iffy on bringing his devil form into the bedroom but he's willing to risk it with a little convincing. If he ever hurts you in the form, he'll never use it again with you

S = Stamina

Come on, the man has enough energy to fight through hell and back and then some. He can go for a whole day without rest but that'd just be ridiculous. Unless?

T = Toy

It's all fair game. Fleshlights, sybians, magic wands. Whatever you have or want to use, he's cool with. This includes sounding wands, although he'll be hesitant at first about that one

U = Unfair

Dante adores a good tease, giving or getting. His favorite thing is hands off strip teases, he'll whine about not being able to touch you. But that's just him being a brat. If he's giving a lap dance then he'll taunt you the entire time

As far as orgasm denial, he prefers being on the receiving end. He feels kind of bad denying you something. Because of that, Dante will only make you think he's going to deny you and you can call his bluff 9/10

Overstimulation is a different demon entirely

V = Volume

Loud, so damn loud. He doesn't see the point in trying to be quiet unless you're in a situation where it's explicitly necessary. Nico soundproofed the entire shop for free just to avoid hearing anything

W = Wild Card

Pretty into roleplay, but he can't help breaking character occasionally

X = X-Ray

Extra lube and some stretching is a necessity when trying to take him. He's a solid 9 inches hard and girthy enough to scare away most challengers

Y = Yearning

Oh, he's got a high sex drive and he doesn't hide it. Anytime, anywhere

Z = ZZZ

Dante stays awake to talk for a while and boy does he ever. The conversations tend to stay light hearted

[newtthetranswriter]

Please may I have a Fairy tail headcanon of Gray Fullbuster with a female S/O who has Edward Elric's abilities from Fullmetal alchemist. S/O joined Fairy tail when she was a young child not long after Gray did..S/Os unlimited abilities meant that she can basically create anything that she can put her mind too..she isn't nicknamed the metal mage for nothing. She isn't proud of what she had done back then..she earned those abilities to be a metal alchemist at a consequence of trying to revive her late mother..she was damn lucky that she didn't lose her body parts..she is a independent young woman in Fairy tail and a member of Team Natsu.

So, I've never done headcanons before, but I'll give it a go, hope you enjoy these. I'm not sure if this is exactly what you're looking for, but I did my best, if you enjoy please feel free to let me now and don't be afraid to send ion more requests. Anyway Enjoy and have a good day/night. MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT

Alchemy isn't an exact science, things can go wrong, and that's what happened when you tried to bring back your mom.

Unlike past Alchemists who had tried to bring people back from the dead you were lucky, you saw the truths of the world but managed to hang on to all of your limbs.

With the knowledge of the universe giving you a major boost in your magic at such a young age, you needed to join a guild to help control and grow this power.

At the age of 8 you wondered into the guild hall of non-other than Fairy Tail, a legendary guild full of powerful mages.

You were welcomed with open arms by nearly everyone there except one kid who couldn't keep his clothes on, when you first meet Gray, he was cold to you, not to say you were really any better having just lost your mother for a second time.

As time passed you grew stronger and more confident in your abilities to manipulate the chemical structure of items and shift them into new things. You primarily specialized in turning things to metal to create more useful weapons.

Master Makarov saw your potential and by the age of 17 you had become an S class wizard known as the Metal Mage.

Along with growing your power the tension between you and gray only got worse, almost like him and Natsu's fighting but with a little more flirting

like I see you guys sitting at the guild hall ignoring each other until he pops off with something stupid about being better a making things with his magic and you just use your magic to make something to hit him with using the table and yell at him about covering his abs because in typical gray fashion he's probably in his boxers.

At first no one notices the more flirty comments until one of you calls the other handsome/beautiful directly making the other blush

Being as stubborn as you are you try to deny it for the longest time and so does he

Now if we add on the being a part of team Natsu, it gets more hectic

I'm talking Happy teasing you, Natsu trying to tease you but ultimately ending up fighting Gray for something he says, Wendy is just confused, Lucy and Erza think its kind of cute that the two stubborn mages wont admit their feelings, and then there is Carla who just thinks everyone involved is dumb

And when you guys finally get together i don't think a lot would change

like yeah you guys don't fight as much or the comments aren't as pointed but there is still playful bickering between the two of you

I just feel that Gray is the type to show affection by being sarcastic

also spend a lot of time just hanging out show off your magic to each other and getting ideas from each other

When you get together Happy still makes stupid jokes, Natsu still tries to tease you guys but fails, Lucy, Erza and now Wendy are secretly planning your wedding as soon as it announced you're dating, and Carla is happy for you two.

Now on to some other aspects of the relationship,

If you are having a bad day because of something reminding you of your past Gray will 100% understand, and try to help you calm down

He knows how hard it is to have a difficult childhood and lose your family so he's going to try to make it better

he may not be able to bring your mom back but he can try not to fight Natsu as much and stay close to you for support.

and vice versa, if he's having a hard time with let's say Juvia being annoying, You would be there to try and be a buffer, or if she doesn't take the hint just telling her off.

Overall I see Gray and you being very close and comforting when its just the two of you, but if you're with the rest of the guild or on a mission you know how to be respectful of everyone around you.